The Life and Reminiscences of Gustave Doré (2024)

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" He was a man, take him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like again. "

--HAMLET. -Act I , Scene ii.

"Yet experience has shown, and a true philosophy will always show, that a vast, perhaps the larger portion of truth, arises from the seemingly irrelevant."

--"Mystery of Marie Roget"


"THE first time I saw Strasburg, I was agreeably but not particularly impressed. Like every one who visits that ancient frontier-town, I revelled in the beauty of its grand cathedral , with its imposing pinnacle losing itself in the clouds and dwarfing all around it . I looked at the gabled houses and quaint old streets, at the vaunted Rhine flowing past the fortressed walls; but I felt little tempted to linger, and left the venerable city without regret."--The Life and Reminiscences of Gustave Doré (1885) by Blanche Roosevelt

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Rhombicuboctahedron by Leonardo da Vinci

The Life and Reminiscences of Gustave Doré (1885) is a book by Blanche Roosevelt.


  • 1 PREFACE.
  • 14 Table of contents
  • 15 Front matter



I VISITED the home of Gustave Doré after his demise;and on looking round the rooms which spoke so plainly oftheir late lamented occupant, the idea came to me to makea sketch which I should call " An Artist's Home after hisDeath. " I began working at this project, which wasmeant to include a simple biography, and whilst takingnotes for it, was pursued by the notion of writing amemoir of the great artist instead.Boswell says he often ran over half London for dataor notes, and I am sure that in my enthusiasm aboutDoré, I ran over all Paris. My labour of love becameone of lively and absorbing interest, however, for I hadthe good fortune to know the various personages whoappear in this work, and of whom one may safely saythat they are one and all but a shade less interestingthan Doré himself; in short, a fitting frame for such apicture.When I began to write down all that these people hadtold me about Gustave Doré, I was troubled to find thatmy language was not theirs; so I hastened to let eachone speak as he or she had spoken to me, and to let hisfriends appear for themselves, whilst appearing for himin propria persona. Mr. Longfellow once said to me,"Taking a man's life is a very serious thing." And if thisvi the case, I say, how much more serious the positionof the one on trial for his life?Doré and his good name, artistically speaking, arebefore the world to be judged; and those of his friendswho, as well as myself, appear in this book are the witnesses who shall either speak for or against him. I mayseem perhaps to talk at random, to note at random, tocriticize at random, and to introduce my witnesses atrandom as one places blocks in a prize puzzle. I doso, remembering the words of Edgar Allan Poe, "Yetexperience has shown, and a true philosophy will alwaysshow, that a vast, perhaps the larger, portion of trutharises from the seemingly irrelevant. "These words are my excuse.I have never altered my evidence, and have only cancelled certain forms of expression which might haveproved misleading, taken as individual remarks, whenthey could not corroborate any part of the whole testimony; and I offer this work to public notice firmlybelieving that in it will be found a fair and truthful life ofGustave Doré. In compiling it I have tried to identifymyself with the one predominating element of Dore'snature-his imagination; and after depicting life in thereal, have ventured into the domain of the unreal, writingin the spirit of those who lead imaginary existences. Ihave been depicting the life of an unusual man, perhapsI have done it in an unusual manner; still I cannotbut think that it is the right one.Mywarm and grateful thanks are here publicly tenderedto those faithful friends of the dead artist who have givenme invaluable notes and data for this biography. IPREFACE. viiname first of all Doré's brother, Lieutenant- ColonelDoré, then Dr. Joseph Michel, M. Daubrée, M. ArthurKratz , M. Bourdelin , Colonel Teesdale, M. Paul Dalloz, M. Paul Joanne, Lieutenant- Colonel Dudley Sampson, Dr. Lavies , M. Bourdin, and Mr. Galpin. I do notforget Mme. Braun, Mdlle. Bader, and the faithful Françoise. As for the illustrations, the chief unpublishedones were given to me by Doré's family and M. Kratz;the others were lent by Messrs. Cassell and Co. ,Messrs. Chatto and Windus, and Messrs. Fairless andBeeforth.One of the principal actors in this drama can no longerreceive either public reward or thanks-I refer to M. PaulLacroix-to whose affection for Doré and interest in thiswork, the world is indebted for some of its rarestdata and memoranda. I can only place credit to hismemory, remembering that before he looked his last onearth all my thanks were spoken to him in person. Mylast words of acknowledgment must be for Mr. Wm.Beatty-Kingston, who has given me invaluable counseland suggestions.I would that my humble efforts could add to Dore'sfame. In doubtful moments I sometimes say, "It will besomething if my words shall not have detracted from it. "To those of Doré's friends who do not speak in thiswork I extend also thanks, as the murmurs of theirremembrance of the artist have been borne to me on thebreath of every friendly breeze. Perhaps they hope,with myself, that some day we shall see in France astatue erected to one of her greatest geniuses -GustaveDoré-so that from this symbol of national recognitionviii PREFACE.the world may judge somewhat how his country at lastvalues his works. Many an one who knew him intimately may read this and say, " Oh, she hasn't told halfthat I could have told about him! " Perhaps not, butI fear I have done my best.BLANCHE ROOSEVELT.



THE first time I saw Strasburg, I was agreeably but not particularly impressed. Like every one who visits that ancient frontier-town, I revelled in the beauty of its grand cathedral , with its imposing pinnacle losing itself in the clouds and dwarfing all around it . I looked at the gabled houses and quaint old streets, at the vaunted Rhine flowing past the fortressed walls; but I felt little tempted to linger, and left the venerable city without regret.

It had not then for me the deep interest which I subsequently came to feel for it when I heard that it wasthe birth- place of a great artist, a man who towered increative power as far above his fellows, and was in somerespects as lonely, as the grand spire which keeps eternalwatch over the Schwarzwald.In 1831 Strasburg looked much as it does now.There were the same quaint streets, and the same happylooking Alsatians walking about, and talking French witha detestable German accent. Had you known the capitalB2 GUSTAVE DORÉ.of Alsace in that year, you surely would have Rue de la Nuée Bleue, which was, and still is , thefinest street in the city. Here, in a comfortable stonedwelling, with a gabled roof and fair exterior, lived a civilengineer, with his young wife and family, consisting of oneson and a faithful nurse named Françoise.M. Doré was a very clever man, and was alwaysengaged in carrying out large and remunerative contracts. He was married at Schirmeck, and before hecame to live at Strasburg he had spent some time atEpinal, where his son Ernest was born; and when M.Doré came to settle in the old cathedral city his wife wasalready expectant of another child .Old Françoise was an important member of the family;as a matter of fact she had been recommended toMadame Doré on her marriage, by Madame Braun, acousin of the Pluchart family, that is to say, of MadameDoré's mother.Knowing that Madame Braun had been alife- long friendof the Doré family, I lost no time in seeking her out,to have a little chat about them. She was so very agedthat I feared I should not easily get to see her, for whenshe was born Paris was still ringing with the fall ofRobespierre; but one day I had the luck to find her,and she told me not only about Françoise, but much thatI shall relate hereafter appertaining to the Dorés.Françoise is the best and most faithful creature in theworld, " explained Madame Braun to me. " I said toAlexandrine Doré, ' Here, take her; I give her to you.She wishes to stop with us, but that is impossible. Shewill just do for you. ' So it came to pass that Françoisewas adopted into the Doré family, and brought up thechildren, who were ever afterwards like sons to her.'ورNext I had the good fortune to see the celebratedFrançoise herself, and when I interrogated her upon thesubject of the Dorés, she said to me,-" In January of 1832 M. Doré went away for a few days.We were then living, as you know, in Strasburg; on the5th of the month; well I remember it, for it was the eveA FRENCH BIRTH CERTIFICAT. 3of Twelfth Night when Madame took to her bed. Itwas a wild night, windy and snowing, and, oh! so dreary.It was past twelve when Dr. Goupil arrived . Afterwaiting a long while, he summoned me between five andsix o'clock in the morning, and he handed me a baby.' Here, Françoise, here is your son , ' he said; ' put himinto your apron, and take him away,' which I did. Oh!he was such a tiny creature, but hardy and well-built.You see, he came into the world on Twelfth Night-aA BOY WHO EXPECTS TO BE FIRST IN HIS CLASS.(From first letter illustrated by G. Doré, Strasburg, 1837. Unpublished. )circ*mstance considered very lucky. He was baptizedthree days later, and was named Louis Auguste Gustave,but we always called him Gustave. ""But, Françoise, " I interrupted, " Doré always insistedthat he was born on January the 1st; how could he havemade such a mistake? "" Stuff! " said she, rubbing her withered palms, " itwas the sixth, beyond a doubt. Perhaps he got that ideabecause we all called him a new-year's gift. I am sureno one ever presented the like to her husband. DearB 24GUSTAVE DORÉ.child! he was always so bright and precocious, and Iassure you he walked at the age of nine months, that isto say, he helped himself about all over the place, andcrept swiftly, which was quite as good as walking.Neither of his brothers was so clever or so quick as he. ""Was he never ill?" I asked."He had the usual childish complaints, but nothingthat old Françoise could not cure, except once, and ofthat do not let us speak. He was such a likely child ,and healthy, as a young pine. Then shortly after cameanother baby. He that is Colonel Emile, the soldier; Iloved him, too, but Gustave was my pet.'Then old Françoise cried , as she always does when shespeaks of her " child Gustave. " She wiped her eyeswith the end of her apron, and went on talking. It waseasy to see that her whole heart and soul had beenwrapped up in him.It is a very general idea that Doré was born in 1833.In order to set it at rest for ever I enclose a certifiedcopy of his certificat de naissance declaration made inStrasburg, January 9th, 1832.2 Division Bureau de L'État Civil.Registre No No de 1' Acte33.Doré,Louis- Auguste"Mairie de la Ville de Strasbourg,66 Département du Bas-Rhin." EXTRAIT"des Registres des Actes de Naissance."Déclaration faite à l'Hôtel de Ville de Strasbourg,département du Bas- Rhin, pardevant l'Officier de l'Étatcivil, à onze heures du matin, le neuf Janvier, mil huitGustave, cent trente- deux, de la naissance d'un enfant du sexe1832. masculin, né en légitime mariage, le six du dit mois . . .à six heures du matin, et nommé Louis-Auguste Gustave.“ Prénoms et nom du déclarant, Pierre Louis Christophe Doré,"Agé de vingt-neuf ans, domicilié à Strasbourg.66 Qualité ou profession, Ingénieur des ponts et chaussées."Père de l'enfant, le susdit déclarant."6"Mère de l'enfant, Alexandrine Marie Anne Pluchart.' Témoins, etc.: Signé Doré; G. Braun, Lieut. - Colonelde Cavalerie, Off. Légion d'Honneur; Mirbiller; Flack,Officier de l'État Civil.66 Délivré pour Service de Recrutement."Collationné," L'Officier de l'État Civil."FLACK. "THE DORE HOUSEHOLD.5M. Daubrée, Ex- President of the Institute of France,who knew the Dorés intimately, has told me a great dealabout the family from '32 to '48." It was a happy, well- to- do household, " he said, " andthe children made it extremely lively. The three sonsSTRASBOURGEOISE.(G. Doré, 1839. Unpublished.)were nearly of an age, but as different in disposition asone may well imagine. Ernest, the eldest boy, wasastonishingly clever; was visionary when he should havebeen practical; was a wonderfully good musician, andaltogether a charming child. Emile, the youngest, wasa sturdy, intelligent, and uncommonly kind-hearted lad;6 GUSTAVE DORÉhe also had great taste for music; but Gustave's naturewas a duplex one.EARLY SKETCHES, 1839.(Doré's Drawing-book. Unpublished. )"On the one hand he was full of affection, sweetness,gentleness, and gaiety; on the other he was silent, proud,ambitious, dreamy, and exacting. Gustave really reignedYOUNG GUSTAVE'S CAPRICIOUSNESS. 7over the house. His capricious moods only endeared himthe more to his mother; she fairly worshipped him. It isimpossible to conceive a stranger, but at the same time amore winning lad. He was a general pet, and, for soyoung a child, displayed great force of affection . Hecould command any one's love, and I never knew anyof his friends who were not always under the charmof his sweet, fascinating ways. Boys are not usually soamiable."M. Daubrée continued: "But he did not take to everyone, and was unusually quick in contracting sympathiesor antipathies. He had, with all his sweetness, somethingso independent and determined about him that his motherinvariably finished by giving way to him, whilst hisbrothers followed their mother's lead. He was kindenough to her in later years , however, and richly repaidall the loving caresses she had ever lavished upon him. "Gustave Doré had every reason to be content withhis life in early youth . His grandfather was a man ofcultivated and refined character, but I shall let Mme.Braun describe him here exactly as she did to me theother day. "I remember him well," she said; " he wasall that was attractive . His manners were soft and deferential, and he was a welcome guest in his friends'houses. In person he was so striking that whenever hewalked in the streets people turned round to look athim. He was a gentlemanly man, was M. Doré, senior,and Gustave always wished to be like him. I have insisted over and over again that the poor dear child resembled his grandfather more closely than any of thefamily, even his own father, and his features reproducedthe very traits of the old man's face. "It is easy to see from whom Doré inherited his charmof manner and personal fascination. His maternal grandmother was thus described to me by the late M. PaulLacroix, the great savant, of whom I shall speak later indetail:-" Of all the women I have ever known," he said," Madame Pluchart was perhaps the most extraordinary.8 GUSTAVE DORÉ.She was beautiful, and sympathetically beautiful, whichis not always the case with lovely women. Her skin wasas white as a lily; her eyes were as bright as stars; hermouth, although proud, was sweet; her figure was graceful, and her bearing that of a duch*ess. But her personalbeauty was the least of her charms. She was witty,spirituelle, and engaging to a degree that turned theheads of half the men who ever came near her. She wasas highly educated as it is possible for a woman to be,and her letters, of which I have many, would not havedisgraced Mme. de Sévigné. She had a sunny nature,and was always gay and light-hearted. I don't thinkthat I ever saw her downcast. Ever smiling, full of life,energetic, interested in literature and questions regardingthe public welfare. She had every topic of the dayabsolutely at her tongue's end. She was rich, and lefther fortune to the Dorés, with whom she spent a greatdeal of her time at Strasburg. Indeed I am not surethat she did not stay year in and year out with them.Gustave was her pet, but she never, strange to say,paid the slightest attention to his caprice for sketching,nor did she ever interfere in the least with her grandchildren." It is not strange that Doré loved his handsome grandmother, and was so much impressed by her grace andbeauty that many of his early sketches vividly recalled.her features and expression . His mother was of a totallydifferent type. She was dark, with large, oriental eyes ,slim, lithe figure, and a character alternating capricewith decision. She also had a hasty temper, which at ·times she did not even attempt to restrain. Gustave wasoften surprised at her irritability, but never referred toit in any way, and always treated her with extreme.deference. Perhaps this was because she invariably tookhis part, and, from the time she saw his first sketch, wasnever weary of telling him that he was a genius, and hada great future before him. His brothers, who were goodlads, and both very clever, were sent when quite youngto the Polytechnic school at Bourg. "LACROIX DESCRIBES GUSTAVE'S GRANDMOTHER. 9Gustave Doré never knew want, nor was he called uponin early life to make any sacrifices for his art. He lovedEARLY SKETCHES, 1839.(From Doré's Drawing-book. Unpublished. )it none the less , however, and his childhood days, repletewith every comfort, were far from inculcating a spirit ofΙΟ GUSTAVE doré.idleness in him; when, however, at a later period it becamenecessary to sacrifice certain habits, he did so gladly andreadily.He loved play, and was inordinately fond of the theatre,of music, of circus tricks, juggling, mumming, and thelike amusem*nt; but he was often known to give up hismost favourite childish games in order to steal off aloneto sketch any idea which happened to come into his head.He would keep at work for hours together, and hispatience was remarkable in a child of his tender years .He was generally liked by his playmates, and therewere few pleasanter lads in Strasburg than Gustave andhis brothers. The only thing which really disturbed Doréin his early youth was the lack of attention paid by hisfamily to his taste for drawing. He loved his home,however, and to his youthful mind it seemed that nohouse could be happier or more comfortable than his.This love of home and family was one of the chief andlifelong characteristics of Gustave Doré. During thelong evenings, when there was little or no recreation inthe outer world, the Doré family assembled in the common drawing-room. The father with his plans, MadameAlexandrine, his wife, with her needle, busily employedupon some cherished tapestry, Madame Pluchart, thepersonification of elegant ease, with a copy of Racine orMolière in her lap; Ernest and Emile playing atsoldiering, while Gustave, hard by at a little table, satwith great dignity drawing quaint forms and figures inhis copy-book. This his mother used often to catch upwith a loud exclamation, and to her astonishment theseforms and faces seemed very familiar. On one occasion she disturbed the whole household with her cries ofsurprise." Look "dear me,! do come and look!" she exclaimed;how funny, and how like papa! See what Gustave hasdone! Here is the postman, here is Françoise, and Emile,and a lot of people whom I don't even know! Where didyou see them, Gustave?"Everywhere," he responded, laughing.DORE'S FATHER ON GUSTAVE'S SKETCHING. II"Yes, I suppose so. But how have you been able tomake them like?" she persisted. "Did they sit toyou?"" Sit to me! No, never. They are all here, " he said,touching his forehead significantly. "Why should I notdraw them like?" Then he closed his copy-book with alook of intense disgust, for already the idea of any onebeing obliged to sit to him for a picture seemed to aspersion on his genius.This youthful pride enchanted Madame Doré. Shedeemed such talent marvellous, and the boy's amourpropre seemed to her a direct natural sign by which allshould recognize his wondrous gifts. She kept turningover the leaves of his book, and at every page an exclamation of pleasure escaped her. She felt virtuouslyindignant when, in answer to her remark, " My son is agenius, " M. Doré impatiently cried out, " Don't fill hishead with nonsense.""It is not nonsense, " she retorted; " my son is a greatgenius; he will be one of the first artists in the world.He must study painting."" Our son will be nothing of the sort, and do nothingof the sort," grumbled M. Doré. "He shall go toschool at Bourg, but he shall not study to be an artist .I don't want any son of mine to adopt so precarious acalling. He shall go to a polytechnic school with hisbrothers, then we shall see what he can do. But ifhe wish to please his father, he will never become apainter."Gustave felt very deeply hurt at this response, but hismother secretly consoled him, and he kept on bravely athis work, paying not the slightest attention to M. Doré'sgrumbling. Even at that early age he was much of acompanion to his father, and often accompanied him onlong walks .M. Doré was surprised by his son's precocity andmemory. The little fellow remembered everything thatwas told him, everything he saw and heard. His parentssoon remarked his inventive faculty, as on his return.12 GUSTAVE DORÉ.home from these walks he would describe things which noone had seen with a fertility of imagination absolutely asFIRST SKETCHES.(Doré's Drawing- book, 1840. Unpublished. )tounding. Strange to say, he portrayed unreal events witha colour and liveliness which put reality into the shade,LEGEND OF THE CATHEDRAL OF STRASBURG. 13He was scrupulously honest, but his fertile brain often.cast truth to the wind. At an early age he evinced a lovefor the extravagant and mysterious.Any one who knows Alsace and the region of theBlack Forest is aware that hundreds of startling tales andlegends exist in that country. The young Gustave fairly revelled in these tales. When a fairy story was told tohim, he immediately invested the characters with appropriate dress and accessories. He classified his childishheroes and heroines, and often went so far as to describe.their personal appearance, indicating the colour of theireyes, hair, and complexion, their respective statures, andeven the sound of their voices. He delighted in Biblicaland mythological stories, which his mother, MadamePluchart, and Madame Braun used to tell him withoutend.One of his favourite tales was the legend of the Cathedral of Strasburg.This had so great an influence on his life that I mustrepeat it here, although all the world may know it; certainly you should never stand within the shadow of thegreat minster without thinking of it. And this was thestory as it was told to baby Gustave:-Erwin von Steinbach was a great architect of the thirteenth century. Some men said to him, " We want acathedral for Strasburg, and to you shall be given thehonour of making the plans." The magnitude of theenterprise frightened him, and he worried himself socontinually about it that he could not attend to his otherwork. Steinbach had a daughter named Sabine. Shewas a gifted child , skilled in the plastic arts, and was,moreover, an excellent draughtswoman-altogether adaughter to be proud of. She had also a sweet andtender disposition, which made home a happy one to herhard-working father. One night after fretting about hiscathedral plans , which he could not carry out to hissatisfaction, he told Sabine all his troubles. They wepttogether, for she was a good and loving child, and couldnot bear to see her old father disgraced as he surely14 GUSTAVE DORÉ.would be if the minster should not turn out a grand affair.She consoled him as best she could, and after talking overthe matter until late they prayed together. Sabine bade herfather good- night, and as she went toward her little room,said, "Dear father, be courageous; don't despair. God willhelp us." So saying, she left him and went to bed. Shesaid her prayers, and again wept bitterly because she didnot know how the inspiration to plan the cathedral wouldever come to her dear father. At last she fell asleep anddreamt that a beautiful angel came to her, inquiring whyshe and her father were so unhappy. The angel stoodclose to her bedside, and spoke to her with a voicelike a celestial harp . Poor Sabine again shed tears,and told her heavenly visitant the whole story.the angel smiled and said, " I will help him, butyou shall make the plan for the minster. " Then theradiant being and Sabine set to work, cheerfully rejoicing over the surprise they would cause to good PapaErwin. In a little while all was done, and the angelvanished.SoIn the morning when Sabine woke up she uttered aloud scream, for a paper was spread out before hercovered with drawings of angels, saints, and martyrs, andmany graceful outlines. Sabine cried out so loud withjoy that her father entered her room, and found her in bedwith her arms spread out over the paper. So she toldhim of her dream, and how she and the good angel haddrawn the plans during the night. Her father exclaimed," Child, it was no dream. The angel really visited you,bringing with it the inspiration from heaven to helpus!""Later on he built the cathedral from the supernaturalplan, and told everybody how Sabine had drawn it, withthe angel who appeared to her in a vision . The planswere so beautiful that the Strasburg people believedhim. Steinbach and his daughter lived happily for manyyears, and when they died two statues were set up totheir memory, one on each side of the church, where theystand to this day.LYONL'INSPIRE. STRASBURG CATHEDRAL.(Early Drawing.).Page 14.

DORÉ REMEMBERS SABINE'S DREAM. 15This story was told to the little Gustave, with thisending: " If you are a good boy and study well, anangel will also come and inspire you to make beautiful saints and martyrs, and you will be happy everafter."The legend made a deep impression upon Gustave'smind, prompting him to haunt the cathedral in order tolook at Sabine and her father. He often told thestory in his own way, and was very angry because hislisteners did not know what the angel was like. He described it to them as if he had been personally acquaintedwith it." Can't you see her? there she is, with rose- colouredwings, coming out of a cloud. Her face is like wax, andher hair is streaming out behind her. She is singing;she carries a harp and a golden pencil . I can see her,and hear her too."")Gustave Doré was but a tiny child, and yet he couldsee Sabine von Steinbach's heavenly visitant as clearlyas ever Milton saw the Archangel Gabriel.16 GUSTAVE DORÉ.



It is a noteworthy fact that Gustave Doré was born andspent the first ten years of his life in the shadow of thegreat minster. From the Rue de la Nuée Bleue the familyremoved to the Rue des Veaux, a street crossing thegrand Place de la Cathédrale, and the house in which theDorés lived looked out on the rear façade of the wondrousGothic structure, so that Gustave every day feasted hiseyes upon a work of art which influenced his later yearsin no small measure. He adored the church, and wasnever weary of gazing at it. There was not a gargoyleor pinnacle that was not known to him, not a paintedwindow that he had not looked at a hundred times . Everystatue of saint or martyr was an old friend to him. Hisfamily and comrades remarked this excessive love for thecathedral, and supposed it to be merely a boy's fondnessfor something which he was in the habit of seeing daily.But, later on, more importance was attached to thepredilection in question , and Doré's family had causemany a time to think of it.GUSTAVE AND HIS EARLY SCHOOL-MATES. 17When Gustave was about five years of age he was sentto a boarding and day- school kept by a certain ProfessorVergnette, who occupied a large house in the Place dela Cathédrale, directly facing the great minster. YoungEARLY SKETCHES.(Doré's Drawing- book, 1840. Unpublished. )Doré, consequently, could neither go to nor from his classwithout passing the Domkirche.At this school he had two companions, boys of nearlyhis own age, the sons of M. Kratz, a very well- to- docitizen of Strasburg, and his acquaintance with them,begun in the modest scholastic establishment directed by C18 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Professor Vergnette, was one which ripened into a lifelong friendship.The Kratz boys were only day pupils, but Gustave andhis brother Ernest took their mid- day meal in the school,and were considered part of the good professor's family.The four boys were constantly together in and out ofFIRST LETTER ILLUSTRATED BY DORÉ, 1837.(Doré awaits the letter announcing that he is first in his class. Unpublished. )JobolleJourDed hours. They spent the major portion of theirtime in each other's company. Whenthe Doré boys werenot at home they were with the little Kratzs, and whenthe little Kratzs were not under the paternal roof theywere to be found at M. Doré's house.Gustave and his brother spent every Sunday in summertime at Graffenstaden, M. Kratz's beautiful countryGUSTAVE WINS HIS FIRST PRIZE AT SCHOOL. 19AjLettredeFremmerJesuis Drablementcontentd'thepremier,ImaintinantzaDie frames dans ma virtirelegarde auHeau commencement9Jelettreceglandwillcegranvillec'estunefourniquirepreduntBabottequerevientDucollegearelanottedhannewPermission of M. Kratz. Unpublished.PROFESSOR VERGNETTE. GUSTAVE WITH HIS FIRST PRIZE.(Illustrated letter written by Gustave Doré two months before entering his sixth year. )C 220 GUSTAVE DORÉ.place, a little way out of Strasburg. No sooner hadGustave reached the villa than he would beg permissionto play at private theatricals .Not infrequently on arriving at the Villa Kratz he dispensed with the usual " Bon jour, " substituting forthat conventional greeting the words, " Maintenant nousallons jouer la comédie toute la journée. ”He was passionately devoted to the stage and everything pertaining thereto, and entertained an equal fondness for music. Music and the drama ran in his mind,seemingly to the exclusion of all other topics. His tastefor the play-house was so marked , and his faculty forimitating singing and acting was so extraordinary, thatevery one who knew him said, " Gustave will be an actoror a musician. " In short, it never entered any one's headthat he could possibly take to anything else, so stronglywere these tastes developed in his nature. I lay stressupon this fact as it shows that we do not always exclusivelydisplay in our earliest youth those talents for which webecome remarkable later on. The boy Doré, in the coopinion of his friends, was absolutely destined to follow acareer very different from that which the man Doréactually pursued.During his early school days at Professor Vergnette's,he was not only encouraged to study hard, but his fatherpromised to make him a small present in money everytime he should reach the head of his class . He had notbeen a twelvemonth at the Professor's when he feltso sure of achieving that distinction , that he wrote alittle letter to his friend Arthur Kratz, describing andillustrating with pen sketches the feelings of a boy aboutto receive a reward for being at the head of his class.Gustave Doré's ambition and self-assertion developedrapidly during his boyhood. He appeared to care littleenough for the money with which his father offered toreward his assiduity at school, but he could not bear tothink that any boy in his class should get ahead of him.The pride he took in his book- learning was only equalledby his desire to display whatever prize his industry mightGUSTAVE'S LETTER TO ARTHUR KRATZ. 21enable him to win. It was not enough for him to be atthe head of his class; he wished all those around him toknow it, and above all to talk about it . His wishes werefully gratified.Á few days later he wrote another letter to his friend,illustrating the joys of the successful competitors forschool honours. This letter was one of the most remark2 SolsVeSagesseSKETCH FROM SECOND LETTER ILLUSTRATED BY G. DORÉ.(November, 1837, second page, Strasburg. Unpublished .)able productions ever achieved by a child of his years,even if that child had been named Michael Angelo.When Gustave Doré sent it to his friend ArthurKratz, he was within a month of entering his sixthyear.Madame Doré thought that her boy was a born genius.She raved about his talent, as well she might; but herhusband still saw no particular reason to rejoice over him,22 GUSTAVE DORÉ.merely observing that " Gustave was a good lad, and hadwell earned his ten francs. "We may be assured that he went through the usualelementary course of study. Beyond a doubt he resolved.the ordinary dose of diluted classics, compounded of theingredients-Telemachus, Hercules, cl*tus, and othermythological drugs, with which his young brain was dulyinoculated. Probably he hated them as much as mostschool- boys do, and later on, as we say in America, " hegot even " with at least three of them, cl*tus, Hercules,and Telemachus.During those school days Gustave made sketcheson his slate, copy- books, and writing-exercises. Manyof the little strips of paper, called " devoirs " in Frenchscholastic parlance, are preserved to this day by M.Ernest Kratz and others of Gustave's friends. One ofthem is , curious enough, adorned with a mythologicalpersonage running in arabesques all around the margin ofthe paper. The drawing was not remarkable, and wasconsidered to be the outcome of absence of mind ratherthan of talent. " I think, " said M. Kratz to me, whenspeaking of it, " he did not even know what he was doingwhen he designed it. "The first sketch he ever completed—a little group ofsoldiers is still in the possession of M. Ernest Kratz.This drawing was preserved by mere chance. Its ownerfound it in an old school- book, and, remembering thatGustave had presented it to him, put it away as a littlereminder of the friend he was so fond of. Helittle thoughthow precious a souvenir it would become in after-years.Gustave Doré was in his eighth year or thereaboutwhen, in November, 1840, an event occurred whichproved the starting- point of his artistic career.ForStrasburg was in gala array over a great public celebration. A statue of the renowned Guttenberg was atlast to be erected in the old Marché des Herbes.months the civic and military authorities had beenpreparing for this interesting event. It had been decidedthat, amongst other display, there should be organized aTHE FÊTE DE GUTTENBERG.23grand cortége, representing the industrial corporationsof Strasburg, consisting of fifteen or more chariots, to befilled with representative members of each guild , deckedout in holiday and symbolic guise, with coronals, wreaths ,flowers, and laurel, escorted by bands of music andoutriders , equipped in the usual paraphernalia of festivedecoration characterizing great public rejoicings.Of these corporations the first was that of the printers ,in honour of Guttenberg; the next, that of the glassstainers, of which I shall speak in particular, as it playsa very important part in this biography.The name of the guild in question explains itself.From the twelfth to the sixteenth century Strasburgenjoyed, in common with Munich and several otherGerman cities, the reputation of being pre- eminent in theart of glass- staining. A guild was formed under the titleof "La Corporation des Peintres- verriers, " which, fromthe first, flourished with extraordinary vigour. Althoughthis guild consisted of men of all ranks and artistictalents, it is not to be supposed that the humble workmanwho painted an obscure window in some obscure churchcould do nothing more than that. He might turn hishand to any bread-winning craft, easy or difficult ofattainment, if he was known to be a member of the glassstainers' guild. The rank of artist was conceded him bythe Strasbourgeois, and he was justly esteemed as such.It would be interesting to trace the career of this corporation from its inception, but I have only to deal withcertain phases of its latter- day existence. Although painting on glass might be falling off as an art, the guild wascertainly not in decadence as a corporation. Whateverits craftsmen may have been in past ages, they constitutea goodly company at the present day, proud of theirprofession, and numbering in their ranks some of theleading artists of Strasburg. As a corporation theyhave their own coat- of- arms, blazoned in gay heraldiccolours , but the oldest insignia was the lantern of thePeintre-verrier, in the shape of a many- pointed, manycoloured star. Naturally at the fête of the Guttenberg24 GUSTAVE DORĖ.statue, as I have said, the chariot of honour was that of theprinters' corporation. Next came the glass- stainers, whilstamongst the others were those of the gardeners, and,lastly, of the coopers.Any one who has been present at popular fêtes inFrench towns may readily picture to himself the city ofStrasburg on the 13th of November, 1840. The streetswere decorated with triumphal arches of flowers and evergreens; the houses and balconies were garnished withgay- coloured draperies; flags were flying and bands wereplaying; military and municipal authorities drove about inchariots and open carriages, splendidly arrayed in gay uniforms sparkling with decorations and medals; the childrenwere in holiday attire, and every commune within a tenmile radius of Strasburg had supplied its quota of notabilities and village folk wherewith to swell the waves ofhuman beings that poured incessantly through the gatesof the old fortress city. These, with the rich Alsatianpeasants from a dozen neighbouring hamlets, invaded thetown, with their new blouses and gowns, baskets of food,and their heads adorned with every sort of head- dress,completed a spectacle which for picturesqueness, vivacity,and variety of colour, could only be seen in one of theRhenish provinces.If the whole of the city wore a gala aspect, it can beimagined what the then newly-named Place du Guttenbergmust have been-the great square in which all the principal ceremonies of the day were appointed to come off!He was inGustave Doré, with his brother and friends, had beenon the tip- toe of excitement from early morn.the streets the whole day long. The eager boy wenteverywhere, and saw everything; he seemed to be ubiquitous, and when night came his head was so full of whathad happened, that he positively talked himself to sleep.It must be remembered that this was the first great publicfête he had ever witnessed. He was deeply impressed byit, as most intelligent children of his years would havebeen. His brain had been whirling with excitement fromsunrise till sunset; and of all the people in Strasburg whoAAFTER THE FÊTE. 25enjoyed that memorable occasion none so fairly revelledin universal pleasure as did Gustave Doré.The next day the fête was apparently to him a thing ofthe past. He did not even speak of it . He had seeminglyswept it out of his mind as quickly as a listless handwould brush away a summer cobweb.STRASBOURGEOIS.(Doré's Drawing-book, 1840. Unpublished.)The part this event played in Doré's after-life I leaveone of the principal actors in the drama to relate. M.Arthur Kratz, the distinguished Conseiller à la Cour desComptes, Gustave Doré's life-long friend and companion,shall here describe its effects in his own words, as spokenby him to me some weeks ago.26 GUSTAVE DORÉwwwww



"AFTER the fête," said M. Kratz, " there was nothingfor us boys but to resume our regular daily round ofschool life . We had had such a jolly time that most ofus did not find it easy to take up once more the humdrum routine of books and rules and punishments; indeedthe only one who went on as if nothing had happenedwas Gustave. I don't remember having heard him oncemention the word fête. His was such a quick, effervescing nature, and so many things were rushing pell-mellthrough his brain at a time, that I supposed even therecollection of the ceremony was blotted out completelyfrom his memory. To only one idea was he faithful -hisfondness for playing at theatricals. His passion for thisamusem*nt was all- engrossing, and I must tell you thathe never thought of playing any part without preparing himself as to costume, accessories, &c. He wouldimprovise the most extraordinary costumes out of anyold garment, and everything available in the way of furniture he found the wayto convert instantaneously intosuitable scenery and decorations. I never knew such aboy in my life. He could turn his wits to anything, andanything to his wits .PROFESSOR vergnetTE'S CELEBRATION. 27The Sunday following the festivities, as usual, hespent with me at Graffenstaden, and we played at ' theatre 'EARLY SKETCHES.(Doré's Drawing book, 1840. Unpublished. )the whole afternoon. Then after supper we had somemusic, and he sang several comic songs which were veryamusing, while his brother Ernest played on the piano,28 GUSTAVE DORÉ.and we passed altogether a merry time. I assure you itseemed a pity to break up our party, and for the Doréboys to go home. Gustave on this occasion had been solively and amusing that every one present agreed in pronouncing him one of the most charming children they hadever met with." You see we were not alone at Graffenstaden. Besidesmy father, mother, brother Ernest, and the Dorés, weusually had a house full of friends, who constituted ourpublic when we performed in private theatricals . Oneand all spoke of Gustave's talent, exclaiming:-"It iscertain that he will go on the stage.' ' He must becomean actor.' ' Did any one ever see dramatic talent sostrongly developed in a child of his age?'" Gustave was very proud, of course, but volunteeredno statement as to what he intended to do. He was atthat time a rollicking gamin, and thoroughly kind- heartedwithal. Boys often do very unkind things, even in play;but he was never wicked or cruel. Through his naturethere always ran an undercurrent of sentiment and tenderness. He was so sensitive, as a child, that a merenothing coming from a friend would hurt his feelings; buthe did not care a rap about what strangers said to him,and fully held his own with other lads. I can tell you,my parents were extraordinarily fond of him. You mayimagine what Graffenstaden was with four, no, five boysin it at once, all nearly of an age! We kept the housein a continual uproar. But those were the happiest daysof our life, and no one was ever so welcome there asGustave, who was a superlative demon as far as fun,gaiety, and mischief were concerned."He went home that night as usual, and next day wemet at school. I cannot quite remember the exact date,but not long after, we heard that Professor Vergnette'sfête-day was at hand. The boys wished to celebrate itin a proper manner, and we held a sort of council amongstourselves as to the style of entertainment that it would bepossible to arrange. Gustave in this, as in everything,was the leading spirit of the enterprise.DORÉ REPEATS THE FÊTE OF GUTTENBERG. 29" I will tell you, boys, ' he said at once. ' Let us reproduce the Fête of Guttenberg.'" But how?' we asked; it is impossible! '" Nothing is impossible, ' he replied . ' I will takecharge of the whole affair, and will be responsible foreverything. You shall see what I can do. We will makeit a grand success.'"Upon this, he proceeded to explain his project." We must have four chariots , ' he said, and I will beat the head of the glass- stainers .'" And now let me tell you about the fête which wegot up under his direction. About one p.m. on the appointed day everything was ready, and we marched roundthe cathedral square after having shown ourselves to theprofessor. There were the four chariots drawn by some ofthe school-boys , the rest of whom filled the cars, representing the different corporations. Gustave was at thehead of his chosen guild, and had dressed himself in acharacteristic costume, including a Rubens hat, withpaper ornaments. His whole get-up was quite that of amediæval artist. The respective masters of the guilds werechosen from amongst ourselves by him, and he preparedthem for the parts they had to play. For instance, Ipersonified the chief cooper, and he taught me the trickthat was always performed at the fêtes of the coopers'guild. You must know that some of the Alsatian mountaineers were extremely adroit in the performance of thisparticular trick, which consisted in turning round a glassfull of beer inside the rim of a cask-hoop without spillinga drop of the liquor. Gustave, who was wonderfullydexterous, had learned how to do this to perfection froman old barrel- maker who occupied a flat in the samehouse as the Dorés. Well, he got meup in my part, andI headed my guild in the car, twirling the glass in thehoop to the best of my ability. I cannot remember thename of the boy who headed the gardeners' guild; butthat of the printers' association was in the hands ofErnest Doré, Gustave's eldest brother, who played avery important part in the féte.30 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Not only had Gustave organized and completed thepreparations for the celebration, but he had decorated thechariots inside and out, besides effecting the extraordinaryachievements I am now about to describe to you. Hepainted four banners, each of nearly two yards in lengthand one in breadth; one for each corporation. Willyoubelieve it that he drew all the insignia from memory? Forinstance, the printers ' banner displayed presses, newspapers, and so on, and that of the coopers' their old craftsymbols, of course; but the most marvellous of all wasthat which waved above his own triumphal car. He hadaccurately painted the ancient lantern of the Peintresverriers, in the form of a star, with coloured glass points ,and at its base he had reproduced a well-known stainedglass window of the cathedral. The whole was decoratedwith a design in arabesques environing the gorgeousbanner's margin; and in a corner, underneath all, wasinscribed his own name, G. Doré fecit.'" He had given orders that as we marched round thesquare we should stop every now and then, in order towork at our different trades. The gardeners made upbouquets, and threw them to the crowd; bulletins wereissued from the printing- press, and flung about hither andthither; I did my hoop trick, and made believe to drink.deep draughts of the foaming beer of Strasburg; butGustave outdid us all . He stopped every time we did,struck an attitude, and made sketches of people in thecrowd, which he launched to the right and left with greatdignity. Only when some one exclaimed that he or sherecognized a striking likeness did I realize that Gustave.was making real drawings. He was the quaintest sightI ever set eyes on, and I think I can see him now, perchedon his car, with his extraordinary hat, his fantastic garments, his head bent on one side; every now and anonstriking his attitude and quickly making his sketches,which he distributed to the applauding throng. We finallydrew up before the Pension Vergnette, and went into thehouse, where we presented the four banners to our schoolmaster, and Gustave made an elaborate speech in honourDORE'S FUTURE CAREER IS DECIDED UPON. 31of the occasion. The Professor and his family weredelighted; but when they saw the paintings on thebanners, and some of the sketches which Gustave hadstrewn about him in the Place, their enthusiasm knew nobounds. From that day forth I felt sure that my giftedschoolfellow would never become an actor. It wasobvious that Gustave Doré was cut out by nature for anartist, and all who knew him foretold that he would onePEASANT'S HEAD.( Bourg, 1841. Unpublished . )I have heard of many day adopt painting as a career.precocious feats performed by youths whose talentsraised them above the common level, but never have Iknown such a prodigy as Gustave Doré proved himself tobe, when quite a little child, planning and successfullycarrying out such a marvellous imitation of the Fête ofGuttenberg as he then executed from memory."Years rolled on, and I had almost forgotten thecirc*mstance, when Gustave himself recalled it to me one32 GUSTAVE DORÉ.day whilst we were talking over our school days. Hesuddenly asked me if I remembered our Guttenberg fête,and in two words brought it all back to my memory. Itwas exactly what I have told you now. Gustave added,' I should not be likely to forget my first appearance inpublic as an artist. Besides, that was the time when youall told me that I should make a great painter.'" I lay stress upon this fête, " observed M. Kratz, inconclusion, " for it was the starting-point in his career,and the first revelation to his friends that he possessedsuch a marvellous taste for drawing. This amazing featwas for a time the exclusive topic of conversation in ourlittle circle, and although it was hard to make peoplebelieve that he alone had planned and executed the entirecelebration in less than forty-eight hours, no one thereafter ever thought of any other career for Gustave Dorébut the glorious one of art. "At the end of that term Gustave was sent to thecollege of Strasburg. He was accompanied by hisbrothers, and dear friends Arthur and Ernest Kratz.There he improved his acquaintance with his old classicaltormentors, and drew many an astonishing picture in hislittle drawing-books. Happily some of these have beenpreserved to the present day. He studied with greatassiduity, and his precocity in all respects was truly remarkable. With all his application to serious studies, theelement of fancy predominated in his nature, and hisimagination began to overstep all limits . A new illusionpossessed him every day in the week, and the ideaswhich floated through his brain were sometimes strange.enough to alarm his family and friends. He relatedtales of adventures which could never have taken placesave in the fantastic realm of the " Arabian Nights;and, after listening to his extravagant narrations, peoplewere wont to ejacul*te in utter astonishment,"Howcan he possibly think of such things? What room isthere in any child's brain for such astounding and fantasticideas!"GUSTAVE'S GENEROSITY. 33



HeAr an early age Gustave Doré showed interest in peopleand scenes with which he had little in common. Hewould loiter in the streets of Strasburg, staring at everyodd- looking man, woman, and child whom he met.never seemed to be attracted by the rich or prosperous;on the contrary, every old concierge in the Rue de laNuée Bleue and Rue des Veaux was known to him bysight, and the lineaments of every street Arab, postman,and beggar were indelibly impressed upon his memory.Things out of the ordinary never failed to attract hisattention, and he invariably saw the ludicrous side of athing as promptly as he did the pathetic. His disposition was strangely unselfish, and his childish generositybecame proverbial in his family.One day in the dead of winter, when he was barelyseven years old, he returned home from one of his street.excursions, with his legs severely scratched and his feetbare and bleeding. Françoise called out to him, -" In the name of heaven, Master Gustave, what hashappened to you? For the love ofthe Holy Virgin, whereD34 GUSTAVE DORÉ.are your shoes? What will your mother say when shesees you in such a state? Where have you been? "DAWCONSEARLY SKETCH, 1840.(Doré's Drawing-book. Unpublished. )"Well, Françoise, " he replied, " I have been a goodlong way to- day, walking with some very unfortunateHE GIVES HIS SHOES TO A BEGGAR. 35people, especially one little boy-just my age-who isdreadfully poor. He was something like me, only he wasin rags and had no shoes to his feet. It hurt me to seehim like that in winter, you know, so I gave him mine,because he has no father, as I have, to give him shoes.Say nothing about it . I shall wear my old ones for anotherquarter. They fitted him exactly; what luck-was itnot? Don't tell mamma, for she would scold me! "Françoise tells this story with infinite delight."It was only one of many things he did of that kind, "she added. " He was always giving, giving, giving. HisSCENE, LIFE OF JUPITEr.(Original Sketch, 1843. Unpublished. )hand was continually in his pocket, and I never knewhim to keep his pence or spend his money on himself.Beggar or organ-grinder always got it out of him! "He passed the greater part of his play-hours out ofdoors, and Françoise says that whenever any one askedfor Master Gustave she had to run and fetch him. He wasusually in conversation with some mendicant or strollingplayer, or perhaps lounging in the square, when therewould be a crowd collected, with market- women haggling,soldiers joking and swearing, children yelling, and acrobats kicking up their heels in public.D 236outbutstillveryaptGUSTAVE DORÉ.He developed a talent for gymnastics which would nothave discredited the Vokes Family, and from his fifthyear to his fiftieth he never outgrew his fondness for hisfavourite pastime. He often fraternized with streetacrobats, took part in their professional rounds, and wasextremely proud of his agility. On his way home fromthese expeditions he was always wrapped up in himself,walking by his companion's side with the greatestdignity. His curious reticence on these occasions wasfrequently the subject of comment and conjecture in hisfamily circle. He sometimes pulled at old Françoise'sskirts when out with her, thus signifying to her to stop.Perhaps a mere nothing had attracted his attention;some quaintly attired old woman carrying a wooden pailon her head in lieu of a turban; some vagabond pedlerdisplaying his tempting wares to the thrifty housewives ofStrasburg. All objects of this class; rarely any beautifulsight. When he had looked his full, without uttering a word,he would return quietly to his father's house. Once indoors, he relieved his mind by performing a few circustricks, or turning head over heels all through the differentrooms, and indulging in all the antics of a lively kitten ,but never saying anything about his outdoor excursions.Next day, however, his sketch- book faithfully reproducedthe leading incidents of his promenade. There was oftena touch of pathos in his sketches, but the comic veinran more or less conspicuously through them all . PaulLacroix once said to me, -" Madame Doré was more than ever enchanted withGustave when he was about nine years old. It pleasedher fancy to imagine him a genius; she boldly encouraged him in drawing, and made the most of his everylittle sketch. However, I must regretfully confess that,in spite of all he did, she was the only one to see anythingout of the common in the little lad. His grandmotherPluchart refused to recognize any extraordinary talent inher grandson. She had the tact, when her daughterraved about him, to hold her tongue, and thus peace waskept in the family. No discussion pro or con could elicitMADAME PLUCHART'S ADVICE TO DORÉ. 37a word from her. This was somewhat remarkable in agrandmother. She only told Gustave to study hard, readhis Bible, and remember that he bore an honest name.When he ventured to speak of becoming an artist someday, she would say,--" There are other and more serious things in theworld than making sketches of broken- backed animalsand weak-kneed vagrants. Think of your books beforeall else. The first thing in life is to have a goodeducation-to be able to instruct oneself. Spend time,TJUPITER AND THE GOAT. (chap. x. )(Doré, 1841. Unpublished.)therefore, on your books, for every one despises anignoramus. '999Madame Pluchart's opinions were highly cherished inher daughter's house-so highly that even Gustave, whilehe complained openly to his mother of the old lady's lackof appreciation of his drawings, managed in secret to reada great deal. He thought his grandmother incapable ofdeciding on art- matters, but, with no little shrewdness,made up his mind that he could not do better than followher advice with respect to book- learning. No one knewexactly when he learned to read; it was between the age38GUSTAVEDORÉ.of three and four; every one was amazed when, buteight years old, he was found able to talk on Bible subjectswith perfect ease, knew the astronomical names and position of many stars, and had learned several mythologicaltales, which he speedily set about illustrating. I havebefore me one page yellow with age, and stained with theLJUPITER AND THE EAgle.(Unpublished . )imprint of childish fingers, but still more indelibly withthe imprint of genius.It is inconceivable that a child of his tender yearsshould have calmly undertaken to execute a counterfeitpresentment of the " Father of the Olympian Gods. " Notsatisfied with drawing it , he has told the adventures ofJove in his own quaint fashion , and illustrated his text atthe beginning of each paragraph. The story of JupiterCOMPOSES AND ILLUSTRATES LIFE OFJUPITER. 39-Gustave's Jupiter-is related in childish language, butwith the assurance of a great writer. It is very amusingto read. There is something almost pathetic in thenotion of the gifted little boy stealing away from his playfellows for the love of art and in fear of incurringridicule shutting himself up alone for hours with hislittle book on mythology, condensing a story to suit hisown purposes, and telling it as simply as he understoodit. He made a very elaborate study of the Cloud- ComFROM AN ILLUSTRATED DANTE.(Drawn at ten years of age, entitled " Voyage à l'Enfer. " Doré, Strasburg, 1842. )(By permission of M. Kratz. Unpublished. )peller, and worked at it for weeks. This page is all thatis preserved of Doré's " Adventures of Jove, " and isheaded Chapter X. , so that the narrative must have beena voluminous as well as an ambitious attempt. Manydescriptions of Jupiter doubtless exist; but I fancy thatonly one page of this wonderful child's version of " Zeus,his life and times, " has survived its author.Gustave's passion for music, especially for the opera,was beyond all bounds. When he was seven years old he40 GUSTAVE DORÉwent to the theatre to see a performance of " Robertle Diable," and on his return home remembered anddescribed correctly every principal scene in the opera.The next day he wanted to perform it from beginningto end, but was obliged to wait until the followingSunday, when he was to go as usual to the Villa Kratzat Graffenstaden."We gave entire scenes from the opera," says M.Kratz, “ and Gustave particularly delighted in the demonsand spirits . He was aided in the performance by hiseldest brother Ernest, who was amazingly clever, andalso displayed a great talent for acting, besides being aborn musician, playing the piano and composing charmingly. About this time Gustave began to study the violin ,and one of his first and favourite solos was a pot-pourriof well-known airs from " Robert. " We had great fun withour representation of this opera, and all through his lifeGustave retained a special affection for that particularpiece. I can't tell how many times we have gone throughalmost the entire score without stopping. The librettodelighted him no less than the music, which he oftenused to hum while he was at work.When Doré was about ten years old, his love for thesupernatural and demoniac began to develop. It was anew phase in this already strange and fantastic child'scharacter. One might call it " le côté infernal de sanature," and it certainly had not been particularly noticeduntil after he had seen " Robert le Diable. " His sketchesfrom thenceforth all bore the stamp of this peculiar style.He drew nothing but scenes in the infernal regions, fallenangels, demons, spectres, goblins, and fiends , in everyimaginable shape and form.M. Arthur Kratz has a very remarkable souvenir ofthis epoch. It is a sort of illustrated Dante, and one ofthe most extraordinary pieces of work conceivable in achild; also a publication of Granville's called " LesMétamorphoses du Jour," inspired Doré to parody it, whichhe did most successfully in one single drawing called " LaCharité." This was sketched in 1842 , and our illustrationDORE'S LOVE FOR THE UNREAL. 41is from the original, in fact the only one he or any oneever made on that subject.The drawings are extremely sketchy, possessing noframework whatever; but the idea is there, and each faceand figure is faultless in expression .These, like all Doré's early productions, were preservedby mere accident, for no one attached special importanceto them until many years later. It is to M. Kratz's loveof order and habit of never throwing anything away thatwe are indebted for some of the most curious and valuablesouvenirs of Gustave Doré's early life.42 GUSTAVE DORÉ.



I HAVE before me a little sketch of Doré's life , dictatedby himself to his mother, and written down by her in1865. He has been either so modest or so forgetful asto omit from this memoir a great many important events,which happily have been remembered and communicatedto me by his family and friends. The journal or groupof notes in question loses force and piquancy by translation, for Gustave Doré was gifted in the use of the pen,as well as in that of the pencil . 'He begins as follows:-" I was born in Strasburg on January 1st, 1833, andpassed nearly all my earliest youth in the mountainouspart of Alsatia. My father for many years held theappointment of chief engineer of roads and bridges in thedepartment of the Rhine. It was not in Strasburg alonethat I spent my childhood, but in the little communes ofSt. Odile and Barr, which are so near to Strasburg as tobe within sight of the great cathedral."That part of Alsatia is very rustic, and especially remarkable for the beauty of its forest and mountain scenery.¹In these notes Doré states that he was born on January 1st, 1833.The inaccuracy is extraordinary, but he really had forgotten the date ofhis birthday. It will be seen by his birth enregisterment that he wasreally born January 6th, 1832.-B. R.DORE'S FIRST ATTEMPTS AT DRAWING. 43"The person who will be charged with compilingmy biography may take note, that amidst those sceneswere born in me the first lively and lasting impressionswhich determined my tastes in art, for my early attemptsin drawing were all of a similar character, and for a longtime I had but one wish, viz . to reproduce those sights andscenes so familiar to my boyhood, and which I loved sowell. More than this , a great many of my first seriousLA CHARITÉ.(Original sketch, unpublished, inspired from a publication of Granville's, “ LesMétamorphoses du Jour. " Doré, Strasburg, 1842. )efforts in painting were landscapes, always depicting thecountry round Strasburg." When I was nine years old my father was appointedchief engineer of the department of the Ain, and had thestrange fortune to be transferred from a hilly country toone still more mountainous. The Ain was a beautifulprovince of French Savoy, composed entirely of spursof the Alps. My father was then occupied in surveyingthe unfinished line of railway from Lyons to Geneva. Healmost always took me with him on his professional44 GUSTAVE DORÉ.journeys, and often used to go as far as the extreme endof Savoy and the Oberland. As might have been expected from my early training in this picturesque schoolof education, I conceived a passionate love for mountainsand mountainous scenery; a love which has endured tothis very day. In the month of September, 1847 , myparents were called to Paris, and they took me with them."I stop the journal in order to interpolate several imSCENES FROM DORE'S " VOYAGE À L'ENFER. " (chap. x. )(Strasburg, 1842. Unpublished. )portant facts, which either through modesty or forgetfulness he has omitted to record.While Doré was in school at Professor Vergnette's, hisparents went to stay some little time at Saverne, a commune within walking distance of Strasburg. I cannotexactly fix the date of their stay there, but it must havebeen when Gustave was between six and seven, asMadame Braun said to me once, -" It was an extraordinary sight to see Françoise tug-DORE'S FIRST PUBLISHED CARICATURES. 45ging up the hill at Saverne with three boys clinging toher skirts, all of them like spoiled infants. Well I remember it , for Gustave made a little book of drawings for mewhile he was there, and I know we were all amazed,because he seemed still a baby. "proI will refer to this little book later on. With regard tohis school-going to Professor Vergnette's, there is no mention of his having missed even one quarter, so in allbability he was in Saverne only during the long summerholiday after Easter. At nine years of age he was sent.Iwith his brother Ernest to the College of Strasburg,After he had spent two years there, his family movedto Bourg, a city in near vicinity to the Alsatian capital,when Gustave was again sent to school. This city possessed an excellent lycée, or young gentleman's college.Gustave was then just entering his eleventh year.His taste for drawing was at this time so strongly developed that he made many sketches of the peasantswhom he met in his walks to and from school, faithfullyreproduced the faces and figures of several well- knownpersons amongst the villagers, and sent his master off intoshrieks of laughter by a brilliantly executed design ofboys and girls sliding at a place called " La Martinoire,"the public skating-pond. At the same age he madeanother drawing, which was lithographed at Cezeriat,in Bourg, with " La Martinoire. " It was called, " Afterthe Inauguration of the Statue of Bichat."The above sketches are amongst Gustave's graphicefforts between the ages of seven and twelve.At the Bourg Lycée Doré had been preceded by hisreputation for drawing. The story of Professor Vergnette'sfête had been duly repeated, and the masters soon perceived that his reputation had not overrated his talent.They had the good sense not to hinder the developmentof this growing passion in the boy, and he was allowedto scribble in copy- books and ornament the margins ofhis Lhom*ond's grammar to his heart's content; once hewent so far as to explain his lessons to his teacher throughthe medium of his fingers-the subject was the death of}46 GUSTAVE DORÉ.cl*tus. His comrades, one and all, had made severalmistakes in their text; but Gustave gravely presentedhis master with a drawing representing the scene of themurder, with an exactitude as vigorous as it was astonishing. M. Grandmottet, the chief master, was a man of rarejudgment, and not altogether devoid of wit. He allottedthe post of honour in the class to Gustave Doré, " for hisperfect description of the murder of cl*tus. " Moreoverhe strongly encouraged the lad in his ambition to becomean artist. " Study well, " he told him, " and your aspirations must be realized sooner or later." Doré's fatherwas still obdurate with respect to the " painting business."He was so charmed with Gustave's progress, however,that he promised to take the lad with him on his veryfirst trip out of Alsatia, if he should continue to be a goodboy, and should gain some prizes at school.Doré, in this as in many other respects, stands almostalone in history. He was one of the few men of geniuswho ever won any prizes at school, for birch is muchmore commonly deserved than laurel by lads of evenexceptional natural gifts.Gustave's father kept his promise, and took his precocious son on that memorable trip away from Alsatiawhich culminated in a visit to Paris.Doré spent a great deal of time with his father.Between the ages of nine and eleven, indeed, he wasrarely absent from M. Doré's side. They exploredtogether every nook of the forests, every hill and daleof the mountains in the Vosges provinces. Whilsthis father was at work Gustave remained in silent contemplation of Nature's ineffable beauties, which he hadlearned to appreciate at so early an age. In summertime he scaled mountains, swam rivers, and chased thegaily-tinted butterfly from flower to flower. He wouldlie on the grass for hours at a stretch, thoughtfullygazing up at the sky, or drinking in the beauty of flashingtorrent in wooded glen or majestic forest.As he himself repeatedly declared to all his friends, herevelled in Nature, and particularly her wild and ruggedDORE LEARNS TO ADORE NATURE. 47aspects. There was not a tree of the forest that he hadnot studied-not a flower that grew by the wayside, butit* name and perfume were known to him; not a herb norhealing plant so cunningly hidden in the mountain cleftsEARLY SKETCHES.(Doré's Copy-book, 1840. Unpublished. )but his eye could detect it and his hand pluck it from itslurking-place. He knew where wood- birds nested andnightingales sang; he knew the track of the deer andthe haunt of the squirrel. He could detect the trail ofthe venomous adder; the rounded summits of the Ballon48GUSTAVEDORÉ.of Gubewiller, the Hobenech, and the Ballon d'Alsacewere familiar to him, as well as every mountain path andcrevice, every running brook and fertile valley in the district; and he daily fed his imagination from the abundanceof ever-varying and bountiful mother Nature.While the elder Doré walked and surveyed and measured, Gustave ran on in front or lagged behind, engrossedwith observation or absorbed in fancy. His constant companions were a phenomenal and luxuriant imaginationa fervid and realistic creativeness. Those days spent in theVosges laid the foundation of a future of free and fertileimagery which has rarely, perhaps never, been equalled inthe history of Art. All the legends and stories which Grandmamma Pluchart had so graphically narrated to him; thefairy tales he contrived to worm out of the mumblingpeasants of the "little " Black Forest; the fables recounted by his nurse Françoise; the Bible stories repeatedover and again by his mother; -all these relics of tradition or creations of fancy swarmed in his brain andpeopled it with countless phantom- beings which to him,doubtless, seemed at least as real as the actualities surrounding his every- day life . The low, plaintive breezesighing through the tall firs of the Schwarzwald wasto him the voice of some lost spirit; the lights andshadows gleaming athwart the sullen pines were gnomesand elves dancing on a fairy greensward, the clefts in themountain- side were entrances to nymphs' grottoes or enchanted caverns. Doré always cherished his illusions , andoften said in later life that he would not as a lad have beensurprised had genii issued from those caves brandishingtorches, and he felt convinced that every shadow castby the peaks of Gubewiller or Hobenech hid beneath itsghost huge giants striding backwards and forwards,terrible in their implacable rage.Could it have been this child's idea which found realitylater in the inspired portraits of Gargantua, the Rabelaisiangiant, who had to stand on the towers of Notre Dame toescape the suffocating crowd of Paris?The love of the Alsatians for legends and fairy storiesDORÉ LOVEs the legends of ALSATIA. 49is something beyond belief, and their faith in supernaturallore is still absolutely implicit. There is not a guide ormountaineer who cannot recount good store of startlingtales which are native to the country and impart to it thatEARLY SKETCHES.( Doré, 1844. Unpublished. )mysterious charm which lurks in ghost- haunted ruinsand deserted castles and palaces. I am sure any onemust be profoundly prosaic and impervious to all associations of childhood's days who can listen to these weirdE50 GUSTAVE DORÉ.narratives and, listening, refuse to believe in them, atleast for the time being. As I walked by the greatcathedral when the moon was shining on the statues ofErwin von Steinbach and his inspired daughter, I fullyexpected to see the angel's bright shape glimmerthrough the dark blue of the midnight sky, and hover inspace over the forms of those two whom she had sodivinely, so opportunely favoured.Amongst the thousands of stories young Gustave Doréhad learned by heart there were two which he cherishedwith extraordinary affection . One was that of the Cathedral of Strasburg; the other was the legend of St.Odile, a fitting companion to the former, and one whichwould inevitably be recited to you by the first peasantwith whom you might enter into conversation near thewalls of Strasburg; so I may as well relate it here, forthe benefit of those amongst my readers who may not befamiliar with the " Ingoldsby Legends," although thepoet's version can scarcely be said to be uncoloured bya poet's licence.St. Odile is one of the loveliest and most sublime spotsin Europe. It is situated on a table-land-almost one hugerock-overlooking the Rhine Valley, and rears its headaloft, gazing down upon the surrounding country like amighty, hundred- eyed basilisk . Perched upon the verycrest of St. Odile is a massive and feudal pile, whichtowers above all the neighbouring buildings, and commands a view of many miles of forest and field as well asof the great minster, its twin- sister in grandeur andmajesty. This huge structure is called the Convent ofSt. Odile, and gave birth to the legend which will be toldin the valleys of Alsatia when the cloister's battlementsshall have crumbled away, and its stones shall becompounded with the dust of the everlasting hills.In the seventh century a great nobleman, DukeEtticon, established himself in that part of the RhineValley and took the title of Duke of Alsatia. Shortlyafterwards he married, and the one wish of his heart wasthat a son might be born to inherit his honours and hisTHE LEGEND OF ST. odile. 51name. He lived sometimes in Obernheim, sometimes atHohenburg; and in all the country round about there wasnot another noble as wealthy and powerful as DukeEtticon.The only fortified castle at that time in Alsatia wasbuilt on a vast mountain plateau, and was popularlybelieved to have once been a stronghold of the Romaninvaders. The sombre fortress cast a dark shadow overthe valley, and offered a frowning front to Alsatia's foes.The duke's love of power and of absolute sway over hisdependants, combined to ruin his character. He becamebrutal and unjust, was feared by all and loved by none.He took possession of the castle in question, and livedthere with his young wife.When the long- expected babe arrived, alas! it was noheir, but an ugly infant girl, born blind. The duke's rage wasso terrible that he gave secret orders that the child shouldbe killed. No one had the heart to obey his command,but she was taken away from her poor weeping mother,Bereswinde, christened Odile, and brought up secretly ina convent of the Black Forest. When Odile grewup shewas noted for her piety, intelligence, and goodness, andwas, moreover, no longer blind, her sight having beenrestored by a miracle, as every one believed. She returned to her father's court at Obernheim, conductedthither by her brother Hugues, who had been told thathe had a sister, and, without his father's permission , ventured to bring her back to her paternal home. The duke,enraged at his son's presumption, struck Hugues a fatalblow, and Odile, without a murmur, prepared to leave herhome once more. Her mute resignation completely subdued her father, and changed him from a sinner to a goodman. He subsequently bestowed his domain of Hohenburg upon Odile, who thereupon built the convent thatbears her name to this day. Many tales are told of hergoodness and miracles; but the one in which all Alsatiansbelieve implicitly is the following. One day, walking onthe mountain- side , she caused a spring to issue from therock, which spring is called the fountain of Hohenburg.E 252 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Its waters are believed to possess holy virtues and tocure many ills; in particular, to be efficacious in healingblindness. St. Odile is the patron saint of Alsatia , andat Whitsuntide hundreds of pilgrimages are made to theholy shrine, and thousands, formerly blind, but who nowenjoy perfect eyesight, ascribe their cure to the healingwaters of Hohenburg fountain .This story Gustave Doré never tired of hearing; andone of his favourite walks was to the fountain.Doré was an ardent believer in St. Odile all his lifelong. I once asked Mr. Kratz if he also believed in theefficacy of the waters, and if he had ever bathed in them.He answered , -"Bathed in them? hundreds of times! Of all thebeautiful spots in this world St. Odile is the most beautiful, and Gustave not only adored it, but was never wearyof talking about it . Every time he saw the fountain healways bathed his eyes in its waters, as we all did , in fact ,and I am sure he really believed in the legend of St.Odile. That, with the legend of the Cathedral of Strasburg was one of his favourite tales, and as a child henever tired of listening to them both.'"9From these two legends were born two great worshipsin Gustave Doré's life -the love of Gothic architecture ,and the love of pine-forests and mountainous scenery.These tastes grew with his years, and we can readily seethat he made no bad use of those early hours of studyfrom Nature. No one has ever painted a pine- forest as wellas Doré, and no one has ever reproduced the Gothic stylewith such pureness and beauty; for from the one you caninhale the soft odorous resin and balmy breezes of theSchwarzwald, and in the other hear the ring of thecathedral chimes and the murmur of the priests as theyrepeat their set orisons .So it was that the fantastic element had an earlychance of development in Gustave. He abode in spiritwith his saints, elves, and gnomes, and the result was whatmight have been expected in its effect upon a highlysensitive and gifted nature. He lived more in the idealworld than in the real, and throughout life never conqueredDORÉ Cherishes his ILLUSIONS. 53the habit of believing in illusions and expecting miraclesto be performed in his favour as soon as he set his heartupon anything.Mistenflute refacsaitpatattution à ces discourg maisilpria Mistifler devouloirbien aller avecluiseproJanslahampagne.MistifleremypithetсacismottispertinutToyedболчедвnewcrriveſent arrivivouttrenkt dansuneforêtwombreManaget.furentbientotoblityisdefranchise desrocherslescarpes,JethominisrapJes, des hautermontignesARegrespricinSpices1.THE VOYAGE OF MIRLIFLOR AND MISTENFLUTE.(Doré, 1842. By permission of M. Kratz. Facsimile. Chap. iii. Unpublished. )54 GUSTAVE DORÉ



I MUST return to Strasburg to chronicle two curiousevents.When Gustave Doré was about eight years of age hefell down in the garden and hurt his arm."He was so very industrious, " said Françoise, whenrecounting this incident to me, " that nothing would dobut he must go on with his work just as if nothing hadhappened. He was always making pictures at that time.I bolstered him up in bed, and he had a long wide boardstretched across it in front of him, upon which he couldmanage to draw. He could only work with his left hand,but never complained , went on singing to himself allthe time, and persevered from morning until night;always at his pictures. He was never for a momentwithout a pencil in his hand. I think I can see him now,humming and sketching away steadily, and as serious allthe time as if he had been a grown-up man. "Among the numerous friends of the Dorés was theBraun family. Madame Braun was a beautiful woman, thewife of a handsome and distinguished officer in the Frencharmy. The Brauns and Dorés were inseparable, andGustave was a special pet of these kind neighbours. Hespent a great deal of time with them. The Dorés livedin the Rue de la Nuée Bleue, the finest street inSOME PRECOCIOUS SKETCHING. 55Strasburg, and the Brauns not far off. Gustave couldnot have been more than eight years old when he produced one of the most extraordinary series of sketchesever executed by a child of that age."Here is the book," said Madame Braun to methe otherORIGINAL SKETCH.(Doré's Drawing- book, 1841. Unpublished. )day. " He was seven or eight when he gave it to me.One evening we were laughing at him for drawingso much, and next day he brought this to me ' as apresent."999It was a common little drawing-book, of the kind usuallydistributed to children at school; some sheets of gilt-56GUSTAVEDORÉ.edged paper, bound in a brown stamped leather cover.On the first page was written in a juvenile hand, withchildish yet artistic precision, the following title: " Thebrilliant adventures of M. Fouilloux, told bythe name " Fouilloux " being a marvel of elaborate calligraphy."The next page introduces M. Fouilloux, M. andMadame Braun's dog! The animal is depicted arrivingat their house, where he is welcomed by the family, andimmediately makes an enemy of an old terrier, namedFox, which had long guarded the Braun mansion , andresented the arrival of a new and manifestly underbreddog. M. Fouilloux and M. Fox stare at each other fromeither side of a partition; for the terrier has been obligedto submit to the indignity of sharing his kennel with theunwelcome intruder.The expression of these two dogs' faces would nothave been unworthy of Landseer. A mild questioningyet respectful glance is cast by poor Fouilloux at hisneighbour, whilst the latter's countenance, wrinkled bydispleasure, is sulky and provocative. He knows thatFouilloux is there by his master's decree, and thereforedares not molest the new-comer, but looks at him asthough he would like nothing better than to tear him topieces.The drawing is childish and uncertain, but the likenessto the dogs is perfect, and the sentiment explained bythe dialogue very well expressed . There is so much the sketch that one might almost expect to see thetwo dogs spring from their kennel at any moment, andengage in mortal combat.We are then made acquainted with a series of thehero's adventures. M. Fouilloux goes to the grocer's,and makes free with certain wares in the shop. He mistakes pepper for sugar; sneezes, and is almost discovered.He hides under a table; the shop- folk search for him; astrange dog rushes in just in time to be soundly beatenas the culprit, while M. Fouilloux makes good his escape,and the innocent cur, howling with rage and mortifica-FOUILLOUX RELATES SOME OFHIS ADVENTURES. 57tion, slinks away with its tail between its legs , not in theleast realizing what it has been thrashed for.In this sketch M. Fouilloux under the table , hishair standing on end with fright; the angry grocer andhis wife; the spilt pepper, and the strange dog, -areexecuted with admirable dexterity and liveliness.M. Fouilloux next goes to a bath, takes cold, andfalls ill. The scene represents Colonel Braun holdingFouilloux, whilst Madame Braun administers a dose ofcastor-oil to the invalid . In this instance, as in othersof the series, the likeness of Colonel Braun is faithfullyreproduced.FOUILLOUX RELATES SOME OF HIS ADVENTURES TO THE DORÉ AND BRAUN FAMILIES.(G. Doré, 1840. Unpublished. By permission of Mme. Braun. )The next scene represents M. Fouilloux's convalescence.The interesting patient, dressed in a long- sleeved nightshirt, with his paw pressed to his bosom, explains hissufferings. Madame Braun is standing at the back ofhis chair, listening to him with motherly attention andinterest . Colonel Braun, standing in front of him , alsolistens to his statement, and seemingly weighs his everygesture with profound sympathy and comprehension.They both exclaim, " Poor Fouilloux; how he must havesuffered! "In the next sketch Fouilloux is represented dancing.58GUSTAVEDORÉThe text explains: " Madame Alexandrine (Gustave'smother) teaches M. Fouilloux the polka. He learnswith such aptitude and delight that he becomes a polkeurenragé."The figures in this sketch deserve special notice, forthey are all perfect likenesses, only Madame Braun's facebeing a little indistinct. Madame Doré was never moreaccurately portrayed, the profile being fine and clearlycut, whilst the expression of the eyes and mouth, and thepose of figure are absolutely true to nature.I am sure that everybody would enjoy the entireMADAME ALEXANDRINE TEACHES FOUILLOUX TO POLKA. HE AFTERWARDS BECOMES UN POLKEUR ENRAGE. "(G. Doré, 1840. Unpublished. By permission of Mme. Braun. )series of M. Fouilloux's adventures, but I cannot reproduce it here in its entirety. The closing sketches are,humorously considered , on a par with those of the convalescence and dancing- lesson .The young Gustave finished his volume with thefollowing:-"I beg M. and Madame Braun to send me within thenext fortnight the text of drawings which I might haveforgotten, and the adventures which have taken placesince their return to Strasburg. From these I shouldlike to make a second volume." DO NOT FORGET.THE END OF FOUILLOUX'S ADVENTURES. 59"I embrace the authors of the romance."It may be inferred from the above that Madame Braunhad written or suggested this little history to Gustave.As I have said at the bottom of page 44, he was either atSaverne, a commune very near Strasburg, where hisparents passed some months during his seventh and eighth,or at Bourg, where his family resided after his tenth year.Madame Braun cannot quite remember at which place heexecuted this work, but thinks it must have been Saverne,as he was so very young at the time. Even after this wonderful display of his child's talent M. Doré remained obdu-(Doré, 1840.)rate in his idea that Gustave should not study to be anartist, and distinctly discouraged any more miscellaneousdrawing. " It made the boy visionary," he said, “ and inattentive to his books . " He was as good as his word.The second volume of M. Fouilloux's brilliant adventuresnever saw thelight of day.This would place the sketch beyond a doubt atSaverne, as we know that at Bourg Gustave's talents.for drawing had already received less discouragementfrom his father, from the fact that he had been permittedpublicly to exhibit two sketches.Doré at this time ( 1840) gave evidence of a wonder-60 GUSTAVE DORÉ.fully retentive memory, a copious fund of naturalhumour, and a disposition to take extreme views of mostthings. He was very gentle, but extremely self-willed .He adored his mother, and was inexpressibly dutiful toher; but his father exercised little control over him, andhis brothers frequently suffered from the extravagancesof his hasty temper. He often threw them down andpommelled them soundly. In these juvenile struggleshe was never worsted . He was very light- hearted, however, and never bore malice, but forgot his little quarrelsreadily, and generally made them up by performing afew circus tricks, which he had picked up with amazingfacility , his brothers joining in. Thus peace would bere-established.I now take up Gustave's journal from the point atwhich it records his visit to Paris.66 "In the month of September, 1847," he writes,my parents were summoned to Paris upon importantbusiness, and took me with them. Their stay wasonly intended to last three weeks. The idea of returning to the provinces after having once contemplated Paris, the centre oflight and cultivation , disheartened me sadly. I set my wits to work to findout how I could possibly contrive to remain behindwhen my parents should leave, because at that time Ihad only one idea-that of consecrating myself to thecareer of the fine arts. This idea, however, still encountered a lively resistance from my parents, who haddestined me, like my two brothers, to undergo a scientific training at the Polytechnic School. One day, afterstaring for some minutes at the shop- window of Auberand Philipon, whose place of business was situate onthe Place de la Bourse, on entering my hôtel it fortunately occurred to me to dash off a few caricatures inthe style of those at which I had been looking. Takingadvantage of the momentary absence of my parents, Iran back to the shop, and presented my little drawingsto those well-known publishers." M. Philipon examined my sketches kindly and atten-DORE MEETS M. PHILIPON. 61tively, questioned me minutely as to my position, andthen sent me back to my parents with a letter inviting them to come and have a talk with him aboutme. They went to see him, and M. Philipon spokemost urgently to them, bringing to bear all the arguPEASANT'S HEAD.(On the way to Bourg. Sketch by Gustave Doré at the age of nine, taken from his Drawing-book. By permission of Dr. J. Michel. Unpublished . )ments he could think of, in order to vanquish theirobjections and overcome the fears inspired in themby the notion of my undertaking the career of anartist. Eventually he obtained their permission for meto remain at Paris, assuring them that thenceforth hewould utilize my sketches and pay me for them. "I stop the notes here to insert two curious documents for which I am indebted to the Paris Figaro of December 4, 1884.62 GUSTAVE DORÉ.On April 17th, 1848 , M. Doré sent the following letterto M. Ch. Philipon . The letter explains itself, and wasaccompanied by a contract in duplicate relative to youngDoré's agreement to work for M. Philipon . The letterreads as follows, in translation:-((66 Bourg, April 15th, 1848 .SIR,-I have the honour to send you in duplicate thecontract concerning my son, Gustave. I leave it entirelyto your honour, your care, and your judgment, to directmy son in his career; I did not even need a writtendocument; your word would have perfectly sufficed , andI like to believe that you would not have doubted minewhen spoken on behalf of Gustave. He is a young man,imbued with honourable and correct sentiments, and youmay rely upon it that he will never fail to fulfil any of hisengagements toward you. Pray accept the assurance ofmy perfect consideration. (Signed) DORE.'The contract runs thus:--" Between Pierre Louis Christophe Gustave Doré,formerly a pupil of the Polytechnic School, Knight of theLegion of Honour, Chief Engineer of Roads and Bridges,and Ch. Philipon, 29, Place de la Bourse, Paris. M.Doré, sr., wishing to develop the talent of his son,Gustave Doré, aged sixteen, in the profession of lithographical work, has addressed himself to M. Philipon,who promises to procure for M. Doré, jr. , lithographicwork both in pen and pencil. M. Ch. Philipon guaranteesto M. Doré, jr. , one cartoon per week. During thethree years which form the term of the present agreementM. Doré, jr. , may not execute any drawing whatsoeverfor any other publisher. In virtue of the minority of M.Doré, jr. , M. Doré, sr . , guarantees the fulfilment of thepresent contract in all its obligations, with this reservation-M. Doré, jr. , will be obliged only to furnish onecartoon per week, that is to say, if he has no time to domore by reason of his attendance at college, or duringthe epoch of the holidays, which he will be at liberty toSOMETHING ABOUT M. PHILIPON. 63enjoy, or on account of any sickness or malady. Executedin duplicate at Paris, April 17th, 1848.66 (Signed) CH. PHILIPON." DORE."I will now take up Gustave Doré's notes from thepoint at which I interrupted them in order to insert theabove documents. With respect to M. Philipon's kindness, Doré wrote ---" If I have laid stress upon this fact, it is because Iesteem it the one which exercised the strongest influenceupon my life; for from that day it was decided that Imight give myself up to my own tastes. But for theobliging initiative of Philipon ( I underline the wordobliging, because what I did then was very incorrect andstrangely juvenile) I should have returned to the neighbourhood or interior of a provincial town, there to wasteseveral of the best years of my life." This circ*mstance was also the cause that for a longtime-in fact from 1847 to 1858 - most of my publishedworks were in the nature of caricature.(6Philipon had just founded his celebrated Journalpour Rire, in November, 1847, and for this journal Iwas engaged to produce a weekly page of drawings.At the same time, from that date until 1850 , I occupiedmyself-sometimes well and sometimes badly-infinishing my studies at the Lycée Charlemagne. It wasthere that I was so fortunate as to have Edmond Aboutand H. Taine for fellow- collegians."The school of caricature was not much to my taste,and although during four or five years I produceddrawings innumerable, it was simply because the onlypublisher who accepted my work had but one exclusivespeciality of publication. This speciality was caricature;the publisher was Philipon ."All my time that was not employed in working for him,I occupied with serious studies in drawing. At last,about the year 1853, I found an excuse to free myselffrom the actualities of comic work, which were a sourceof extreme annoyance to me."64GUSTAVEDORÉ.I must now take leave of Doré's autobiographical notesfor a short while. He has faithfully chronicled his visitto M. Philipon and its immediate results; but I find that,through diffidence or obliviousness, he has omitted tochronicle several years of his life which may justlychallenge comparison with those of the most celebratedartists for an extraordinary combination of imagination,energy, and achievement.Gustave Doré found some old friends of his familyresiding in Paris, amongst others the late very celebratedwriter and historian, Paul Lacroix , whom I shall describelater on; a man of vast experience, who was not slowto apprehend pernicious effects as likely to result fromyoung Doré's premature independence. Gustave, without being vain, began to feel an inward strength and aconfidence in himself such as rarely stultify but oftenretard greatness. He has said, as above quoted in hisjournal, "that he studied seriously-sometimes well andsometimes badly, " and that he " studied the art of seriousdrawing when not working for Philipon."There are many ways of defining his idea of " seriousstudy. " He certainly never lacked application, but itwas the result of imaginative, not real study. According to M. Lacroix, " Doré seemed only to reproduce.His marvellous memory, rarely at fault, stood him in thestead of studies from Nature. He was too lavishlygifted by nature, and when he needed to make any kind.of sketch, classic or otherwise, he drew from the boundless founts of memory and imagination." His quicknessis well illustrated by the following incident: —One morning M. Templier, a well- known publisher,showed Gustave Doré a photograph which he wished toreproduce that day in his journal. Doré picked it up,looked at it carelessly, and laid it on the table. He didnot even comment upon it , and the conversation other subjects. Doré went out hurriedly, forgetting totake the photograph with him. At four o'clock he metM. Templier, who at once asked for the required sketch ."Dear me," replied Doré, " I forgot the photograph; butAN EXAMPLE OF DORE'S QUICKNESS. 65He picked up a block, I will make the sketch at once."and in a few moments handed an admirable drawing toM. Templier. It was an excellent copy of the photograph, the only change being one for the better, viz. , anindistinct road had been clearly and accurately indicated گیاEARLY SKETCHES.(Doré's Copy- book, 1846. Unpublished.)in such style as to enhance the general effect of thepicture. He subsequently explained that glancingcasually at the photograph he had noticed the road asalmost a blemish, and had at once seen in his mind'seye how it might be improved.Such amazing quickness could not fail to excite wonderF66 GUSTAVE DORÉ.and admiration. Publishers talked about it , friendsrepeated it in all directions, and a few days later aParisian newspaper printed the anecdote.Doré began, and not without justification, to look uponhimself as a marvel.DORÉ AT COLLEGE AT PARIS. 67



GUSTAVE accords but two lines to his college days inParis, which were certainly amongst the brightest of hislife. He was sent to the celebrated Lycée Charlemagne,one of the finest institutions of the kind in the world.Amongst so many lads he was soon at home, and a warmfriendship sprang up between himself and the late EdmondAbout, one of the cleverest writers of France, and H.Taine, the great historian and philosopher. Gustave'sreputation for drawing had preceded him, and the boysall looked with eager curiosity at a stripling said topossess the genius of Michel Angelo and the pencil ofLeonardo da Vinci. They made a great fuss over him,called upon him to make little sketches for them out ofstudy hours; in fact, a general feeling of hero- worshipmarked his fellow- collegians' attitude towards him.It is astonishing to think how constantly he worked,and how much he accomplished during those schooldays. He was drawing for Philipon and illustratingLacroix's volumes, besides sketching in secret for halfa dozen different publishers, to each one of whom hewished to offer entirely new and original works. Hispencil was never idle. He was very quick at his studies ,however, and took great delight as usual in the mysteriousand unreal. He developed an astonishing aptitude forpoetry, history, mythology, and Latin, and was alwaysfirst in his class when questions were put to him withF 268GUSTAVEDORÉ.relation to famous characters in the world of ancient andclassic lore.One day Professor Gerard was giving instruction inhistory, and trying to explain to his pupils the salientpoints of character and personal appearance of a certainRoman emperor. He terminated his lesson with thesewords:-" Doré, go to the black- board and sketch a portrait ofNero, so that these young gentlemen may understandperfectly what I mean, and what he looked like. ”Gustave forthwith made a sketch which completelysatisfied both master and pupils.M. Berger, a great wit, whose figure out-FalstaffedFalstaff, and who was called " the coarsest yet subtlestman in France,"2 was also one of Gustave's masters ,and commented as follows upon the boy's trick of expounding his exercises by the aid of his pencil:-" Each one has his own method of demonstration.That is your way of translating Greek. Stick to it. Irespect your idiom, although it is not mine; " and,taking him aside, he added, " as long as you remain inmy class no question concerning Vitellius will be put to it,because you would instinctively make my portrait servefor that of Vitellius, and I have still preserved a remnantof vanity."There is nothing more of interest to record respectingGustave Doré's school-days. Before they were terminated,however, he had begun to illustrate in secret Balzac's" Contes Drólatiques," Rabelais, and Eugène Sue's"Wandering Jew " and " Légendes Populaires. " Thesebooks he kept hidden in his desk, and no one heard anything about them from him until later on.He paid for his own tuition at school entirely with theproceeds of his work for Philipon. It was consideredlittle short of marvellous that à lad of his years couldearn so much money by so precarious an occupation asillustrating comic journals.1 See " Gustave Doré, " by René Delorme, Paris, 1880." L'homme le plus gros, mais le plus fin de la France. "HERCULES AT THE HOME OF AUGIAS. 69He was the envy of all the artists in his profession , andbecame quite a pet about town in Paris. The boy's facewas so well known as that of " the precocious draughtsman," that people grew accustomed to it, and he soonexcited little or no comment. There was so much talkat first about Philipon's prodigy, and his name was soconstantly dinned into the ears of the Parisians, that theold proverb, " Too much familiarity breeds contempt, 'was exemplified in his person. His drawings displayedsuch unvarying constancy of merit that the world beganto say, " Perhaps we have made a mountain out of amolehill."All this time Gustave had but one idea in his mind—Art; but he thought out his subjects by night, andspent his days in serious study at the Lycée Charlemagne.It never entered his head to take lessons in drawing.Considering that he never had any, this was not strange;but he never was heard to speak of drawing from other art- students did, and few of his associates hadthe courage to suggest to him that he should do so.He had leapt into notice, and the long road of apprenticeship of thought and action, so laboriously trodden byall great artists , had been traversed by Gustave Doré ata single bound. He knew nothing of the terrible despondencies which follow unsuccessful effort.At twelve, he had conceived a Hercules, which hehad presented to Philipon, and his amazement maybetter be conceived than described, when he saw hisfirst effort printed and offered to the public under thetitle of " Hercules chez Augias. "When the editor of Le Journal pour Rire first sawthis study of " Hercules at the home of Augias," hecould scarcely believe his senses. Gustave himselfseemed astonished when Philipon questioned him aboutit. He only knew that he had made the drawings fromhis own idea of the great demi- god, and it did not strikehim as strange that what he had in his head should beso easily expressed by his fingers. He said to Philipon,with the utmost unconcern , " Oh, that is not so much.70 GUSTAVE DORÉ.I have still a thousand sketches in my portfolio, andas many more here, " tapping his forehead with easyassurance.Amongst the mass in that portfolio I have before megoonedN66" CALYPSO NE POUVAIT SE CONSOLER DU DÉPART D'ULYSSE."(Unpublished. )a little drawing- book, containing illustrations of theStory of Calypso . " This was invented at a time whenGustave had had little instruction in writing beyond themere use of a pen. The description of Calypso on theTHE STORY OF CALYPSO. 71first page is one of the funniest sketches he hasever made, and we may call it a superb schoolboy'srevenge. The story of Telemachus is so incessantlydinned into the ears of every boy and girl in France thatno one can wonder that Doré's first artistic impulse atschool was to be even with his professors on that matterat least, and to show the world what he really thoughtof this classical but insupportable quartette. The firstdrawing, as you see, represents Calypso. The lovelorn nymph stands by the sea- shore bewailing her unhappy lot. It commences as follows:-"Calypso could not console herself for the loss ofUlysses. For ten days the poor lady had been nailed likea block to the beach. Fasting had considerably thinnedher form and changed her complexion. Her tears hadpitifully unfrizzled her locks. She sobbed terribly, andexclaimed, ' Oh, Ulysses, my cabbage, come forth fromthe waves. Alas! how much thou makest me suffer,"&c. , &c.The rest of the poem is in the same strain; but themost curious part of it all is this. We do not knowwhat was the language of ancient and lovely Ogygiawhen Calypso raved up and down its wooded shores.Gustave Doré's goddess, however, speaks a jargon probably unknown at Babel, but which could be betterunderstood in the little communes of St. Odile and Barrthan in that country where Ulysses languished, enslavedby the charms of Atlas's daughter. Of course Mentorand Telemachus speak the same comprehensive tongue.A very celebrated and distinguished Dominican Friar,Père C――n took up this little childish volume. Reading the bethumbed text and looking at the sketch of" Calypso, fair and slim, " he shook with laughter." Look, look! " he said . " Doré did not even knowFrench when he did it. It is indeed most curious.How on earth a lad of ten could ever concoct such aconversation passes all comprehension, and a Calypsowho speaks the dialect of an Alsatian province wouldhave startled even Homer himself."72 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Nothing stopped Doré when he had some idea toillustrate. He composed all the so- called poems, andwhen a word had to be used which he could not spellin French he wrote it down in some dialect without amoment's hesitation . He was very courageous, certainly,and showed his precocious cleverness by trusting to hisinspirations even before they were prompted by concreteknowledge. Perhaps, had he waited to read Homer asa classic, he never would have given us Calypso as aBarroise.CALYPSO SKETCHES, " C'EST UNE ÉPREUVE DES DIEUX. "(Unpublished. )Amongst his other early drawings were two sets ofheads of old men and women in and about Strasburg,exact likenesses, and some of the best character- sketcheshe ever made. They were all drawn between the agesof seven and ten.At Paris, Gustave had the good luck to find an oldfriend of his mother, Madame Héronville, who proved atender guide and counsellor to the young Alsatian . Sheresided in the Rue de Saint Paul, and took him to livein her house. This arrangement was very convenient tohim in more ways than one. Firstly, he was constantlyDORE DELIGHTED WITH PARIS. 73under her eye, and she proved a second mother to himsecondly, her dwelling was so near to the Lycée Charlemagne that he could run backwards and forwards betweenhis school and his home without incurring any waste ofthat time which had become so valuable to him. It wasstrange that he never took lessons of any drawingCALYPSO SKETCHES 66 , TELEMACH ET MENTOR. "(Unpublished. )master, and was never heard to express even the conjecture that he might need one. He once said himselfthat he positively could not remember when he firstcommenced to sketch.The boy's delight on finding himself domiciled in Paris,with the prospect of remaining so for a long time to1274 GUSTAVE DORÉcome, may readily be imagined. To a youth who hadspent all of his early years in the provinces, and who hadknown no large city but Strasburg, his sudden transferto the French capital seemed almost Aladdin- like in itsmagnificent reality. It is true that at Strasburg he hadseen one of the finest cathedrals in the world, somequaint old houses of remarkable architectural interest,and the matchless Rhine. He had also had opportunitiesof studying the charming Vosges range of mountainsthroughout its length and breadth, the beautiful valleysand lovely hills which adorn the province of Alsatia, andthe Black Forest with its endless gloom of lofty pines,its stately firs and tangled brakes, its impetuous rivuletsand fragrant mountain- flowers. But of the majesty andgrandeur of a great city he had not had the slightestconception during his early childhood .Paris was to him one long dream of delight, a dreamwhich had for its awakening successive enchantmentseach more vivid than its precursor. Here, every objecthe encountered was justly calculated to stimulate theimagination and improve the taste of one already adenizen of an ideal world of beauty. The public squareswith their majestic buildings; the superb churches andwondrous cathedrals; the palaces of the Louvre andLuxembourg with their wealth of artistic treasures; thetheatres, wide streets, and elegant avenues; the PalaisRoyal and the famous arcades, each shop -window ofwhich reveals a fortune in rare jewels and brilliant bricà- brac; the boulevards with their glittering display,the gardens of the Tuileries, the Place de la Concorde,the Champs Elysées, the statues and fountains, the Boisde Boulogne; -in short, Paris as we all have known andloved it; Paris, rightly pronounced to be " La Capitaledu Monde entier," was in itself a liberal education forGustave Doré. The museums were dearest to his soulof all public places of resort. He spent a great deal ofhis time at the Louvre, perfectly fascinated by thosewondrous masterpieces, which have for ages past setolder hearts than his beating, and older eyes swimming.DORE VISITS PARISIAN ART GALLERIES. 75He wandered up and down its long galleries, lingeringfor hours before those canvases which bear witness tothe greatness of art and the immortality of genius.He looked at the crowd of virgins and children, theMarys and Magdalenes, saints and sinners, the works ofthe great masters of Flanders and France, Spain andItaly.From the paintings he passed to the sculptures; to6: CALYPSO SKETCHES, TELEMACH ET MENTOR CAUSENT ENSEMBLE ."(Unpublished. )the spot where the Venus of Milo stands cloistered inthe pale, solemn light which but enhances her loveliness;to the halls where Michel Angelo reigns, and wherePuget, Houdon, Michel Colombe, and Jean Goujon lendthe glory of their lives to the honour of their countries .In this world of dead yet living beauty Gustave Doréroamed and loitered for hours, accompanied only by hislove for the beautiful, his marvellous imagination, hisadoration of art, and the works of those great artists in76 GUSTAVEDORÉ.whose footsteps he so ardently longed to follow. Heabsorbed the exquisite inspiration of genius as silently asthe bud drinks in the dew at even, that it may unfoldinto more perfect bloom next morn.It is a well- known fact that although for a time he halflived in the Louvre galleries, he was never known orseen to copy the smallest work. Perhaps he felt thepitifulness of the labour of that crowd of well- intentionedbut uninspired marauders who sit in bands before theCennacolo of Da Vinci, or the Virgin of Raphael, as itwould seem, only to accentuate and enforce the contrastbetween the beauty of original and the misery of unoriginal efforts; or to accustom the public eye so persistently to the glaring errors of copies that it fails torecognize the merits of an original when brought face toface with some absolute masterpiece.Gustave Doré was too proud a lad, and had too muchreverence for great works, to even attempt their imitation .He was sullenly and obstinately silent in the presenceof his gods; but perhaps on this very account theyentered so deeply into his heart and imparted so quickand broad a development to his artistic intelligence.M. Georges Duplessis, an accomplished curator ofthe Bibliothèque Nationale, who kindly showed me amagnificent collection of Doré's early works, says thathe came there very often to look at the marvelloustreasure of prints and engravings, ancient and modern,which are stored up in such number and beauty atthat institution. They are too well known to needrecapitulation. Gustave spent many hours at theNational Library, where he always attracted greatattention . There was something so simple yet so earnestand dignified in his manner, that people used frequentlyto ask who he might be. The name of Gustave Doréinvariably elicited the exclamation, " Ah! I thought so;but what a child he looks to be so well known! "the room dedicated to engravings he frequently tooka little memorandum- book from his pocket and madenotes, but never copied faces or figures. Sometimes heInDORÉ A STUDENT IN PARIS. 77took notes of a costume, sometimes of an ancient helmetor weapon- a date or an inscription- never aught else." He was scrupulously exact to the smallest detail,"said M. Duplessis, " and often came running back to lookat a thing to which he had already devoted an hour, in theCCALYPSO SKETCHES, (6 CALYPSO SONNE À LA PORTE. "(Unpublished . )fear of having neglected to notice some trifling matter.He lived the real life of a student, and seemed besetby a passion for work. Even then he slept very little;indeed, not enough for a growing lad. He was up withthe lark, and seated at his table as soon as he couldsee to draw a line. Then, when lazy Paris began to78 GUSTAVE DORÉopen its eyes, he started off to school, or made hurriedexcursions to picture- galleries and museums, with therestless eagerness of a tourist who has a circular railroadticket wherewith to " do the Continent " in five days. Apeculiar reticence about himself characterized him duringthose early days. He rarely told any one what he wasdoing-never where he had been. He raved about Artin general to his familiars, but almost invariably gave thesame phlegmatic response to questions as to how hepassed his time: " I have been working. "THE DEATH OF M. DORÉ, Sr. 79



IN the latter part of 1848, Gustave lost his father, whowas carried off by a sudden illness. He never sawhim after that parting when M. Doré consigned him toM. Philipon's care, and it was decided that he shouldlive in Paris and study to be an artist.M. Doré left a small property, which yielded his widowa regular income. Although it was much less than hadbeen expected, it sufficed to keep her and her boys incomfort. Gustave forthwith began to help her with hisearnings, which proved no inconsiderable aid.Madame Doré conceived the idea of taking a largehouse, and providing a comfortable home for her sons .She selected a residence in the Rue St. Dominique, frontedby a courtyard, and looking out from the back upon asmall garden. "The house, " old Françoise told me,"was so much in need of repair that it took a year toget it ready for the family. In the meantime MadameDoré lived with Gustave in the Rue St. Paul, and spentthe whole winter running about and hurrying up theworkmen, who, as it seemed, were never going to get80 GUSTAVE DORÉ.through their job of cleaning, painting, papering, andthe like."This house was one of considerable historical interest.It had belonged to and been occupied by the famousDuc de St. Simon, and is mentioned in his memoirs. Itwas the scene of many remarkable incidents. To cross thethreshold was to recall to mind the days of the Regent,of M. and Madame du Maine, the gallant young duch*essede Berri, and all the illustrious personages upon whomSt. Simon has so ruthlessly directed the attention ofposterity by his indiscreet revelations.The house was comfortable, as well as palatial, withhigh, airy rooms , pleasantly and conveniently arranged.When it was finally ready Gustave's joy knew no bounds.On the first night after the Dorés had taken possessionof their new abode they all dined together, and he beganto jump and dance about like a schoolboy. He sprangupon the dinner- table and kicked up his heels so highthat he shattered the new chandelier, which was a verycostly affair; and Madame Doré was at first inclined tobe very angry. It was evident, however, that he hadnot done it on purpose, and some one observed that itwas a good omen on coming to live in a new house tobreak glass over the table where the first meal was to bepartaken of; so the evening passed off very gaily inspite of the little accident which had ruffled MadameDoré's temper at the beginning of the dinner.Gustave's first idea on entering the new house was toarrange some tableaux vivants, representing scenes in thelife of the Duc de St. Simon; and nothing would do butthat these tableaux must be performed at the very firstevening-party Madame Doré gave to her friends . Thereare many persons still living who remember that brilliantentertainment, and the strange sensations they experiencedwhilst witnessing the reproduction of historical scenes inthe very rooms in which those scenes had been enactedin reality a century back. The notion was entirelyGustave's, of course, and, as at the Guttenberg Fête inStrasburg, he devised the whole celebration . With theACTING SCENES FROM THE LIFE OF ST. SIMON. 81aid of his brothers and M. Kratz, his plans were fullyexecuted. It was a fantastic idea to awaken the echoesof those voices whose music had been stilled for so manyyears, and to summon up from the shadowy past forms.and faces long since crumbled into dust; but it was justsuch an one as might have been expected to suggestit*elf to Gustave Doré. He was as deeply engrossed inthe tableaux vivants, and as thoroughly imbued with theCALYPSO SKETCHES, " ON ARRIVE AU CLOS."(Unpublished. )spirit of the past, as though he had assisted at theRegent's council with his ministers in the year of grace1718.I have since learned that Madame Doré got the housethrough a relative, a lineal descendant and heir of theSt. Simon family; for it seems that the Plucharts wereindirectly descended from that illustrious race. Thiswould account to some extent for young Doré's enthusiastic interest in, and love of the place. The interiorG82 GUSTAVE DORÉ.arrangements of the mansion were excellent . MadameDoré's bed-room was next to the drawing- room. It wasa large and cheerful apartment, named the " Blue Room , 'and one of its walls, near Madame Doré's bed , wasadorned by several family portraits, curious miniaturemedallions, arranged with the greatest precision, thelargest one in the centre and the others graduating offin size on either hand, so that the smallest occupied eachend of the row. Gustave arranged them thus, and sothey remain to this very day. At the foot of Madame'sbed was a door leading into a very small room occupiedby Gustave. There he had his little bedstead, and thechamber still bears the aspect of a schoolboy's sanctum .There are dozens of pictures hanging to the walls , allsigned autographically for the most part by the artistfriends he made when he first came to Paris. Nothingcould be more curious than this little, stuffy room, bestrewn with photographs, books , and engravings, a busthere and there, and on the wall a small plaque or basrelief of his own profile, one of the best portraits of him.I have ever seen. I am told that he did it himself, andit shows how accurately he must have been acquaintedwith his own features and expression . The mouth isfirm and haughty, the eyes are eager and piercing, thesensitive nostril betrays an impressionable nature, whilethe full slender throat supports the head with regaldignity, and the countenance is in every respect that ofa man of genius. It has a youthful look, however,strangely at variance with the firm expression of thefeatures. There must be some history attached to themodelling of that bas- relief, which I would gladly havelearned, but so far no one has been able to enlighten mein this regard.One of the first things Gustave did after his familyhad settled in the Rue St. Dominique, was to execute aportrait of his father from memory. He afterwardsrepeated it in oil, and it was considered a marvellouslikeness. M. Doré had a fine face, clean- shaven , blueeyed, smiling, and frank. His nose was small andA PORTRAIT OF M. DORÉ, SR.83Grecian in shape, and his mouth was likewise small andwell turned . Taken altogether, it was a very handsomecountenance, and wore a sweet but resolute expression.Gustave must have resembled his father very much,especially with respect to his head, which, although larger,had much the same contour. The eyes of father andCALYPSO SKETCHES, " J'AIMERAIS MIEUX ÊTRE LE ROI ICI . "(Unpublished . )son were nearly identical in colour. Gustave's forehead,however, was much higher than that of M. Doré, senior.It seems to me that the portrait is very well drawn;but its greatest merit lies in the colour and expression,which are singularly life-like and natural.One of the pictures in Gustave's room was an engraving of the late Paul Lacroix's likeness, representingthat great writer at the age of about thirty, when he wasalready an erudite of distinction . It would be difficult toG 284GUSTAVEDORÉ.conceive a handsomer, more elegant, or more distinguished-looking man. His face beams with thatinherent goodness which he dispensed so largely to allhis friends, and of which young Doré had received somany convincing proofs." Gustave occupied this little room for many years,"old Françoise told me; "he never got to be so big aboy but that he wanted to sleep within sound of hismother's voice. He could neither go to his room norfrom it without passing by her bed; hers was the firstgreeting he heard in the morning and the last to salutehim at night. How many times, when he came home.late, did he find her still awake! He used to be angryif either of us sat up for him; but, of course, even if shehad been asleep, his walking through her room wouldhave awakened her; so it came to the same thing."Doré used his mother's bed- room a great deal as astudio. It was very well lighted, and he had a particularfancy for working " in mother's room," which he seemedto think the best and nicest place in the house.PAUL LACROIX. 85



THE late well- known writer, Paul Lacroix, whose nomde-plume was Bibliophile Jacob, being one of the oldestfriends of the Doré family, was better qualified than anyother man living to give an exact description of the lifeGustave Doré led when he first arrived in Paris. I lostno time in visiting this accomplished writer, with thepurpose of inducing him to talk about the artist.However, before I relate what he said about Doré, Imust preface my remarks with a slight sketch of PaulLacroix himself, as he was one of the most celebratedmen of his day, and as what he told me about Doré,plays an important part in this history. My first visit toM. Lacroix was made on the 27th of June of last year, tothe Bibliothèque de l'Arsenal, where for thirty years hehad occupied a splendid and richly furnished apartment.My conversations with M. Lacroix were held in thesence of M. Daubrée, and had only just been correctedand written down when Paris was shocked with thenews of his sudden death. When I saw him, althoughhe was seventy- seven at the time, he looked like one whohad many years before him, and his memory was absolutelyunimpaired.prePaul Lacroix was born in Brittany in 1807. His fatherwas a celebrated poet called Lacroix de Miré, and86 GUSTAVE DORÉ.676)CALYPSO SKETCHES ,"QUELLE BELLE ETAIMABLE SOCIÉTÉ .' 99Unpublished .)(SOME OF PAUL LACROIX'S WORKS 87during the first empire his poems and romances weregreatly in vogue. Paul's brother Jules is one of the leading French men of letters, and has translated Sophoclesand Shakespeare in a very superior fashion. Jules andPaul were brothers- in -law to the great Balzac, and theLacroix boys were in and out of the latter's house as ifit had been their own. Paul Lacroix began his literarycareer very early in life, and had no speciality, turninghis pen to the treatment of many subjects. At seventeen he had published an edition of Clement Marot, andfive years later he brought out three comedies at theOdéon. He was an excellent classical scholar at twenty,and spoke Latin, as well as several modern languages,with great ease and rare correctness.Published in his twenty- eighth year, his superb " Historyof the Sixteenth Century " was for a time the talk of theliterary world. He was decorated with the cross of theLegion of Honour in recognition of so valuable a work.At thirty-five he directed a very celebrated journal calledthe Alliance des Arts. The work which probably willoutlive all his others, and which immortalized his name,was the " Danse Macabre." This was written solong ago that few people to -day connect the name ofthe author with it. He was a young man to attainsuch fame, and this book was sold " by millions ofcopies " in one country and another throughout Europe."Le Roi des Ribauds" almost attained a like celebrity,and there was a moment when Lacroix's romances enjoyed a much greater popularity than even those of hiscontemporary, the renowned De Balzac. His activitywas amazing. He was never idle for a moment—alwayshad a dozen works on hand at one time, each onedifferent in its relation to the other; he was so learned.that he could give information and speak on almost everysubject with as much ease as he could on literature. Hisknowledge of past events, and his clear perceptivefaculties made him an authority on any question . Whensome Paris savant got into a mess over his dates orfacts, Lacroix could set him right without even referring88 GUSTAVE DORÉ.to authorities. His memory was marvellous. Probablyfew men-certainly few French men of letters -ever liveda life more filled with arduous work and incessant study,or had a more brilliant natural disposition or wider generalinstruction than he.He was a very handsome man, and used to be greatlyamused with the idea entertained by some people, to wit ,that because he was such an erudite he must perforce bea wizened, dried- up, little old creature. He evidentlytrusted little to his natural inspiration and talent, becausehe considered everything he had ever done the resultof hard work and incessant research. We can readilyunderstand how strongly struck he was with Doré's talent,and how easy it was for him to use the word " study."Lacroix was a brilliant talker and charming narrator.He had a sweet, genial nature, but towards himself wasrelentless, inflexible, and as hard as adamant; with hismania for erudition and love of literature for literature'ssake, he daily added to his self- imposed tasks, and became the most indefatigable worker of France, so in hisadvancing years he doubled, and often tripled, the corresponding hours of labour of his youth.Some of his greatest works are the compilations ofmanuscripts, his editions of ancient classics, his prefacesand notes, and enlightenments of long- forgotten but important authors . His "History of the Sixteenth Century "and these other works will be of value to the studentwhen the echoes of " La Danse Macabre " and " Le Roides Ribauds " will have long since died out. When Isaw M. Lacroix he had just entered his seventy- seventhyear. He was strong, tall , and vigorous, looking like amountain- pine. His blue eyes sparkled with intelligence,his clean- shaven face glowed with a colour strangely atvariance with his white hair. He spoke with great rapidity in the choicest of French, and with a certain intonation which seemed characteristic of his own inflexibledisposition. When he spoke of Gustave Doré, and saidhow he begged him to study, one could see his heart andsoul were crystallized in that one word. The firmness51PAUL LACROIX'S LOVE FOR DORÉ. 89with which he pronounced it, the light in his eye, and theexpression of his face, all went to show how much importance he gave to that necessity in a student who hadalready been richly endowed by nature. I think I canhear him saying the word now, and I know that he pronounced it to Doré with even a firmer and more earnestCALYPSO SKETCHES .6 , RESPECT À MADAME."(Unpublished . )intonation. He set so much value upon study. He remembered only too well his own youth and natural gifts,and how he had perfected them, not to impress the mottoof his life upon one whom he loved as a son, in whom hesaw not only a prototype, but still more, if possible, aborn genius.90 GUSTAVE DORÉ.On the occasion I have referred to above, M. Lacroix ,with a simple preliminary, began at once about GustaveDoré. This is what he said upon the subject, as nearlyas I can translate his observations into the vernacular."Ah, poor Doré, what a prodigy, what a phenomenon!I knew him when he was a tiny baby, and I rememberhim particularly at the age of thirteen or thereabouts.He had already made some extraordinary drawingswhen only six or seven years old. At thirteen hewas characterised by as remarkable an obstinacy ofdisposition as talent for drawing. His grandmotherPluchart was a wonderful creature, and, really, in somerespects he was very like her. She was witty, beautiful ,cultured, and elegant; she possessed a handsome fortune,which was left in part to the Doré boys. Had she toldme that she had a grandson of great talent, it would havebeen very easy to have directed him. He had a greatcapacity of affection , and his marvellous memory servedhim in many ways. He never forgot any one. I felt surehe would have paid more attention to me than manyothers. You see his parents were not here, and I wasone of the few friends who might have ventured to advise him. Without doubt, some early guidance wouldhave contributed largely towards effecting some practicalamelioration of his ideas."Philipon, with whom he fell in at the age of fifteen ,accepted at once some of his drawings. I have often.thought the transaction was perhaps somewhat premature, for it justified Gustave in regarding himself as endowed with uncommon talent. He was really born todraw and to design. So fond was he of his work that hehad at that time but one ambition-to elevate the standard of wood engraving and carving. This subject completely engrossed his thoughts. He talked about it continually, and had the assurance as a mere lad to fancyhimself a master in the art. He often said, ' Until theday of my death I shall never cease to advocate this cause.'"I think he always kept to that idea, but later in life ithad to take its place amongst others equally fascinating toSOME OF DOré's first WORKS IN PARIS. 91him. One day, looking through his album, he broughtforth some drawings which amazed me. These, the firstsketches that made his name known, by attracting publicnotice, were drawn for Philipon. It was but natural atthe age of sixteen , that his head should have been alittle turned when he learnt that all Paris was alternatelylaughing and crying over his marvellous works. Hemade hundreds of designs that were not even used, sorich was his imagination and so felicitous its result. I wasso much struck with some other drawings, and with whathe had done for Philipon, that I told him he should beentrusted with a new edition in four volumes of my books,which were then being brought out at Du Tacq's." The publisher thought I was crazy to put it in thehands of a mere lad, but his wonderment ceased when hesaw Gustave's work. Previously Doré had offered manydesigns to eminent houses, which had all in turn flatlyrefused them. This hurt him terribly. He was so sensitive about it, that some of his best works were positivelyforced upon different people, and others given away topublishers because he longed to be able to say that soand so was his publisher. He fancied he could onlymake a figure in the world by being kept constantlybefore the public."As I say, I gave him occasional things to do, and madean arrangement with my own publisher for other littlesketches which the latter did not want to take, but withrespect to which I was only too happy to guarantee himfrom loss out of my own royalties. This money waspaid to Gustave, who never for a moment imagined hehad earned it by any other means than his own talent . Inoted that each time he was paid even the smallest sumfor any work he seemed electrically inspired with new ambition . He always came to me directly, and would say, -" You see, M. Lacroix , for all the fuss they made aboutnot wanting it , and such like rubbish, I am paid, and paidwell, for my work, which means that I work as well as ifnot better than any one else . There can be no questionabout that. I am an artist, it is clear.'92 GUSTAVE DORÉ."I was pleased to see that he was ambitious, but alwaysbegged him to study, study hard, and some day he wouldreally become an artist ." I don't need to study much now, ' he would reply ,striking his forehead prophetically, I have it all here.'"But to return to my books. After speaking to himof them, I had sent them to him. He came to see me aweek or two later. Now, ' I said, ' let us talk of mystory. Have you read it , or even begun it? '" Oh, ' he replied cheerfully, ' I mastered that in notime, and the blocks are all ready!'" What blocks? ' I shouted, rising hastily from mychair in astonishment. Ready with what? '" Your woodcuts,' he answered calmly; they makejust three hundred. Here are some of them, ' and hecommenced extracting numberless pieces of wood frompocket after pocket, and the rest are in a basket at the door.'་"All the while he was carelessly piling up pieces ofwood on my table. I was so amazed that I could not,and, in fact , dared not show my feelings, for he was insuch tremendous earnest. I think I can see him now ashe stood before me, fire flashing from his beautiful eyes;his colour coming and going, while his face shone withthe light of genius and enthusiasm; his slim hands divingswiftly into his pockets, each time bringing forth a blockof wood enriched by a perfect marvel of design andskilful draughtsmanship . I picked up one or two withoutcommenting on their value. Take them to Du Tacq, theeditor, ' I said brusquely, and let us see what he decides .(Very well,' he replied; and forthwith he turned asomersault over my best sofa, capered and danced aboutthe room like a practised acrobat for a few seconds, thenwith a heavy sigh of relief and a cheerful ' au revoir, 'suddenly vanished through the door. I trembled for mypictures and china whilst he was performing his rapidevolutions; but he sprang about like a cat, quite asgracefully, and much more charmingly."When he was gone I took up the blocks, and- I couldDU TACQ'S OPINION OF DORE'S TALENT. 93not help it-the tears started to my eyes on looking atthem. He was so gay and light-hearted, and did everything with so little effort, though so young, taking histalent-genius, I might say-as such a matter of coursethat there was little hope of inducing him to studyseriously. I went to Du Tacq earlier than I should haveDAWASCEARLY DRAWINGS.(Doré's Copy-book, 1844. Unpublished . )otherwise done, because I was anxious to know what hethought of the drawings. He said, -" I have not words to express myself adequately inspeaking of such marvels. They are all admirable, andsome are such beautiful specimens of work that I haveappropriated them and taken them home to Madame DuTacq. I did not tell young Doré this. I merely looked94 GUSTAVE DORÉ.at them and made some commonplace remarks, askingif he could and would reproduce those particular drawings.He readily complied, thinking, no doubt, I was not quitesatisfied with them; but judge for yourself. Those I haveselected are so fine and exquisite that they resemble thefigures in a Velasquez. I was not satisfied because Iwas enchanted. I would never have allowed any engraverto touch them. They are to- day with my wife, framed,covered with glass, and hang in the place of honour inmy salon, as if they were the rarest works of Raphaelor Michel Angelo. I have had some experience withwood-designers, but never have I seen anything in anyway to compare with the amazing talent and precocity ofthis lad. He has a great future before him. '"Those were the publisher's very words. I thanked himfor having withheld the full expression of his admirationand delight from Gustave, whom it would have soextravagantly elated that I should never thereafter havedared to mention the word ' study ' to him.་ ་"Du Tacq was right. Few could appreciate his marvellous draughtsmanship, for some of his finest efforts wereruined by unskilful workmen. This so distressed him.that he ran about all over Paris hunting up engravers, justas a jeweller travels about the world trying to matchprecious stones. He absolutely fretted himself thin because his drawings were so utterly spoiled in the engraving." It was a curious sight to see the boy scolding andharanguing men three and four times his age becausethey worked badly. He even attempted to show them theright wayto engrave, and gave them elaborate instructionsin an art he had never learned himself. Some of theengravers were ungenerous enough to make him feel this.Then he would leave them in disgust, and undergo a fitof despondency because they received his advice coldlyand seemed to be laughing at him in their sleeves." It is because I am so young and so little, ' he wouldsay; ' shall I never grow up-never?'666 Voyons,' I said, ' you are still a child; why shouldyou not look like one? Don't fret. You will grow old.doré frets over his pERSONAL APPEARANCE. 95Ipromise you that you will grow old, and quickly enoughIn a few years you will want to lock young, and too." L'UNION FAIT LA FORCE. "(Early Sketches, 1845. Unpublished. )will come complaining to me because I cannot restore toyou your boyhood.'" I shall never do that, M. Lacroix, ' he muttered. ' Ihave been too often humiliated because people think me96 GUSTAVE doré.over young to be entrusted with serious work. Onlyyourself and Philipon really appreciate what I am. '" I rejoined, -" You are nothing but a silly child, ill- contented withwhat you have, and foolish enough to fret about trifles.You are not thankful for your great gifts , and if you arethin and pale it is your own fault, you work too hard. Bepatient, and worry yourself less .'"Upon this he forthwith proceeded to class me with hisenemies, a few rival artists , and to say that I was theirfriend, not his ." Naturally,' he exclaimed, ' you think that I can drawfairly for a boy, but you know in your heart that youconsider so and so ' ( naming some contemporary) ' abetter artist than myself. You may hurt my feelings,but you cannot break my spirit. Those artists whom youprefer to me are really my inferiors . I feel and know thatI have more talent in my little finger than they have intheir whole bodies, but you are all against me' . Then hebegan storming again, hiding his face with his hands andassuming attitudes of extravagant pathos." I tried to console him, but ineffectually. The fit hadto work itself off, and a night's sleep would usuallysuffice for this purpose.6" He finally stumbled upon three young artisans almostas clever at engraving as he was at drawing. You mayimagine his delight. After that I heard very few complaints about the destruction of his work.' They wereyouths of great quickness and intelligence , very amiable,and young enough to appreciate his superior genius. Sohe instructed them in their own art, and especially in thatof faithfully reproducing his drawings, and for sometime he worked with greater contentment and courage.These engravers seemed to seize Doré's thoughts byintuition; they became his friends, and their unitedlabour was one of love."From that time forth Doré took his rank as one of thebest designers of the day. One reason why his remarkable talent was at first doubted was because of his ownDORE'S DAILY OCCUPATIONS. 97physique, which was strangely against him. At the ageof seventeen he had the face and appearance of a lad oftwelve. His continuous application kept him thin, andhis figure looked very boyish. His complexion wasnearly colourless from excessive work and insufficientsleep. You would hardly have thought him a hardyAlsatian, unless you had known what an enormousamount of real drudgery he went through. In thosedays I never knew him to complain even of a headache,and he was insensible to fatigue." He spent much of his time at the Louvre and othermuseums, and about that period took a new turn, nolonger raving about himself, but about the great classicalmasters. Thinking him newly inspired, I waited patiently,hoping he would come some day and say, ' M. Lacroix,you are right, I feel I must study from nature andmodels.'" I waited in vain."にいH98GUSTAVEDORÉ



"I SAW him almost daily, " continued M. Lacroix, " andnoticed that the more success he achieved the moredespondent he grew. One morning he came in andbegan to declaim-as he had frequently done beforeagainst some brother- designer, an oldish man, but oneof the remarkable artists of the day. Remembering howthe draughtsman in question had worked his way up bysheer industry, and how perseveringly he had toiled inhis youth, I observed to Gustave,-" You speak of M. • Recollect that he never hadyour talent; but then he commenced work in early life,and according to the correct method. You wish to be agreat artist? Well, then, you must draw from models.Your Michel Angelo, Raphael, Rembrandt, Rubens, DaVinci, whom you so often have raved about to me, allstudied from nature in that way; whilst as for you, youare of no school, and have no real knowledge of whatyou are doing. Any one can see that you have ideas,but I tell you, if you wish to become a great and correctartist, not merely a celebrated one, you must study in aquite different way.It does not suffice to sketch; youmust work upon certain fixed principles; and as toDORÉ OBJECTS TO STUDY FROM THE Nnude. 99figure-drawing, it is a moral and physical impossibility,unless you have first studied from nude models.'" He angrily replied, -666Models, models; always the same word, M.Lacroix. Now let me confide something to you. Iknow very well what you mean, and have often madestudies in my mind; but my real models I find in theswimming- school, where I see about three hundred everyday.'66' He made this announcement with arch-delight, histemper having already cooled down, and looked triumphantly at me, as much as to say, ' I have you there. '" But, ' I objected, ' you can only see men and boysat the baths; how about the other, fairer sex? Besides,the swimming- school is the haunt of portliness ' (des grosventres)."He hemmed and hawed for a second or two, andthen rejoined,-" That is true. But I have all sorts of men,women, and children in my head, and am exactly acquainted with the anatomy of every human being. Iknow it by instinct .'" I was silent. His confidence amazed me. Then hestarted off, delighted to have held his own, capered aboutlike a young thoroughbred, turned somersaults , andwalked on his hands, finishing by a perilous feat thatwould have rendered a professed acrobat dizzy . Whatcould one do with such a nature as that-at one momenta man and at the next a child?" One thing I noticed. Although he would nevergratify me by even pretending that I was in the right, heshowed by his actions that my words had taken root inthat hardened soil, his obstinacy. You will laugh at hiscunning as I did." He went all over Paris in search, not of models, butof engravings, and discovered a marvellous collection ofworks of this kind, reproduced from drawings by MichelAngelo, Rembrandt, Raphael, &c .; engravings whichcould not now be bought for love or money, and so BITLA VILLE DEDELYONH 21100 GUSTAVE DORÉ.perfectly copied by eminent artists from the masterlyoriginals as to be in themselves studies of enormousvalue. He secreted these engravings and made the most M.ANDAAME DORÉ .(One ofDoré's early illustrated Letters ,Unpublished 1845. .)DORE'S FIRST OIL PAINTING. 101of them. Some days after our conversation on models,I took occasion to congratulate him on a figure he haddrawn, which exhibited so great an improvement on hisprevious work in that line that I felt sure he had takenmy advice. He looked at me with a triumphant smileand told me all about the engravings above referred to." I wish to inform you, ' he added, ' that I learnedevery one of those engravings by heart, and copied themfrom memory.'" He then showed me the whole collection of his copies,and upon my word some of them seemed to me evensuperior to the originals. They certainly were verybeautiful, and were characterized by a softness whichwas perfectly enchanting. He was immensely proud ofthis feat, and often referred to it with unmingled satisfaction. But he would never study from the nude.I did not quite despair of inducing him to do so . Hishaving thought enough of my words to even procure thoseengravings gave me a faint hope that he would see himselfwith time how necessary it was that he should not dependalone upon his memory and imagination.Still"One day in the midst of our conversation I inadvertently called him ' a draughtsman. ' He fired up at this ,and informed me that he was an artist, and wished to beconsidered a painter. Although I had seen nothing ofhis painting I wisely held my peace, thinking he had some surprise in store for me. But that was not the caseas yet."When he was about sixteen, he went with his motherto Dieppe, where he began to talk about himself as anartist. As a matter of fact, one morning he producedhis first real painting there, and showed it me with greatglee. It was drawn with masterly skill, but was paintedall in one colour. The subject was pretty enough; afisherman hauling in his little boat before a storm . Theman was represented in a stooping attitude, handling arope; he was grey, and so were the boat, the rope, andeverything in the picture. Even the water was grey;and doubtless the fishes, had he painted them, would102 GUSTAVE DORÉ.also have been grey. The effect was singularly comical,and naturally enough I laughed at it ." He was furious at me. I told him that the drawingwas quite correct, and the subject a very agreeable one;but that no human being calling himself an artist hadever painted a picture all of one colour, and that colouran unnatural one.་ ་ ་ ”Your notions of colour, ' I added, ' are all false. Infact, you know nothing whatever about it; not even howto prepare a colour. Study and—'666 Oh,you think so, do you? ' heanswered, firingup;' well, justwaita little, andyoushallseewhatI cando.I tellyouthatI wasneverintendedfor a draughtsman,butfor a painter


althoughyouscoffat menow,yourderisionshallnot last.'" I said no more, for I should only have irritated him." Later he proved his words with truth enough." Shortly afterwards he returned with Madame Doré toParis. His father was dead, and Gustave found himselfto a certain extent his mother's stay. He absolutelyadored her, and his worship was fully reciprocated." His mind was now filled with the idea that he musthire a large studio, as no great painter had ever workedwithout one. He soon invited me to dine at his mother'shouse, and during dinner remarked that he had a fewtrifles to show me. When we had finished he suddenlyexclaimed, -." You shall go with my mother and see my work,and then she and you shall decide whether or not Iam an artist. Nothing you can say will now hurt myfeelings. I shall die without having been understood;but no matter, I know in my heart that I am a greatartist.'" So after dinner we went off to his studio in the RueMonsieur le Prince. It was an enormous room, noneother than the ancient studio of the great Jean Goujon.Gustave proudly pointed to his works . There weretwenty-five enormous canvases, some landscapes, someinteriors , and one in particular, which I shall never forget,M. LACROIX LOOKS AT SOME PICTURES. 103called ' The Saltimbanque and his Family.' I was completely stupefied. When and how, in Heaven's name,had he found time to execute such a number of paintings?My curiosity was soon gratified." Look, " he said triumphantly, striking his boyish forehead, 'Look at these. Twenty- five pictures, mostlyall landscapes, and all-all, M. Lacroix, painted by mealone in this very studio.' Raising his voice he added,' Models, forsooth! Your old hobby! Bah! my mindA STUDENT AT WORK.(Early illustrated Letter, 1845. Unpublished. )is my model for everything. Mother understands me,and she tells me that I am a great artist.'" He then sidled up to her, kissed her, and stood withhis arm round her waist, proudly contemplating his work.I was too much amazed to speak, for I saw that he hadindeed made progress since painting his grey fishermanat Dieppe. Amongst the paintings were some scenes ofremarkable power." You see, he worked with such miraculous quicknessthat he was often reluctant to mention the actual time he104 GUSTAVE DORÉ.had spent in painting or drawing. Remembering thisfact, I ventured to question him upon this point." I don't mind telling you,' he responded. ' I haveworked at these things for a fortnight, off and on; but Ishall take precious good care not to tell any one else.People would immediately think that my pictures wereworth nothing if they knew how long I had taken to paintthem. Mind you do not even hint at the truth.'

" Thus ended the model question . I marvelled at himgreatly; but the tormenting question constantly recurredto my mind, how can he do it? How has he accomplishedsuch wonders in so short a space of time?"After this feat he took what he called a little holiday,and returned to his native town, Strasburg. Thence hewent on a walking-tour, and spent two months in theVosges. On his return to Paris he told me howluxuriously he had revelled in the beautiful scenery, andhow his heart had warmed at the sight of the dear oldmountains, which he had learned to adore in early youth." I think I have climbed every one of them, ' he said;' and as to the pine- forests, I know that I lived half mytime in them. Oh, how beautiful it all was! The goodit has done me is beyond expression. I made nosketches, but just roamed about from morning till night,thoroughly enjoying my idleness; and I promise you,M. Lacroix, that every mountain, river, tree, stick, andstone I saw is engraven indelibly on my heart.'"To testify to the impression the forest had made uponhim, soon after his return he painted from memory one ofhis best pictures, called ' A Pine- Forest in the Vosges.'It is really a work of art, depicting the tall, slender treeswe all know so well; a figure clad in homely countryfashion, a dog, a sheep; the whole glowing with thatrichness of colouring usually only imparted by Nature toher works. To this picture I was able to award unlimitedpraise. It seemed inconceivable that he had not madea preparatory study of its subject, but had painted itright off from memory. I remarked that he had improvedgreatly in landscape- painting. Then we both laughedDORE ILLUSTRATES SOME LINES FROM VIRGIL. 105aloud, remembering the twenty-five canvases displayedin the studio, erst Jean Goujon's, some of which had beenpainted by lamp-light ." Ah! " he said, ' so you think me a real landscapepainter?'" Yes, ' I answered, ' you are indeed, and an admirableone too. You remind me of the lines in Virgil; I thinkthey are from the Æneid . ” ¹((Here M. Lacroix stopped and smote his forehead, à laDoré. Mafoi! I am getting so old that I fear I forgetthe exact words," he continued; " but, yes, it must befrom the Æneid; something about a field, a lone flower&(G. Doré. )MISTENFLUTE AND MIRLIFLOR'S VOYAGE.(G. Doré, 1840. Unpublished. By permission of M. Arthur Kratz . )blooming there, and so on. I remember then I quotedthe lines in Latin to him. He listened very attentively,and made some comment on their beauty and theharmony of the Latin tongue; then we discussed theirreal meaning, in French of course, as I do not think Gustave was then a profound Latin scholar. The conversation.shortly took another turn, and I returned home, still1Probably these lines:—"Purpurens veluti cùm flos succisus aratroLanguescit moriens; lassove papavera collo Demisere caput, pluviâcum fortè gravantur. "Eneidos, lib. ix 435.106 GUSTAVE DORÉ.thinking of his new Vosges picture, and of the real progress it revealed. I confess that I was very happy, for Iloved Gustave as if he had been my own child, and noone more fervently than myself could have wished him toobtain the desire of his heart; for that desire, I wellknew, was to rank as an oil painter, not as a simpledesigner on wood."Afew days later I was asked to dine at his house . Heconducted me at once into the studio." Here you are, my friend; what do you think of that?'he exclaimed, showing me a canvas two yards long and alittle over half as high, on which he had painted a superblandscape, charming in light and shade, delightful in conception, and excellent in colour. I had almost got overshowing surprise at anything he did; but forgetting hisusual habit I could not help ejacul*ting, -" But how did you possibly manage to do it?I didnot know you had been away. Where did you study-inwhose fields? ' for, I assure you, the flowers he had reproduced bloom only in Nature's gardens. They were sonumerous and various in colour that while contemplatingthem one felt the same delightful sensation derived fromsuddenly coming from a sterile plain into a field teemingwith bloom and blossom, and yet a peculiar effect ofmist gave this field an air of strange melancholy. Onesad, solitary flower, a poppy, hanging drooping over ahedge was so natural that I wanted to pick it ."He laughed, and replied , --" Where did I study? Your old words, my friend. Ihave not studied since the last time we met, when, whilsttalking about landscapes, you praised me, and suddenlyquoted some lovely words. They struck me then, whileyou were speaking; I saw their true meaning inmy imagination. Oh! I don't forget what you say,M. Lacroix; this picture is intended to illustrate yourlines of Virgil.'" He rushed up to me, and looked lovingly into myface with a charming smile; but seeing the wondermentwritten thereon he was as delighted as a child with a newM. LACROIX CALLS DORÉ A GENIUS. 107toy, and immediately began to caper around, jumpingover tables, chairs, pictures; in fact, over anything andeverything that came in his path. This was his way of66 FIRST SKETCH FOR ONE OF THREE ARTISTS, MISUNDERSTOOD, ETC."(Paris, 1847. Unpublished. )expressing his relish of my amazement; for he regardedsurprise on my part as the greatest imaginable compliment to his talent."He continued his evolutions, whilst I kept on thinking. Although it was the old story of imagination versusstudy, I fully realized that, no matter by what means,108 GUSTAVE DORÉ.natural or supernatural, he had achieved a great work.Then, too, I was touched by the delicacy of such anattention, in proving, as it did, how accurately he hadremembered my words. Had he lived a lifetime inElysian or Virgilian fields, daily sketching them, he couldnever have produced anything more beautiful or natural ,for his picture was the successful work of rare inspiration,which we all know is beyond price. As he neared mein one of his gambols I caught him in my arms andembraced him tenderly. As I did so , the word of allothers that I had never theretofore pronounced in hispresence escaped me: -' Gustave, I yield. You are a genius! "THE PLUMET'S PLEASURE TRIP. 109



AT the age of seventeen Doré composed a very amusingbook, called " The Unpleasantnesses of a Pleasure Trip(" Désagréments d'un voyage d'Agrément ") , illustratedwith twenty-four lithographs and one hundred andseventy-four drawings. This was brought out at Arnouldde Vresse's, and attained immense popularity. The textis very diverting. An introductory paragraph informsthe reader that M. Plumet, a retired dealer in trimmings,living in an apple- orchard at Auteuil, and of romanticproclivities, goes with his wife one night to the opera.In ecstasies over " William Tell, " and especially the air"In Sombre Forests," sung by Mdlle. Nau, the Plumetsdecide upon " doing " Switzerland.The sketches begin with the Plumets at home after theopera. Madame Plumet dreams of wondrous nymphsfloating in mid-air, between unclimbable rocks, while M.Plumet no sooner lays his head upon his pillow than hisheart soars away on wings to the summit of the snowcrowned Alps. Plumet's dream is extremely funny. Theheart, fitted with white, full- fledged wings, hovering in110 GUSTAVE DORÉ.the air above the merchant's couch, was a new way ofexpressing in comic depictment his great desire to seethe land of William Tell.In the ensuing sketches the Plumets pack their boxesand start off for the land of the Alps. It is describe the realism of these fanciful drawings. M.Plumet is stout, short, and fifty; Madame Plumet fat,fair, and-naturally forty. A dog accompanies them intheir travels, and Doré loses no time in mixing up Plumetand his dog with Alps, tourists, hotel-keepers, and so on.M. Plumet resolves to write down his impressions.These constitute the funniest illustrations of the series ,especially the sketch illustrating Plumet's description ofChamounix and its surroundings. The stream of beggarsgoing over the hill, and losing itself in space, will bereadily appreciated by every human being who has evervisited Switzerland.M. Plumet asks some questions of his coachman, asfor instance:-" Cocher, pourquoi y a- t-il donc tant de mendiants etde crétins dans ce pays?(6Ah, vous savez, m'sieu' , on ressemble toujours aupays; quand il est vilain, on est vilain, " and so on tothe end of the book.Paris laughed a long time over the Plumets and theirunfortunate pleasure trip. I am sure no Frenchman ever" did" Switzerland thereafter without thinking of them,The scenes were so real, and yet so grotesque in theirreality, that it was impossible not to take the lesson toheart.This book is now become extremely rare. Perhapsthere are not a dozen copies in existence. The drawingswere very well engraved, and the public began to talk more than ever about Gustave Doré.During that year he sketched a " Ménagerie Parisienne, "for the Journal pour Rire, and " Les différents publicsde Paris," for the Journal Amusant. He next composed" Three Artists, incomprehensible, misunderstood, anddiscontented. Their journey in the provinces and else-SKETCH FROM " THREE ARTISTS." IIIwhere. Their devouring hunger and deplorable end. "(" Trois Artistes incompris, méconnus et mécontents.Leur voyage en province et ailleurs; leur faim dévorante,et leur fin déplorable.") This was also brought out at&DordFROM " THREE ARTISTS. "1849A. de Vresse's, with twenty-five lithographs containingone hundred and fifty-five drawings, and achieved amarked success .His next little work was for the Journal Amusant,called "Folies Gauloises depuis les Romains jusqu'à112 GUSTAVE DORÉ.""nos jours. Album des mœurs et des costumes .' Thisbook was no less successful than the preceding ones.Doré worked so quickly that he amazed even his publishers. It sufficed to suggest a notion to him; he forthwith gave it artistic being upon the wood; and whileParis was devouring his latest production , another wasalready in process of preparation. He seemed possessedby a demon of work, and was the despair of all hiscontemporaries, who had only one hope, viz. , that hewould tire of such excessive labour. But they hoped invain.He worked for the pleasure of working, never for meregain. His drawings were only fairly paid for at that time;indeed he produced them with such marvellous facility thathe was oftener under-paid than not. Publishers readilysaw how little effort production was to the gifted lad, andwere not slow to make capital out of his very quickness.He absolutely flooded the market with his work. Perhapsthis was unwise. " But one paramount idea beset him,"said M. Lacroix, "to be constantly at work and constantly before the public. When his sketches were notaccepted and paid for, he often gave them away, in orderto be able to say, ' So- and- so is my publisher. ' For atime he literally depreciated the value of his own labourby the enormous prodigality of his pencil."ItCertain it is that he outstripped every draughtsman inParis by the rapidity as well as the perfection of his work.Publishers usually have to storm and swear a great dealbefore they can get their orders executed by artists.was quite a novelty for them to encounter a youth whoupon receiving an order carried it out even before thetime stipulated.At that time his name and fame began to reachEngland. He received an order from T. Warne and Co.for some original work. This was executed with hisusual rapidity, and was soon published under the title of"Two Hundred Humorous and Grotesque Sketches,with eighty- six plates and three hundred and two drawings by G. Doré." This book had an enormous success.DORE'S DELIGHT AT HIS GROWING RENOWN. 113Gustave was not a little flattered that the country whichboasted so many famous artists should solicit anythingfrom its French neighbour, and the English commissionstimulated him to work harder than ever at his art.G.Doré.STRASBOURGEOIS.(Original Sketch, 1847. Unpublished. )He began immediately afterwards a series of sketcheswhich show the fertility of his imagination and the amplitude of his school education. They were called " HistoricalPencillings; or, from the First Century to the NineI114 GUSTAVE DORÉ.teenth " (published in London in 1865, by Hotten and Co.,to-day Chatto and Windus. ) These are certainly someof the most remarkable efforts of Doré's genius. Theywere composed in the midst of youthful dreams andenthusiasm, in those " salad days " when the worldwas seen by him through the rose-coloured lens ofyouthful success, when his spirits were high with hope,and the midnight oil often burned till dawn of dayin his studio; in those days when Gustave Doré rushedabout all over Paris to find the engraven " models "M. Lacroix has told us about, when he gazed long andfrequently at the Hercules in the Salle Jean Goujon,the Venuses in the Salle Puget, and the sweet saintsportrayed in the marvellous Mantegnas at the Louvre.Certain it is that he imagined people and costumeswhich showed him no mean archeologist, and that hespent much more time upon them than he ever acknowledged. This was unusual for him, who had always cultivated the habit of working with lightning-like quickness,and who invariably found it necessary to pretend that ittook him a longer time to execute a drawing than itreally did, lest people should think his work inferior inquality if they knew how rapidly it had been done.He had evidently been laying M. Lacroix's words toheart. At any rate he worked very hard on these" Historical Sketches, " and although they were destinednot to see the light of publicity for many a long year, hewas amply repaid for his pains. From the first sketch,"An Ancient Briton contemplating the costume of hisdescendants," to the last of the series , DandyismRuralizing," they exhibit a power, knowledge, and appreciation of his subject which are simply astonishing. The"Ancient Briton " is succeeded by "Druid Worship, " inwhich a human sacrifice is accomplished with great elaboration of detail. A nude female figure, contorted withterror, is forcibly held down on the altar amid a groupof Druids, faithful to their prescribed rites, their immortal gods, and their mortal prejudices. The naturalaccessories to this striking scene remind one of Long-SCENES FROM HISTORICAL PENCILLINGS. 115fellow's " Evangeline," and the first words of that greatpoem, -"This is the forest primeval. "Dore's background is indeed that of a " forest primeval,"displaying lords of the woods, great oaks with massivetrunks, and strong, fair branches. The victim is stretchedout on a flat stone altar, one Druid is praying that thegods may receive the sacrifice graciously, and gatheredround are the eager spectators, thirsting for blood andanxious to appease the anger of their deities. Thereare warriors clad in glittering armour, women with anxiouseyes and curious faces, babes in the first of " the sevenages," children strutting about proudly bearing theburden of their fathers' war- clubs; dogs with curlyheads and dogs with smooth heads; armour, banners,spears, trinkets, and many other accessories which goto complete a scene of Druid worship, described, perhaps, by Cæsar, but certainly created by Gustave Doré'simagination.InWe are next shown a scene of " Devotion in the Fifthand Sixth Centuries ." Instead of a flat altar andwrithing victim, we have a magnificent minster.stead of blood- stained warriors, fanatic Druids, inquisitivewomen, and precocious children, we have nobles, oldand young, who have renounced the pomps and vanities.of this life to spend their days in gloomy cells; womenfair and stately, maidens sweet and comely, also devotedto this new religion, requiring from its votaries so muchin the present and promising so much to them in thefuture. We see the joyless band marching along incouples through the lonely forest towards the minster.They are thin, ascetic extatics, who obviously have notpartaken of solid food for some considerable time. Thatwas not the age in which an apostate Rabelais suppedregularly and heartily in order to support his positivereligious convictions. Doré's devotees are true disciplesof early Christian teachers, who prescribed self- denialand even maceration as specifics for the atonement of sin and the attainment of grace.1 2116 GUSTAVE DORÉThe next sketch represents a new phase of mediavalChristianity. In the beginning of the thirteenth centurya longing for a purer religion than that of persecutionand bloodshed resulted in the Church's ferocious attackupon the Albigeois, followed hard at heel by the terrorsof the Inquisition. This mediæval institution causedgreat consternation in Spain, and even Rome yielded thepalm to a newer and more refined system of gainingconverts. When members of a family suddenly disapORIGINAL SKETCH. PHILIPON COLLECTION.(Paris, 1848. )peared as though the earth had swallowed them up, anyprevious suspicion that they might have incurred thewrath of the Inquisition became a dismal conviction, andthey were thought of as dead. Doré's sketch illustratesone of the Inquisition's specifics for saving souls alive,and is called " Torture by Water." The "subject " issecured to a slanting slab, head downwards, whilstgallons of fluid are being poured down his throat througha funnel. The judges of the Holy Tribunal are lookingcalmly on; the masked Inquisitors are gathered roundMORE HISTORICAL SKETCHES. 117in ghastly hoods, pierced with black holes, throughwhich their merciless eyes gaze upon their victim; thecold-blooded attendants are manipulating pump andpitcher; it is a scene, in a word, depicting but too truly thehorrors and mockery of that barbarous torment; for weall know that after the agonized sufferer had confessed ,he was invariably burned alive, the destruction of hisbody being considered by his sanctified torturers essentialto the redemption of his immortal part from eternalflames.The fifth sketch is called " Knight Errantry in theTwelfth Century. "Chivalry is a word which was undoubtedly well understood in that century, and has had the good fortune tobe not wholly misapprehended in this. If we are tobelieve in romances and poets, however, we are somewhatbehindhand nowadays in certain little practices that werein vogue with the immortal Don Quixote and the heroes ofWalter Scott's " Tales of the Crusaders, " not to speak.of older and more mystical heroes immortalized in theNorse legends and Teutonic mythology.Gustave Doré imagined a scene which must havebelonged to the legendary epoch; for surely no humaneye has ever witnessed such a spectacle as that which hehas vigorously drawn: a cavalcade of desperate knightsin full panoply of steel, mounted on high-bred and richlycaparisoned steeds, horses and riders rushing " peslemesle " onwards to combat and victory with levelledlances, following the ardent warrior who precedes themby but a spear's length. Manifestly these knights areeagerly pressing onward towards that mystic goal ofhonour, that peaceful river of eternity which flows, clearand calm, in front of a frowning turreted castle, andbears upon its bosom phantom-freighted ships of quaintand antique shapes.I cannot attempt in this place to describe the subjectsin detail of all the drawings constituting this series,suffice it to say that they include " The Judgment ofGod " (6th tableau) , or the judicial combat by which118 GUSTAVE DORÉ.disputes were formerly settled in champs- clos hand- tohand encounters, and a sketch entitled " Les Droits deSeigneur." This latter is an amusing drawing, representing a shepherdess, already betrothed to a rusticswain, whose unfortunate prettiness causes her to remindan old mediæval baron of a certain feudal law then existing,and of his own desire to put that law into execution .Her lover, the swine-herd, is struggling in the grasp ofthe baron's retainers; the swine, wonder- stricken, aregrovelling on the earth. A dog, indignant at the attemptedoutrage, barks with ungovernable fury; but the fairshepherdess seems quite resigned to her fate. It is veryhard in the nineteenth century for a shepherdess to resista baron; we are not surprised that in the fifteenth it wasimpossible. Vide Doré's sketch.No. 8 is entitled " A Tournament-Beauty the Prize.A.D. 1450." We are introduced to a number of lordsand ladies, the great border baron , William Peveril, Lordof Whittington, and other Shropshire magnates. One ofhis two nieces, Milette, is the beauty to be contested forby the bravest knights.The next sketch ( No. 9) depicts a splendid pageant ofnobles, lords and ladies, in the first period of the Renaissance, dames of high degree with train-bearers and bodyservants, knights in armour, and courtiers in velvet andpowder, a long procession of wealthy idlers proceedingtowards a stately park. Perhaps Doré had in his mind.Francis the First and the Château d'Annet, where thatspendthrift prince kept so splendid a court, throngedwith beauties and beaux, and where fair Diane de Poictiers ,after having ruled the father, continued her sway overthe son.Next we have a ball in the reign of Henri III . , a ballat which everybody is dancing, and merriment is general .The extraordinary ruffs worn at that period by both sexesare here faithfully depicted. A girl of twelve begins lifeunder a cloud, her head having entirely disappearedwithin a fence of about ten yards of white muslin.A charming sketch of old Paris is ( No. 11 ) " SurprisedPARISIAN SCENES. 119by a Watchman-Reign of Henri IV." An expectantJuliet receives her Romeo, who is perched gracefullyupon the topmost round of a silken ladder. The interview is not one which the compagnons du guet shouldhave interrupted. They are on their rounds, and suddenly turn their lanterns upon the loving couple insteadof on the usual marauders who infested the streets ofParis after nightfall during the sixteenth century. Thispicture is one of the most life-like of the series, andTYPICAL HEAD.(Doré, Paris, 1850.)shows that Doré was thoroughly at home with itssubject.No. 12 is a superb drawing, called " After Richelieu'sEdict against Duelling. " The scene is laid in the famousPlace Royale, where crowds are passing to and fro,courtiers are carousing, and three duels are going on atthe same time, the last that were fought for many a dayafter the publication of the astute cardinal's decree. Thefaces of the lookers- on of both sexes, and the bloodthirsty expression of the combatants are depicted withextraordinary life and animation. The costumes aremarvels of correctness, and the entire scene a faithfulrepresentation of an episode of the reign of Louis XIII.120 GUSTAVE DORÉ.No. 13 is " A Charge of Light Horse during the Reignof Louis XIV. " The " light " horses are huge animals ofenormous power, rearing and plunging as they bear theirstalwart riders towards the fray. The effect of some ofthe figures is rather that of centaurs than of mountedtroopers, for in the confusion which prevails throughoutthe picture it is difficult to distinguish where the manbegins and the horse leaves off. This sketch is absolutelyalive with real moving creatures, the mass of mingledmen and horses suggesting a real rather than an imaginary battle-field. The humorous intention of the sketchis made manifest in the wild exaggeration of everycreature and thing therein portrayed. The horsem*n'stop-boots are large enough to have housed the oldwoman who lived in a shoe and her numerous family,but the special triumph in caricature is a horse withsteaming flanks, distended nostrils, and flowing tail, whichsoars away into space like a cloud in a summer sky.No. 14 is entitled " Racine performed before theCourt of Versailles," and in it we observe the modestrequirements of the stage in the time of Louis XIV. , asfar as " mounting " and " setting " are concerned, compared with the break-neck extravagance of the mise- enscène of to-day. Shakespeare played his pieces in abarn, while Molière and Racine had not much moreelaborate scenery at their command than had the greatEnglish dramatist . The chief difference between thenand now was that in those days the world had poets,nowadays it has pretenders. Formerly there weresimple representations, now there are gorgeous spectacles. Society was perhaps mistaken; but it certainly,at the epoch referred to , preferred mind to matter.The perfect stage management of the Lyceum orFrançais would scarcely have permitted the strangejumble of antique and modern costumes worn by theactors in Racine's drama. Perhaps their charm lay intheir incongruity, for the noble audience portrayed byDoré is almost irritating in its symmetry. It would bedifficult to divine what was passing in their carefullyTHE AGE OF WIGS. 121"dressed " heads. T. Wright said of this drawing:"The spectators are admirable; they resemble a veryNulle Bellame( Doré, Paris, 1850. Unpublished. )regular grove of laurels, quaintly and nicely trimmed.It was the age of wigs."The next of the series is ( No. 15) " A Pastoral underLouis XV. " Doré undoubtedly was inspired by the long-122 GUSTAVE DORÉ.drawn-out novels of Honoré d'Urfé, who crowded hispages with such marvellous imaginary shepherds andfancy shepherdesses that the pastoral mania raged inParis for many and many a year. The world of Frenchliterature was peopled by ideal rustics, and even the poetFontenelle persistently followed in the footsteps of hispredecessors with verses redolent of new milk andfreshly-mown hay. These shepherds and shepherdesses,however, were modelled after creatures of rarer mouldand much more exquisite fashion than those existing inthe days of Astrea. There is a certain mythologicalcharm about Doré's divinities that suggests garmentsfashioned from rose- coloured clouds, eyes sparkling withimmortal light, senses inflamed by those promiscuousfires which flicker round those delightful goddesses forwhom the word " Love " had a limitless meaning, and whoattuned their nascent feelings to sweet sounds issuingfrom the pipes of great Pan. The scene in Doré's sketchteems with soft delight; the gentle herds tenderlyexchange vows of love, two lambkins kiss each other'slips, whilst the eyes of countless Cupids gaze fondlydown upon them through the branching trees: --"From valleys where the pipe is never dumb;Or from yon swelling downs, where sweet air stirsBlue hare-bells lightly, and where prickly furzeBuds lavish gold. "Endymion.Even sheep in the time of Louis XV. appear to havefelt the influence of Court etiquette, and to have fashionedtheir manners accordingly.No. 16 is dedicated first to the reign of Louis XVI. , andto the marvellous head- dresses worn by the ladies at thatepoch. Doré has portrayed many great people here andthere in his pictures, but they are insignificant comparedwith their coiffures. These extraordinary creations ofart resemble a fairy spectacle or pantomime, where ships,houses, animals, and balloons mingle with the clouds andspring about in all the wild hilarity of ungovernableextravagance. Happily the reign of those head- dressesMADAME DE STAEL. 123is over, or we should still see the magnificent chandeliers smitten and overthrown by reckless monstrositiesmonuments of woman's folly and fashion's eccentricity.No. 17 brings us to " Fashions under the Directory:the Incroyables, 1798." Who has not seen the prettypicture "Une Noce sous le Directoire, " and noted thecostumes and general style of that epoch? Doré gives,as usual, an over- florid sketch of the dandies anddandyzettes of a century ago, but one which perfectly.represents the sumptuary exaggerations of that period.We hear much talk of the nineteenth century and itsextravagances; but I think few ladies of our times getbeyond jewel- studded garters, and rarely display eventhese to society. Surely none wear diamond-rings ontheir toes in public , like the heroine of the Banbury Crosslegend. As to the dress of les merveilleuses, it is thenearest approach to the ideal of the æsthetes and OscarWildian disciples; but the Victorian era would scarcelypermit its dames and damsels to display their charms soshamelessly as did the lovely merveilleuses in the time ofthe French Revolution.No. 18, " Corinna, or Vocal Charms, 1810, " distinctlysuggests the subject that was present to Doré's mindwhen he executed this sketch, namely, Madame deStael and her daughters in exile at the Court of Russia.The subject is treated in a humorous spirit, and withhighly diverting effect. The eminent authoress the right of the picture, holding in her hand theinevitable sprig of myrtle, whilst her offspring, arrayedin classic Greek robes, with filleted locks, sit or standbefore the Czar and his suite; one girl is playing on aharp with ten thousand strings, whilst her anxious mother,probablyremembering Napoleon's retort, gazes rapturouslyupon her Corinnes. Madame de Stael was plain, but notinordinately stout. Could she take cognizance of herdimensions in Doré's fancy portrait of her, she wouldrise bodily from her tomb and mournfully reiterate her wellknown lament: " I would give half my knowledge for a fewpersonal charms, and consider them cheaply bought. "124 GUSTAVE DORÉ.No. 19 is called " Dandyism Ruralizing, 1830, " andexhibits a pleasure party, padded in the bust andtightened at the waist, filling one of nine boats—alas,only too real!-that float on the lake of the Bois deBoulogne in Paris. One of the party is whiling awaythe idle hour by declaiming or explaining poetry. Weare reminded of Lalla Rookh and Feramorz, althoughneither of Doré's heroines resemble that soft- eyedprincess any more than his heroes resemble her handsome lover. We may judge of their mutual enchantment, however, by the expression on their faces, whichbespeaks the liveliest pleasure and enjoyment."Ten Years Later, or a Change of Fashion, 1840,"closes the series. We have made a long journey, something like " Round the world in eighty days. " In orderto get from the Druids in the year of our Lord one, tothe dancers in the year of our Lord 1840, through whatperipetia have we not passed? There is a considerabledifference between the characteristics of the ball underHenry III . and of that under Louis Philippe, althoughthere was undoubtedly as much real amusem*nt at theTuileries of yore as at La Grande Chaumière or thefamous Jardin Mabille in the days of the Citizen King.This drawing is enormously clever, philosophically aswell as artistically. In the foreground we have the shortpetticoated dancing grisettes, or demi-mondaines, revelling with the white-cravatted students, those zephyrheeled denizens of the Latin Quartier, who suggest notonly Mabille, but the no less notorious Bal Bullier, thathappy hunting-ground of idlers and pleasure- seekers.In the background we have Britons, Germans, Americans, and Frenchmen of forty years ago. In the dimperspective are shadowy forms and vague objects, slidingdown-hill on the Montagnes Russes, a species of amusem*nt then in vogue at La Grande Chaumière. There is,indeed , a change of fashions and manners since the firstdrawing; and one can readily understand the amazementof " an ancient Briton " contemplating the costumes ofhis descendants.GUSTAVE DORE'S DISAPPOINTMENTS. 125



I HAVE given a detailed account of the historicalcartoons because they are really some of the most.remarkable productions of Doré's facile pencil. Theyhave also special value as showing very distinctly thebent of his mind and its fertility , as well as his methodof studying at the age of fifteen . He must have amassedan enormous amount of learning before he could havedevised such faithful sketches of so many differentepochs. Of the twenty tableaux composing this seriesthere is not one that is not a masterpiece in its way.The inspiration is genial and generous; the executionconcise and felicitous. From the fact of this seriesremaining so long in his portfolio, we may presume that itwas one of those unfortunate works which, as M. Lacroixsaid, " Gustave offered over and over again to differentpublishers, who one and all refused even to look at thedrawings of such a mere child. "We can readily imagine the disappointment sufferedby the heart-sick lad, who, after toiling so steadily, andwith such fine, hopeful courage, saw the work of hisinspiration doomed to neglect, as it proved to be, formany a long day.126 GUSTAVE DORÉ.M. Daubrée says, " At that time Doré began takingtrifles seriously to heart, and although he rarely complained, his disappointment secretly corroded and embittered his naturally sweet and calm disposition . Henever could realize that he was still but a boy, and thathis time must surely come."However, much as he brooded and fretted , he seemsto have worked more. The note attached to thehistorical studies or cartoons describes them as havingbeen executed at the age of fifteen . This could scarcelyhave been possible, as Doré was only fourteen when hearrived in Paris. He began them whilst he was workingfor Philipon, and illustrating several volumes for " Bibliophile Jacob " (Paul Lacroix) , besides studying daily atthe Lycée Charlemagne. These occupations, with his" hours and hours " spent daily at the Louvre and othermuseums, must have entirely filled up his first year inthe French capital. He has also said that he workedmuch longer than he cared to tell," on those verycartoons. Again, a year more or less makes a vastdifference in a lad's studies at that age, and althoughDoré had stored away in his mind much more knowledgethan any one suspected, his condition was scarcely suchat fifteen as to have permitted him to design and bringto completion so important a series of historicaldrawings.((The wonder is that he had time for anything beyondhis daily studies at college and the page of illustrationshe was under contract to furnish weekly to M. Philipon.However, it is beyond doubt that the drawings he thenmade, and which remained unpublished for years, maybe counted by thousands instead of hundreds.The fall of Louis Philippe and the Revolution of '48 ,with all its horrors, afforded opportunities for sketchingwhich were not wasted by the young draughtsman. TheLycée Charlemagne was situate in the Rue St. Paul, astreet absolutely traversing the heart of the FaubourgSt. Antoine, a Parisian district sown with the seeds ofall that is revolutionary and more that is vile: one ofTHE REVOLUTION OF '48 IN PARIS. 127those working districts each house of which swarmswith innumerable inmates-where every alley and courtat a moment's notice is filled with a clamorous mob, asprone to empty itself into the streets as is the lava topour down the slopes of Vesuvius. It was in this veryquarter that Doré witnessed some of the most awfulscenes upon which the human eye has ever rested. Anangry people, rising against its rulers, with improvisedbarricades defended to the death. The insurrectionexpressed itself to the terrified senses of Paris in cannonading, massacres, military mutinies, buildings inflames, agonized cries of mutilated wretches struck downby shell or bullet, groups of excited soldiers fightingmasses of maddened men, women, and children , a thousand times more fiendish and horrible than any spectacleafforded by a Waterloo or a Sedan.Doré was then at an age when such scenes were boundto make a profound impression on his exceptionallyreceptive nature. He looked on with the eyes and heartof a patriot, but all the while he was instinctivelystudying those fluctuating masses of enraged humanity,and in his mind's eye already saw those living groupstransferred to paper by his pencil. Day and night hewas in the midst of all that was most terrible, nevertaking notes, but silently absorbing every minute episodeof that awful struggle.It was undoubtedly during this period that he acquiredhis marvellous skill in grouping. In his earliest sketcheswe often see two or three figures together, but never inanything like the number he afterwards dealt with sofreely. Many of Doré's admirers have marvelled howone who had never been engaged in active combat couldpossibly succeed in depicting such realistic battle- scenes.Gustave Doré possessed in a supreme degree the art ofgrouping masses of men, and making them look onpaper as they do in real life. The correctness of hisdrawing has been frequently called in question, butnever the vivacity and fruitfulness of his creative power,nor the life-like realism of his subjects. It was chiefly128 GUSTAVE DORÉduring the Revolution of 1848 that he made those studies.from real life which have since conferred immortality uponhis name. The lesson was a terrible one, but wonderfullyefficacious . We are forcibly reminded of the old proverb," A quelque chose malheur est bon."No. 13 , for instance, of the historical series, " TheCharge of Light Horse, " is so full of vitality that wecannot help fancying that Gustave must have had somecavalry attack upon the rioters of the Faubourg St.Antoine in his mind when he produced it . Were this so,it would be a conclusive proof that those cartoons werenot drawn by him at fifteen years of age.The albums containing " Three Artists, " " A PleasureTrip," and the Historical Cartoons, are out of print, and soextremely rare that now almost any sum would be paid forsingle copies. M. Lacroix told me that of his own booksillustrated by Doré, which sold by thousands upon thousands at that time, he himself did not possess one copy."Bibliophile Jacob " was one of the successful authors ofthe day, and the editions of his works illustrated by therising young draughtsman were many of them sold inthe provinces, which fairly drained Paris of them.At the age of seventeen Gustave Doré collaboratedwith Gini and made several " Military Sketches " published in No. 9 ofthe series of " Petit* Albums pour Rire."These are in the collection of M. Philipon.His next great popular success was "The Life of aParisian, Marceline and others, " No. 22 of the " Albumspour Rire," also in the Philipon collection . This workwas so rich in creative humoristic design that ideas havebeen persistently stolen from it for the last thirty years,and probably will continue to be for the next hundred tocome.Gustave was always highly delighted whenever he achieved a new success. But he was too ambitious torest and be thankful, and began moreover to exhibittouchiness when any one spoke or wrote of him as a"draughtsman." He felt in his heart that he was anartist; but Paris regarded him as a draughtsman on wood,SKETCH FROM RABELAIS. 129and he was so constantly before the public in that lightthat it was hard to think of him in any other. Besideshe was making the world laugh, and Paris was the cityof all others which needed to be constantly amused. Hisambition, however, soared far above that, but his ownKPANURGE .FRIAR JOHN ANDWindus .)Original Rabelais .Bypermission ofChatto and (130 GUSTAVE DORÉ.mania for incessant work kept him continuously before theworld as a caricaturist and nothing more.His next published works were " Les Collégiens, " 1stpart, No. 32 of " Les Albums pour Rire, " also in M.Philipon's collection , and " Les Collégiens, " 2nd part, incollaboration with Bertall, No. 36 of the same collection ,also executed for M. Philipon.These albums must not be confounded with " LeJournal pour Rire," which was a weekly sheet, and theone to which Doré furnished the front- page drawing. Iwill here reproduce some notes on this subject from Doré'sown journal, which I have before me. He shows morethan plainly his feeling about his work, but also his reasonsfor continuing it.He says," From 1848 to 1850 I was occupied in terminatingmy studies at the Lycée Charlemagne, where I had thehappiness to have for school-fellows Edmond About andHyppolite Taine.The branch of art styled caricature was a long wayfrom being the one to which my natural tastes attractedme, and although during four or five years I had produceda number of drawings which readily ran up to thousands,it was simply because the only editor (Philipon) who thenaccepted my sketches, had but one exclusive specialityof publication, that of caricature .I worked faithfully then, during all the time at mydisposal, at serious studies in drawing." At last in 1853 I found a way to escape apparentlyfrom the continuation of comic work which I own hadbegun to annoy me excessively. Seeing what a run therewas upon the Journal pour Rire, ' which was in enormousvogue at the price of twenty centimes a copy, I begged mypublisher's permission to execute an illustrated Rabelais,which should appear serially in the same form as thecomic periodical in question ." This was the first thing of mine which made a sensation, and, by eliciting praise from the press, brought meconspicuously before the notice of the public. "These few words are Doré's modest account of one ofDORE'S PRODIGALITY OF TALENT.131the greatest feats ever performed in his line of talent.As, however, he has made no mention above of two important works produced by him in the year 1853, I mustspeak of them before treating of his Rabelais.One of these works was by Paul Lacroix, called , " LeSinge, ou la Famille de l'Athée. Histoire du Temps deLouis XV. Edited by J. Bry. Illustrated by GustaveDoré. 14 drawings. " It is generally believed that thiswas the volume Doré illustrated for " Bibliophile Jacob,"when he was a little over fifteen. That can scarcely bethe case, for M. Lacroix told me that there were" basketsful of engravings." " I have," he added,66 more than one hundred and fifty blocks here in myhouse: whilst Doré speaks of but fourteen drawings ." Lacroix published perhaps a hundred volumes, and althoughhis memory was marvellous, it is not unlikely that thename of that particular one may have escaped his recollection. The family of Gustave Doré have no knowledgeof any work illustrated by him previous to the year 1853;and Doré himself says nothing about it in his notes.However, as he was in the habit of despising his earlyefforts , there would be nothing uncommon in his makingno mention of them.In speaking of the work of a talented lad, it is veryeasy to attempt to make him out a prodigy by advancingthe dates of his work by several years. However thatmay be, the drawings, first and last, which were madefor M. Lacroix-to use his own words-" were marvelsof beauty in drawing and design; " and Du Tacq himself compared them to the great classics.It seems to me as great an honour to be compared toMichel Angelo at twenty as at fifteen , and vastly creditable to have been thought of in connection with him atany time. Doré should not have complained in thoseearly days, when his genius outran his patience and hispencil outstripped both; for he had many warm partisans ,and more sages than one predicted a great future to thelittle Alsatian artist.His executant prodigality was his own worst enemy,K 2132 GUSTAVE DORÉ.for before the public could ever have time to digest oneof his works, another was flung at its head with suchswiftness as could not but depreciate its value. Thepublic likes to be caressed, flattered, and cajoled; itwishes to command, not to serve; and when there wasno alternative but perdreaux, toujours perdreaux, notunderstanding the man, not appreciating his superlativegenius, society was prompted by sheer satiety to call histalent in question, as it were, by not setting the highestvalue upon it. Later on he learned to keep both thepublic and the publishers waiting, and from the day that heacquired that lesson perfectly, he became a happier man.I may here again refer to his good fortune in havingfor friends such youths as Edmond About and HyppoliteTaine, and such a man as Paul Lacroix. He certainlyhad a very good example before him of hard workers inthe owners of these names, since so celebrated throughout not France alone, but the entire world.ΙIt was a curious coincidence that Gustave Doré should,on his arrival in Paris, have fallen in with three suchwidely different literary characters: a book- worm, anovelist, and a philosopher; each at the head of hisprofessed branch of art; each a marvel in his way; andall three equally attached to the gifted young artist.M. About, or, to give him all his names, Edmond François Valentin About, was born at Dieuze, on the 14th ofFebruary, 1828. He studied at the Lycée Charlemagne,and although he was five years older than Doré, theywere class-mates in many studies, and speedily becameclose and devoted companions. About was one ofthe wittiest and most brilliant men in France. Hisprecocity was as remarkable in its way as that of Doré,and Gustave frequently spoke of About's gaiety andspontaneous fun, which kept his school- mates in raregood humour, sending them off into fits of laughter onthe slightest occasion . The intimacy was interruptedwhen About joined l'École Normale, and again in 1852,when he went to the French school at Athens. Thiswas a Government appointment, having no very definiteSOMETHING ABOUT THE LATE EDMOND ABOUT. 133object, except the hope that young Frenchmen having ataste for belles- lettres, and being free to choose theirstudies, would compose papers on the history or archæology of Greece. About remained two years in Athens,and realized the hopes of his family by sending a pamphlet to the Academy of Inscriptions, called, " L'Iled'Egine. " To everybody's surprise, this pamphlet wasnot a history of Greece, but a clever satire, and Francesoon rang with its author's name. Two years laterhe wrote his great work, " La Grèce Contemporaine, "which has been translated into many tongues, and hasattained universal popularity. This book is a marvel of shrewd observation and clever writing. EdmondAbout then became the fashion, his novels being in greatdemand at every library in Paris.A Parisian journal, speaking recently of E. About andhis forthcoming admission to the French Academy, said," His style is pure and delightful; his verve carrieseverything before it, and his wit, besides being inexhaustible, has the rare merit of being absolutely spontaneous. It is no more effort for About to be funnythan it is for him to breathe. One would think that thevein might become exhausted; but, no, the more hedraws upon it the more it yields, and we may safely lookforward to another age where the only spirits of pureand sparkling humour shall be drawn from ' About'sFountain."" Alas! About stopped on the threshold oftheAcademy, and whilst I was correcting these notes Pariswas doing honour to her illustrious dead.Doré delighted in him, and often referred in conversation to the killingly-funny stories he used to tell to theboys at school. No one doubted but that he invented.them on the spot; but however strictly their veracitymight be questioned , their wit never could be. He andDoré were devoted friends for a long time, and nothingcould have exceeded the felicity of their companionship;which, especially in the early years of their acquaintanceship, left little to be desired.H. Taine, or Hippolyte Adolphe Taine, the second of134 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Dore's distinguished college companions, was of very nearlythe same age as About. He was born on the 28th ofApril, 1828, at Vouziers, in the Ardennes, and finished hisstudies in Paris, presumably where he had begun them,at the Lycée Charlemagne. In 1853 two magnificentessays, respectively entitled " De Personis Platoricis "and " Essai sur les Fables de Lafontaine," were rewardedby the diploma of " Docteur des Lettres." Taine has abrilliant intellect, which he has cultivated to the highestdegree. He is not without wit, but his style is as farremoved from that of About as the north from the southpole. The one is all effervescinglightness , superficial,but as congenial as froth to champagne; the otherspecially gifted by nature to reason solidly and explainhis reasonings in a pure, but somewhat ponderous style.Taine out-distanced his companions in the race for fame,however, as in 1854 his great work " Essai sur Tite- Live, "was crowned by the French Academy, that immortalgoal so ardently dreamed of and desired by all Frenchmen of letters. It is not often that a young littérateurof twenty- six finds himself thus honoured. The turn ofTaine's mind is clearly indicated by his works, which are allmore or less serious, classical, and scientific . In 1856he published " Les Philosophes Français du dix-neuvièmeSiècle; " in 1857 , " Essais de Critique et d'Histoire; "" L'Histoire de la Littérature Anglaise " in 1864 , andvarious other well-known works. In this century, whenoriginality is at a premium, Taine may certainly claim tohave invented a decidedly new and original method ofjudging of a people's literature from a scientific standpoint, to wit , that there are three things to bear in mindwhen writing the literature of any people: the race towhich a nation belongs, its geographical position andstage of civilization in literary growth, and lastly, theperiod to which all these appertain. Taine has, withoutdoubt, propounded the psychological question with regard to all literature. He has written many later works,but none so curious or original as his " History of EnglishLiterature. " In 1878 he was elected a member of theDRAWING FROM DORE'S SPAIN. 135www་ ་ ་་་www0.BRUXSPAIN.(Original Drawing. Published by Sampson Low and Co. )136 GUSTAVEDORÉ.Academy, preceding his contemporary About by sevenyears; and, although there could never have been anyquestion of rivalry, he left both Doré and Paul Lacroix animmeasurable distance behind him in the favour of hiscompatriots, in the meantime the latter amused himselfbysigning his name " Bibliophile Jacob, Membre de toutesles Académies."Dore's relations with Taine were always of the mostcordial character. He admired Taine's powerful intellect,solid and genuine talent, while the latter accorded allhonour to his old schoolmate's brilliant imagination andmarvellous versatility of thought and pencil. Ihave heardthat, while they were never what may be called intimatefriends, they lived their lives , so to speak, in constantcontemplation of one another's genius and steady advancebefore the world in their different rôles of successfulartist and man of letters . Doré illustrated several ofM. Taine's works, which are amongst the illustrator'sfinest efforts. The time passed in this labour was toDoré a period of mutual profit and pleasure, as it couldnot well have been otherwise. Taine was ever associatedin Doré's mind with some of the happiest hours of hisboyhood, those passed in the Lycée Charlemagne, whenthe present was bright with nascent hopes, and the futurepromised a smile in every turning of life's page. Untilthe last leaf was folded over, Doré cherished the samesentiments towards this life- long friend .DORE TAKES A SUMMER HOLIDAY.SD137CHAPTER XIII.DORE TAKES A SUMMER HOLIDAY.GUSTAVE DORE was in the habit of taking a summerholiday every year. It was probably this slight respitefrom work, and change of scene and air which enabledhim to keep on labouring as he did at such an inhumanrate from morn till night, month in and month out. Hebegan to be very much sought after in society, and manya house in the noble Faubourg St. Germain was proudto open its doors to the talented young artist. Societyamused, but scarcely interested him. He would go tohalf a dozen " at homes " during an evening, say a wordor two to the host or hostess, and when some one wishedto be introduced to " the rising young artist, M. Doré, " hewas nowhere to be found. Could that some one, however,have penetrated to the studio in the Rue Monsieur lePrince, he would probably have discovered Doré longafter midnight, sitting by a little lamp and working awayat his blocks, utterly indifferent to the world and itstriumphs, and forgetful of everything but his inspirationsand his art. Outside this latter Doré found his greatesthappiness in listening to music. He was devoted tothe Opera House in the Rue Lepelletier, and a regularattendant at the Old Opera House, where the master-138 GUSTAVE DORÉ.pieces of Meyerbeer, Rossini, Gluck, and Halévy wereperformed, at that time, in a superior manner. Therewas also " Les Italiens," the home of Italian opera,whither all Paris flocked to listen to such artists asGrisi, Mario, Lablache, Alboni, Viardot, Tamberlik, andmany other brilliant stars in that brilliant musicalfirmament. Who does not remember and speak of lesbeaux jours of this charming theatre, when Rossini,Verdi, Bellini, and Donizetti reigned, whilst Cimarosaand Mozart were dutifully sandwiched in between moremodern and sensational composers; when there was anImperial box imperially filled; when the beauty, nobility,wealth, and fashion of gay Paris crowded the stalls,boxes, and upper circles with all that was brilliant andcritical in that cultivated capital?In the midst of this distinguished throng Doré oftenfound himself, and probably no one present was a keenerdilettante than he. Not alone did he understand andenjoy music, but he had developed a charming tenorvoice, and sang with admirable taste and sentiment. Itwas a wonder how he managed it , but he rarely in thosedays missed a " first night " of any sort; certainly neverone at the opera. Mr. B- one of his intimate friends,said, " Gustave has two passions: his blocks and music.I think one strain of Rossini would always avail to interrupt his finest inspiration; and the overture to ' WilliamTell ' would make him forget everything else, and sendhim into an ecstasy of delight."Not content with singing, he continued to play theviolin, as at Strasburg, and took a few lessons of thelate M. Vaucorbeil, a distinguished performer, and oneof the recent directors of the new National Opera Housein Paris. Again arises the old question, " How did Doréfind time to do so much? "That was one of the queries no one ever attemptedto answer. He not only made time to play a little forhis own amusem*nt, but to study in secret, achievingsuch rapid and marked progress that in a short time hismaster told him that he needed no more lessons, adding,DORE PLAYS THE VIOLIN. 139" The pupil has gone as far as the master can teach himalready he outstrips him." By this remark we may judgeA CRIPPLE OF PALESTINE. " CONTES DRÔLATIQUES. "(By permission of Chatto and Windus. Original Sketch.)to some extent of his aptitude for the violin. Of coursehe lacked that technical perfection which practice and140 GUSTAVE DORÉ.experience alone can give; but he is said, even at thattime, to have played everything with remarkable tasteand beautiful smoothness of execution.Music was one of his great consolers, and it was fortunate for him that he possessed this most reposeful ofall tastes. Nothing so tires and wears the brain as working in a groove, and no two arts could be more directlyopposed than those of painting and violin- playing.At that time Doré did not perhaps fully appreciatehow many resources he had within himself. He was soeager to work at his drawing that had he imagined for amoment that music as a recreation could ever cause himfor an instant to forget his special art, he probably wouldhave denied himself even this delightful pastime. It wasan amusem*nt to him chiefly because it was a changewhich permitted his brain to work awhile in anotherdirection. Doré never did anything by halves; whateverhe took up was pursued with violent energy and unflagging exertion until he considered that he had accomplished what he had undertaken to perform. His tenacityof purpose was as remarkable as his ambition wasaudacious.It must not be supposed because he had begun hiscareer with signal brilliancy that he experiencednothing but success to feed his mind upon. On thecontrary, he had a great deal of up- hill work, and asmany jealousies to contend with as a pretty woman hasto encounter from her plainer sisters . It is not so easyin this world for any one to say with truth, “ Veni, vidi,vici." Doré, however, said it , and meant to go on as hehad begun. The public of Paris is a curious one, andits appreciation shows itself in the same way with respectto most things . No matter who the person or what hisprofession, if he please at first he is accepted at once,and the question of talent becomes a relative one to beconsidered subsequently. I do not know whether thispeculiar facility of Parisian public appreciation is notmore hurtful to its recipients than that of a less graciouspeople. It more resembles caprice than real judgment,DORE'S FRANK NATURE. 141and he must be a very clever person, irrespective of hisspecial talent, who can not only hold his own and stemthe tide, but grow steadily in public favour, and manageto float with the current. Doré felt this with that sort ofinstinct which is the bane of highly strung and highlygifted natures, and the more success he had the greaterbecame his mental preoccupation . He found, as whateminent artist has not, plenty of enthusiasts eager toplace him on a pedestal, but whose enthusiasm died outwhen they were called upon to keep him there. Hisambition was overpowering, and prompted him not aloneto excel in his own special branch of art. He dreamedsome day of being a Da Vinci and a Michel Angelo aswell.He had too frank, honest, and unsuspecting a natureeven think of concealing this triple aspiration .Flatterers may be base, but they are enormously clever,and always know just how to reach and when to touchthe right spot. There was always just such a crowd of"well-meaning," " well- intentioned " harpies about Doré,many of whom were profoundly jealous of his success,and only anxious to avenge their own failures by fillinghis head with injudicious compliments, the effect of whichwas that when their backs were turned, and he didnot find similar tribute of flattery pouring in from alldirections, his peace of soul began to be undermined, andat twenty, after all his successes, he talked about being"unappreciated and misunderstood. "A happier lot was his, however, than that of mostyoung artists in his position . After a harassing day,chiefly spent in the streets , when he had been talkingwith publishers and with flatterers , had been alternatelywounded and complimented over and over again, hewould arrive at the Rue St. Dominique in the semi-fretful,semi-nervous state which results from such mental andcorporeal wear and tear, to find in a comfortable home theone creature in the world whom he loved, and who, as hewell knew, thoroughly appreciated him, waiting to receivehim with open arms, a heart full of love and ready to142 GUSTAVE DORÉ.offer the thousand and one consolations which only theingenuity of a fond parent could devise; for who in all this world knows so well as a mother how to heal man'swounded self- love, or how to console his every littleanguish and heart-ache?Very different, indeed, was his fate to that of otherartists of his day who had lived a joyless life in everysense of the word, to whom the comforts of home hadbeen denied, who had never known parental guidance andprotection, but had been compelled to struggle withpoverty, contumely, and despair; whose aspirations andgenius had been born, matured, and bred in the garretwhere they were destined to expire, unillumined by thesmallest flash of mundane satisfaction or success .It is very certain that at that time Gustave really appreciated some of his blessings. The happiest effect ,however, of the mutual love between himself and hismother had for result that, instead of being led away bythe thousand and one whims and vices which inevitablytempt a young artist in a great city, he loved his home,and was insensibly drawn towards those family influences.which so happily developed later on into a love for domesticity towards simple recreations and enjoyments that hisown fireside readily afforded. Destiny was very good tohim, for unconsciously he was thus paving the way to theonly real happiness he ever knew during his restless buteventful career.After the Byron illustrations were finished and the workpublished, Doré took his usual vacation, going with hismother and brother to Switzerland. He was absent fromParis nearly two months, and, as he said afterwards ,fairly revelled in the glorious scenery of the Alps. "This love of mountains and mountainous country grewwith him as did his love for his mother or his art. InSwitzerland he was as free as the winds, utterly liberatedfrom all the trammels which had begun to restrict hisliberty in Paris. We may judge of the life he led in themountains by an extract from a letter written by hismother to a friend in Paris, and dated " Chamounix, 20thGUSTAVE AND HIS FAMILY IN SWITZERLAND. 143August." His freedom, intrepidity, and daring caused asmuch anxiety to her as they gave pleasure to him. Shewrote as follows:-"Gustave frightens me by his excursions amongst theglaciers. He came back from the ' garden, ' however, verywell, as did his brother. The guides say that they areexactly like so many chamois."An outburst of high spirits is always followed by relapse or reaction. We may presume that even whilstbounding chamois-like amidst the glaciers he was notalways in his happiest mood. Perhaps he was thinkingof his great undertakings, and wondering whether or notthey would turn out successful. There is really nomountain of hope high enough to take us away from theflat table-land of reality, when once we begin to doubtourselves. That Gustave suffered from a depression ofspirits was very evident, but probably this feeling was theoutcome of his enormous mental and physical labourduring the winter of 1852 and the spring of 1853. Thestate of his body and mind at that time may be gatheredfrom the following sentence also written by MadameDoré from Chamounix:-"Rabelais cheers him up a little. . . .to his twentieth block. "He hasjust gotThe words are few, but they speak volumes. Doréreturned home through Alsatia, where we are told he"renewed many of the friendships of his youth."Nothing of note happened there, with one exception,He was treated like an ordinary mortal, which seemed tohim rather strange after his successes in Paris. He hadpictured to himself the reception he would have in hisold home, and by reason of his own wish to please, hadprobably exaggerated the sentiments he would inspirethere. It is a very difficult thing to make the peoplewith whom you have been brought up ever see anythingout of the common in you. Perhaps there never was atruer adage than " familiarity breeds contempt." Certainit is that Gustave was received with affection , but withoutoutward signs of honour. He was too young, too youth-144 GUSTAVE DORÉ.fully enthusiastic to quite appreciate the cordiality of hiscompatriots. It is a strange thing that the blows whichstab deepest must always be struck by those we love mostdearly. Doré could not have forgotten the proverb aboutthe prophet not being honoured in his own country; yetinstead of appreciating the smallest mark of remembranceshown to him by his compatriots, he ate his heart out because their recognition went no further than expressionsof affection . He had been so proud to return to allthose old friends an artist of pure metal, already stampedwith the hall- mark of Parisian favour, that he never gotover their saying nothing of his talents, brilliant position ,or immediate prospects. He had been away four years,and did not realize how much it really was to his creditthat, on returning to his own province after so protractedan absence, he found himself not totally forgotten andwholly ignored.He came back to Paris with those first vivacious andprolific seeds of unhappiness sown in his breast. Theblow struck so deeply that he never quite recovered fromit . It was his first supreme disillusion . Thereafter hewas never weary of reflecting that he was misunderstoodand unappreciated by the friends of his youth and bymany of his own country-folk.However painfully he brooded over this grievance henone the less went on steadily with his work, and earlyin 1854 gave to the world the result of new labour andmore profound thought and study than any one hadtheretofore supposed him capable of. He was rewardedby a success which should have gone far towards alleviating his humiliations, many of them imaginary, andall far inferior to the triumph which his real genius sosuddenly wrought for him. Yet so deeply rooted was thesouvenir of his old home- friends , that his first remark whenhe realized that he had really made a hit is said to havebeen, " I wonder what they will think of me now."DORES FIRST SERIOUS DRAWINGS. 145CHAPTER XIV.DORÉ ILLUSTRATES BYRON.AFTER the publication of the illustrated Byron, whichcame out in cheap numbers at the price of twopenceeach, Doré (as he has mentioned in his notes) went towork upon a set of drawings to illustrate an edition ofRabelais, produced in the form of the popular " Albumpour Rire " series, sold in Paris at twenty centimes percopy.¹' It seemed impossible to learn anything of the illustrated Byronbeyondthe fact that it was printed in the Bry edition , in small volumes,at four sous each, and on such cheap paper that probably not one of theblocks is now extant. It is moreover impossible at present to procurea copy of this work. One was bought for the Bibliothèque Nationalein Paris; but after repeated search for it I was obliged to abandonmy quest. Dr. Michel, Doré's nephew by marriage, assured me that thework was in the Bibliothèque, but that he knew of no other copies in existence. The Byron illustrations are of major importance, in thesense that they were the first really serious sketches done by Doré whenhe was yet only known as a caricaturist. Dr. Michel assures me thatthey combine some of the most exquisite gems ofthought and inspiration, for Doré, with the world at large, was a Byron worshipper. *Thanks to M. Thierry, the head curator of the BibliothèqueNationale, after protracted search the long- sought- for edition has been found. The drawings are fully identified as being Doré's, but, strangeL146 GUSTAVE DORÉ.·At the very name of Rabelais a host of memoriesrush over us. Who has not heard of that learned andmasterful satirist, the very incorporation of wit andwisdom, humour and fancy, whose genius has handeddown to us one of the greatest books the world has everknown? One can imagine the lad Rabelais playingtricks in his father's house at Chinon; his destination tothe priesthood and education to that end, begun with theBenedictines and finished at Fontenoy le Comte; thenan ordained priest , studying the " profane languages ofGreek and Latin; " his wondrous bonhomie; his drinkingin village wine- shops and supping with uproarious companions at midnight; his transfer from monastery tomonastery; his vagabondage and strange vagaries; hisfriends and enemies; the persecution he suffered becausehe would persist in studying Greek; the story of hisfriendship with the Seigneur du Bellay; his drunken.marauding in the streets; the public confiscation of hischerished classics; his desertion by comrades and protection by Popes and Kings; his employment as a sortof domestic at the house of Geoffroi d'Estissac; hiscareer as a doctor of medicine and curé in the littlevillage of Sonday; his falling in with a worshipper oflearned men, Jean du Bellay, who from that time forwardbecame his friend and protector. Rabelais as a sort ofupper servant in a noble family-Rabelais as a mendicant, storming in the Du Bellay kitchen because the foodgiven to him was neither succulent nor rich, and seizingthe viands and wines destined for the master of the house,who, hearing the disturbance, came in and recognized"the most delicate wit and most erudite personage in therepublic of letters "-Rabelais renouncing the curacy ofSonday in order to study and practise medicine, andplunging into botany with a view to learn all aboutplants and their medicinal qualities -Rabelais at Montto say, none ofthem bear his name. The only palpable reason for thisomission would be that Byron having been Doré's first serious illustratedwork, he hesitated signing the illustrations until their success or nonsuccess should have been publicly assured. -Feb. 20th, 1885 .PAUL LACROIX ON RABELAIS. 147pellier practising medicine and studying astronomy,nominated a Doctor of the University, but leaving thetown before he had even taken up his degree-his tripto Lyons and visit to the Eternal City, where he fell inwith the Bishop of Ceramith, who taught him ArabicRabelais back again in France, and after a thousandextraordinary adventures writing his wonderful book thehistory of Gargantua and Pantagruel; the innumerableobstacles cast in his way; his final triumph in achievingthe publication of his great work; his retirement toMeudon, where he spent his days in " peace and tranquillity," only to run away therefrom and die in a littleold house in the Rue des Jardins in Paris, on April 9th,1553; in short, the one and only Rabelais, whose masterpiece of wit and humour really records some of his chiefadventures, notably under the pseudonym of Friar Johnof the Funnels. No more remarkable or exceptionalphenomenon stands revealed to us by the literary andpolitical history of the sixteenth century than FrançoisRabelais, who redeemed all his vices-for the most partthose of the ecclesiastics he satirized-by the prodigalsplendour of his genius and learning, and by writing themost fantastic, grotesque, extravagant, and inimitablework of imagination and humour of his own or any other age.M. Paul Lacroix thus concludes his life of Rabelais:Rabelais dead, his gospel, as he called it—' the book,'as it was styled by Cardinal du Bellay-became thebreviary of the most serious, and at the same time mostfrivolous of readers. Dr. Copus and the poet Passeratconsecrated part of their lives to commenting upon it , andperhaps to understanding it. The romance of Gargantuaand Pantagruel was more admired and more popular thanhad been the romance of ' The Rose ' two centuriespreviously. In it , as in an encyclopædia, all the moral andphysical sciences of the sixteenth century were to befound. It was flavoured, so to speak, with the very elixirof human reason. If Rabelais has grown old, as far asregards his diction-he who affected a literary styleL 2148 GUSTAVEDORÉ.already antiquated in his own times-his ideas andopinions will remain eternally young by reason of theirintrinsic truth. Rabelais, the greatest genius of hisepoch, did not only create this work of fiction, so comic,so profound, so vast, and so sublime, which will outlive.even the French language; he was also the intellectualprogenitor of Molière, La Fontaine, Lesage, and PaulLouis Courier."The history of Gargantua and Pantagruel is well-nighexhaustive of human thought, and a veritable treasurehouse of wisdom and erudition. Its freedom of languagehas long since been forgiven by Frenchmen, and indeedby literati of all nations; and it is by no means strangethat a person of Doré's extreme appreciativeness foranything comic should have been inspired by an eagerambition to illustrate the works of François Rabelais.Doré was just twenty years of age when he began theundertaking. That he should have succeeded in carryingout so vast an enterprise is little short of marvellous, forhe could but have spent a very small portion of his life instudying this stupendous " magnum opus. " His comprehension of it , therefore, can only be accounted for byassuming that he was blessed by one of those suddeninspirations of genius which every God-gifted artistexperiences at some moment of his lifetime, but whichfew have the felicitous faculty of turning to such goodaccount. The fact is that Doré so perfectly comprehendedRabelais that he knew, as it were by instinct, just whatto touch and what to let alone. He demonstrated thathe had divined the curé of Meudon's philosophical andallegorical problems by leaving them to their own mysticbeauty, instead of even attempting to illustrate them.Seldom does ambition know so well how to curb itselfJudiciously. That he did so says as much for hisintelligence as for his draughtsmanship, and for his goodtaste as for both.Had Doré never thereafter taken pencil in hand, hisextraordinary illustrations of Rabelais would alone havestamped him a genius.PARIS RINGS WITH DORÉ'S PRAISE. 149He has modestly said, " It was the first thing frommy pen which created a sensation and caused me to besignalized through the daily press to the world's notice.'As a matter of fact, when it appeared, Paris rang withhis praise. From the first sketch, in which Gargantua isshown unrolling his scroll before the pigmies, to the last,where " Au bout estoit descript le pays d'Egypt, avecquesle Nil et ses crocodiles, cercopithèques, ibides," &c . , thebook is a succession of realistic, vivid, and superb drawings. Perhaps the most remarkable feature of Doré'swork is the series of portraits which he made from—imagination. Picture to yourself the surprise and delightof the Parisians who knew Rabelais by heart, and whowere thoroughly familiar with the characters in hismarvellous book, upon suddenly coming face to facewith them—as real as any of the well- known charactersof history, and a thousand-fold funnier. Then, too, theadmirable sketches of localities , " Ce cabaret fameux oùl'on montait de la basse ville par autant de dégrès qu'ily a de jours en l'an;" the dinner on the grass, where alldanced pesle-mesle to the sound of flageoiets-Gargantua going to mass; his arrival at Paris with his giganticstud, and the excitement he caused there, when, asRabelais says," Il fût vue de tout le monde en grande admiration, carle peuple de Paris est tant sot, tant badault et tantinepte de nature, qu'un basteleur, un porteur de rogatons,un mulet avecques ses cymbales, un veilleux au milieud'un carrefour, assemblera plus de gens que ne feroit unbon prescheur évangélique. Et tant molestement lepoursuivirent, qu'il fût contrainct soi réposer sur les toursde l'écclise Nôtre Dame. "And again-Gargantua visiting the Château de Vède,and how he demolished it; his further adventures with hisnoble companions, Tripet, Hastiveau, and Tocquedillon,and their end; the death of his wife and the birth of hisson Pantagruel.One of the most vigorous drawings in the collection isa sketch of Gargantua weeping over the death of Badebec.150 GUSTAVE DORÉ.He is portrayed with his enormous face framed in asquare black window, his gigantic hands clinging to itsledge, his features distorted by anguish, the tears oozingout of his closed eyes, and dropping between his fingersdown upon the heads of the passing multitude, in theform of great oblong pearls, whilst the bereaved monarchsobs out his piteous lamentation: ---" Matant bonne femme est morte qui était la plusceci , la plus celà, qui fût au monde . . . . et soudain ilpleurait comme une vache. "I can hardly do better than quote Paul Lacroix againwith respect to the illustrated edition of Rabelais and itssuccess." I cannot describe to you the excitement it caused, " hesaid to me. "Wherever I went, Rabelais rang in my ears.The names of Doré and Rabelais were the topics of theday throughout Paris, and no one talked about anythingelse but this wonderful book and its more wonderfulillustrations . People would not believe that their authorwas a mere boy, and many pooh-poohed the notion evento my very face. I assured them that it was Doré,the fact being that it could have been no one else . Notonly were the drawings remarkable, but any one couldsee at a glance that they did not show to advantage, oreven adequately display their intrinsic merits. In thefirst place, many of them had been spoiled by inefficientworkmen, for a large number of engravers had beenemployed upon this work; and in the next, it was printedon such cheap paper that many of the most delicate.effects were absolutely stultified . Gustave fairly stormedwith rage when he saw them as they turned out, andthought of them as he had drawn them. It was notalone the drawing which proved so successful, but thefine conceptions, and the phenomenal imagination herevealed in carrying those conceptions out. Thesespecialities testified to the wealth of his creative andimaginative power, which was far beyond that of anyartist of his day, old or young. What mattered howbadly the work was engraved, or how coarse the paperRABELAIS PUBLISHED IN ENGLAND. 151upon which it was printed? These drawbacks wereimpotent to disguise the brilliancy of his genius, whichburst upon Paris like a meteor."He had told me that he was reading Rabelais, andwas enchanted with the works of that easy- going priest.But I did not dream that he would so soon set to workto illustrate my edition of them. Of course I wasdelighted when we were at it together, for I believed inhim, and wanted him to have every possible chance ofdistinguishing himself." No one's delight could have been keener than minewhen I saw in black and white all those extraordinarypersonages -Gargantua, Pantagruel, Panurge, Epistemon,Triboulet, Friar John of the Funnels, and the wholegrotesque crew that we had all pictured to ourselves sooften in imagination . Doré had lodged them in towersand caves, and had made masterly sketches of mediævalpalaces and mediaval hovels; but the principal thingwas that the people were all there in life-like array, andwhen I saw them I laughed as I had never laughedbefore throughout my life." It was so clever of him to have realized exactly whatwas fit for illustration . Of course many of the philosophical passages he never even dreamed of touching,or, at least, never attempted to depict them, which said.a great deal for his tact and judiciousness ." He was very much elated by his success. Hehad made Rabelais eternal; I think it was quitenatural that he should be excited about it, and that hishead should be just a little bit turned by such a splendidrecognition of his talent. So many editions of the bookwere printed that many of the blocks were fairly worn out.It is deeply to be regretted that little should remain of soadmirable a work but a few copies here and there, andthe memory of one of the most colossal triumphs everachieved by a lad of Gustave Doré's years.'ItRabelais was brought out in England by Messrs.Chatto and Windus, and achieved a grand issued in capital form, and contains all of the large152 GUSTAVE DORÉ.cartoons, besides most of the smaller original drawings.Those blocks which were worn out in the Bry cheapeditions were replaced by Doré for Messrs. Chatto andWindus, and it is said that their perfection even outrivalled that of the first sketches. Rabelais' popularityis still unabated in England, and the cuts we give arefrom the originals in Messrs. Chatto and Windus'sedition of the work.DORE SPEAKS OF RABELAIS. 153·CHAPTER XV.A NEW SIGNATURE .THE title of his " Rabelais " is thus registered in Doré'sjournal: " The Works of François Rabelais, containingthe Lives of Gargantua and Pantagruel, preceded by aHistorical Notice of the Life and Works of Rabelais,'by P. Lacroix, bibliophile. Illustrations by Gustave Doré.Paris: J. Bry, 27 , Rue Guénegaut. 1854. One volume,4to. Sixteen drawings without the text, two hundreddrawings with the text."It will be seen that, although Doré began his Rabelaisin 1853 , it was not published until the early part of 1854.I have the book before me, and notice a peculiarity inone of the first drawings. Instead of the usual signature," G. Doré." it bears that of " Doré, D., " probably meaningDoré, dessinateur. Whether he did this purposely or notis not known, but it is certain that he never signed hisdrawings in that way on any other occasion. Who maytell what was passing in his mind when he deliberatelyindicated the one word of all others that he most hated,the one designation which under no circ*mstances couldhe ever endure to have bestowed upon him? Whenever154 GUSTAVE DORÉ.he was, even inadvertently, called draughtsman, he wouldfire up and hasten to explain that he was not a draughtsman, but an artist. He certainly was the latter in inspiration at any time, and after so great a success as followedhis Rabelais, might be forgiven were he to consider himselfanything and everything that was extraordinary and abovethe average calibre of human nature.Doré continues in his notes:-" The success of this book induced several publishersto make researches in the literature of the past for subjectswhich would readily lend themselves to the same style ofdrawing; that is to say, to the illustration of mediævalbuffooneries (du moyen âge bouffon). It was thus thatI came to illustrate the following romances of chivalry:' L'Histoire du Chevalier Jaufre,' ' La belle Brunissende ,''Fier-à-bras d'Alexandre, ' The Legend of the WanderingJew,' and, finally, the Contes Drôlatiques ' of Balzac.""Several publishers were disposed to order many otherworks of the same category, but I feared that a toocopious production of that class of illustrations wouldgive the world the idea that I was a specialist in thatschool, and that opinion was the one of all others that Iparticularly wished to avoid. So I positively refused toexecute illustrations of Boccaccio, Brantôme, Montaigne,' Les cent Nouvelles,' &c."The war against Russia had just broken out when Iconceived the notion of founding a journal in which Icould give daily, so to speak, the bulletin of the passesat arms of the English and French soldiers, and I calledthis weekly collection ' Le Musée Anglais- Français. '"This double journal was printed in the two languages-French and English, and was in the hands of every oneon both sides of the Channel who applauded our gloriousalliance. Of all my works this was the one by exception,the first number of which made the greatest sensation.This collection of sketches naturally came to an end withthe Crimean war."I must interrupt the notes here in order to speak ofthe book called " La Sainte Russie," thus mentioned inLA SAINTE RUSSIE. 155Doré's catalogue: " Histoire Dramatique Pittoresque etCaricaturale de la Sainte Russie, d'après les ChroniqueursWHY IT WAS CALLED PANTAGRUELION, AND THE VIRTUES THEREOF.(Rabelais, G. Doré. Original Sketch. By permission of Chatto and Windus. )et l'Historiens, Nestor, Nikam, et Kharamsin. Paris:J. Bry. 1854. 207 pages, 500 dessins. "156 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Onemayjudge somewhat oftheamount of Doré's labourson reading the last words of the above note, " fivehundred drawings. " To say that it was colossal barelydescribes it . Imagine the brain-work, not to speak ofthe physical toil performed by his fingers, which wieldedthe pencil so rapidly and indefatigably.Acontemporary observed that " to watch him designinghs sketches was enough to make one dizzy; his fingersabsolutely flew over the surface of the block, and everytime he took up a fresh one it seemed to be finishedbefore one had time to realize what he had been about.This extraordinary quickness of execution was outstripped by that of his imagination, always miles aheadof any possible mechanical work. It seems all butincredible that any artist should have been able toaccomplish so much in so short a space of time. Aconvincing proof of his extraordinary duplex faculty oflightning-like conception and scarcely less rapid execution was that he never in those days made a sketchtwice over. Some he rarely glanced at, but threw theblocks aside as soon as they were finished , sure that hisfaithful pencil had exactly reproduced his fancies andconceptions.To describe the success achieved by " La SainteRussie " would be but to go over the old ground of hisRabelais triumphs. Certain it is, that had anything beenwanting to add to his fame, that something would havebeen supplied by this last feat , which so rapidly succeededthe most brilliant series of imaginative sketches thenineteenth century had ever seen. As they appearedupon the very heels of Rabelais, public amazement almostrose to incredulity. Yet there could be no doubt thathe, and he alone, had drawn every one of the sketches,for, as M. Lacroix had said, " There was no other artistin Paris who could in any way approach him in imagination, whilst his style was so distinctly original and yetso versatile, that it was impossible to imitate it . No onecould ever be prepared for what he was going to do, asone thing after another was showered upon the publicMADAME DORE ON GUSTAVE'S ILLUSIONS. 157with such prodigality of thought and freshness of designthat one-half the world was dumb-founded and the otherwell-nigh petrified with astonishment. "Doré's partisans became as numerous as the sandson the sea- shore. His name was on the lips of everyParisian, and the daily press began to speak of him asthe genius of the Academy, a second Raphael of design.This year he took his usual summer vacation, and wentagain to Switzerland. While sojourning among the Alps,Madame Doré wrote the following letter to M. Lacroix:-66 HE DID SWIM IN DEEP WATERS. "(Rabelais. By kind permission of Chatto and Windus.)"Gustave is mad with joy and confidence in the future.He regards disappointments with scorn. He absolutelyrefuses to return home through Alsatia, and heartily despises those compatriots of his who did not receive himany too well last time. I take supreme pleasure incontemplating his dreams of the future."We are to suppose that he successfully continued hisexcursions, as, after speaking of indifferent things sheadds:-" The guides have conceived an absolute affection forhim. "158 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Further on, speaking of the good advice he hadreceived, she writes:-"He is immensly proud of the interest you take in him,and that will doubtless direct him in the right way without his even suspecting it . "It will be seen by this that it was by no means an easytask to proffer advice to Gustave Doré, or to " direct "him. He was not spoiled by prosperity, but he couldnot help feeling what all the world saw, namely, that he wasexceptionally gifted, and that the future belonged to him.He had but to command it . One must make allowancesfor his youth and impressionable nature. Wherever hewent he was received with acclamations and open arms.Everybody had heard of the young genius Doré; everybody wanted to see him; in a word, he became the rage.Women spoiled him and men envied him; people wantedto know how he looked, how he behaved, and how hespoke, even what he ate and drank. It was like theexcitement that follows in the wake of a high C tenor ora fashionable prima donna. Doré had made one bound.into popularity, not through any trick or caprice of thepublic , but by the rare and legitimate means of superhuman effort, added to super- splendid natural talent . Hehad fairly earned his laurels, and must not be blamed ifhe conspicuously wore them, albeit less with the dignityof a man than with the delight of a spoiled child . Thereis always a charm in novelty, and such an one as thiscould not but have been particularly delightful to him.His gaiety must have been contagious, for in none ofMadame Doré's letters dated at that time does she speakof any ill-humour in the party, which, be it understood, wascomposed of herself and three sons, with an occasionalfriend.There was something very sweet in the affection prevailing in this family, and in the filial devotion of thesons' general attitude towards their mother. She wasnever in the way; on the contrary, no excursion wascomplete without her.her. It was " mother" here andmother" there. The three boys seemed to vie withA HAPPY FAMILY. 159each other as to which could pay her the most attentionor render her the happiest. Gustave was her pet, andshe could not disguise the fact. Although Ernest wasthe eldest, Gustave seemed to be the head of the family;and he certainly acted as cicerone when travelling, andlaid down the law for all of them. There was no jealousybetween them, for his brothers were only too happy toyield him the place of honour, and only too proud ofhis fame and talent. They gloried in the fact that hewas their very own brother.They must have been good- hearted lads with it all, forexamples of brotherly affection are not so numerous nowadays but that we are sometimes tempted to believe thatCain has never quitted this terrestrial sphere, and thatluckless Abel has but little better chance of holding hisown than he had six thousand years ago.Madame Doré wrote from Belgarde on the 7th ofAugust, " During the bad weather Gustave plays for me(me fait de la musique); so we may be sure that hehad his faithful violin with him. She does not speak ofhis brothers; but presumably they were not far away.We may infer the harmony existing between them from theway in which they passed their time when out- doorexcursions were impossible even in Switzerland. Madamewas reminded of home and the Rue St. Dominique, whereGustave used to play his violin during a whole eveningat a stretch, accompanied by his brothers Ernest andEmile, both accomplished musicians.That they went from place to place, sight- seeing inregular tourist fashion, is evident from the followingextract, also dated from Belgarde, as well as that Gustavedid not hesitate to order the party to " fold up their tentslike the Arabs, and silently steal away.' Madame Doréwrites:-'My ferocious Gustave has again made me change myitinerary. He conducts me once more to Chamounix,which place I specially wished to avoid. A friend fromBourg has told him that Interlaken is like an Englishgarden."160 GUSTAVE DORÉ.In another letter she says:-" In Cologne " (after having passed through Brussels)" Gustave works both with his fingers and his imagination . His album is full of sketches. We have seeneverything; the churches of Cologne, Byzantine, Gothic,and so on.'There are three things to take note of in these fewlines from his mother. First, that although he entertainedthe same affection for her as ever, he lacked his usualdeference, subordinating her wishes to his own. Secondly,that however strongly he had taken a dislike to Alsatia,he still liked all his individual friends well enough to valuetheir company and opinions. Thirdly, that his album wasfull of sketches. This is the very first time we haveheard of his not yielding to his mother in all respects,and that she had made any mention of his takingsketches of any sort by the way. It must have been anew thing for him, or she would scarcely have thought itworth speaking about; and as she wrote it to M. Lacroix,it may be supposed that it not only created interest, butcaused general astonishment amongst the members of theDoré family. In fact, it was so far from his usual habitthat she might well have been surprised. The sameyear M. Daubrée joined them on their travels, not far fromChamounix, to judge by what he says:-"We spent several days together, and I cannot tellyou how Gustave seemed to enjoy it . The weather wasfine, and we were out of doors all the time . He wouldsit for hours gazing at the scenes before him, drinking intheir beauty with a certain sort of intoxication. He wasso quiet that he seemed almost stupefied. To my amazement he never made so much as a single sketch, and Idon't remember ever having seen him take a note- bookfrom his pocket. I once asked him laughingly if hedid not think enough of those scenes to try and reproduce them, and if he did, why he never made anysketches? He looked at me with an expression I shallnever forget, and his response impressed me in spite ofmyself,-

S/BIBL LYONSe ameOTHELLO GUILLAUMESNARNECRE1862 DRAWING OFFAN MDE FOR MADAME ROSSINI ..)Harford Frederick Rev. ofBypermission ( 161 PageA MORNING'S WORK. 161" Think enough of them, my friend? Wait, and you shall see!'"Of course, after that I never hinted any more at theidea of his making sketches; yet I secretly thought, andsaid again and again to myself, ' What a pity, ' for wepassed through country which was lovely beyond words,and I felt that he who had always done justice tomountain scenery might have had here a rare chance tostudy nature quietly and calmly. On the fourth day wewent on to some neighbouring village, and were coopedin the house by inclement weather. Gustave did notshow up during the whole day, and as I dined with someother friends I did not see him in the evening. Thenext morning, before the twelve o'clock breakfast, heinvited me into his room with great gusto . You mayimagine my surprise-I , who knew every inch of thatcountry by heart, to see scattered about the room no lessthan twenty completed sketches, some in oil and some inwater- colour, absolute faithful reproductions of thecountry we had been travelling through during the pastfew days . I know that he had not missed any wellknown object, and I noticed that many little places whichhad been usually deemed unworthy of the artist's brushhe had brought forth into prominence with incrediblefreshness and charm."We expressed our amazement, all of us, and I congratulated him heartily on his work. I cannot tell youhow beautiful those hasty sketches seemed to me; andbeing in the country at the time I could the better appreciate their freshness and fidelity to nature. I do notexaggerate when I speak of their beauty, for they werelife itself. He had painted them all from memory in alittle room, shut up by himself, and working straightaway throughout more than twenty-four hours. I donot believe that he had slept at all, and if he ate anything, it was a hurried mouthful snatched between whilesof working. His way of getting hold of an idea, sittingdown to delineate it, and never stopping until his taskwas accomplished, was the most extraordinary thing inM162 GUSTAVE DORÉ.the world. The way he had worked was quite insensate,and we scolded him heartily for it."He was so delighted to witness our surprise that Iam sure he did not even feel tired. At any rate heevinced no sense of fatigue, and immediately proposedsome long, tiresome excursion , which I rememberwe madedirectly after breakfast.I again and again referred to what seemed to mea marvellous feat of memory and talent. He onlyrepeated, -666 Oh, that is nothing. I don't believe that yourealized half I was able to do, M. Daubrée; but,happily, I know myself, and find nothing out of thecommon in remembering all those scenes. In fact, Ishould have been surprised had I forgotten them, which,as you see, was very unlikely."" I still say," continued M. Daubrée, "that no oneever painted the Vosges as well as he, because he knewthem up and down, and no one to my mind ever produced Swiss scenery in a manner at all comparable tohis."Acharacteristic incident marks the trip to the Netherlands. At one of the frontiers, near midnight, Dorécould not find his passport. In vain he gave his name,Doré, to the stiff officer, but he would not let him pass.At last an isolated gleam of intelligence penetrated hisdutiful and official obtuseness. At the full name, GustaveDoré, he smiled triumphantly, as much as to say, "Ihave you now." His real words were:" If you are Gustave Doré, it will be easy enough toprove it. Make me a sketch of-of anything you see athand."Continental travellers who grumble at having even toshow their keys, will be lost in sympathy for the poorartist , obliged at such an unhallowed moment to evokethe muse; but he did it . Drawing a note- book from hispocket, he did not sketch the people about him, but, goingto a window, looked out upon the street; and somepersons standing at that moment in conversation uncon-A WISE REVENUE OFFICER.sciously served for models.163In a few seconds he handeda perfect sketch of them to the officer, whose hat wasin his hand whilst he allowed the artist and his party toproceed. A proper passport was made out for the Doréfamily, but the official kept the little sketch as a personalrecollection of the famous artist . I take pleasure in repeating this incident as it is probably the only authenticcase on record of the intelligence of a continental douanier.History will henceforth divide Solomon's laurels as thatwise man would have divided the subject of one rarejudgment.M 2164 GUSTAVE DORÉCHAPTER XVI.DORE'S RETURN TO PARIS.I HAVE, perhaps, led rather too abruptly up to Gustave's experiments in painting, but I had no alternative,as it was necessary to speak of his various trips toSwitzerland, and to exemplify the fact that he rarelymade sketches. I confess that M. Daubrée's incidentseems to smack of the impossible; but, bearing in mindDoré's phenomenal memory and headstrong way of neverleaving any piece of work until he had finished it, oneis compelled to admit that he might, by exercising astrain upon his powers, have executed the series ofsketches in question within so marvellously brief a spaceof time. There can be no doubt that slowness of execution nips many fine ideas in the bud, and explains whyso often a coup de tête results in a brilliant success.Talent is one thing, and industry another. GustaveDoré was an indefatigable worker; and by never allowinghis ideas to cool he was able to present them to thepublic with that spontaneity of effect which was one ofhis undeniable charms. So he really owed a great dealto his own laborious efforts and extraordinary power ofconcentration. The last is, as we all know, an acquiredfaculty, and there is no royal road to it, only theharassing and troublesome one of constant practice andincessant drudgery.DORE'S APPEARANCE AT ONE-AND- TWENTY. 165On his return to Paris Gustave resumed his illustratingwork; but I think it must have been during the previousyear that he began to paint. M. Lacroix told me of aseries of pictures which were painted by Gustave " whenhe was still a child; " but I shall not attempt to dealwith these in this place. It is possible, but not likely,that after the Dieppe experiment he began in secretto paint. The circ*mstance that M. Lacroix spokeof him as " a mere child, " it must be always borne inmind, was due to his personal appearance, which was veryboyish.I have seen a capital photograph taken of him in 1853,and no one could have then judged him to be over sixteenor seventeen. He is represented sitting, leaning slightlyforward, one hand leaning on the arm of his chair andthe other slightly raised, holding a half- smoked cigarbetween his fingers. The face is very striking. Hisforehead was so high that, from actual measurement,the length was considerably greater from the tip of hisnose to the upper part of his brow than from his nosedownwards to the point of his chin. This struck me as anextraordinary peculiarity. His hair was long, brushedback from the temples, but grew with astonishing thickness. His eyes were deep, with hollows underneaththem. There was an expression of dogged determinationin them which told tales of his dominating characteristics, ambition and self- will . The cheeks were slightlydrawn in, and the lips closed with a faint expression ofassumption, which revealed much more experience of lifethan one should have imagined him to possess, judgingby his other features. It said plainly enough, " I knowmyself." The face wore a look of proud self-relianceand independence of character. His body was very thin,and his garments hung loosely about his person. Youmay wonder that I have spoken so much in detail of anold daguerreotype, but the reason may be given in goodFrançoise's forcible if not elegant French. I was contemplating the portrait one day when she came up to meand laid her finger significantly on the glass . " Vous166 GUSTAVE DORÉ.regardez? n'est- ce pas? " she said, " je crois bien. C'estque c'est une bonne. À cet age-là, c'est lui-lui-même craché, il n'y a pas à dire. "About this time Gustave made the acquaintance ofThéophile Gautier, one of the most renowned writersFrance has ever produced. I shall speak particularly ofhim later on for the same reason that I have spoken indetail of Messrs. Paul Lacroix, Edmond About, andHyppolite Taine, as having been Dore's intimate friends,because of the influence which daily contact with suchmen might have possibly exercised upon the development of Gustave's natural character.I must now return to M. Paul Lacroix and his accountof Gustave Doré's " initiative in painting." He hadevidently decided upon adopting oil - painting as a career,and since " The Grey Fisherman of Dieppe " had carefully fostered his ideas, and tested them by experimentsin secret. M. Lacroix shall speak for himself:-" Do not ask me anything about his beginning topaint. Mon Dieu! The more he did, the more hewanted to do, and this novel freak proved an astoundingdeparture . I noticed when he returned from his lastsummer vacation " ( 1854) , " that he had something newin his head, for he was very sprightly and quite on thequi-vive of excitement. He also began at that time todevelop a characteristic which I regretted to observe inone so young, especially in a lad of his remarkablenatural gifts. He conceived an early dislike for all artists,sculptors, draughtsmen, and people of that class. As topainters, Meissonier and Gérôme positively stuck in histhroat. Whenhe heard of the fabulous prices paid to thoseartists he wanted to tear his hair with rage. He neverseemed to realize the fact that age and experience couldmake any difference to the achievements of great successes, and measured public appreciation by what he felthe had within him, never missing an opportunity to say thathe alone was unappreciated. He nearly had a convulsionone day on hearing that Meissonier had received twohundred thousand francs for a single picture.DORÉ IS JEALOUS OF OTHER painters. 167" What! ' he exclaimed, —' a thing like that! Nowlook at me. I can paint; I know I could paint betterthan Meissonier, at any rate . Have I ever been paid twohundred thousand francs for anything? No, and I nevershall be. The fact is, that no one understands me.I shall live and die misunderstood, or never comprehendedat all , which is worse.'•"I cannot tell you how it vexed me to hear him go onin this way. When he had one of these fits, it was uselessto try to argue with or console him, and I used to say tomyself, Why can't he be content? Why will he fill hishead with ideas about painters which can only render himunhappy?' But he would persist in tormenting himself,and I trembled when I reflected what must be in store forhim should he encourage this chronic discontent in preyingupon him." I could not but marvel at the change that had takenplace in him. His real nature was gay, sunshiny, andtender. He entertained sympathy for every one outsideof his own profession, but never heard of any other artist'ssuccess without brooding over it jealously and unhappily.In those days his mother had a hard time with him, and Ithink only the profound love they bore each other filledup every other void in their lives. No matter how abruptGustave might be with others, his adoration for her hadreached a point which made him indifferent to everythingand everybody else . She thought with and for him , andhe took her counsel anent all that concerned him. Itwas the most extraordinary reciprocity of affection that Ihave ever known. Determined as he was in his relationswith others, he yielded in all respects towards her. Ihoped and imagined that he would get over his unpleasant tendency to rail at artists and painters in general;but the next time I saw him after the hue and cry overthe two hundred thousand francs paid to Meissonier, hebegan again at once to abuse that artist. Not only hadhe not forgotten the incident above alluded to, but Ispeedily realized that he had been brooding ever since.over Meissonier's success; and I was prepared to tell168 GUSTAVE DORÉ.him plainly that I felt ashamed to see a lad of his talentdeveloping such a disposition, and hoped he would tryand overcome it . Do you think he came to me to complain? Not a bit of it." He calmly informed me that he was now about toparalyze the world." I am going to paint a series of pictures, ' he said,"representing the abominations of Paris, you know, withall the old streets, all the wretches and outcasts, andmany other realistic things that I have been meditatingupon for some days past. I don't care a fig for otherartists , nor for what they do. You think I am jealous ofMeissonier and others? You are mistaken; I am as farabove such petty sentiments as I am above such pettypeople. You shall now see what I can do. Good-bye;for the present I am off to work.'" I thought to myself, ' What on earth has he on handnow?' but before I could say a word he was really gone;and being myself very busy that day I had not time toreflect upon what he had told me, so I suppose it escapedmy memory, as did many things which he had threatenedto do. At any rate, I never thought any more about it,except to remember with pleasure the fact that hisjealousy and discouragement had had the contrary effectupon him to that which it would have had on mostpeople. It nerved him to new effort , and his pride cametimely to his aid. You see what a strangely contradictorynature his was, and how he always managed to turn evenhis little unhappinesses to account."A short time afterwards I was invited to dine at hishouse, and he announced that I was to see his new work,'Paris as it is .' As usual after dinner we went to thestudio, and I have only to record here my amazement,which was just as great as it had been on every previousoccasion when he had prepared a surprise for me.Therewas always a theatrical effect about everything he did,and he seemed in his element when he could stupefyhis friends by some unexpected tour de force or superhuman effort and its visible result .SOME REALISTIC PICTURES. 169"On looking at the new work, ' Paris as it is, ' I grewmore and more astounded, for there were twelve colossalcanvases, some of them more than half the height of theroom. They were extraordinarily well executed, andas before, he had painted them in less time than ittakes most artists to prepare their brushes and canvas.Here his effects were not derived from colour, butfrom the grouping of the personages and the drawings , which were beyond all praise. Of the twelvepictures each one was more horrible than the other-all were positively sickening in their realism. I couldnot bring myself to believe that he had imagined andpainted such vivid scenes in so short a space of time.I paid him so many sincere compliments that he saidlaughingly,-" What do you think of Meissonier now? '"It was not the same thing; but I had not thecourage to say that there was still a difference betweenthem.66 That same evening Théophile Gautier came to seethe pictures, and pronounced them masterpieces." But what shall we do with them,' he cried. ' Whereon earth, in what hall, in what gallery could one placesuch loathsome productions? They are too indecent tobe exhibited, but too real, too great to be left in oblivion.What is to be done with them? They reek with the filthof all that is lowest and vilest in the most abject slums.of Paris. What can he do with them? '"You see Gustave was still a boy, and besides whathe had really seen, he had given full rein to his inspiration. These works, like everything he did, were effortsof memory and imagination. Théophile Gautier feltthis as much as I , and we talked a long time about theprobable destination of such a set of horrors. Gustavenext day spoke of them to me thus:-" You need not fret,' he said, ' as to what todo with them. I know two Americans who will buythem to exhibit in America. I have already shown themto my Transatlantic buyers, and they will take them170 GUSTAVE DORÉ.at once at the price of one hundred and ten thousandfrancs.'"I was delighted to hear this, and urged him to accepttheir offer forthwith. ' Gustave, my boy, you are in luck , 'I said. ' Let me congratulate you; but lose no timeTell these men at once that the pictures are theirs . ' Heagreed to do so. Then we went and consulted hismother. Imagine what her answer was!"Having told you something about Madame Doré'scharacter, and the influence she exercised upon Gustave,you may judge of both by the following. He told her,as he had me, all about the pictures, and about the menwho wished to buy them. She said at once: ' Theyhave offered you a hundred and ten thousand francs?Then you should not accept the offer, for it means thatthey will pay more. Ask them a hundred and fortythousand. It is quite clear that people who can pay ahundred and ten thousand francs can always pay ahundred and forty thousand.'" But, dear madanie, ' I protested, " it is not at allclear, nor does it at all follow. I myself, or you either,might be able to pay the former sum and not the latter.These men seem honest enough, and they say positivelythat they cannot give more. It is not a bad price. Letthem have the pictures for what they offer. (You see Iwanted to get those paintings out of the country at anyprice. ) Pray don't think it over, but decide upon sellingthem for that sum, and let me hear you say now that youagree to the bargain.666 My friend, ' she answered with curious ingenuousness,'I have given you my opinion . Gustave is always beingdone by everybody he has to do with; only his motherappreciates him at his great value. He is easy- going,and would, like a fool, accept the first offer these menmake to him. And you you counsel him to prove thathe thinks nothing of his own work by selling it to the firstbidder, and at the price the latter proposes to give! Itis simply ridiculous, and I will not hear of such a thing.Besides, as I said before, people who can pay a hundredDORE'S TRANSATLANTIC FAME. 171and ten thousand francs can just as well pay a hundredand forty thousand. If they refuse to give more theyare only trying to get the better of Gustave. I havespoken, and that settles it-one hundred and forty thousand francs or nothing.'"I cannot recall all she said, nor all the reasons,precedents and arguments she put forward; but shenever yielded an inch, and was as obdurate as one canpossibly imagine any woman to be; and that is saying agood deal. She went so far as to almost convince methat the offer of one hundred and ten thousand francswas an insult to her son. At last I took my leave , notat all easy in my mind, however, for something in theattitude and language of the would-be purchasers convinced me that they had spoken the truth. The nextday Gustave saw them again, and demanded the sum hismother had instructed him to ask. They absolutelyrefused to give it, explaining the expenses of packingand shipping the pictures, besides the duty which wouldhave to be paid on their arrival in New York, and thehundred little extras incident to the manipulation of suchenormous canvases. In short, they professed to be extremely sorry, but could not give a farthing more than theamount of their first offer."You see, these pictures were destined for a travellingpanorama or show of some sort; perhaps to be utilizedin a circus, and announced by ringing of bells and beatingof drums. But the principal thing about the transactionwhich charmed Gustave was the idea of the advertisem*ntthey would afford to his name, for he fancied that allAmerica would rush to see this new work, of which hehad already made an idol, and set up on an altar ofhis own imagining. He had seen himself made famousin a day; not as a draughtsman, but as a painter; andthe height of his ambition seemed to have been reached.He spoke of how he was going to put to rout the wholeworld; and, as far as he himself was concerned, I knowthe idea of money never entered his head. Bear in mindthat he was still only a boy, and remember that when he172 GUSTAVE DORÉ.raged about other artists receiving such large sums fortheir work, it was never the remuneration he cared about,but the grievance that he was not properly appreciated;a grievance which perpetually haunted his waking andsleeping thoughts."He listened, however, to every argument these mencould advance, and then calmly refused to accept theirfirst offer. His mother's words were ringing in his ears,and he deliberately sent the purchasers away. You seehow much stronger his love for her was than even hisown self- gratification or interest . He listened to heradvice alone, and, as you see, stood in his ownlight byso doing." He told her naturally of their refusal. She wasdelighted to hear of it, and immediately consoled him bysaying, -666'They will come back. They were only trying onthe old game. My poor Gustave, how little you reallyknow the world! It was only a trick. I tell you theywill come back; for I well know any one who can paya hundred and ten thousand francs for pictures canalways pay a hundred and forty thousand. They willcome back.'" But they never did. Gustave waited and waited, butin vain. There was no sign of the Americans who wereto make him famous in the United States. This wasanother disappointment to him which he long brooded over,but in secret, for he never referred to it afterwards in anyway. Madame Alexandrine felt a little sore about it at first,but did not hesitate afterwards to lavishly bestow uponthe American dealers the epithets of canailles, wretches ,miscreants , and so on. What became of those pictures noone ever knew. I think that Gustave, in his disappointment, destroyed them then and there. Théophile Gautierspoke to me about them later on, and I told him thewhole story. Of course we marvelled much over theirdisappearance, and knowing positively that they had notbeen sold, there was only one of two conclusions to cometo, viz. that he had made away with them himself, orDORE'S DISAPPOINTMENT. 173that the earth had swallowed them up. You willagree with me that the former was the most likelyevent of the two. But they were marvellous studies allthe same, and to my mind he has never since done anything in the realistic style which can in any way comparewith them."174 GUSTAVE DORÉCHAPTER XVII .DORE'S FIRST PUBLIC APPEARANCE AS A PAINTER.IN the summer of 1854, some have said 1853, but thatdate is too doubtful, Doré made a public appearance asa painter, and exhibited two pictures in the Salon, called" L'Enfant Rose et l'Enfant Chétif, " and " La Famillede Saltimbanques. " Both works were marked by originalityof invention, and proved that Doré was a profoundobserver of human nature in two widely different forms.The former picture represents two mothers with theirchildren, the one rich in health and prosperity, the otherpoor in everything, and of so miserable an aspect as toexcite pity in the spectator. The glance she casts atthe prosperous mother explains the picture.The second canvas, "La Famille de Saltimbanques, "depicts a family of poor itinerants, stranded, as it were,by the wayside, in a wretched state of penury. Thereare the blear- eyed father in bespangled tights, theattenuated mother in tarnished tinsel and tawdry finery,the hungry children wearing the hard, eager look impartedto childish faces by that heart-rending precocity whichresults from poverty, want, and the degrading influenceof chronic vagabondage. And yet nature smiles sweetlyfrom behind this mask of misfortune; for a babe reposeson its mother's breast in that calm and happy slumberwhich is infancy's inestimable prerogative. There is apitiful lassitude in the child's pose; his limbs hangwearily, the little satin trunks are profusely wrinkled; the

Don' Him the Almighty powerHurl'd headlong from the ethereal sky. "(By permission of Cassell and Co. )HomandMILTON.Page175.LIGNLA FAMILLE DE SALTIMBANQUES. 175soiled tights and dirty bespangled shoes show but tooplainly that he has done his share of the daily breadearning; an owl chained to a table looks dismally butastutely on, the subtle expression of his great eyes seeming to protest against the awful life he is made to lead;whilst a poor dog, arrayed for the dance in a lace frilledgarment, his curly tail anxiously peeping from beneathhis shirt , has assumed an attitude of entreaty, his frontpaws scratching at his mistress's gown, with the headimploringly bent, as though he would say, -" I have done my star tricks faithfully and well; pray,mistress, dear, take me up and pet me too! "A handful of playing- cards, their face upwards, on theground, show that the gipsy- woman has been interruptedin the midst of her fortune- telling in order to respond toa more natural demand, that of her tired child begging tobe allowed to rest on its mother's breast.This picture is indescribably pathetic and masterly inexecution; yet it brought no recompense to GustaveDoré, nor was any notice taken of its author by the press.Paris did not seem to realize that Doré the illustratorwas in earnest in appearing before the world in anothercharacter, especially as at that time the city was floodedwith Bry's journals, which only cost two sous apiece,delivered at subscribers' houses, and of which Gautiersarcastically wrote: -" How is it possible to believe in the merit of thesemultiplied works which reach you so regularly in yourown house every morning in the form of a journal orpamphlet, especially when they are lively, witty, graphicembodiments of our customs and eccentricities, full offire, force, and dash,; original alike in thought andexecution, owing nothing to the antique; expressing ourlovės, tastes, caprices, and fads; the garments we wear,the types of grace and coquetry which please and flatterus, the circles wherein we pass our lives? How can webelieve in their merit? "It will be seen that Doré the painter had but littlechance against Doré the illustrator. And yet he never176 GUSTAVE DORÉ.seriously thought of abandoning the one for the other.Painting was his dream, his idol, his hope for the future;whilst illustrating meant immediate fame and readymoney.At this time it will be remembered Madame Dorédepended to a great extent upon Gustave. The house inthe Rue St. Dominique was an expensive establishment,costing four hundred a year for rent alone. The onlymember of the family who earned much of anything wasGustave, and his mother's income was a slender one,even less in amount at that time than it had been immediately after M. Doré's death, for she had embarked insome unfortunate speculations which had straitened thefamily exchequer very considerably. Gustave earned agreat deal, and spent his money lavishly. What he hadbelonged to his family, and his generosity stood the mosttrying of tests. He fretted somewhat at the irksomenessof his life , being thus obliged to devote himself to onespeciality, when his talent and his inclination alike sostrongly urged him on to realize a loftier ambition.At this time he showed a great deal of self- denial, forhe worked uncomplainingly at his blocks, and the onlytime he ever devoted to painting was stolen from sleepor the amusem*nts which he permitted himself to indulgein now and then, not so much for diversion as to obtainsome relaxation from his work, which his mother fearedmight impair his health. As for him, he scoffed at theidea of ever doing too much, and vaunted his something infallible. But good Madame Doré knewbetter, and a mother's watchful eye is not apt to bedeceived. She divined his every thought, and madeevery circ*mstance of his daily life her exclusive study.He, for his part, would have been unhappy to think thathis mother lacked any one of the little comforts she hadbeen accustomed to during his father's lifetime; so heonly toiled the more, in order that the household shouldbe amply provided, and in the hope that she wouldmechanically get into the habit of not denying herself anything. However, there was little danger of extravaganceTHE HOUSE IN THE RUE ST. DOMINIQUE. 177on her part, for she was a thrifty housewife, only lavish inher idolatry of her son Gustave.It seems that she and old Françoise were both animatedby intense jealousy as to who should excel the other indoing the most for him.Madame Doré sat up for him of nights," said the oldnurse to me, " and went to his bedside the moment heawakened in the morning. She would scarcely allow meto do anything for him. But was he not my child as wellas hers? She brought him into the world, but I broughthim up in it; and yet only now and then was I able todo all that I wanted to do for him. Madame insisted oninspecting and repairing all his clothes, but I insisted ondarning all his stockings; and even that pleasure shesometimes wished to deprive me of. "On the other hand M. Daubrée says of Madame Doré:-" She was always scolding Françoise for working toohard. The old woman would do too much, and was onher feet from morning till night. She was always busyat something or other, and the only things belonging toGustave that she did not dare to touch were his multitudinous blocks, which were sacred objects, and never feltthe contact of either duster or feather- brush. ' Françoise,'Madame would say, ' rest yourself; you are getting old,and I can do all that is necessary in looking after thishouse. You seem to think it will not be properly kept inorder for Gustave; as though his own mother were notcompetent to see to everything. The idea is monstrous.' "Françoise smiled triumphantly as M. Daubrée told methis, and exclaimed, -"6་Oh, yes; Madame thought she could do everything,and she meant well enough towards me; but I knew howMaster Gustave liked things to be, and he always foundthat everything I did was quite right and necessary,naturally, even had I not attended to and cared for himall his life long; besides, Madame was the mistress of thehouse, and it was my place to look after everything. Ionly did my duty."N178 GUSTAVEDORÉ.It will be seen that between the two loving womenGustave had every chance of being spoiled .I must now return to the two pictures Doré exhibitedin the Salon with so much pride and hopefulness.There is no notice of them extant in the possessionof his family or friends . He was bitterly disappointedat their failure to create a sensation, or at leastto elicit some notice from the press. He seems,however, to have buried his chagrin in his heart, and tohave gone on steadily with his illustrating. This is oneof the few instances on record of his having displayedpatience and self- denial, for his was an impulsive nature,and if everything did not turn out exactly as he hadanticipated, he complained to those around him of thewilful miscomprehension of his compatriots.The fate of " L'Enfant Rose et l'Enfant Chétif " is notdefinitely known, nor is that of " La Famille des Saltimbanques." Goupil has a replica of the latter, but notthe original painting. When M. Paul Lacroix saw the" Saltimbanques " he exclaimed, -"That is one of his realistic set of pictures, ' LesVilenies de Paris.' I thought I recognized that familyof street performers. He has improved on the executionof the original, but never could have bettered its design.He certainly studied those poor creatures from nature.What misery! yet what art 1"1' Doré must have reproduced " La Famille de Saltimbanques " very often.LA CHASSE AU LION. 179CHAPTER XVIII.DORÉ DEPICTS WOODLAND SCENES.DURING the autumn and winter of 1854 Doré was doublyoccupied with painting and with illustrating books,magazines, journals, and the like. He gave himself norest, and had as many as three different important workson hand at one and the same time, the principal onebeing Jules Gérard's " La Chasse au Lion. " This waspublished in one volume, 12mo, with numerous drawingsand a portrait of Gérard, the author, early in 1855 , at theLibrairie Nouvelle, and caused no less sensation thanDoré's previous works. The sketches were executed ina different style to that associated theretofore with hisname, and served admirably to display his versatility tothe public. The animals and woodland scenes wereabsolutely glowing with life and beauty; in fact the bookwas a delight from beginning to end, and people began toperceive that Doré had in reality but one speciality—that of doing everything well . He found himself onthe high tide of success, and everything he touchedturned Aladdin- like in his hands to just what he wished it to be.It may be interesting to know how he worked, andN 2180 GUSTAVE DORÉ.especially how he dealt with his blocks. He never madea preliminary sketch on paper, but executed his drawingsstraight off upon the wood. He was very hard to pleasein the matter of blocks, and could never work uponinferior material. His wood had to be of the finest andwhitest kind of box, and cost him a vast amount ofmoney. The price of each medium- size block waseighty francs, and the price of the larger ones may beappraised by that ratio. He had great difficulty inalways finding just what he wanted , and the enormousquantity of wood he used represented a small fortune initself. He was well paid for his work, but the idea ofeconomizing by using cheaper material never once enteredhis head. On the contrary, there was a sort of rough,dogged honesty about Gustave Doré which promptedhim, no matter how unimportant in his eyes might be thejob he had in hand, to execute it with the same care andperfection of design and material that he would havebestowed on a far more elaborate and remunerative pieceof work. He invariably refused to scamp his drawings inany way, and if there was loss, it came out of his ownpocket. " He ardently wished, " as M. Lacroix has said,' to elevate the standard of wood-engraving to its highestattainable point," and in order to do so, he sternly resolvedto impose his ideas, which had become convictions, uponthe world. One of them was that nothing but the bestcould command the best; and in proof of this axiom hespared himself in no way, not only often losing money byhis commissions, but giving himself up body and soul tothe delectation of the public, and thus enforcing his opinionwith undeniable generosity. He wished the world to seeall that could be achieved in the draughtsman's art, andto this end he spared no pains, moral, physical, orfinancial. His actions conspicuously exemplified thesincerity of his convictions. He was obstinate, opinionated, determined, and indefatigable. Happily for him,about this time everything seemed to tend towardsvindicating the the correctness of his views. Woodengraving began to acquire a popularity which finishedTHE WAY DORE WORKED. 181in a mania. Every author who wrote a book wantedDoré to illustrate it; every littérateur who had ever reada book wanted Doré to revivify it; every publisher whohad ever published a book wanted to reproduce it withDoré's collaboration. The young artist hesitated atnothing, and was himself carried away by this mightywave of success, which meant to him, besides fame andmoney, sleepless nights, restless days; in short, sucha continuity of labour that the galley- slave, compared toGustave Doré, might be said to live the life of a gentleman of leisure . One of his family said to me, à proposof his assiduity during the period in question, -" I do not think that during a whole year Gustaveslept on an average more than three hours of the twentyfour. The wonder is that he did not go mad, for reallyhe went through enough to turn any one's brain. Hislife was one continual come and go of publishers, authors,journalists, and the like, and of excitement that neverabated. We all expected that his health would giveway, for it did not seem possible that any human beingcould conceive and accomplish so much within the limitof time that he allotted to himself. Yet he never complained of any physical ailment, not even a headache,but only worked and worked and worked."M. Kratz lived in the Rue Jacob, very near the RueMonsieur le Prince, where Doré had his principal studio.Doré passed his house to go to it, and was in the habit ofcalling upon M. Kratz in the morning at about eight, onhis way to work. He would say, "Arthur, come andfetch me to-night for dinner at about seven. I shall beat work all day in the studio. "He arrived there about that hour daily for months at astretch, and worked until about half- past twelve or one,when he would rush out to some neighbouring pot- house,swallow a few mouthfuls, usually standing, and thenhurry back to his work. When M. Kratz arrived atseven Doré was still hard at it, and invariably grumbledbecause he must be interrupted in order to dine."It would have killed me to keep on like that, " said182 GUSTAVE DORÉ.M. Kratz. " I don't know how he managed it. Andplease observe that this was not an occasional practice ,AnySaliot" THE LANDLORD OF THE THREE BARBELS. "(Original Drawing. By permission of Chatto and Windus. " Contes Drôlatiques. ")but his daily habit for years. I have often thought abouthim as I saw him there, and confess that I have neverLIST OF DRAWINGS MADE IN 1855. 183known any other human being who slaved so persistentlyas he. He never seemed out of temper, was never ill ,and rarely ailing. During those first years in Paris heperformed miracles-that is all one can say.After ourdinner, back he would go to work at his blocks by lamplight, and keep at them sometimes till day dawned.That is what I call a real downright hard-worker! "The only way to strengthen the above evidence is togive in detail the names of the volumes Doré illustratedand the number of drawings he made in the course ofthe year 1855. First came the " Contes Drôlatiques, "collected and given to the light of day by le Sieur deBalzac . Fifth edition, illustrated by Gustave Doré, withfour hundred and twenty-five drawings. This work waspublished by the "Société Générale de la Libraire," inthe Rue de Richelieu, and in Le Journal pour Tous."Le Notaire de Pingense, " by Longfellow . I drawing (pages 8)"Le Docteur Trifone," by Adrien Robert"Le Rossignol," by Anderson ·"Les Arrivages de Blé à Odessa," par X. Monnier"La Reine de Fer et la Reine de Soie,"A. Neil I" La Bosann de la Mort, " par W. Carleton 5"L'Héritière Écossaise," par Mackenzie Daniels" Leny et Lory," par Alex. Neil" Les Agnés "•33· I 99 99I ""65)141)I ,, ( "" 288)"" 344)( 347)21 19 "" 390)· 4 99 99 513)• I 99 "" 141)2 19 99 572) · I "" "" 598)I "" 624)Phil-· I "" "" 652)· 2 "" "" 669)I "9 " 696)"" 745)I "" 99 767)I 99 866)( ,, 822)"Un Ouragan en Russie pendant l'Hiver ""Noël""Calendrier, 1856 ""Un Mariage à Distance," par Andebaut ."Le Président Brengels," par Sleesk .66 Le Carnival " ."Un Roi dans la Camfine, " par Mucklingen 2"Le Luthier du Tyrol, " par Michiels"Longchamps ""Les Emotions de Polydore Marasquin,"par Léon Gozlan 2 """Voyage aux Eaux des Pyrénées," par H. Taine, illustrated bysixty-five vignettes; one vol. in 18. Hachette and Company.The last- named series concludes the list of drawings184 GUSTAVE DorĖ.absolutely made in that year. You can readily imaginethe magnitude and variety of Doré's labour by carefullyrunning over the names of these different works, whichthemselves sufficiently indicate the amount of brain- workattendant on the treatment of such widely variedsubjects.I shall not attempt to criticize any of them in detail.Of course the drawings made for Le Journal pour Touscannot be classed with more arduous works requiringliterary research and humorous invention, such, for instance, as the " Contes Drôlatiques " of Balzac, ¹ firstpublished in London by Chatto and Windus.To essay a description of this work's many shiningmerits would be equivalent to what has already been saidin a previous chapter respecting Doré's illustrations ofRabelais, the effort of genius so boldly and triumphantlyimitated by Honoré de Balzac . There was this difference, perhaps, between the conceptions of the twoauthors. Having once understood Rabelais, it was comparatively easy to construct " Les Contes Drôlatiques;"whilst a writer who should only have read " Les ContesDrôlatiques " would probably find himself very far fromimagining " The Adventures of Gargantua and Pantagruel. "Rabelais is extremely risky reading, but profoundlyinstructive despite his licentiousness."Les ContesDrôlatiques," on the other hand, are coarse and clever,but little more; whilst their wit, such as it is, bears somodern a stamp, that after reading through a great dealof elaborate indecency, one is not rewarded by havingunearthed a single jewel of wisdom or philosophy.Gustave Doré had a doubly hard task before him,that of making a second Rabelaisian book, like, and yetunlike, his first. It was here that his extraordinary inventiveness triumphed over every obstacle, for not asingle drawing of the whole four hundred was lacking in1 The publication of " Les Contes Drôlatiques " has been since manyyears suppressed in England. The reasons of this peculiar suppressionare not at all obvious, Rabelais enjoying public licence and recognition.THE " VOYAGE AUX PYRÉNÉES.” 185originality of conception; in a word, his imaginationagain proved itself to be as brilliant as it was fertile andversatile. Paris was amazed and enchanted. Suchboldness, such vigour, such incessant and indefatigibleproductiveness in a lad of twenty- two, passed all comprehension.These drawings caused a sensation more vehement, ifpossible, than the Rabelais furore; partly by reason ofthe recent death of the great novelist, then still fresh inthe minds of the Parisians, and of the resuscitation, so tospeak, of a work which had enjoyed great favour on itsfirst introduction to public notice many years previously.However this might be, the rising popularity of the youngAlsatian swept everything before it , and fanned theflame of his success, as the wind fans the prairie fires ofthe great West. Everything Doré undertook he carriedout to perfection. There was but one verdict upon him.and his works. He was the marvel of the day; and ofthe hundreds of thousands who read " Les Contes Drôlatiques," there was not one who, looking at the illustrations, did not say, " What a prodigy is Doré, and whatan imagination he possesses! If he begins thus, wherewill he end? " He was unhesitatingly styled the firstdraughtsman of his epoch; by no means faint praiseconsidering that it was accorded to him by the mostseverely critical public in Europe.The "Voyage aux Pyrénées " was brought out in England by Messrs. Sampson Low and Co., the English textby Henry Blackburn, and enjoyed great popularity. Inshort, it is one of the few standard works of the day, anddeservedly so, for in it both author and illustrator areat their best; any one who has ever visited that countryon reading Mr. Blackburn's description can imaginehimself once more within sight of " The French Apennines " and if he have any doubt, it would be dispelled onseeing Doré's life- like sketches and cartoons of the oldfamiliar and lovely places.186 GUSTAVE DORÉ.CHAPTER XIX.DORÉ APPEARS A SECOND TIME AS A PAINTER.I HAVE mentioned the works of the year 1854 and 1855in their chronological order; and shall now speak ofGustave Doré, the painter, as it was in June, 1855 , thathe made his second appearance in that rôle before theParisian public. During the winter of 1854 and springof 1855 he had completed four pictures, called, “ LaBataille de l'Alma," " Le Soir," "La Prairie," and" Rizzio." The first three were accepted at the Universal Exhibition, and became the subjects of generalcomment.A friend of Doré's, speaking of his débût as a painter,said , " This new departure burst upon Paris like a bombshell. Few were able to realize that it was the illustratorDoré, a young man of three- and-twenty, who thus aspiredto the twin laurels of painter and designer. The worksin question were no less objects of curiosity than ofinterest, for people in general were unwilling to believethat any one man could have found time to accomplishso much."The first- mentioned picture, " The Battle of the Alma,"was the most important painting of the three, and provoked a vast amount of criticism. It would seem thatprevious to the opening of the exhibition there had beenTHEOPHILE GAUTIER ON " DORÉ A PAINTER." 187some talk of Doré's appearance in this new character,and that public mention had been made of his pictures;Edmond About, for instance, had written about " Rizzio,'the one which was refused by the jury of reception:" Rizzio' should prove a grand success. I have notthe slightest doubt of this, nor has my friend ThéophileGautier."In those days Doré counted his partisans by thousands;but when the question arose of upholding his talent as apainter, he found that their number had dwindled soconsiderably that he could count them upon the fingersof one hand. Rarely, however, does any rising youngartist possess warm friends in such influential critics asMessrs. E. About, T. Gautier, and Paul Dalloz, of theMoniteur Universel.The second-named wrote as follows of the great picture, " La Bataille de l'Alma: "-" M. Gustave Doré, inhis 'Bataille de l'Alma, ' has taken himself out of theusual groove; he has made a battle of soldiers. HisZouaves climb the steep mountain sides with tumultuousimpetuosity, scattering the ambushed Russians to theright and left . The ascending movement of this valiantcohort is very well rendered, reminding one of a torrentreversed and leaping back to its source. Individualitiesdisappear in this whirlwind, and the eye fastens upon nosingle detail. The execution is much too rapid; it surpasses in quickness the most feverish and hurried of hissketches, and one may readily believe, while observingcertain muddy obscurities, that the artist did not even taketime to clean his brushes. However, this ' Battle of theAlma' is not a mediocre affair; in it are expressed life ,force, and will. M. Gustave Doré possesses one of the mostmarvellously artistic organizations we have encountered .His illustration of Rabelais, ' Les Contes Drôlatiques, ' and'Les Légendes Populaires,' are masterpieces, in which themost powerful realism unites itself to a still rarer fancifulness of imagination. His studio is choked with immensecanvases, sketched with a fury which surpasses that ofGoya; here and there shadowy, here and there gorgeous188 GUSTAVE doré.with a chaos of colour, sparkling works of the very firstorder; a head, a torso, a corslet, dashed off as theymight have been sketched by Rubens, Tintoretto, orVelasquez. From this time forth, breaking through theclouds, shines a ray of genius. Yes, genius, a word weare none too prodigal of. Let it be well understood thatwe speak alone of the future of the painter; for thedraughtsman has already won his proper rank."Edmond About spoke of " Rizzio " again and regrettedits absence from the exhibition; but in reference to theother pictures he wrote the following: -"The little we have received from you proves that youknow how to paint battles and landscapes, Zouaves andprairie flowers. Your plantation of poplars is beautifulin sentiment and grand in aspect; but it is perchedso high that we would have to splice two ladders together,end to end, in order to be able to see anything of it. Youhave been carried to the clouds by your first bound, andyour merit as a landscape painter is only visible with theaid of a telescope. Your ' Bataille de l'Alma ' is anoriginal work. All historical painters instal the generalwith his staff in the place of honour, whilst the soldiers ,smoke, and dust are muddled up pell- mell together inthe background . ' As to you, you have conceived thegenerous and original idea of depicting a battle of soldiers.In the same spirit M. Michelet has written a history ofFrance, relegating princes to the background, and givingthe place of honour to the veritable heroes-the people.Your chasseurs à pied, riflemen, and Zouaves, fight withan admirable and splendid fury. You were born todepict desperate mêlée, hand- to- hand conflicts, and allthe recklessness of courage. You yourself are theZouave of painting.. Your colour is frank, lively,startling, and, what is still less to be despised, entirelyYou imitate neither Venetians, Flemings, norSpaniards; but ere long the world will begin to imitateyou."your own.These are the fairest examples of the criticisms whichSee René Delorme, étude G. Doré, 1880.LITTLE PEGGY. 189were passed on the young painter at his débût. M. About'sremark about seeing his merit with a telescope may havehad, as did so many remarks by this brilliant wit, a decideddouble meaning. One positive deduction may be madeLITTLE PEGGY.( Hood's Poems. Unpublished Drawing, by kindness of Dr. Michel. Original in Doré Gallery. )from it, however, to wit, that Doré's pictures were verybadly hung.We have every reason to believe that " La Bataille del'Alma " alone was tolerably well placed, and that " Le190 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Soir " and " La Prairie " were, as About said, very nearthe clouds. There is not the slightest doubt that manyartists are at a great disadvantage in large exhibitions,simply because it is impossible to suit every one.The best position in every gallery is always accorded asa right to the exhibitors of established renown. Thenext best are apportioned to those of proximate celebrity,each in his turn, and it is a wonder that young artistsever get any chance at all of being hung " upon the line." It is a well- known fact that talent must yieldthe step to red- tape, and that youthful ambition must besacrificed to the etiquette which protects precedence.There was really nothing surprising in the remark madeby the Americans who, on looking round at a recentexhibition at " the Salon, " observed that " most of thepictures there were painted by Mr. ' Hors Concours .'However, if we are to believe at all in justice , everytalent will eventually make itself felt in the world; andhad Doré's pictures been put on the roof, there wouldstill have been one ladder long enough to have reachedthem, and one climber resolute enough to have pointedthem out to public attention.The general public, however, saw only the three canvases displayed in the exhibition, whilst Doré's friends,Gautier and About, had in their minds all of thoseextraordinary paintings which encumbered the studio ofthe young artist, and revealed by a thousand touches thehand and genius of a master.That these were presentto their memories is clearly indicated by the articlesabove quoted. The public, out of deference to two suchauthorities, affected credulity; but, as a public often will,resented the obligation to do so, and its resentment fell,not upon the critic, but upon the criticized.Doré was early made to feel the lash of friendship'sscourge, which to great men is sometimes as stinging asit is salutary. Théophile Gautier was the godfatherwho baptized him with the name of " Genius," but theParisians did not feel bound to stand sponsors to him forthat reason. Like a Prince born to a sterile crown, DoréDORE'S FIRST DISILLUSIONS. 191came into an empty title, unaccompanied by distinctions.and emoluments."(""The jury of the exhibition awarded him no medal, andthe public no additional renown. His pictures werecasually commented upon along with a thousand others.No one spoke of him as a painter, although the name ofthe illustrator of Rabelais and " Les Contes Drôlatiqueswas upon every one's lips. When the exhibition cameto an end the pictures went back to his studio, forno purchaser had as yet come forward, and dust accumulated upon the frames of " La Bataille de l'Alma, "" Le Soir," and " La Prairie," long before any one appearedto realize that Doré painted pictures to sell. As toRizzio," it was almost as ill-fated as its namesake, andfew in Paris ever knew what became of it, but it actuallyis in the Doré Gallery, Bond Street. In spite of Gautier'sremark " that the artist seemed hardly to have taken timeto wipe his brushes, " Doré had bestowed an infiniteamount of thought, time, and labour on the execution ofthese works. Still more, he had built up for himselfhopes which were not only destined never to be realized ,but which in their very inception received the cruelest ofblows. His self- love was wounded often enough duringthat Exhibition of 1855 to have suffered mortal injury.In his earnest enthusiasm Doré thought, because he wasa great draughtsman, that he was also a great painter,and imagined that the success he had achieved in oneline would not only follow him in the other, but would beabsolutely hurled at his head. He had said, " Aut Doré,aut nullus," so long to the Parisian public, that he fanciedthe latter would adopt that device without even a show ofremonstrance. To say that he was mistaken is to sayvery little. He was bitterly disappointed, and sore to hisheart's core over the tame reception his work had metwith. He complained to many of his friends, and thewords " injustice," " misunderstood, " " ill - treated, " foundfrequent iteration from his lips.You will say that he was wrong; but it must beremembered that youthful success is a dangerous aliment192 GUSTAVE DORÉ.whereon to feed an impressionable and highly giftednature. The youthful mind is little calculated to receiverebuffs, and the youthful temperament is in a less fittingstate to accept them. Gustave Doré was a spoiled child,and acted as spoiled children do. He attributed everymotive but the right one to this public lack of appreciation, and judging himself by his own ambition and creativetalent, he fancied he was already a painter, and wilfullyate his heart out because the public refused to bowdown before him, and acknowledge him to be whathe was not then, no matter what he might become.Paris said that he showed in those first works the wantthat no amount of manual practice can give, namely, thelack of technique. This word, which applies itself to allarts, to all professions, I had almost said to all careers,typifies that brutal school wherein all painters must learnthe alphabet of their future greatness. An artist withouttechnique is a house without a foundation, a name writtenin sand. M. Lacroix was not so very old a man when hebegged Gustave to study from models, in short, to learnhis art as others had learned theirs: but even then hefully appreciated that no profession can be a legitimatesuccess which has not been learned through legitimatemeans. If the contrary is to be the case, farewell forever to apprenticeship of every kind, and to those long,exhausting hours of preparatory toil which harass youthand engender grey hairs at the age of twenty. If all theworld may paint without ever having studied painting asan art, then not only were Raphael and Da Vinci fools,but so is every one else who believes as they did, and puts that belief to such severe and endless tests . It is truethat this is an age of progress; but no one has everknown or heard of a human being claiming to be a greatartist, who has not toiled step by step up every one ofthose rugged steeps which lead to the final goal of art.As there are exceptions to every rule, so there arenatures exceptionally gifted; and when one possesses, asdid Gustave Doré, a prodigal wealth of talents, all thegreater reason exists for cultivating such a nature inDORE'S IDEAS ABOUT PAINTING.66193the proper manner. No natural talent will carry forwarda man of genius by leaps and bounds " over the gulfthat gapes between the first step of to will to that lastof to be able. To attempt such feats is inexcusablein natures containing any element of greatness, and offersthe same insult to honest art that a lottery or anygame of hazard proffers to honest labour.That Doré was one of a million he had clearlyshown; but had he taken M. Lacroix's advice he wouldhave been one of twenty millions. Considering howlittlehe had studied, he had already done too much; themarvel is that all of his first pictures were accepted atonce. But natural gifts are so distinct from false art,that he deceived no one except himself. On looking athis paintings, connoisseurs said at once, " He has it all inhim, but he lacks school."As this is not a treatise on art, I do not pretend todefine that word " school. " Every one fancies that heknows what it means, and what it meant years ago, whenDoré exhibited those first paintings in the great universalExhibition of '55 .Had he then realized the grave import of the chargemade against his performances as a painter, he wouldundoubtedly have set to work in the right and only wayto refute it . But not only was Doré sincere and honestin what he did, but his convictions were so deeply rooted,that he found it impossible to eradicate and cast themout with that facility which less gifted but less opinionatedpersons possess.He had his own ideas about painting, and clung to themin the teeth of all opposition; moreover, at that time hehad no wish to change his method, because he fully intended to bring the world over to his own way of thinking;and in order to do that he clung more firmly than ever tohis settled convictions. He did not believe in the apprenticeship of art; he pooh- poohed the idea of models; hehad obtained the most brilliant results from his own wayof working; and he thought that the same system wouldapply to painting.194 GUSTAVE DORÉ.His way was already so far removed from ordinaryways that he may be forgiven for not being able to welldefine the difference between natural and acquired talent.It was not to avoid painstaking or hard work, because hetoiled from morning till night, and from night till morning, sparing himself in no wise. It was merely the resultof his ideas about art , of his intense confidence in himself, and of the conviction which was the natural outcomeof his extraordinary successes and rapid popularity; of amisdirected ambition to do away with all rules of precedent, to found an art of his own for painting, as he hadfor illustrating—an art which should have no school, butsimply be called " Doré."No one can blame him for being ambitious; but everyone denounced his mistaken ideas in regard to the art ofpainting. In one sense Doré was right in thinking thatmany people were leagued against him, for he certainlycould not expect to carry everything before him in thiscareer, as he had done in that of illustrating. He hadmany jealousies to contend with, and these, instead of beinga living proof to him of his superior ability, preyed uponhis spirits and made his life a misery to him. Doré wastoo inexperienced , too tired, and too overwrought to beabove the pettinesses of his career. Had he willinglyacknowledged any authority other than his own on art,he would have saved himself a lifetime of torment.Had he but taken a reasonable view of his own situation,he would have easily persuaded himself that painters, likethe world itself, were not made in a day.But Doré had strained and proved to the quick a naturally impetuous nature by terrible overwork; he had drainedhis imagination, had begun to draw upon his physicalstrength; he was living from day to day upon the capitalof his youth and nervous vitality. It cannot be expectedthat any diet consumed upon such principles would proveeither morally or materially beneficial . He speedily feltit* result. As soon as the first excitement of the Exhibition was over he suffered from that reaction which occursafter excessive effort; and, after having burned theEXTRACTS FROM MADAME DORÉ'S LETTERS. 195candle at both ends for a whole year, he decided upontaking his usual summer vacation , and went with MadameDoré, his brothers and two friends, to Switzerland .His mother has described some of his humours andfancies in letters written to M. Paul Lacroix, from which Iextract a few lines here and there, to give some idea of thestate of Gustave Doré's mind during his 1855 vacation.She wrote from Switzerland as follows:-" I cannot tell you how very indelicately MonsieurB. has behaved with respect to his picture bargains withGustave. It absolutely passes belief. Poor Gustave!He is mortally sad. It is enough to make him commitsuicide that he, an artist beginning his career, should seehimself so continually duped and played upon. "It may be inferred from this passage that Doré had atthat time other works in hand, which he considered sufficiently complete to bring to public notice, and that,instead of undergoing any preparatory study, he entertained the fixed resolve to proceed exactly as he hadbegun. He seems, however, to have benefited bothmorally and physically by change of air and scene andenforced repose. His naturally buoyant nature couldnot long remain depressed by even the most poignantvexations. He travelled, as usual, in a desultorymanner. Madame Doré wrote three weeks later fromEms:-·••My poor Gustave does not like to be alone; so I conform with pleasure to all his whims, exigencies, andtastes . Really, I can but admire his exaltationbut I am only the mother of an artist in embryoSeeing, as I do, countless castles in the air being constructed by his youthful imagination, I often ask myselfif so many projects are possibly realizable by anyman, whatever be his capacity for work and his forceof will."This message may be received as a proof that Doréhad recovered his normal spirits, and had once more.plunged himself into the boundless sea of hope. Whathis visions and projects were, he himself defines later O 2196 GUSTAVEDORÉ.on in his notes, which I shall not give here, but in theirchronological order; for many events took place duringthat summer which certainly deserve to be mentioned,as they throw into strong relief the richness and spontaneity of Doré's versatile nature.M. PAUL DALLOZ. 197CHAPTER XX.A TRIP TO THE PYRENEES.HAVING ventured with his family to Paris, Doré conceived the idea of a trip to the Pyrenees, in order toillustrate a book entitled " Un Voyage aux Pyrénées."For once in a way he combined business with pleasureduring this memorable excursion.Doré always had the good fortune to be accompaniedin his wanderings either by relatives or friends; and on thisoccasion he had two companions who certainly could nothave been excelled in wit, culture, and devotion to him. Thefirst was Théophile Gautier, who has already been severaltimes mentioned; the second, although new to us, wasstill an old friend of Doré, M. Paul Dalloz, a brilliantman of letters, and the editor of the Moniteur Universel.M. Dalloz had formed a deep and affectionate friendship for Doré; one of those strong, keen attachmentswhich grow with our growth and increase with our years.Dalloz, in a word, loved Doré as a brother, and by somestrange freak of nature they so much resembled one another in personal appearance as to have been often for the other. In Doré, Dalloz recognized a greatergenius than that of any other man living, and thought198 GUSTAVE DORÉ.nothing on earth too good for his beloved friend. Dallozseems to have been imbued with one of those beautifuland perfect amities which are the offspring of intensesympathy and perfect disinterestedness; one of thosepure affections which take no account of time or place,sacrifice, accident, or absence; in short, of anything butthe well- being of the cherished person so strangely andsweetly harboured in the innermost sanctuary of theheart; that vineyard where ripens the fruit of the onlyperfect human sentiment-true friendship.Of this nature was M. Dalloz's regard for GustaveDoré. One day I paid a visit to the office of Le MoniteurUniversel on purpose to talk with him about the greatartist. As in the case of the late M. Lacroix ( BibliophileJacob), I shall let M. Dalloz speak for himself, and in hisown words, translated or paraphrased to the best of myability, but necessarily losing somewhat of their originalforce and piquancy in the process of translation into ourown language.Mr. Dalloz prefaced his remarks by an outburst ofeloquent praise of Doré. Both as man and artist heevidently had but one opinion of him; and, althoughhe spoke with remarkable frankness, the sincere affectioninspiring his statements was unmistakable, for his voicerang with genuine feeling, whilst his eyes betrayedthe liveliest interest and emotion." Gustave Doré--ah! my dear Gustave! " he exclaimed ."He was indeed a genius! I have known him eversince he first came to Paris in 1847 , so you may judgewhether or no I had time and opportunity enough tostudy, understand, and appreciate him. Our friendshipwas only once interrupted, and that for a single year.We quarrelled over one of his paintings, which was notworthy of him, nor of his talent. I did not like it, and Itold him so; besides, I presumed on our old friendship,and criticized him very severely. He took my remarks toheart in a way I never could have believed possible. Inshort, we parted in angry silence, and by some chance didnot meet again for a long time. I cannot tell you how

ORIGINAL DRAWING .Doré's Spain ("Sampson .Low and Co. )Page 199 .THE RECONCILIATION. 199grieved I was. I said to myself, ' Is it possible that aman of his intelligence and experience can so utterly misconstrue the advice of a friend? as though in criticizinghim, I could have had any other object in view but hisown interest! ' In those days I was young and hotblooded, and, knowing the honesty of my love for him, Ifelt doubly hurt at the way in which he had received mycomments. But I was too proud to make the first overtures towards reconciliation."A year elapsed when, as I was walking up the ChampsElysées one day, a fiacre passed me so close that I could.have touched it. In it sat Gustave Doré. Our eyesmet; he gave me one regretful look, signalled his driverto stop, jumped out of the cab, and rushed up to mewith tears in his eyes, exclaiming, -" Embrace me quickly. I forgive you your harshcriticism . We are both idiots. Should a friendship likeours, of years' standing, be broken up by half- an- hour'sbad humour and half as much plain truth-telling?'"I need not say how overjoyed I was, nor how promptlyI made it up with him. His eyes were wet as he spoketo me. Dear old Gustave! From that time forth wenever had a word, and I cannot tell you all we were toeach other."I remember so many incidents of his life that it isdifficult to know where to begin their narration. It wasan existence so full of work and excitement that it is awonder he ever lived through it . Happily for him, his was anature teeming with gaiety; when he was not harassed.and worried, he could see fun in anything and everything.We almost always spent our summer holidays together.At this moment I recall to mind our journey to thePyrenees, to Biarritz, and through Spain. You mayremember that the whole imperial court was then atBiarritz, including Napoleon III. , with his beautiful youngEmpress, who gave a series of fêtes and splendid entertainments. I think it was in 1855-at any rate it wasabout that time, and I remember this particular excursionfor many reasons . First of all we had such fun. Théo-200 GUSTAVE DORÉ.phile Gautier, Gustave, and myself were together, as fullof spirits and mischief as school- boys out on a holiday.Gustave, who, as you know, was possessed by a maniafor all sorts of circus tricks, kept us in a continual fermentover his wondrous contortions and evolutions. I fullyexpected to carry him maimed back to Paris. Happily,no such catastrophe occurred to mar the pleasure of ourtrip ."It was gay at Biarritz, and besides the social fêtes,there were to be two bull-fights. Doré was crazy to seeone, nor was I less anxious to do so than he. He didnothing but talk about them from the time when he firstheard of them until they came off. The first took placein the presence of the court, and was a very shabby affair,so badly managed that our sympathies, to a man, werewith the bulls, whilst the espada seemed to us a wretchof the deepest dye. That evening I dined with ThéophileGautier and Gustave, and during dinner Doré began hislamentations. The vaunted bull- fight was a delusion anda snare; it was inhuman! The torreadors were brutes;the show was not worth seeing; in fact, it never hadamounted to anything, and so on. One would havethought from his indignation that the whole spectacle hadbeen got up expressly on his account, and that his personal honour had been pledged to its success. ThéophileGautier was in very high spirits, and begged Gustave tostop talking nonsense. You may imagine how noisily hehad given vent to his feelings , when I tell you that wehad scarcely begun our dinner when Gautier yelled out, —" Keep quiet, you young calf! stop your bleating, orI will dress your hair with this soup-tureen. You knownothing about it. Wait until to- morrow! ""All through the dinner Gautier entertained us withone flash of wit after another; but, would you believe it?that idiot Gustave could not get over his disappointment!He was so impressionable that he still felt the failure ofthe bull- fight as if it had reflected discredit upon himself.He even went so far as to say, —" I had made up my mind all day long to be so muchSPAIN. 201amused that I can't get over it. You yourself (to Gautier) told me it was such fun.'" Good heavens! ' replied Gautier, will you let usdine in peace or not? Are you a baby or are you a man?So it is fun. Wait until to-morrow, I tell you! '" It was impossible to withstand Gautier's delightfulmSPAIN.(Published by Sampson Low and Co. , London. )humour for any length of time. He was so good- heartedwith all his brilliancy and wit that before dessert wasfinished Master Gustave condescended to come to himself and to drop the subject of bull-fights. Perhaps herealized how much Gautier thought of him; and indeed,the double effort that the poet made to be agreeable wasa proof that he really wished to allay Gustave's disap-202 GUSTAVE DORÉ.pointment, of which certainly he had to some extent beenthe cause. He had filled our heads with visions of bullfights for days and days before, and when Gautier tried todescribe anything, you may imagine what his descriptionwould be like. However, to finish about our bull- fight.The" The next day we went again to the Correo, and thecoup- d'œil was really a grand one. The empress , then insuperb beauty, was there with the court as before, andthe whole amphitheatre displayed one mass of upturnedfaces. The performance, too, was in every respect brilliant. The last bull on the list was blind of one eye, andstruck out sideways with his horns, which greatly embarrassed his adversary, the matador. I shall never forgetthat man. His name was Domingues. As he was aboutto strike the bull, that purblind brute swerved aside,and dug his horns into Domingues ' thigh. The wholeaudience rose yelling to its feet, and the wounded espadaran out of the arena. As we were standing just at theentrance, we saw him tie up his thigh, with two strongsilk handkerchiefs; then, with a reckless look in his eyes,out he came again and walked up to the bull.excitement was intense, and Gustave's face was colourless with emotion. A banderillero waved his flag, andDomingues, as the bull charged him, planted his sword tothe very hilt in the neck, between its shoulders. The fiercebeast dropped dead as though smitten by lightning. Icannot describe the excitement we were in as Dominguesstepped forward to salute their Majesties, and then rushedblindly towards the entrance of the arena. Gautier, Gustave, and myself followed at his heels . He was a sight tosee; staggering from side to side, his gorgeous costumeall be- splashed and bespattered with blood. He did notget very far, however. After a few steps forward, hethrew up his arms and fell swooning back in the track ofhis own gore. Of course, you have heard of bull- fights,and how these emotional scenes repeat themselvesthereat; but even Gautier gave the palm to this one overall the others he had hitherto witnessed . They werecarrying Domingues out of the arena, when Gautiertapped Gustave on the shoulder, saying,-anlikSPAIN.SPAIN.(Original Sketch. Published by Sampson Low and Co., 1859.)203204 GUSTAVE DORÉ." What do you think of a real bull-fight now, my boy?'" Good God! ' replied Gustave; " what a scene!what courage! what a man and what a beast! I couldnot forget it were I to live for a thousand years! '" And I don't think that any one of us ever forgot whatwe had seen that day. I , however, remember it particularly for another reason, as it was then that we held adiscussion on art with Gautier, lasting two hours. Gautierinsisted that there was only one perfect thing in theworld-a beautiful woman; that all statues, paintings,and so- called works of art, even the most admirable conceptions of ideal beauty, were mere dross when comparedwith a real masterpiece of Nature's own fashioning. Gustave and I , in order to draw Gautier out, upheld a contraryview. Gustave cited many world- famous classical personages, and said, ' Nonsense! There is nothing in thereal world so beautiful as in the imaginary. I have neverseen a woman so lovely as the perfect forms born in thepainter's brain, or carved by the sculptor's chisel.'" The more he talked, the more vigorously Gautier maintained his theory. I really agreed with him, and I believethat Gustave did so in his heart; but he pretended not to,and was as obstinate in sticking to his opinion as Gautierwas in clinging to his. I have heard the great poet andstylist speak many a time and oft, but never so eloquentlyas on the occasion referred to. We always recalled thatday afterwards by referring to it as ' the day on whichGautier had his great discussion on art with Gustave.'"We went from Biarritz into Spain. I remember a littleplace, Urrugne, where we had great fun. It was in thistown that Gautier composed a charming and curiouspoem.' He told us that he ' improvised it then andThe poem in question is in the collection of Gautier's completeworks, vol. ii . p. 97, and is called " L'Horloge." It could not havebeen improvised in 1855, as it is part of the collection of 1838,published in 1841. The poem begins thus::-—"Vulnerat omnes, ultima necat. "La voiture fit halte à l'église d'Urrugne,Nom rauque, dont le son à la rime répugneMais qui n'en est pas moins un village charmant,Sur un sol montagneux perché bizarrement, &c. , &c.A PRACTICAL JOKE. 205there;' and as we came in sight of the old church hestopped and recited it. You know the lines, perhaps,beginning ' La voiture fit halte . ' I forget them now,having so many things to think of. It was in that verytown that we had the greatest fun of all. We went toan ancient livery stable, bargained for and dragged outone of the royal coaches, harnessed the best horses wecould find to it, then started off and drove through thetown. Doré and myself sat like two grooms on thedickey, while Gautier drove the coach. He was verystout, you know, and I think I can hear him now, puffingand blowing away on the box. It was such hot weather;the sunlight poured down upon us as it does in the dogdays, and we were none of us too comfortable. But wehad begun our spree, and fully intended to see it through.We had shut up the coach; and as we gave ourselvestremendous airs of importance in a few moments we werefollowed by an enormous crowd, yelling out, ' Who is inthe royal carriage? Make way for the distinguishedvisitors to Urrugne! ' I wish you could have seenGautier on that box seat! His pompousness would haveconvulsed a dying man with laughter, and he drove alongat a rattling pace. As to Gustave and myself, we had tohold our sides in the endeavour to suppress our merriment. You see we had to maintain our gravity anddisplay a decorous demeanour towards the public.Gautier enjoyed the affair as much as either of us. Wewent all over the town, and finally drew up with greatpomp at the principal hotel of the place. The crowd ofbystanders was so great that we could scarcely pull upwithout running over some one; and I shall not readilyforget the different expressions of the eager faces upturned to ours, as Gautier stopped his horses. Gustavejumped down and I followed him. He made someacrobatic kind of salutation to the crowd, then openedthe coach door, and hurried into the hotel, bowing to theright and left as he did so. Gautier was not so quick,as he had to consign his horses to an hostler.into the hotel, and the crowddistinguished guests to alight.We wentwaited patiently for theNeed I say they waited206 GUSTAVE Doré.in vain? At last some of the more curious, summoningup their courage, ventured to peer into the coach. Ahowl of rage broke from them on finding it empty. Thebulk of the crowd, however, took our practical jokevery good- humouredly, laughing loudly with effusivegestures and ejacul*tions of delight. As for ourselves,I thought we should have died of laughing. Doré couldnot command his voice, and Théophile Gautier's chairshook under him until we feared it would break down.As you know, Gautier was not exactly a feather weight."Gustave was enchanted with the success of his joke,for you will already have divined that he was the originatorof the whole escapade. Gautier had fallen in with it andenjoyed it as heartily as I myself. Gustave spent the timeuntil dinner in his favourite pastime of walking about onhis hands, jumping over chairs and tables, and turningsummersaults until we were dizzy. As we sat down herubbed his palms together with infinite contentment.You see, he was as simple as a child . The slightest success in any of his undertakings would make him radiantwith gratification for twenty-four hours at a stretch. Asto Gautier, I never remember to have seen him in such afascinating vein of humour. The very least I can say isthat we all three behaved like children, and enjoyed ourselves with boyish fashion and light-heartedness."It was on our return from the trip to Spain that oneevening at Gautier's house, a lady said to Gustave in thecourse of conversation about Andalusia and the sights wehad seen, -Now, M. Doré, I suppose you are going to give ussome Velasquezes?'" I regret to say, madame, that I am not, ' repliedGustave, bowing with stately ceremony. On thecontrary, I am going to give you some more Dorés.""THE WANDERING JEW. 207CHAPTER XXI.DORÉ ILLUSTRATES NEW WORKS.DORE went on steadily with his illustrations as soon ashis vacations had terminated, and began the year 1856with his first work of the season, " Fierabras d'Alexandrie,Légende Nationale traduite par Mary Lafon, " publishedat the Librairie Nouvelle, in one vol. 8vo, 123 drawings.He quickly followed it with " Mémoires d'un Jeune Cadet,par Victor Percival," illustrated with forty-eight drawings.The third work of 1856 was " La Légende du Juif Errant,'drawings by Doré, poem with prologue and epilogue byPierre Dupont, preface and bibliographic notice by PaulLacroix, with a ballad by Béranger, set to music byG. Doré. This was published by Michel Lévy in onevolume grand in fº.To speak of each of these works in detail would bebut to repeat the old story of Doré's successes as anillustrator. He was nobly revenged for the lukewarmreception given to his paintings during the previous year bythe unexampled popularity achieved by the " WanderingJew." Delorme speaks of it as a special departure in anew style of drawing."The Wandering Jew," he says, " was an event in thelife of the artist who produced it. Here he has inaugurated a more ample manner, a style of drawing whereintonalities betray a painter's hand. These designs were208 GUSTAVE DORE.his first large compositions in black and white, and inthem we see some astonishing interpretations of Nature—mountains, valleys, oceans; a whole world encompassedin one eagle-like glance. The Wandering Jew floatsonward like a feather impelled by the breath of an irresistible hurricane from city to desert, from desert to city.His fabled footsteps dip lightly into the limpid dew ofthe prairies, as well as into the bloody slime of fearfulbattle-fields . Gustave Doré has raised himself to theapex of the highest possible poetical conceptions. Hetakes possession of the domain of legends, and therereigns an absolute master. "It would be difficult to accord higher praise; and yetDoré attained even loftier altitudes.To return to his notes, which I left at the close of thedescription contained in them of his last trip to Switzerland, and Madame Doré's letter, referring to his manynew projects. He writes:-"I conceived at this epoch ( 1855) the plan of thoselarge folio editions, of which Dante (" Vision of Hell " )was the first volume published."My idea was then, and always has been since, toproduce in a uniform style an edition of all the masterpieces in literature of the best authors, epic, comic,and tragic. But the publishers to whom I submitted thisproject did not consider my plan a practical one. Theytried to prove to me that it was not at a time whenthe business of booksellers and publishers had extremecheapness for its basis, that they could venture to offer tothe public, works which must cost at least one hundredfrancs per volume. They insisted that I had not theslightest chance of success in creating this counter current; whilst I , for my part, reasoned from an entirelyopposite point of view, basing my arguments and hopesupon the fact that, in every age when art or industry hasexhibited a tendency to languish, there have alwaysremained a few hundred individuals who have protestedagainst so pernicious a state of affairs, and have beenready and willing to pay a handsome price for anyDORE CONTEMPLATES FUTURE ILLUSTRATIONS. 209careful and well- published work which should be broughtout." My arguments, alas! were unavailing; and to provemywords , I was obliged to publish at myown expense thefirst of these books, which happened to be the Inferno'of Dante."The success, and more especially the sale, of this workfully justified my forecast; and thenceforth my publishersrecognized the possibility of producing a grand collectionof illustrated books in folio. Of this projected volumes have appeared up to the present time "( Doré wrote these notes in 1865): " and should my plansbe carefully followed out, this collection should compriseabout thirty volumes, the names of which I give you inthe following list. I venture to think that it may not bewholly uninteresting to know by anticipation the work Ihave mapped out for the next ten years.'Doré here subjoins the list in question, which beginswith the Dante, then completed. It is not surprisingthat his mother wondered if so many projects could berealizable by any man, no matter what his brain-power orstrength of will might be.Dante (L'Inferno)Il PurgatorioIl ParadisoLes Contes de PerraultDon QuixoteL'Imitation de Jésus- ChristLa Vie des SaintsHomer-The Iliad and OdysseyVirgil-The Georgics and ÆneidOvid's MetamorphosesEschylus' TragediesHorace's WorksAnacreonLucan's PharsaliaDone.To do.99Done.99To be done.To do.99")9999999999999911Ariosto's Orlando FuriosoTasso's Gerusalemme LiberataOssianThis line probably indicates that Doré had these works on hand at the time of writing.P210 GUSTAVE DORÉPages de l'EddaThe Nibelungen- Lied The RomanceroThe Arabian NightsMolièreLa FontaineRacineCorneilleTo do.""9999 Done.To do.99""Done.MiltonByronSpenserShakespeareGoldsmith (The Vicar of Wakefield)Faust (Goethe)Schiller's PlaysTo do.99999929""99""9999Hoffman's TalesLamartine (Premières Méditations)Plutarch's LivesBoccaccioMontaigne" Here I stop, because I am no longer writing biographical notes, but drawing largely on the future. However,should you need any other special information, I shall behappy to send it by return of post."(Yours, GUSTAVE Doré."Par A. DORÉ." P.S.-I am neither a husband nor a father, a nationalguard nor a Freemason. -G. D."It will be borne in mind that Doré prepared thesenotes for some one who was about to write a sketch ofhis life in the year 1865. I have before me the originaldraft, given to me by the distinguished young doctor,Joseph Michel, who married Doré's niece, a daughter ofhis elder brother Ernest.' The draft is in Madame Doré'shandwriting, for Gustave, who hated penmanship, dictatedit to his mother, who transmitted it word for word; so itsauthenticity is indisputable. I have given the notes infull, and will deal with them more particularly later on .The vastness of Doré's plans may be better imaginedthan described. He was only three-and-twenty when heconceived this grand project, and the names of the worksLately deceased.2DORÉ A UNIVERSAL ARTIST. 211he intended to illustrate sufficiently indicate the elevatedtone of his ambition. It will be observed that he confinedhis plans to no individual style , and to the authors of nocountry in particular, which shows that he had only theinterests of art at heart. One thing may be noticed inthe brief account which he has given of his life. Henever once made use of the word " painting," and scrupulously avoided any mention of his preference for thatbranch of pictorial art. This omission shows but tooplainly that he felt sore on the subject, and did noteven deign to speak openly of an ambition which hiscompatriots refused to sanction.Let us now turn our attention to his illustrations ofDante's " Inferno," generally acknowledged to be hisgreatest work.P 2212 GUSTAVE DORÉ.CHAPTER XXII.DANTE'S INFERNO.DURING the autumn of 1855 Doré began his study ofDante; for, contrary to his custom, he did not attemptthis great enterprise without careful and elaborate preparation. He was a fairly good Latin scholar, but couldneither read nor speak Italian; so he was obliged to read Dante in translation. The rendering he illustrated isprobably the one he studied. It was by Pier Angelo Fiorentino, accompanied by the original text in Italian. Thistranslation is not even written in blank verse, but in plainsailing prose, which circ*mstance probably constitutesits greatest merit. It is an explanation of Dante, and,although an admirable work, is as inadequate to reproduce the original beauty of this great classic as theaverage rhymster of to-day is incomparable to the authorof the "Divina Commedia."My object here, however, is neither to criticize nor toeulogize the work of Pier Fiorentino, but merely topoint out the opportunities it afforded to Doré ofthoroughly comprehending Dante's immortal epic. Hadnot Doré had some knowledge of Latin, I do not thinkFiorentino's version would have sufficed for his purpose.Any translation of the " Inferno " appears so tame whencontrasted with the original, that it seems almost imprac-A TRANSLATOR'S DIFFICULTIES. 213ticable to render in another tongue the exact meaningof that sublime poem. As to reproducing anything likethe beauty of Dante's language, that may be pronouncedan utter impossibility. The same disability applies toShakespeare, Milton, Byron , Shelley, and other poetswhose richness of word-painting rivals even their philosophic thought and poetic conception.Doré had to work doubly hard in order to make himself master of Dante's actual meaning. No matter bywhat process, or through what means, the fact remains.that he did succeed, and that most completely.Longfellow has said that the art of translating is an"intuitive one." Fluency, and command of language andpencil are unavailing if the translator do not possess thatinnate although indescribable sympathy with the author,which the French words en rapport so perfectly describe.Without this he can never by any artificial or mechanicalphraseology, diction , or trick of style succeed in portrayingthe exact sentiments of the author whose works he istranslating. There are mechanical excellences which arethe outcome of habit, not of intuition, and that is onereason why translations, even by the most profoundscholars, apt writers , and noble painters are doomed toremain but worthy efforts in the noble direction of introducing foreign masterpieces in literature and art tonative intellects .Doré possessed in an eminent degree the intuitive giftsof comprehending and immediately putting himself insympathy with his authors. This is the only possible explanation of his complete success in so many and such variedefforts; for between Rabelais and Dante yawns an apparently unbridgeable chasm. Doré, however, being neithera man of letters nor a great scholar, has of all livingor dead artists, alone been able to translate the ideasof Dante. In saying that Doré's work is the most perfect translation of Dante I have spoken advisedly. Ofother translators or illustrators of the " Divina Commedia, "Botticelli is well known, and between his idea and work,and the idea and work of Gustave Doré stretches a wide214 GUSTAVE DORÉ.gulf. The question of merit or preference is a deep one.I could only enter into the latter consideration , and saythat I prefer Doré's " Inferno ." The supposed greatestillustrations of Dante, Michel Angelo's, were destined neverto be given to the world. It will be remembered that MichelAngelo absolutely did illustrate a great portion of Dante.The edition used was the celebrated Landino, Florence,1492, a large folio with Landino's Commentary. It is aknown fact that upon the wide margin of the leaves ofthis book Michel Angelo with pen and ink designed agreat number of elaborate sketches. Alas! for the worldin general, this book was lost! The copy in questionbelonged to Antonio Montanti, a Florentine sculptor andarchitect. Montanti was appointed an architect at St.Peter's; he removed to Rome, shipped all of his effects ,artistic and otherwise, at Leghorn, per Civita Vecchia,and amongst them was the Landino illustrated by MichelAngelo. On the voyage the vessel foundered at sea, andall of Montanti's wealth went to the bottom; perhapsthe rarest of this treasure was the Dante " translated " bythe world-famous genius Buonarotti.Under these circ*mstances one can scarcely compareDoré's work with that of the great sculptor; but certainlywe may speak of Botticelli's illustrations of Dante, whichall the world may see and judge. The greatest authoritiesin France and Italy have advisedly awarded the highestplace to Gustave Doré's Dante. This is no small triumph.For a young man to cause the world to forget Botticelli,and only to think of Michel Angelo and what mighthave been, was to say that the star which reigned inAlsatia at Doré's birth was the one which has ever shoneover all lands and climes when inspiration comes fromheaven, and genius freights the air with the nascentbreath of immortality.On taking up his " Inferno, " and turning page after pageof this series of illustrations , one is struck, not so muchby Dante's invention as by Doré's. It is not permissible,perhaps, to speak of the two in any manner of comparison, yet one cannot help being impressed by the strangeMICHEL ANGELO ILLUSTRATES DANTE. 215coincidence that two such phenomenal imaginations shouldhave been brought, so to speak, into direct contact ,What Doré has missed in art he has made up incomprehension; for he has gone far beyond the limitedrules of science into the boundless region of inspirationand genius . His Dante is allowed, not alone by Franceand Italy, but by the world at large, to be a masterpieceof intelligent thought and ingenious execution .Dumas fils said of him, —"Doré ajoute à ses connaissances littéraires la connaissance approfondie de tous les auteurs qu'il illustrait;exen ples, le Dante, la Bible, les Croisades, &c. , &c. "Alexandre Dumas was not in the habit of speakingso positively unless he fully believed what he said.No greater praise can be bestowed upon GustaveDoré.Doré began " L'Inferno " at three-and-twenty; and,although it was not published until some years later, thefault was none of his, as his work was completed in littlemore than a year.One reason of the delay he has himself given. Nopublisher would accept his " Inferno. " After waiting untilpatience ceased to be a virtue, he brought it out at hisown expense, as he states in his notes. The cost of theblocks alone was no small item in his outlay, for theystood him in over three guineas apiece, and there wereseventy-three illustrations, not including a head of Dantefacing the frontispiece. This sum, added to the engraver's fees, and expense of paper, printing, binding, &c . ,made up a somewhat formidable total for any youngartist to risk upon the production of an initiative work,the result of which was morally as well as financially mostuncertain.In Doré's catalogue " L'Inferno " figures amongst theworks of 1857 , and I shall therefore still speak of it asbelonging to that year's collection , although it was notbrought out until 1860.Its success has already been alluded to, and althoughthe result was in every way more brilliant than even Doré's216 GUSTAVEDORÉ.sanguine hopes had led him to expect, he felt that something was still lacking in the way of public appreciation.What that something was I shall leave M. Dalloz toexplain a little later on.Doré's family and immediate friends did not hesitateto place his illustrations of the " Inferno " at the headof all the works he had hitherto executed or attempted.One morning in the Rue St. Dominique, I was lookingat some of Dore's works, and particularly noticed a grandcanvas alive with flame and lurid lights, dealing withthe same subject as drawing No. 30 of the " Infernoseries, illustrating these words:-"Guardòmmi un poco; e poi, quasi sdegnoso,Mi dimandò: Chi fù gli maggior tui. "Inferno, Canto X., 41-42.""The person represented is Farinata degli Uberti, in theact of rising from his fiery sepulchre to question Danteand Virgil.Lieut. - Colonel Emile Doré, the artist's younger brother,once saw me looking at the proof. He pointed to itsaying, -" Dante is the greatest thing he ever did . He was notfive-and-twenty when he finished it. It was his favouritework; indeed he was so fond of it that he reproduced someof the drawings over and over again in oil and in watercolour. "In the drawing above alluded to (No. 30) whichrepresents Farinata rising from his tomb, Doré exhibiteda power of dealing with chiaro- oscuro akin to that ofRembrandt. To those who have seen the marvellous"Lesson in Anatomy " in the great Rembrandt Galleryin Holland, I may say that the foreshortening of the figurein the Farinata drawing can only be compared to that ofthe " Lesson in Anatomy. "" inFarinata himself and the lurid flames which partiallyenvelop Dante and Virgil are painted with such vigourthat they seem to light up the very walls with a brilliantflame, and their glow is reflected on the faces of the twoDORE'S ILLUSTRATIONS OFDANTE'S INFERNO. 217poets with extraordinary realism. I find amongst mynotes some extracts from two criticisms by ThéophileGautier, written for the Moniteur Universel, which asliterary works alone deserve reproduction here; with theexplanation, perhaps superfluous, that the critic is speaking, not the friend .These articles appeared in the Paris Moniteur Universel on the 30th of July and 1st of August, 1861. Theyhave a double value as art criticisms and as literary essaysof no mean merit. M. Gautier says,-" No artist could be better qualified than M. GustaveDoré to illustrate Dante. Besides his talent for composition and drawing, he possesses that visionary eye ofwhich poets speak, which knows how to detect the secretand curious aspects of Nature. He sees things by theirquaintest, most fantastic, and mysterious angle. Hisvertiginous pencil, as if in sport, creates those imperceptible deviations which impart a spectral appearanceto man and a human aspect to a tree, make the latter'sroots resemble the hideous writhings of snakes, and plantsassume the alarming contortions of the mandrake; whilstclouds take ambiguous forms and changing colours,in which Polonius, bent upon pleasing Hamlet, complacently discovers a camel, a weasel, or a whale;waters glitter with the gloomy sheen of steel, or arefretted with frothy wrinkles, and mountains display thoseface irregularities which imagination sculptures in boldrelief."That which strikes us on the first glance at theDantesque illustrations of Gustave Doré is the localityof the scenes he depicts, which have nothing in commonwith the aspect of our sublunary world. The artist hasinvented the climate of hell , subterranean mountains andlandscapes; a murky atmosphere upon which no sunhas ever shone, lighted up by the reflection of a central fire; thick streams resembling torrents of lava, and,in the cold circle, an infernal Spitzberg more utterlyfrozen than congealed quicksilver, the ice of which burns218 GUSTAVE DORÉ.one's fingers like red - hot iron . This supernatural climatehe keeps up with incredibly logical rigour and verisimilitude of detail .

  • *

"The vignette of Paolo and Francesça, reading togetherthe story of Lancelot, would make a delicious miniaturefor a romance of chivalry. In the following engravingwe see the meeting between Dante and Farinata . Wedo not believe that M. Gustave Doré, who, however, hasmade many beautiful drawings during his career, has everheretofore risen to such a magical height of sublimity.The ponderous granite slab is flung back. Farinata'sbust is illuminated from below He rests his neck againstthe tombstone, upon which his opaque shadow stretchesaway in formidable wise.. This shadow of a shadowhas something about it so fantastically lugubrious thatit makes your flesh crawl with shudders like thosedescribed by Job. One feels oneself in the other world.Clutching the edge of his sepulchre with his fingers, theAccursed One gazes proudly at Dante, and launches athim the disdainful words, ' And who were thy ancestors?'(' Chi fui gli maggior tui? ' )

"To find anything analogous to the effect produced bythis really sublime composition, we must go back toRembrandt's ' Resurrection of Lazarus.' M. GustaveDoré's drawing would hold its own side by side with thismasterpiece; his block is worthy to vie with even thatmagical etching.At last a ray of real daylight begins to pierce theshadows. The immense journey is terminated, and thepainter is no wearier than the poet. This herculeanlabour has been mere play to M. Doré. Already he is preparing "Don Quixote, " the " Nibelungen" and " Perrault'sTales." He has equipped an army of engravers for hisown service, which he drills and instructs, and to whichhe can entrust his drawings, sure that they will be reproduced with style, intelligence, and fidelity.THEOPHILE GAUTIER . "THEOPHILE GAUTIER CRITICIZES DORÉ. 219L'ENFER DE DANTE ALIGHIERI ,avec les dessins de Gustave Doré.(Extraits de deux articles de Théophile Gautier, parus dans le Moniteur Universel de 30 juillet et 1 août, 1861.)"Nul artiste mieux que M. Gustave Doré ne pouvait illustrer leDante. Outre son talent de composition et de dessin, il possède cetœil visionnaire dont parle le poëte, qui sait dégager le côté secret etsingulier de la nature. Il voit les choses par leur angle bizarre, fantastique et mystérieux. Son crayon vertigineux crée en se jouant cesdéviations insensibles qui donnent à l'homme l'effroi du spectre, àl'arbre l'apparence humaine, aux racines le tortillement hideux desserpents, aux plantes les bifurcations inquiétantes de la mandragore,aux nuages les formes ambiguës et changeantes où Polonius découvrecomplaisamment au gré d'Hamlet un chameau, une belette, une baleine,aux eaux de sinistres miroitements d'acier ou des transparences pleinesde replis squamineux, aux montagnes des anfractuosités que l'imagination sculpte en vagues bas- reliefs. Ce qui frappe au premier coupd'œil dans les illustrations dantesques de Gustave Doré, c'est le milieuoù se passent les scènes qu'il dessine et qui n'a aucun rapport avecles aspects de notre monde subiunaire."L'artiste a inventé le climat de l'enfer, les montagnes souterraines,les paysages inférieurs, l'atmosphère brune où jamais soleil n'a lui etqu'éclairent des réverbérations du feu central, les fleuves épais, semblables à des courants de lave, et pour le cercle du froid, un Spitzberginfernal, plus gelé que celui où la mercure se fige et dont la glace brûleles mains comme du fer rouge. Ce climat surnaturel, il le maintientavec une rigueur de logique et une vraisemblance de détails incroyable."La vignette de Francesca et Paolo lisant ensemble Lancelot feraitune délicieuse miniature pour un roman de chevalerie."Dans la planche suivante on voit la rencontre de Dante et de Farinata. Nous ne croyons pas que M. Gustave Doré, qui pourtant a faitde bien beaux dessins dans sa vie, se soit jamais élevé à cette hauteurmagique. . . . La lourde dalle de granit est rejetée en arrière.Farinata, vu à mi-corps, éclairé en dessous, appuie sa nuque contre lapierre tombale, sur laquelle son ombre opaque se prolonge formidablement. Cette ombre d'une ombre a quelquechose de fantastiquementlugubre, qui vous fait passer sur la chair ce frisson dont parle Job. Onse sent dans l'autre monde. Crispant les doigts sur le bord de lafosse, le damné regarde Dante d'un air superbe, et lui jette ces parolesdédaigneuses: Quels furent tes ancêtres?'"Pour trouver quelque analogie comme effet à cette compositionvraiment sublime, il faut remonter jusqu'à la Résurrection de Lazarepar Rembrandt. Le dessin de M. Gustave Doré se soutiendrait à côté dece chef-d'œuvre et son bois pourrait lutter avec la magique eau-forte."Enfin une lueur de vrai jour commence à percer les ténèbres."Il est terminé l'immense voyage, et le peintre n'est pas plus fatigué220 GUSTAVE DORÉ.que le poëte. Ce labeur herculéen n'a été qu'un jeu pour lui! Déjàil prépare Don Quichotte, les Contes de Perrault; il défraye à lui seulune armée de graveurs, qu'il forme, qu'il instruit, à qui l'artiste peutconfier le dessin, sûr de le voir reproduit avec style, esprit et fidélité. ”"THEOPHILE GAUTIER. "The following reminiscence must have a place here, asit bears particularly upon the greatest work of Doré'slife, and I can recall to mind no more characteristicincident in his whole career.Gustave Doré possessed the power of self- concentration to a supreme degree. One would imagine that hewould never have dared to sit down to such a work asDante for the purpose of illustrating it, without havingbooks of reference at hand.One morning, however, about nine o'clock, while hisfriend, M. Kratz, was still in bed, the latter heard a rapat his door, and a few seconds later Doré's head peeredinto the room. Saying, " May I come in?" he walkedin with a large portfolio under his arm. His friend wassurprised to see him, and thought something unusualmust have happened; for of late years Doré had workedat home in the mornings. To M. Kratz's questions Doréreplied, " Nothing particular has occurred. I only thoughtI would drop in on you this morning. Do I disturb you?May I work here?" With these words he seated himself at a desk drawn up before the window, at which M.Kratz usually wrote, and began humming a few bars ofmusic. Then opening his portfolio, he took out a largeand perfectly clean block of wood. When he had settledhimself to his satisfaction he commenced drawing veryrapidly, all the time keeping up a continual conversationwith his friend. M. Kratz, who was slightly indisposed,remained in bed for some time, and watched Gustave athis work. He did not wish to interrupt the draughtsman, but in spite of himself a remark escaped him everynow and anon, and when he was not talking Doré wouldask some question leading to discussion . Between them,indeed, a desultory conversation was kept up for anhour or so, Doré smoking constantly, and only finishingDORE'S INTELLECTUAL POWERS. 221one cigar to light and consume another. He graduallyrelapsed into silence, whilst his fingers kept flying overthe block, and he seemed completely absorbed by hiswork. M. Kratz in the meantime had arisen and dressed,and had been several times in and out of the room.Doré seemed utterly oblivious of his presence, and M.Kratz thought that he had altogether forgotten him ,when suddenly Gustave asked him something about amutual friend. M. Kratz answered him, and no furtherremarks were made for the moment. An hour later MadamePilloud, Kratz's housekeeper, came in and laid the cloth.for breakfast. She had evidently received instructionsto prepare it in the bedroom, so as not to disturb theartist, who was still busy with his block, the surface ofwhich displayed a well-nigh finished drawing. Whenthe table had been laden with a smoking breakfast,M. Kratz deemed it opportune to speak to his enthralledguest."Well, Gustave, " he said, " is it not about time thatyou stopped for a moment? Breakfast is ready."Doré started, laid down his pencil, and stared abouthim with an air of puzzled and helpless surprise.(6" You! What are you there, old boy? " he stammered. Naturally; how stupid I am! Breakfast-?Already? Why, what time is it? Late? Why did notyou say so? Here I have taken possession of yourroom and desk all this time. I am sure you have wantedto come here . "He arose lazily as he spoke, and glanced at the table,but made no movement as if to sit down thereat. Hehad been spiritually far away in another world, and wasstill in a semi-stupified state of transition. How couldhe leap with one bound from the realms of the ideal, intothe domain of the material-eating and drinking? Yet hedid so." I think I will breakfast with you, " he said shortly;and they drew up to the table. His friend knew him toowell to question him about his work. If you really wishedto please Doré, it was necessary to carefully abstain from222 GUSTAVE DORÉ.asking him what he was doing. He always wanted to bethe first to speak of a thing so as to surprise his friendsagreeably; throughout the meal, however, he said not aword about his drawing, but talked, as was his wont, in abrilliant, quick, erratic fashion, passing from one subjectto another with almost pathetic indifference. One couldsee that his brain was easing itself of weighty matters bya safety valve of continuous but almost meaninglesschatter. He breakfasted hastily, swallowing his foodwithout the slightest idea of what he was eating, washedit down with a glass of his favourite champagne, andwithout a word of apology, went back to his table, andwas instantly re- engrossed in his sat for some little time busy as before, having obviously taken up his train of thought exactly where he haddropped it. The outer world did not exist for GustaveDoré whilst he was at his work. His pencil exercisedso magnetic a fascination upon him, that but to take itup was to immediately submit himself to the spell of hisHe isolated himself completely from all earthlysights and sounds, and possessed the rare faculty offollowing his imagination into those enchanted regionswhere the corporeal sense of being is dissolved into theether of an infinite and inspired soul. Palace, hovel,boulevard, greensward, mountain, and cavern, were all oneand the same to Gustave Doré; for he was never ofthem; he lived in himself; his art was his kingdom, hisimagination, his world. You might have been talkingwith him on a matter of the gravest importance, and,without a word of warning or excuse, he would suddenlywalk up to a table or a chimney-piece, if he happened tocatch sight of a pencil or scrap of paper, and, standing,would sketch off whatever idea had been running in hishead, usually something as widely different from thesubject of your conversation as sunshine from shadow.He would finish his sketch, and either push it away fromhim, or put it in his pocket; then back he would returnto you, and take up the conversation where he hadbroken it off, just as if nothing had happened in theDORE'S PREOCCUPATION. 223interim. This surprised and puzzled strangers, whothought it odd, to say the least of it; but with a shrug ofthe shoulders and a perplexed sort of stare they wouldcome to the conclusion that he was a genius, and thatgeniuses were privileged to be eccentric in theirbehaviour.I well remember one evening party at his house, whenthere was dancing in the studio, and he, seated in onecorner at his table, was diligently drawing away at one ofhis sketches for the " Dante. " He would work for a fewmoments, utterly unconscious of the music, merriment, andflying feet around him; and, the dance ended, he wouldjump up with wild enthusiasm , seize his violin, and breakout into so maddening a polka that its strains would setevery heart beating and every foot marking time upon thefloor. When the young folks had danced until they wereexhausted , he would gravely put down his violin and returnto his work, walking towards his table with the preoccupiedair of one already a thousand miles away from the scene.This he did several times in the course of the evening;and no one paid the slightest attention to either him orhis work.On the particular occasion referred to , when Doré wasat M. Kratz's house, he seemed farther away from theworld than usual. It is not strange that he had beenindifferent to the presence of his friend, to the savouryodour of good Madame Pilloud's soup, which he wasso fond of, to the champagne or the chit- chat of hishost; for he was with Dante and Virgil on a great plainoverlooking a starry world, the stillness of which wasunbroken by any sound . He was reading with Francescaand Paolo, roaming with Beatrice and Dante, orlisteningto the voice of Farinata as he spoke from his flameswathed open tomb, " Chi fù gli maggior tui?"Before another hour had passed away, he arose with adeep sigh of relief:-"Here, what do you think of this, Arthur? " he asked,showing his friend the newly-drawn sketch, and addingcarelessly, as if he were speaking of the simplest thing in224 GUSTAVE DORÉ.the world, " It is one of my Dante drawings, and as it isfinished I shall take it at once to Hachette. Good- bye;I am off. Shall we dine together? I have had such acharming morning. Thanks, old fellow; you are sure Ihave not disturbed you?" and so saying he walked awaywith his portfolio under his arm.I shall conclude my remarks on his Dante in the wordsof M. Dalloz:-66 Nothing,"" hehe says, (6 can exceed the carefulness andbeauty of Gustave's work. He was Dante mad when heexecuted it, and every spare moment was spent at his' Inferno. ' I think you know that he never did anythinggreater; and when the book was finally brought beforethe public his triumph was complete. No one, not evenhis enemies, could refuse to admit that it was a masterpiece in every respect, and all that he had previously doneseemed mere dross in comparison to it. It is quite truethat nothing he had theretofore drawn had ever been soexquisitely finished , in the artistic sense of the word, andit was easy to see that he had brought each drawingto the highest degree of perfection of which he wascapable. There was but one sentiment expressed on allsides , namely, that Gustave was a genius. The dailypapers absolutely teemed with complimentary notices ofhis new work; even the Rabelais furore, which we hadthought so surpassing, was outdone. Gustave had everyright to expect some definite recognition of his achievements from his country, but none came. Think of allhe had done besides his paintings, of all the authorshe had illustrated , and you will agree with me thathe was not presumptuous in hoping to be decorated,and I shall never forget how unhappy it made him thathe was not a member of the Legion of Honour. Ihave a letter of his amongst my papers which is that of aman denuded of every hope and pleasure in life , of awretch on the very verge of distraction and suicide, allbecause he had not the right to wear a little scrap of redribbon in his button-hole. One day I went to his house;Madame Doré was there with her fierce dark eyes andHOW DORÉ received HIS FIRST DECORATION. 225turban, looking, as usual , like an inspired Mauresque prophetess. As soon as I came in she seized me by theshoulders and nearly shook all the breath out of my body." Are you a friend or are you not? ' she exclaimed.' Do you not see us mortified, humiliated, crushed ,in despair? myself on the verge of distraction , the wholehouse turned upside down? Gustave no longer eats,drinks , nor sleeps. Is he, the greatest artist of his time,to be so worried and cast down, all for a miserabledecoration that people not fit to tie his shoe-laceshave had for a smile, some of them not even caring forit? He is not appreciated by his ungrateful country.Shame to Paris! A crying shame to France! Do younot see that he suffers, that I suffer, and that the entirehousehold is in despair? '"And so she went on. As soon as I could get mybreath, I began to expostulate with her, and said that Iwould see what could be done. She had taken me bysurprise, for how could I imagine any such state of affairs?Gustave had often spoken to me about the ingratitude ofhis fellow- countrymen, and had frequently said, -" I don't care a rap for the Cross; but for the principleof the thing I do care. It mortifies me to think that Iam nobody in my own country. I should be so proud tobe considered somebody in France, which I love so dearly.Of course it is not the Cross itself, but the principle ofthe thing .'" These words flashed through my mind while MadameDoré was going on, and I could see plainly what wasthe matter. Gustave had been so despondent and brokendown since the Dante success that I had attributed hisdepression to over- work. But with this double strain onhis nerves, fancying that he was not appreciated becausehe was not decorated, and being, moreover, really exhausted by excess of brain-work, I did not wonder at thestate he was in." I promised Madame Doré to bestir myself at once.Accordingly I left her then and there, and went to callupon the Minister of Public Instruction, M. B——. IQ226 GUSTAVEDORÉ.asked him if Gustave Doré's name was included in thelist of persons selected for decoration. He hemmed andhawed, finally replying, that they had thought about it,but that Doré was so young, and there were so manycandidates for distinction, &c. , &c. Of course he had adozen reasons ready; but eventually he asked me forsome particulars about Doré, and promised that he wouldthink the matter over. He seemed so well disposed thatI left him, craving his permission to return in a quarter ofan hour, and tore off to Gustave's house. Entering hisstudio , I vociferated, ' Give me a copy of all yourworks? ' and without further explanation carried offenough to fill my carriage. Again I invaded the Minister's room, a lackey following me staggering under theweight of two armfuls of books." What are these? ' exclaimed M. Bpointing to the pile of volumes.aghast," Some of the works of a young man of eight andtwenty,' I replied, ' and this is not a quarter of all thatGustave Doré has done.'"The Minister took up one and scanned it closely, thenanother, and another, turning over page after page. Timepassed; presently he picked up the Inferno ' of Dante,and went through it to the end without speaking a word.Then he opened it again, laid his hand impressively onone of the illustrations, and said, —" Not a word more! Let this speak for him. Hisown talent says more than could a multitude of friends.For Gustave Doré not to belong to the Legion of Honourwould be an insult to himself and an injustice to thecountry that gave him birth. '" Ah! that was well said. I returned to Doré withthe copies of his works." Here, you great baby,' I said , embracing him, ' takeyour books; laugh, sing, eat, drink, sleep, and lament nolonger. You will have the Cross of the Legion of Honour,not through any influence of mine, but through your own.real talent and labour.' Then I told him all that hadtaken place in the Minister's cabinet.A SENSIBLE MINISTER. 227"He strained me to his breast; and Madame Doré wasso happy that she seemed to light the whole place upwith her sparkling eyes . Dear lady, her gaiety provedcontagious; we had such a merry dinner afterwards, andpassed one of those happy evenings that I shall evercherish among my fondest souvenirs of Doré.I neverknew before that the Cross of the Legion of Honourpossessed such wonderful healing qualities. "228 GUSTAVE DORÉ. IEDCHAPTER XXIII .HOLIDAY EXCURSIONS."WHILST we are speaking of Dante, continued M.Dalloz, " I may as well say something about a trip thatwe took through the Tyrol during the summer before thework was finished. We were accompanied by a greatfriend of Gustave, as merry a man as ever lived. Gustave, too, was in exuberant spirits. He fairly revelled inthe beauties of this wonderful country. At that time,however, everything seemed beautiful to him, for he wasfull of his schemes about illustrating great authors, andwas unusually confident in the one he had then on hand.As in Spain, however, he was up to his tricks, for hecould not long remain serious over anything during holiday-time. One day, as we were approaching a littlevillage, he suddenly conceived the idea of changing thecourse of a tiny torrent which issued from the mountainside. We were tramping it , and nothing would do butwe must stop and put his idea into immediate execution."We spent the whole of the afternoon lugging aboutgreat stones, and piling them one on the top of the otherin order to divert the mountain- stream from its natural bed.The more we worked at it the more deeply interested webecame in our childish scheme. Night came on, andA SUMMER DAY'S CAPRICE. 229our task was almost completed, when several peasants,attracted by the continual noise of rolling stones, andthinking that we must be mad, came stealthily upon us,and tried to stop us. Gustave at once doubled his fistsSOUVENIR OF THE TYROL.and pitched into the nearest man with a vengeance.You may imagine how strong he was when I tell you thathe polished off those lusty peasants one after another untilthey cried out for mercy. Then we all made friends andbecame extremely hilarious, as soon as we had succeeded230 GUSTAVE DORÉ.in making them understand that we were only amusingourselves. Finally, we were invited to the village todrink with them, and take part in a merry-making theyhappened to have on hand. It was some fête-day, Iforget which, and Gustave, who was the mainspring ofour movements, insisted upon our accepting the invitation." It was great fun. Those unsophisticated villagersmust have been most favourably impressed by our faces,for we were dressed abominably, and looked like roadside beggars. After dinner we joined the rustic party,which was held in a sort of public parlour, or ancientdancing-hall, in the local inn. Doré, seeing somemusical bumpkin playing the violin, snatched the instrument from him and began to play some wild dance,whilst I took possession of an old spinet in the corner;and then we began our real music. I never played somuch or so energetically before in all my life, whilstDoré's fiddling was so full of spirit that the people gotquite beside themselves with excitement. Finally, anold woman came up and told him in great confidencethat she knew of a wonderful violin , as old as the hills,hidden away in a mountain- cave, and offered to go withsome one to fetch it. That was enough for Gustave.Nothing would do but he must have it . So the peasantstarted off with a friend, and the whole company anxiouslyawaited the arrival of the marvellous violin. It wasnearly midnight when she brought it in, and Gustave,once he had laid hands upon it , never let it go all nightlong. Such a dance then ensued as would have amazedmost civilized people, and we kept up our spree untildaybreak. I do not remember ever to have spent such anight before in my lifetime; and although I knew Gustave of old, and had seen him enjoy a great many improvised soirées , I don't think he had ever been morethoroughly happy, or had shown himself off to greateradvantage." The violin was indeed a marvellous one, and he wantedto buy it and take it away with him. If I rememberDORÉ AT VERONA. 231aright the old woman refused to sell it, or even to bargainfor it; and it is probably still lying hidden in its cave,awaiting some passer-by to drag it forth to light. But Ifancy it will never again give any one as much pleasureas it gave us on that occasion, when Gustave kept thepeasants dancing to its music till daylight." From that village we went on to Verona. Gustavewas enchanted with the city, and we spent our timesight-seeing from dawn until dark. As usual, he wasconstantly up to some trick or practical joke. One day,after visiting many interesting places, we went to see thetomb of Romeo and Juliet. Instead of being inspired bya tender melancholy, depressed, or even sentimentallyimpressed, he was overcome by the desire to enact thepart of a poverty-stricken street acrobat. He slouchedhis hat over his eyes, buttoned his coat up to the chin,and began to go through some of those evolutions forwhich he was as famous as any well- known circus performer. Soon a great crowd collected round him, andwhen he had finished his performance he went round withthe hat, secundum artem. He was so irresistibly droll,and entertained his public so divertingly, that theypersisted in begging him to go on, and clamoured formore star tricks."But we were getting hungry, however, and I saw thathe could not hold out much longer. In one feat hepersevered, namely, in handing round his hat; and whenwe broke away from the crowd there were still somechildren who refused to quit his heels. At last we effectedour escape, and Doré counted his earnings with the delightof a child. Would you believe it? there was enough topay for a dinner, and a very good one too .He wasconsiderably out of breath afterwards, I can tell you; butI don't think he had ever dined at the Café Anglais withkeener relish than he did that afternoon in Verona. Afterwards we went all over Italy, and, although seeminglymaking his trip one unbroken holiday, he studied continuously-in his way. I shall say nothing more of that,because the proof that he did study lies in his Dante,232 GUSTAVE DORÉ.which is above all praise and criticism, and shows sothorough a knowledge of Italy and Italian literature, thatone can easily understand how exhaustively its authorhad become acquainted with the classic peninsula.Indeed, that country was to him one long delight. "DORÉ SEES VENICE FORr the first TIME. 233CHAPTER XXIV.DORÉ AND DALLOZ AT VENICE.FROM Verona they went on to Venice. If Doré hadbeen charmed with the city of the Scaligers and theCapulets, what must have been his delight on seeingthe Queen of the Adriatic, "throned on her hundredisles "!He was so intensely fascinated by Venice that heseemed to think it enough to be there, without goingthrough the regular routine of sight- seeing. The weatherwas very hot; but, instead of stopping at home as allItalians do during the greater part of the day, he was out inthe streets from morning till night, lying about on benchesor curb- stones as the fancy seized him. All he seemedto care about was to lie quite still, and drink in thearchitectural beauties which surrounded him. He wouldsay to M. Dalloz, -" Don't speak to me; go about sight-seeing, do anything you like; only leave me in the streets in peace toenjoy Venice in my own way. Remember, Venice is here,all around us, with its palaces, streets, canals, and lagoons;this is my Venice. I can see museums and pictures anywhere; go, and leave me to myself! "One day he stopped for hours in a little corner of thePiazza San Marco, comfortably installed against the sideof a house. Sometimes he would lie stretched out at full234 GUSTAVE DORÉ.length, his chin resting on his palms; or, again, he wouldsit bolt upright, leaning against the curb- stone, his headthrown back, his eyes rapturously gazing on and eagerlyabsorbing the beauty of the scene. The Venetians donot usually lie about the streets as Gustave Doré did, and,with the exception of a few idlers and curious contadini,the great French artist found himself the most persistentof loiterers in the most indolent of cities . One day hehad been recumbent as usual in the Piazza San Marco,and had been greatly disturbed by several restless loungerslike himself, denizens of the curb- stone. M. Dalloz wentbackwards and forwards past him for some time, andfinally sat down beside Gustave , whom he found in a veryirritable temper. At that moment a man close by, whohad been keeping him company in " star-gazing," brisklyarose and walked off." Look at him, " said Doré indignantly. "There hegoes; he has been round and about already a dozentimes. Why can't he keep still? Why will no one inthis square be quiet? One fellow looks at an object fora moment, and then off he goes to gaze at another, andthen at another. I can't understand such rushing about.These people! Good heavens! nothing interests themfor more than a moment at a time! ""My dear friend," replied M. Dalloz, " you cannotexpect people who live in a town to lie all day about thestreets as you do, looking up at the churches and palaceswhich they have seen every day of their lives since theycame into the world . Of course it is all very wonderful ,but Venice has not the zest of novelty to the Venetiansthat it has to you. "" Nonsense; as though it were a question of novelty!If I were to pass my whole lifetime here, I should spendit as I do now. I cannot believe that any one could evertire of looking at this city."" The city; yes," rejoined M. Dalloz; " but youdon't go about much, and you don't look at the paintings."AN AFTERNOON at the art ACADEMY. 235Doré shrugged his shoulders:--"Ah, bah! paintings; Italian masters; some of themare not bad, but I can live without them-without mostof them, at any rate. Besides, I can see paintings anywhere; but I can't see this; " and he pointed to theinimitable and fascinating spectacle spread out beforehim.M. Dalloz gave up trying to reason with him. One ofhis whims had laid hold of him, and the whole worldcould not move Doré when he had made up his mind toanything. M. Dalloz, however, went about with a friend.seeing pictures and interiors, palaces and churches , anddid not pay the slightest attention to Gustave. One day,however, he begged him to go with him to the Fine Arts.Academy, but to no purpose." I shall stop at home," said Doré, " I don't feel equalto visiting galleries. I am tired of even the sight of aninch of painted canvas. Go without me; I shall stop athome and write letters . I have a headache, too. Pray gowithout me. "In vain Dalloz importuned him to accompany him;Doré was obdurate. So his friend set off alone, buthappily picked up an old acquaintance in the piazza, andthe two went together sight- seeing.It was late in the afternoon when they reached theAcademy, and after looking at some of the most celebratedpictures of Titian, Tintoretto, Veronese, and others, M.Dalloz and his friend turned into a little side- room, wherethey caught sight of a man sitting rapt and absorbed infront of a beautiful Bordone. The man gazed at the picture intensely, then moved his chair a little farther back,raised his hand to the side of his head, and gazed againwith his whole soul in his eyes, and an expression of theprofoundest ecstasy on his face. Something in the man'sattitude, in the pose of the hand pressing against hischeek, in the look riveted on the picture, immediatelyattracted M. Dalloz's attention. At a glance he recognized Gustave Doré. Instead of going up to him,236GUSTAVEDORÉ.he stopped short, and also prevented his friend fromadvancing." Hush! " he whispered , raising his finger to hislips. "Don't let us disturb him. It is Gustave Doré,who refused to come with me to-day to look at theItalian masters. You see how entirely wrapped up incontemplation he is, oblivious of all save the picturebefore him. Wait until we get back to the hotel; I shallchaff him handsomely about his newly-acquired taste forItalian masters. It will be a splendid revenge."Dalloz and his friend passed into another apartment,which happened to be unusually crowded; and, lookinground, they espied Doré stealthily elbowing his way out,and glancing furtively around him to see if any one wasabout who might recognize him. He finally assuredhimself to the contrary; and, tossing his head with theold familiar movement which said, " I am sure of myaffair," he disappeared. M. Dalloz returned to the hotelan hour later, where he found Doré looking the picture ofboredom, with his hands in his pockets, staring out ofthe window. He turned round as his friend entered theroom, his countenance wearing a curious expression ofmingled lassitude and defiance, but never proffered aword. Then Dalloz spoke, -(6Well, you see I am back at last. I have indeed hada day of it. And you, Gustave, what have you done?Have you been out? What a lovely day it has been. Itwas a pity to stop indoors."Thus he rattled on for a few seconds, seating himself,polishing his eye- glass, and making himself generallycomfortable. Perhaps his cheery voice and cheeriermanner jarred on the artist, who cleared his throat onceor twice, and finally answered.-" N-n-no. I have had a headache." Then he passedhis hand across his brow, and continued: “ I did notcare to go out. I have not felt at my ease on accountof the heat-the, the-weather; there is so much here tosee, and—and in a word, I have had a headache."

SCENE IN THE TYROL.'(Drawing in Doré Gallery. By permission of Messrs Fairless and Beeforth. )LYONPage 237.THE FAMOUS BORDONE. 237Dalloz looked at him, and said carelessly, " You don'teven ask where I have been?"""Yes, certainly-you-well! where have you been? "" I? well, I have been with a friend to one of myfavourite haunts, the Academy of Fine Arts. "" Ah! "(6Yes; and I must say that I enjoyed it. You shouldhave been with us. We saw some great works-somegrand works. ""Ah! Italian masters, of course. " Then he began tohum a snatch of Rossini, and walked straight up toDalloz, his eyes interrogatively scanning every movementof the latter's features."Yes; naturally, Italian masters," continued M. Dalloz;and you haven't been out? That is strange! ""What is strange? "" It is strange, Gustave; of course I am mistaken, "M. Dalloz looked at him without a smile as he spoke,"but I saw some one in one of the rooms whom I couldhave sworn was you-your very self-intent upon apicture. ""Ah! which picture?" Doré asked, turning carelesslytowards the window and taking up his Rossinian refrainwhere he had left it off." If I am not mistaken," replied M. Dalloz, " it was aBordone; the grand and beautiful ' Marriage of the Dogewith the Adriatic.' You know, the one in which he throwsthe ring-"Gustave turned sharply round, and shook his finger inhis friend's face, exclaiming,-Wretch! You saw me. Never mind; c'est rudement bien fait! Heavens! what would I have notgiven to have been the author of such a picture? If Ihad only painted it! c'est rudement bien fait. What apicture!"After that Doré was less prone to rave against theItalian masters. Any one acquainted with his charactercan readily understand the sudden despondencies which238 GUSTAVE DORÉ.beset him, even in the moments of his greatest pleasure,and how his sweets were always mixed with bitterness,when he contemplated the works of the great masters,and said to himself, " I shall never be classed amongstthem."It is not strange that the Bordone appealed particularlyto his sympathy and faculty of appreciation. Of all thebranches of pictorial art, the one Doré best understoodwas that of grouping masses of living human beingstogether, an instinct he possessed in common with thegreat Bordone. There was a genuine touch of nature inhis quick appreciation of the famous master, while theworld in general languished over a Titian or a Tintoretto.Amidst all that wealth of sublime inspiration, Doré, the' gamin de génie, " by a marvellous intuition, picked outthe master whose speciality he comprehended best, andof whom he always spoke with marked deference in afteryears.I shall nowgive a succinct summary of the works illustrated by Gustave Doré, with a few incidental comments.In each and every succeeding volume he repeated thetriumphs achieved by his Rabelais and Dante, consequently his fame became world-wide, and his fortune grewwith his fame. The sums he received for illustratingbooks have never been equalled by the earnings of anyother artist in his special branch of the profession . Ihave heard of the exorbitant sums paid to various Englishdraughtsmen, but I think none of them wereremunerated for their work so highly as Doré. Heearned so much money at one time that it was said " hisblocks were worth a hundred times their weight in gold."This was between the years 1850 and 1870. Duringthose two decades he is believed to have earned nearlyseven millions of francs ( 280,000l. ) .everM. Bordelin, a very clever, highly-distinguished colleague of Doré, and one of his most faithful friends,once said to me, -" I have seen Gustave earn ten thousand francs (4007.) inDORE'S REMUNERATIONS FOR ILLUSTRATING. 239a single morning. He would have from fifteen to twentyblocks before him, and would pass from one to anotherwith a rapidity and sureness of touch that were amazing.He rarely finished any drawing at a single sitting, butkept up a continual hither and thither, backwards and forwards, between them. One morning he made no fewerthan twenty-one splendid designs, finishing the last onthe stroke of twelve. He then thrust his pencils fromhim with a laugh, threw back his head with that peculiargesture which always sent his hair waving with it , andsaid to me gaily, ' Not a bad morning's work, my friend.Here are enough bank-notes to keep a whole family for ayear. Do you think I have earned the right to a goodbreakfast? Upon my word, I am hungry enough at anyrate. Shall we go?The largeness of Doré's earnings was not attributableto high prices charged by him for single illustrations. Itwas the colossal number of drawings he executed that soamazingly swelled his revenues. From Dante to analmanack; from a review to a comic journal, there wasno kind of grist that did not come to his mill . Probablythe world has never known a more indefatigable worker,or a more conscientious one. Nothing of his was everslovenly or showed the least signs of haste or carelessness. As M. Lacroix said , " He worked as well for apenny paper that paid him ten francs as for a publisherwho paid him a hundred thousand . " This was one greatsecret of his success. Even his brother-artists unanimously credited him with the virtue of conscientiousness.Although he earned fabulous sums for his work, he wasnever actuated by greed of gain. His ambition was toestablish a monopoly of talent in his own person; and henever got over that craving for fame which prompted himto work until the pencil fell from his fingers. Soonerthan see another name heralded to public notice he wouldhave gone without eating, drinking, and sleeping, asindeed he often did for entire days. He was encouraged240 GUSTAVE DORÉ.in this aspiration by the genuine superiority of his geniusand work. He need have feared no rivals , for nodraughtsman of his epoch could come anywhere nearhim , and even had any other artist displayed specialtalent, he could never have attained any notice in therealm over which Doré reigned supreme. His popularitywas so universal that few people admitted the claims toapprobation of any other illustrator; and yet he himselfwas ever on the qui-vive of jealous excitement, and livedwith the constant fear gnawing his vitals that any daysome one might suddenly come to the front and eclipsehim. The suddenness of his own rise was the cause ofthis constant preoccupation, which was a sentiment altogether beneath him. But he could no more overcomeit than he could live without breathing. We are remindedof the well- known cantatrice, Madame L , who hadbeen singing in the chorus , until one day, the prima donnabeing taken ill, she took her part at a moment's notice .Thenceforth her name was famous; but she has neverbeen known to give a similar chance to any one in theranks. Well or ill , she never relinquishes her rôle ofprima donna assoluta.But if Doré earned money freely he spent it with prodigal liberality, and his hand was ever outstretched tohelp the needy, in or out of his profession. One day aworkman fell from a scaffolding into the street, and sustained severe injuries . Next door was Doré's studio, whowas just entering the latter when he witnessed the accident. The man uttered a loud cry, and then gasped out,"My poor wife! who will give her bread whilst I am inthe hospital?" Doré had just been paid for a piece ofwork, and without a word emptied his pocket.“ Here are five hundred francs, my friend," he said , "ifno other help comes to you, send to the address on thiscard. Courage, and better luck."This is only one of many instances of his generosity,and keen sympathy with the unfortunate; but to returnto his illustrations.J.SWAIN ENG.LYONLA FONTAINE, FABLES.(By permission of Cassell and Co.)Page 240.

SOME OF DORÉS ILLUSTRATED WORKS. 241In the autumn of 1857 he illustrated Ed. de La Bédollière's "Nouveau Paris, Histoire de ses 20 Arrondissem*nts," I vol. in 4to, with 150 drawings, published byBarba. Also, " Aline, Journal d'un Jeune Homme, " withone large page of illustrations, written by Valéry Vernier,and published by Dentu.The next work was a translation from MayneReid, called " L'Habitation du Désert," I vol. in16mo, published at Hachette's, by A. Le François, 60drawings.¹" La Fille du Grand Chieftain," by Ann S. Stevens,I vol. , 15 drawings." Flêche d'Or," M. V. Victor, i vol. , 13 drawings." L'Ange des Frontières," by E. S. Ellis, 1 vol. , 10drawings."Les Vierges de la Forêt, " by N. W. Buxted, 1 vol. ,10 drawings.The above were published one after the other duringthe years 1860 to 1862."The Tempest " ( Shakespeare) , published in Londonin 1860, 1 vol. in 4to." Les Figures du Temps," with biographical notice(Paris, 1861 ) , 1 vol. in 12mo."Les Chansons d'Autrefois, " by Plouvier and Vincent(Paris: Coulon and Pineau, 1861 ) , in 12m0."Le Roi des Montagnes," by Ed. About, fifth edition,I vol. in 8vo ( Hachette and Co. , Paris; 1861 ) , 157drawings, with eleven not in the text ."Les Mythologies du Rhin," by Saintine (Paris:Hachette, 1862 ) , 1 vol. in 8vo, illustrated with 165drawings; six more than required by the text." L'Espagne, Moeurs et Paysages, " by Godard, Paris,2 vols. in 8vo (Paris, 1862 ) ."Les Etats Unis et la Mexique," by Malted (Brun,Paris, 1862) , 1 vol. in 4to.¹ The above are American works (names of translators not given ) andare at present in the Bibliothèque Nationale in Paris.R242 GUSTAVE DORÉ."Histoire aussi intéressante qu'invraisemblable del'intrepide Capitaine Castagnette, neveu de l'Homme à laTête de Bois," I vol. in 4to, illustrated by 43 woodcuts(Hachette, 1862) ."Aventures de Baron Münchausen, " traduction nouvellepar Théophile Gautier fils , 1 vol. ( London, 1866) .In 1863 Gustave began his season by M. Epine's"Légende de Croquemitaine," I vol. in 4to, published byHachette, illustrated by 177 woodcuts. This book wasof such importance that an edition for private circulationwas printed on vellum paper. It was also brought outin London in 1866.His next work was " La Chasse au Lion et à la Panthère," by Gastineau, 1 vol. in 8vo, completely illustrated ( Hachette and Co., 1863) ." Don Quixote de la Mancha," translation by LouisViardot, 2 vols. in folio, was the great work of 1863(Hachette and Co.) , 370 drawings. London: Casselland Co."Les Contes de Perrault, " was begun in 1862 , but notpublished until 1863 , at Hetzels. This is the celebratedwork which had a preface by S. P. State, and over 100drawings. ( Id . , " Los Cuentos de Perrault," in Spanish,published by Ledouse, 1863.)"De Paris en Afrique, " by Gastineau (Paris, 1865) ,1 vol. in 12mo,-drawings."L'Histoire d'une Minute," by A. Masse, 1 vol. , 12m0(Paris, 1865) .Victor Hugo's " Travailleurs de la Mer, " also in 1866,brought out by Sampson Low and Co., in London." Cressy and Poictiers, " by E. Edgar ( London, 1865) ,I vol. in 8vo, over 50 drawings." L'Epicurien ," by Thomas Moore ( French translation: Paris, 1865) , in 8vo, freely illustrated.Falmy Realm " ( London, 1865) , in folio." Le Chevalier Beautemps," by Quatrelles; Preface,Alex. Dumas fils ( Paris, 1865) , grand in 8vo."Atala," by Châteaubriand ( Hachette Edition, 1865) ,2 vols. , grand folio, 80 drawings.SOME OF DORÉ'S ILLUSTRATED WORKS. 2431866 begins with Théophile Gautier's " CapitaineFracasse, " published by Charpentier, and illustrated with60 large drawings, 1 vol. grand in 8vo."Histoire de la Guerre en Mexique," by G. La Bédollière (Paris, 1866) , in 4to, drawings.-Dante's " Il Purgatorio ed il Paradiso, " Hachette andCo., 1867."Le Chemin des Ecoliers," by Saintine ( Hachette andCo.) , 1 vol. in 8vo, - drawings ( 1866) .-"La Sainte Bible," according to the Vulgate, newtranslation, 2 vols. grand in folio ( 1866) , over 200illustrations. Mame, publisher, Tours; Cassell and Co.,England."Paradise Lost," by John Milton, edited by Cassell andCo. (London, 1866)." La France et la Russie, " by La Bédollière ( Paris,1867)."Les Fables de Lafontaine, " 2 vols. in folio ( Hachetteand Co. ) , 8 large and 250 small plates, 1867 ."Les Pays-bas et la Belgique " ( Paris, 1867) , in 8vo,fully illustrated .Thomas Hood's Poems ( London, 1870: Ward andLock) , 2 vols. in folio ."The Song of the Ancient Mariner," Coleridge, grandin 4to ( 1870), 40 large and 3 small drawings.New edition of Rabelais, 2 vols. in folio ( Paris , 1873:Garnier). London: Chatto and Windus, 1873." London," by Louis Ernaut, 174 wood engravings,(Hachette and Čo. , 1876) , 1 vol. in 4to." L'Espagne," by Baron Ch. Davilliers, illustratedwith 309 engravings on wood ( Hachette and Co. , 1874) ,in 4to. London: Sampson Low and Co.Michaud's " Histoire des Croisades," 1875 (Paris:Hachette and Co.) ."The Idyls of the King," Tennyson, 36 drawings,Hachette and Co. (London: Ward and Lock) ."Orlando Furioso " (Ariosto), in 1877, was the lastgreat classic ever illustrated by the prolific artist . Hismother was only partly right in thinking that her son's R 2244 GUSTAVE DORÉplans were but castles in the air. He realized most ofhis grand projects, and had only one of them been carriedout exactly as he wished, he would have achieved atriumph as lasting as the name of any author he illustrated.1DORÉ AND GEORGE CRUIKSHANK. 245CHAPTER XXV.BLANCHARD JERROLD TO DORÉ.ABOUT this time Gustave Doré was engaged to makeoriginal sketches for the Illustrated London News. I wasabout to make some mention of this fact, but have comeacross a book written by the late Blanchard Jerrold ,being the life of George Cruikshank, dedicated to Gustave Doré. This dedication I give in full, as it is notonly a pleasant remembrance of Doré by a friend , butis in some respects a faithful chronicle of a characteristicincident in Doré's life. It seems almost unnecessary tostate that Gustave Doré was a warm and fervent admirerof Cruikshank's great talent, his fairy-like creativeness,delicate fancies , and inimitable pencil. The dedicationis as follows: -t"DEDICATION."TO GUSTAVE DORÉ.' MY DEAR DORE, -When some five and twenty yearsago we were waiting together at Boulogne for the arrivalof the Queen, who was on her way to Paris, we spent anevening at the hotel with the late Herbert Ingram, forwhom we had undertaken -you to illustrate, and I to describe the pageant for the Illustrated London News. Itwas a pleasant evening, closed by a long moonlight rambleon the sands. While we talked you filled a vast sheet ofpaper with a medley of fancies, squibs, caricatures, and246 GUSTAVE DORÉ.satires, in which public events were jumbled with privatejokes; while the great folk, of whose doings we werethe chroniclers , were marshalled in procession with ourhumble selves. I remember the astonishment expressedon Ingram's face when, as we were leaving for our walkand cigar, he glanced over your shoulder at the hostswith which you had peopled the broad page before you.It was a prodigious tour de force, so curious and complete an emanation of the humorous and satirical part ofyour genius, that I pardon Ingram for having decampedwith it on the morrow morning before we were up."It is the remembrance of all that sheet contained whichhas led me to dedicate this record of our friend GeorgeCruikshank's life and work to you. Poring over hisetchings and wood- drawings, my mind has constantlyreverted to your work of the Rabelais, ' WanderingJew,' and ' Contes Drôlatiques ' period; and I haveperceived a strong affinity between one aspect of yourgenius and that of the ' inimitable George.'" It is to the illustrious illustrator of Rabelais and ofDante that I dedicate these disjecta membra of a lifeof the illustrator of Grimm, of Oliver Twist, ' and ofShakespeare's Falstaff.' Accept it, my dear Doré, as a tribute to your genius,but also as a public acknowledgment of your sterlingqualities as a friend, and of your rare gifts as anintellectual companion. BLANCHARD JERROLD."New Year's Day, 1882."1Doré varied his holidays as much as possible, andduring the summer of 1862 we find him at Baden- Baden,accompanied by his dear friends, M. Joanne, Paul Joanne,and Arthur Kratz." Doré had but just arrived," said M. Paul Joanne tome recently, "when he had the good luck to win tenthousand francs at roulette . He did not know what to dowith the money. After discussing a dozen wild projects ,1 "Life of George Cruikshank," by Blanchard Jerrold; Chatto andWindus, 1882. In this admirable work will be found a most cleverdrawing by Doré, called " The Gin Fiend. "LYC WAVRILLE" This wise man would lay at full length in a ditch or against a church wall, andthink over public affairs. "(Original drawing. By permission of Chatto and Windus. " Contes Drôlatiques."Page 246.

RADEGECOBIBLLYON " ELLE EST MORTE MA TANT BONNE FEMME," ETC., ETC.(Rabelais, G. Doré. Original drawing, by permission of Chatto and Windus.Page 246.

PAULINE VIARDOT AND “ ORPHEUS.” 247he decided upon founding a hospital with it. Myfather informed him that before putting that scheme intoexecution he would do well to stand us all a first- classbreakfast, to take place on the morrow at the oldchâteau."He was only too charmed to take the hint; so webreakfasted with the Viardots on the terrace, and greatlyenjoyed our al fresco meal. After dessert Doré walkedon his hands on the parapet surmounting the ruins;a terrifying feat, but one which he accomplished to perfection."The following incident was narrated to me by M. ArthurKratz, and certainly was not Doré's least happy souvenirof that charming watering- place.It will be remembered that Baden- Baden boasts ofruins and caves which would have delighted Orpheushimself. When the breakfast was finished , Doré and hisfriends started on an exploring expedition about the oldchâteau. When they came to the famous fissure orcavern, Gustave Doré exclaimed, " Orpheus! this is thereal spot; " whereupon he sat down and begged hisfriends to join him in the grand chorus sung to Orpheusjust before his descent into the mouth of Tartarus.Madame Viardot at once saw that never before had shehad any such scenery or accessories as these grand rocksand cliffs provided by the Master-hand. Forthwith shebegan to slowly descend the rocks, singing her part inOrphée " the while. She wore a scarlet shawl , whichgleamed like a bright flame in the dark entrance to thecavern. Stretching one arm out majestically, she raisedher noble voice, which filled the air with melody, andreverberated from the depths of the cave with supernaturalhollowness . Some strangers who were passing by heardthe great artist, and rapturously exclaimed , " Only onewoman in this world can sing and act like that, and sheis Pauline Viardot."Those who witnessed this impromptu impersonation ofOrpheus say that never in her grandest days had Viardotlooked so impressive or sung with such exalted inspira-248 GUSTAVE DORÉ.tion. Who would not wish to have been present on suchan interesting occasion? It is a pity that Doré neversketched the scene in his own brilliant fashion.By "the Viardots " is meant the family of the distinguished man of letters, M. Louis Viardot; thatis to say, himself, Madame Pauline Viardot- GarciawwwwDON QUIXOTE AND SANCHO PANZA.(Original Drawing. By permission of Cassell and Co.)(Malibran's sister), one of the most gifted women andsublime artists the world has ever known, with theirchildren, then very young as you may imagine. Paul,the violinist, must have been a mere baby, and I do notfancy that he assisted at the breakfast, except, perhaps,in swaddling clothes. Doré often spoke in after- life ofthat sojourn at Baden as one of the most charmingSOMETHING ABOUT M. LOUIS VIARDOT. 249episodes of his life . In order to have some idea of howagreeable it was, I shall speak a little in detail of hiscompanions.Besides being a great savant, M. Viardot was a manwho made his knowledge agreeable to every one he knew.He was lively and courteous, and always had some happyremark ready; possessing, moreover, the rare gift ofputting people at their ease, and never thrusting hislearning upon any one's attention . His affability andreadiness to enter into all plans proposed for the generalamusem*nt were quite remarkable, and he never fell intothe error of vaunting that particular patent of wisdomwhich is usually stamped on the breast of the man ofletters. He was very old when I was presented to him,and if I noticed those qualities then, how much greatermust have been their charm when he was in the heydayof health, happiness, and renown!Of Madame Viardot it is difficult to speak withoutoverstepping the limits of moderation . She is to mymind the most marvellous woman I have ever known.She speaks several modern languages as perfectly as hernative Spanish and French; she plays the piano divinely,and sings even now as only she or Malibran could eversing; she paints and writes, the former so well thatthe best portraits ever taken of Malibran and MadameGarcia were executed by her hand; the latter so admirably that Georges Sand, her dear friend, once said , " Iam glad that Pauline has not taken it into her head toappear before the public as a writer; for if she had, Ishould have to retire on my old laurels. "Madame Viardot is so universally acknowledged to bea great woman that I feel at liberty to speak freely ofher. If she have a fault, it is this; she does not chooseher victims, but tries to fascinate every one, old andyoung, man, woman, and child, who enters her circleor comes into her presence. To say that she tries, isalso to say that she succeeds, for she never was knownto fail in anything she undertook. Add to this themanners of a great lady and the simplicity that charac-250 GUSTAVE DORÉ.terizes the elect of Dame Nature's gifted children.Imagine a woman whose every movement is graceful andwhose every expression of feature is charming, and youhave before you a perfect portrait of Pauline Viardot.It may be readily understood that a man of Doré'spoetical and imaginative temperament could pass delightful hours with such a family as this .He spent as usual, however, a great deal of his holidayin study. Indeed from morning till night he was poringover "Don Quixote " with M. Viardot, whose translation.of that master-work he was going to illustrate .Baden-Baden is one of those lovely, almost ideal spotswhich appeal strongly to the poetical element in one'snature. When Doré was there, at the time referred toabove, its artificial attractions were also in full swing.Roulette was then in all its glory, and the gambling-tablespresented a spectacle which happily to- day is only asouvenir of the past; for play at Monte Carlo cannot becompared with play as it was at Baden- Baden in itspalmy days, when Doré immortalized it in one of thebest pictures he ever painted , called " Le Tapis Vert, ” theoriginal of which is at present in the Bond Street DoréGallery. Most of the faces gathered round the tableare likenesses, and the lady to the right, with the fine.expressive face and questioning dark eyes, is MadamePauline Viardot. The others have little to do withthis history, so it would be superfluous to disturb theirincognito.It is not strange that here Gustave Doré should havedreamed out some of the most beautiful and realistic ofhis creations . His " Don Quixote " is a proof that he didso; for from its first to its last page it is a marvel ofimagination, poetry, sentiment, and sarcasm . The workmade noise enough to have disturbed Cervantes in hislong silent tomb. People still speak of it only as " Doré's'Don Quixote.'199It was stopped once, while the artist was staying atBaden-Baden, by a painful interruption . For the firsttime in his life Doré fell seriously ill.DORÉ REVISITS THE SCENES OF HIS YOUTH. 251" He had an attack of bronchitis," M. Joanne told me,"which laid him up and made us all extremely anxious.For some time he was a very sick man indeed; buteventually he pulled through all right. I particularlyremember the occasion, for as a rule Doré was never ill ,and his indisposition consequently made a deep impression upon all of us. He kept his bed for some days, butwas at his work again as soon as he could get about; alittle pale, but as gay and cheery as ever. "IDoré returned to Baden- Baden on the 1st of September,1864, in company with his mother and his friend Kratz.On the 10th of the same month he went to visit hisfavourite summer haunts of St. Odile, Barr, and Hohenwald. This time he was joined by another old and dearfriend, M. Pisan, the engraver, whose name appearsopposite his own on so many magnificent unable to say much about M. Pisan, never having hadthe good fortune to meet him. I know him, however, tohave been a lifelong and devoted comrade of Doré's, andfancy that he must have been one ofthose " clever youngartists " spoken of by M. Lacroix in his account of Doré'searly days in Paris. At any rate he was one of his bestand most faithful collaborators in later days, and deservesspecial mention here for his beautiful work and artisticfeeling.In December, 1864, Doré had the honour of spendingten days at Compiègne as a special guest of the Emperor Napoleon III . He was in goodly artistic companyas well, the great Alexander Dumas being present, withOffenbach, Duprez and his daughter, and many othereminent personages belonging to the aristocracies of birthand art.Speaking of Doré's visit to the Emperor, I oncecame across a curious and touching souvenir. ' It is thephotograph of a large party who acted in charades andtableaux vivants at Compiègne, and this was made duringthe visit of the artist to the Court. Doré arranged the1¹At the Château de Folembray, the country seat of Madame laBaronne de Poilly.252 GUSTAVE DORÉ.tableaux vivants with signal success, and M. Violletle- Duc, the great architect, organized the comedies.I shall speak of the former only. One of the mostbeautiful was " The Queen of Sheba paying a visit toSolomon." The Queen was represented by the loveliestof all the Empress's ladies of honour; apart from herbeauty, one of the most distinguished and spirituellewomen of France, the Baroness de Poilly, née du HallayCoétquin. The rôle of King Solomon was entrustedto Count de Niewerkerke, who was indeed a superbmonarch. There are many to- day who remember thatentertainment, and they say that the Queen of Shebaherself never could have outvied that other in fairnessof form and splendour of apparel. Madame de Poilly'scostume of oriental stuff, broidered with jewels that theEmpress herself might have worn, reminded one of thosevestures that clothed princesses of the Arabian Nightstales . This set off her beauty, as did Solomon's kinglyrobes Count Niewerkerke's distinction . Surely M. Doréhad a brilliant personnel to work with!The photograph I have mentioned above has a centrefigure, whose features were well known, none other thanthose of the poor little Prince Imperial, who was thenindeed a little prince. The Empress is there in all herloveliness, and to the left the Emperor, with a seriousbut not unsmiling countenance. Again, to the right, isMadame de Poilly, and here and there the other ladiesand gentlemen of this royal party playing at theatre. Iwrite of old days long gone by. The Emperor's cheeryvoice is no longer heard as then at breakfast saying,And, ladies, what shall we do to amuse ourselves today?" There are no more games to amuse the Imperialheir; no more five o'clock teas in the Empress's prettyboudoir. One smiled his last when France's doors closedupon him for ever, the other left his heart's blood and anation's pride under a firmament where no portentousstar out-glittered the fatal assegaie, the other hides hertears and her dread memories in an alien land. And theartist who grouped these royal players, he too is gone.

THE TOILERS OF THE SEA.(Original Drawing made for London Edition. Sampson Low and Co. )Page 253.BIBLLYONTHE ROYAL PARTY AT COMPIÈGNE. 253When I looked at this old faded picture I thought howstrange it would have been could they have looked upontheir future, as the world now looks back on their past.How strange and yet how happy a fatality that life'svicissitudes have no foreshadowing mirror!On the 4th of December of the same year Dorégave a great reception and ball in Paris, and finished theseason in the midst of a crush of work, one continualround of cxcitement.He was a frequent visitor at Compiègne, and in Pariswas often one of the welcome select few in Madamede Poilly's salons... This lady, as patroness of arts andartists, still keeps up the old traditions of the FaubourgSt. Germain, when the grand réunions of nobility, of talent,and of blood made France's name ring so famous in thedays of the First Empire. She is one of the few who remind us that those days are not so far back after all,for when has genius confined its birth to any centurysince the world began?Speaking of Compiègne, I have given the above dataonly from a little diary kept by M. Arthur Kratz, in whichI find the following memoranda for the year 1865:-"February 10. With Doré at Rossini's. Doré sangsome delightful jodels. Alboni and Patti in a grand duet,accompanied by Rossini."May 7. At Doré's; amongst those present wereAbout, Lambart, Najac, and Thiboust.66 Saturday, June 27. Dinner again at Rossini's withDoré."Friday, September 8. At Baden- Baden . Dinnerwith Madame Doré at the Zaehringer Hotel.Sunday, November 12. Dinner at Doré's; music bySaint Saëns.Thursday, December 14. Dinner with Gustave andsoirée at Théophile Gautier's."March 29, 1866. Dinner and soirée at Doré's.Music in the evening. Gounod present, Garvert, Alboni,and Faure.66 Sunday, April 15—"254 GUSTAVE DORÉ.But I will stop here; for you shall learn more aboutthis particular entry in another chapter, and I will finishthis one with a few details of Doré's autumn work, noneother than Victor Hugo's thrilling and well- known tale,"The Toilers of the Sea."In the early winter of 1866 Doré brought out "LesTravailleurs de la Mer," in Paris, illustrated with threehundred sketches, and we may judge of its success bythe following letter sent to Doré from the great poet,Victor Hugo:-"Hautville House,"JEUNE ET PUISSANT MAÎTRE, —" 18 Xbre, 1866."Je vous remercie. Ce matin, à travers une tempêtedigne d'elle, votre magnifique traduction des ' Travailleursde la Mer,' m'est arrivée ."Vous avez tout mis dans ce tableau, le naufrage, lenavire, l'écueil, l'hydre, et l'homme. Votre pieuvre estépouvantable, et votre Gilliatt est grand. C'est la unebelle page ajoutée à votre in-folio d'œuvres charmanteset terribles ."Ce specimen splendide de mon livre exige le reste.Dieu, vous et l'éditeur le voulant, il est certain que celasera. Je serai pour vous l'occasion d'un monument deplus."Je vous envoie mes applaudissem*nts et en remerciements mes effusions les plus cordiales." VICTOR HUGO.""YOUNG AND POWERFUL MASTER, -"This morning, in the midst of a tempest worthy of it,your magnificent translation of the Toilers of the Seacame to my house."You have put everything in this picture, the wreck,the ship, the rock, the hydra, the mano. Your octopusis frightful, and your Gilliatt is grand. In this you haveadded a rare page to your charming and terrible in- foliovolumes.

VERDELLTOILERS OF THE SEA.LYON(Sampson Low and Co.)Page 255VICTOR HUGO TO DORÉ. 255" This splendid specimen of my book exacts therest. God, yourself, and the publisher willing, it iscertain that we may accomplish that result. To you Ishall furnish the opportunity to create another monument.I send you my laudations and thanks in the most cordialof effusions. VICTOR HUGO. "Doré was pleased to receive such a letter from VictorHugo, for whom he had always cherished a warm andprofound admiration . It will be remarked that thepoet uses the word " translation " instead of illustration,which former may be taken in a sense of the highestpossible compliment, coming, too, as it did from theauthor himself.In 1867 the " Toilers of the Sea " was brought out inLondon by Sampson Low and Co. The work had hereadditional success , M. Doré having made the two drawings above referred to by V. Hugo specially for theEnglish text, which was by W. Moy Thomas.In spite of the poet's offer and wishes, Doré never againillustrated any work by Victor Hugo.The success of the " Toilers of the Sea" is too wellknown to chronicle again here, and the English publicfully endorsed the poet's opinion of Gustave Doré, whowas paving a sure road to fame in England. It was inthis year that Doré conceived and executed his greatestpainting, " The Neophyte," the enlarged one of the samesubject which is now on view in the Bond Street Gallery.Doré in black and white had few rivals, and this splendidwork has all the grandeur of effect drawn from theskilful manipulation of sombre and white colouring. Thesadness of the picture lends one more poetical touch toM. Doré's artistic charm, but I will speak again of in its order as it comes when I describe the picturesin the Bond Street Gallery.About this time it will be remembered Doré's Biblewas brought out by the great house of Mame and Co. , inTours, and the English publishing-house of Cassell andCo. made arrangements to produce the same in London.Mr. Galpin, of the above-named firm, went to Paris to256 GUSTAVE DORE.confer with Doré on the subject, and an acquaintancewas made through the means of M. Best, one of the artist'sold friends. The result was in every way an agreeableone, the acquaintanceship begun through business relations proving mutually felicitous to all concerned.The following year the Bible was magnificently broughtout by Cassell, and was one of the sensations of the day.Doré's name was so well known now in England throughhis various works that his name formed the theme forsonnets, pen portraits, personal sketches, &c. I wouldhave spoken in detail of the Bible, but through the kindness of Doré's dear friend , Mr. Galpin , I have been put inpossession of a copy of the Quiver, which has an elaborateand exceedingly just historical notice of the great artistand his works, notably a mention of his Bible, its technicalmerits, and its reception at the hands of the British public.I extract the following:-From the Quiver for Saturday, April 7th, 1866 ( with portrait) ."GUSTAVE DORÉ."Who is Gustave Doré, of whom all the world is talking? Hisname catches the eye from afar, boldly placarded on colossal posters;his fame is trumpeted in all the leading journals of the day; his worksare seen in almost every house, and figure conspicuously in everynewsvendor's window-for Gustave Doré is an artist whose honour andwhose pleasure it is to labour for that most generous and leastcapricious of patrons-the public. Gustave Doré is a great man, anda hard worker. The amount of labour which he has accomplishedhas something startling about it. He must have exhausted woodenough to have built a temple-a shrine for his own genius; besidescovering acres of canvas with pictures full of vivacity, and glowing with colour. The illustrations to his last great work--a work now incourse of publication in monthly parts-form an attractive exhibitionin themselves. Doré has illustrated the Holy Bible, and the drawingsare some of the most wonderful that have ever been executed by anyartist, in any age. He has been inspired by his theme. ' Thegrandeur, the tenderness, the awe of the holy volume are unprofanedby clever conceits, by brilliant trickery, or by sombre nightmarefancies.' ' Dore's Bible,' says another critic, ' will be a monumentthe culminating and vastest work of his life, as a work of illustration.' To this may be added another criticism to the same effect:In fertility of imagination, in local truth, in grandeur of treatment,and often in a subtle appreciation of the sacred text, that is evincedin a perfectly new handling of subjects that have been the studyLONDON CRITICISMS ON DORÉ. 257of the greatest Christian artists, Gustave Doré must rank as facileprinceps."" Illustrated literature is peculiar to our age. For some years pastthere has been a growing demand for books and periodicals, embellishedwith more or less attractive woodcuts or steel etchings. The engravings that were not only tolerated, but regarded as triumphs ofart thirty years ago, would find no ready patronage now. Art educationhas done much with its schools of design; but cheap literature, wellillustrated , has done more to introduce a just appreciation of correctdrawing, effective grouping, and careful execution. Gustave Doré hascontributed very largely to realize this consummation. As a colouristit is said he has no peer, as a wood-draughtsman there is no room forcavil. He stands alone. And to him this fact affords unspeakablesatisfaction. He has worked for the people, he has sought thepopularity which comes from being well known to all, and not to asmall circle, however honourable or select; he has called up the smileand the tear by the humour and the pathos of his pencil, and he haslifted the hearts and souls of those who have gazed on his Biblepictures above themselves, and above the world, and made them tostand in the presence of apostles, prophets, and archangels. "

"Gustave Doré is still a young man, having only just entered histhirty-fourth year. There is no parallel instance of one so younghaving achieved so much, or won so universal a reputation. Howmany artists, who have afterwards plucked honours, have been still intheir pupilage at thirty-four, imitating the models set before them byauthority, and dissipating their native genius in the vain effort atrivalling another's style! Doré is thoroughly original; his thoughts areas free as the air. His childhood was passed amid the rugged sceneryof the Vosges; and the Arcadian landscapes so early familiarized to hiseye, have never been forgotten. He can sketch from memory alone alandscape which he has once seen, and complete it with extraordinaryfidelity.""When a man shows himself skilful in any way, there are alwaysthose about him who would induce him to stick by his success, repeathimself, establish a speciality and guard it jealously. But this policywas repugnant to the ever-active and adventurous mind of GustaveDoré. He showed that he could illustrate mediæval romance as noother man could do, or ever had done, and he was satisfied. Nothingcould induce him to condense himself, to reiterate illustrations of thesame sort of subjects. The Crimean war was attracting a large shareof public attention; Doré resolved on being the artist of the campaign.In conjunction with his old friend Philippon, he projected a journal ofengravings, giving every month pictorial representations of the chiefevents of the war. It appeared under the title of Musée FrancoAnglaise, and was published simultaneously in England and France.To many who may read these lines, perhaps Doré's reputation datesS258 GUSTAVE DORÉ.from the issue of this apparently ephemeral work. Other works followed in rapid succession. Gustave's pencil was never idle.The ardent desire of having the whole world for his judge, gave himthe courage to abandon painting for months, and even years; for, as apainter, he was constantly restrained within a narrow circle of admirers.What! should he paint pictures to decorate ordinary rooms, or to beshut up in some deserted gallery, only occasionally opened to the inspection of a visitor? For fame such as this Doré had no relish; heyearned to speak with his pencil to the great mass of mankind. Whatsignified to him the dimensions of the frame, or the colours with whichhis canvas was covered? None were found who dared dispute thetalent of the colourist, who, with a little white and black pigment, produced marvels of light and transparency, and who upon a few inches ofwood, described an immense horizon, and pictured multitudes of people!In the whole 230 tableaux with which Doré illustrates the Holy Scriptures, there is nothing to offend the most sensitive of Biblical critics.This is no small meed of praise. The old masters, with scarcely anexception-French, Italian, Spanish, Flemish, Dutch-misrepresentthe sacred story. There is some glaring inconsistency, some palpableblunder, in the scene itself or in its accessories. Even with our extended knowledge of Oriental archæology and antiquities, it is only atrare intervals that we get anything like what we may suppose to be afaithful picture of the recorded event. The traditions of art have toooften been made superior to the canon of Scripture. Not so with Gustave Doré. He is evidently well acquainted with the text he illustrates. He grasps its meaning; he is moved by the circ*mstances bywhich his characters were surrounded; he sees them in his mind'seye ' as they were, and not as they are misrepresented on miles ofcanvas, or caricatured by Academy models. They are men and women,moved by the same passions, subject to the same infirmities, impressedby the same grandeur, cast down by the same sorrows, and elated bythe same joys as ourselves. There is an intense vitality in his pictures,that gives to them a realism unapproached in the works of any otherartist . His Eastern pictures are a-glow with Oriental splendour. Hispriests and soldiers are robed and harnessed in the costume of theirage; the buildings are such as those common to the East in ancienttimes; and the trees and plants, the camel, oxen, sheep, all the loweranimals, are such as we may find in Syria at this day. Without adopting a dry or harsh mannerism, without overloading his pictures withcritical information, Doré becomes a valuable and suggestive commen- tator on the text. He has done much; he is still working hard; heaspires -and may success crown his aspiration -to do still more. Hispictures to the Divine Comedy of Dante have already thousands ofadmirers. But-whatever else he has done, whatever more he mayachieve we can hope for nothing better in the way of intelligent andbrilliant illustration than we find in his Scripture pictures; and it is ourconviction that the verdict of posterity, as well as of contemporarycritics, will give the highest place to Doré's Bible.DORÉ WRITES ABOUT SHAKESPEARE. 259This was one of many admirable notices of GustaveDoré which the English press consecrated to him. Thecuts I have made in the above were relative to the artist'sboyhood, with which I have already acquainted you; andI may say here, the paragraphs omitted were faithful dataof his early life and artistic career.By kind permission of the Messrs. Cassell, I publishthe following letter translated from Doré's French correspondence to the above house. It is one of the fewdocuments on record , wherein Doré speaks of his Shakespearian design, the complete illustration of the masterbard's works. I give the letter in full. It speaks foritself, and cannot but add to the testimony which bespeaks the qualities of head, heart, conscience, andknowledge of men so eminently possessed by the cleverFrench artist. To the Shakespeare, having occasion torefer to it later on, I forbear other reference here thanM. Doré's characteristic letter. He wrote:-"Paris, March 23rd, 1866."GENTLEMEN, -The rumours that you may have heardrespecting the conclusion of any contract into which Ihave entered with some publisher to illustrate the worksof Shakespeare are inexact. I suppose that this falsenews results from the numberless indiscretions of theParis Press, and the imperfect acquaintance of journalistsand others with the project about which I have conversedwith them ." I should have done nothing, and I shall do nothing,gentlemen, believe me, without first consulting you onthe matter. I consider that you have a priority ofclaim upon me, and I am too pleased with the relation in which we stand to each other, not to keep youadvised of all that passes and shall occur respecting theworks of Shakespeare, of which I shall do all in mypowerto make you the publishers. As I must already havementioned to you, gentlemen, the works of Shakespeareform so great an undertaking, that I have as yet been.unable to definitely determine how long a time it wouldS 2260 GUSTAVE DORÉ.occupy me. The matter besides involves many importantquestions. I should aim to study very deeply the historical pieces, of which I would wish to make picturesfull of archæological truth , and the plays are so fraughtwith character, and are such complete delineations of theEnglish nation, that to render justice to my subject itwould be indispensable that I should for some time resideamong you."My intention is that the Shakespeare-which Imean to make my masterpiece - should contain a largenumber of plates; that to the large plates separate fromthe text should be added many small illustrations embodied in the text, for example at the beginning and endof each act, in the sonnets, and even in the life of Shakespeare which will preface the text. In fine, my idea wouldbe to announce the work with 1000 drawings -not toomany for so vast a theme--moreover, the number 1000is round and sonorous, would produce a fine effect as seenin advertisem*nts and posters, and help the success ofthe work, which I anticipate will be without precedent.I feel convinced and have sincere faith that I shall inthese illustrations out- distance by far all my previousefforts . The wealth and variety of my subject inspire mewith this certainty,Believe me to be, yours, &c . ,(Signed) GUSTAVE DORE."Amongst other matter relating to Doré, I have comeupon a little sonnet which it strikes me should find a placehere. In speaking of the renown which Doré had acquired in England previous to his going to London, itwill be seen that during two years his name was almostconstantly before the British public. Two months previous to an entry re Doré in M. Kratz's note- book, thefollowing was published in the London Quiver:-" TO GUSTAVE DORÉ."Thou hast the subtle hand of older menBold, noble, graphic, rapid in design,With immortality in every line.Thy power is wedded to the poet's pen,миши.LAFONTAINE ,FABLESCo. )and ofCassell Bypermission (Page 260 .

A SONNET TO GUSTAVE DORÉAnd on thy works we ponder in amaze.It seems as though some artist from the dead,Who long the vanguard of his brethren led,Hath ris'n again, in these our latter days,To vivify our art: Cervantes' wit,And Dante's myriad forms of spirit-life,With now sweet peace, then sanguinary strife,And now sublimest scenes of Holy Writ:These are thy monument, and these shall beFix'd as the earth's immutability!From the Quiver, June 16th, 1866.261."G. S."262 GUSTAVE DORÉ.CHAPTER XXVI.DORE BUILDS A NEW STUDIO .I HAVE already spoken more than once of Doré's home,but feel that I may return to that subject without wearying any one, as it forms one of the most distinctfeatures in the life of this brilliant man. His mother hadbeen installed but a short time in the Rue St. Dominiquewhen nothing would do for Gustave but he must builda studio there."The house was turned upside down until the studiowas finished," old Françoise told me; " it cost a lot ofmoney, and even more worry. But when it was reallycompleted Gustave was as happy over it as if it had beenthe first and only one he had ever possessed; and itwas the joy of the whole family ever after."This studio wore the familiar aspect of a drawingroom. It contained a pianoforte and other instruments,piles of music, books, comfortable sofa and arm- chairs ,card-tables and coffee-tables, musical boxes , statues ,statuettes, plaster casts, and bronze medallions, watercolours, enormous paintings, photographs of Doré'sworks, chiefly of those which had been sold into foreign countries, and any number of curious objects. Theworks of art were all by Doré: everything of that class was from his own hand.

ELIJAH NOURISHED BY AN ANGEL.(The Bible. By permission of Cassell and Co.)Page 263.THE HOUSE IN RUE ST. DOMINIQUE. 263In the real drawing- room were gathered together vastnumbers of things presented to the artist at one time oranother. Onthe wall in one little corner, just over his own.portrait, of which I have already spoken, hung a capitalphotograph of Rossini. That great composer looks asjolly as a sandboy, and the inscription at the foot seemsto be twinkling in his eyes. Even his neck speaks ofgood-humour. He has tied a black stock around it in aloose fashion, and a pin sticks in it barely fast enough to hold on. His coat covers his body in one huge wrinkle,and from his position one might think that he was sittingin a balloon. The dedication of the photograph runs asfollows:-" Souvenir of tender friendship offered to GustaveDoré, who joins to his genius as a painter and draughtsman the talents of a distinguished violinist and acharming tenorino, if you please.G. ROSSINI."Paris, 29 Aug., 1863."Close by hangs the portrait which Gustave painted ofhis father. To the opposite wall is appended a somewhat faded photograph, that of an English clergyman,one of Gustave's oldest friends, Canon Harford, whohad presented his likeness to Madame Doré with adedication containing the following words, besides manyexpressions of friendship:


" Offered in all humility to the lady who had the honourof bringing into the world the greatest genius of thenineteenth century."This dedication particularly struck me as a sincereand grateful tribute of admiration to a deserving object ofhero-worship. No one could more authoritatively than thisgentleman attest to the real nature of the great Frenchartist, whom he had known in many and varied circ*mstances of life, ever finding him more than equal to everytask and every turn in the wheel of fortune.On the mantelpiece in this room was the wonderfulbronze clock designed by Doré, called " Le Oré," besidesinnumerable beautiful ornaments. One side of the adjoining room was partitioned off into stalls, which were264 GUSTAVE DORÉcrammed full of Doré's original works, proofs, sketches,paintings and so on, by hundreds, or more likely thousands, all ranged and classified with great precision.The only thing unsympathetic in the room to me was atoo lifelike steel engraving of Abraham Lincoln, whichhung to the wall . It had been sent to Doré from NewYork by a friend. I notice this fact because it exemplifies what M. Daubrée once said of him: —-"Gustave never neglected the slightest thing given tohim by a friend. Every present he had ever received inhis life was sure to be found somewhere about his house,carefully stored away and as carefully cherished. Hismemory was so remarkable that the most insignificanttrifle never escaped it . Once a friend from Strasburgsent him a little present. Donor and recipient did notmeet for years afterwards; but the instant Doré saw himhe thanked him for his kind souvenir. The friend inquestion had forgotten all about it; not so Doré. "The house from basem*nt to roof- tree realized the idealof the residence of a wealthy gentleman with bohemianbut artistic tastes. And yet it was palatial; the odour ofits former ducal days still lingered about its apartments,blended with an atmosphere of such modern comfort,gaiety and unrestraint, that but to cross the thresholdwas at once to feel at home, and think of the number ofgreat people, since the Regent's days, who had crossedthat threshold. Their name was legion. I remember afew, and set them down here at random: -Rossini, Patti,Alboni, Nilsson, Théophile Gautier (father and son);Daubrée ( Member of the French Institute); AlexandreDumas, senior, and Alexandre Dumas, junior; Lambert,Thibault, Edmond About, Taine, Rev. Frederick Harford;the painters Marchal, Frenat, Harpigny, Carolus Duran,Carrier, Belleuse (sculptor) , Bourdin, Pisan, Bourdelin ,Leleux, Paul Joanne and Paul Dalloz; Kratz, Pagans, thedelightful Spanish teacher and singer; Nadaud, whomDoré always asked to sing the same song, " Lorsquej'aimais;" Liszt-the great Liszt, Pauline Viardot,Garcia, "the Sculpteur musicale ," Lacroix, the savant,A SCENE IN DORE'S STUDIO. 265and Nadar, the " marvel," who has done everything andcan do anything; Dr. Michel; Gounod, who sings as doesnobody else in the world; Emile Courtois, CampbellClarke, and how many more besides?SOUVENIR OF ITALY, 1863.Imagine that studio when it was filled withthis delightful society; Madame Doré in a chair of state, receiving her guests, and her boys, Gustave and Ernest,dispensing their cordial hospitality with unrivalled graceand cordiality. Madame Doré constantly wore her turban,266 GUSTAVE DORÉ.and dressed in a sort of semi- Mauresque, semi-Andalusianfashion. M. Lacroix said of her that she always lookedlike an accomplished gipsy, and was as much the life ofany social gathering as Gustave himself. Indeed no oneenjoyed those receptions more than did Madame Alexandrine, who invariably received as much attention from oneand all of her guests as if she had still been a young andlovely woman, which was a great compliment to herintelligence and charm of manner.The salon of Gustave Doré enjoyed a great and deserved renown. Madame Doré's receptions were held onSunday evenings, and were always preceded by dinnerparties which are reckoned now- a- days among the historical events of Paris. I repeat, only imagine that studiowhen it was filled with this delightful society! I cansee Madame Doré now, in a chair of state, receiving herguests with all the manner and stateliness of a Frenchgrande dame. Sometimes of late years she was aidedby her young and lovely grand-daughter, Madeline, nowthe wife of Dr. Joseph Michel. The child of ErnestDoré, Madame Michel combines all the graces andtalents of the Doré family; witty, spirituelle, beautiful,and accomplished, she seemed the unique inheritor ofall Madame Pluchart's virtues and charms, and made apretty picture in the old studio, where she was spoiledby grandmamma and her uncles Gustave and Emile.Those famous entertainments, unrivalled in sumptuousness and splendour of accessory, were moreover piquantlyflavoured by a bohemianism as appetizing as it wasrefined. On such occasions Gustave Doré became a boyagain, as veritable an enfant terrible as ever existed . Hethrew care to the winds, and turned the house inside outin order to carry out any fancy which struck him as likelyto amuse his guests. It must not be assumed that thesedinners resembled one another, except with regard to richviands, fine wines, unlimited fun and abundance of celebrities , all of which were never lacking; for it was hisspecial study to devise some new entertainment ordiversion for each dinner-party; and the resources of hisDORE'S CHARACTERISTIC INVITATIONS. 267fertile brain were no less inexhaustible than astonishing.One remembers those dinners well; let other guests, however, rather than myself, bear witness to their manifoldattractions, some of which, moreover, are indicated indocumentary evidence emanating from Gustave Doréhimself, as for instance, the following notes of invitationaddressed by him to his dear friend Paul Joanne: —"AMIABLE PAUL, -The day after to-morrow, Sundayevening, solemn representation of academical tableaux,plastic poses, representing subjects religious, historical,heroical, allegorical, frenetical, taken from the best authors.The troupe of artists, already composed of the bestParisian and Foreign talent, counts nevertheless on yourintelligent aid. So I hope to see you without fail . Comeearly, so that there may be ample time to drape you in amanner worthy of your plastic genius. Will you tell yourdear parents that if they will deign to honour me by bestowing one little look upon our modest artistical efforts ,I shall be only too delighted to count them amongst ourguests, and to introduce them to this new style of production of their servant and friend," GUSTAVE DORE. "" MY DEAR PAUL, -I have the honour to inform youthat you are booked for the dinner of the 19th of December, and for a very good place. Any refusal on your partshall be considered a proof of extreme ill-will, and willbring about a painful coldness in our relations."Yours ever," GUSTAVE."According to M. Joanne, the tableaux on the aboveoccasions were shown between two screens lighted bymagnesium, the great gas chandelier which lit up thestudio being lowered for the time being. First wereexhibited the poet drinking at a well of inspiration,Jacob's ladder without Jacob, and many well- knownsubjects, each one presented in the Doré style, and insuch an original manner as to send the company off intoshrieks of laughter. The incidental music was supplied268 GUSTAVE Doré.by the musical guests, and when occasion requiredGustave played the violin, accompanied by his brotherErnest at the piano; the latter was a delightful man,accomplished musician and agreeable composer. " Atthe dinner," Paul Joanne loquitur, "the red wine wasdecanted in carafes which were really Swiss musicalboxes. Doré was continually begging his guests todrink, and then as soon as the flask was lifted andthe music began to play, he would scream with delightto see the astonished look on people's faces. His slyway of handling those decanters was indeed amusing.The longer the mystery was kept up the better he waspleased. He was like a child with a new toy; butthis particular fancy lasted longer than any one expected,for he never seemed to tire of it."Another dear friend of Gustave, M. Bourdelin, gaveme the following account of these receptions:-"There were few illustrious persons in Europe whohad not paid homage to the talents of Gustave Doré byvisiting his studio. His dinners, recurring every Sunday,enjoyed a great reputation."On certain grand occasions Chevet brought in anarmy of cooks and assistants to his aid , and the guestswere treated to new dishes invented and prepared inhonour of Gustave's latest illustrations. Some of thenames bestowed upon these dainties were certainlyfantastic enough. For instance, Le gigot à l'étouffée,and a fine soup Souvenir Souvenir de l'Alsace l'Alsace.'. Amongst olddishes familiar to memory was ' Le gâteau de Savoie,'which found a frequent place at dessert, amongst theices and les petit* fours à la mode.'" Gustave presided at these dinners vis-à-vis to hismother, and amused himself like a child . One dinner Ishall never forget. A friend from Alsace was theguest of the evening; wherefore, firmly established inthe centre of the table was a gigantic pâté de foiegras from Strasburg. Gustave pronounced a pompouseulogy of this noble product of his native country. Heexplained how it was made; how it was the delight ofA NEW KIND OF PATÉ de foie GRAS. 269gourmands all over the world; how rare it was to done to a turn; how the luckless geese must befattened to such and such a degree; how of all theStrasburg pies he had ever seen, this one, sent to themby a dear friend, was the most perfect and sublime, &c. ,&c. Thus he went on until his description of the truffles—the rare black ones from Périgord-proved so realisticthat it made every one's mouth water, and we couldscarcely bear to wait any longer the moment for devouringthe pâté. When he had said all he possibly could say onthe subject, he passed the huge pasty to his nearestneighbour, who took up his knife, fairly trembling withexcitement; for to him was vouchsafed the honour ofcutting it. M. X—— lifted up the crust, but imagine thehorror of all present when a tiny bird flew out, followedby a guinea- pig no less frisky than its predecessor, norless pleased to be at length set at liberty.'Doré delighted in these practical jokes, and happilyhis friends always knew how to take them. The dinnerswere always very gay, only two subjects of conversationbeing positively prohibited, viz . , politics or the fine arts ,especially painting. However, every one, of course,scrupulously avoided starting these topics, for in spite ofold and tried friendship, these Scylla and Charybdis ofsmall talk were regarded, and justly so , as ratherdangerous to good- fellowship.In spite of Doré's claret decanters, which playedenchanting waltzes and polkas throughout the dinner,this schoolboy artist never was tempted to try any of thered wine so alluringly proffered at his festal board . Hedrank nothing but champagne-champagne of the finest ,driest, and most expensive quality. Madame Alexandrine.was both economical and orderly; to see a person commence his dinner with champagne was from her pointof view presumptive evidence of aof a most damnableconclusion; and that her own son should set this examplein her house cut her to the heart. In vain did sheattempt to convert him to the use of Rhine wine, whiteor red Bordeaux, or anything but champagne, wherewith270 GUSTAVE DORÉ.to begin his repast. Her attempts all failed, or at themost they never got beyond the soup, when Gustave.would call out in a clear, seductive voice, " And thechampagne, mother dear; is it not time that we hadit? Pray let it come on at once. We are all dyingto drink your health." As he said this he remindedone of the artless children who wait until the drawingroom is full to ask mamma or papa for a penny.Then of course there was no help for it . With onemournful look at her terrible child and a profound sigh,Madame Alexandrine would give the order; and so, forthe fiftieth time, her moral and economical schemes fellthrough.On one occasion the Parisian Postmaster- General wasto be the guest of the evening. Doré worked the wholeday long in order to prepare the table in this dignitary'shonour, and the dining-room assumed the aspect of ascene in the interior of a post- office . Imagine theminister's surprise to have his napkin folded like anenvelope, his pâtés served in the form of a billet- doux,his tarts enveloped in telegraph- forms, his ices in officialpigeon-holes, and the whole room decorated in keepingwith the position he so brilliantly filled .On another occasion Gustave covered the table withgreat glass globes, surrounded by flower-gardens, andfrom each globe drew one of the Joanne guide-books.This, I need not say, was in honour of his dear friend ,Paul Joanne, son of the inventor of these celebratedworks. Doré read several descriptions aloud, and alwaysparodied them so cleverly that some of his guests wereunder the impression that he was reading verbatim fromthe book.66 "Once he caught even me," said Paul, ' This cathedral is beautiful, although Gothic; ' andanother time, ' We particularly recommend this hotel forthe inodorousness of its servants.' I snatched at thebook in alarm, which was quite enough to send him intofits of laughter, and to prove that his joke had not fallenflat.VERIFICATION OF AN OLD SAW. 271"He finished the dinner with two speeches; one purported to be delivered in the purest English and the otherin the most correct German. He was so perfect a mimicand imitated the sounds of the languages so well that fora long time we thought he was really in earnest, until hestuck fast at an English guttural and coloured deeply, sothat we found out that he had been chaffing all the time.But he was always extremely funny, and I think I canstill hear people laughing at his jokes. His merrimentnever flagged, and his invention seemed inexhaustible.How he could possibly conjure up such quaint ideas inhis brain was an universal mystery. "Madame Doré was often reminded of Gustave havingbroken the chandelier the first time they all dined in thenew home. This breakage of glass had indeed proved agood omen; never had an old saw been more forcibly andcompletely verified . Since that day she had seen at hertable the greatest luminaries of France; her son elbowing prime ministers, and offering hospitality to princesand potentates; had listened to original wit as it fell fromthe mouths of poets and philosophers; had drunk to herfill of honours, respect, and pleasure; until the thoughtof their réunions filled her heart with a pardonable prideand with all a fond mother's vanity! Was it not all inhonour of her son? Was he not the greatest painterand draughtsman in the world? Was he not the firstsculptor, the most charming host, the wittiest man, thebest brother, and, above all, the dearest son a motherever had? Naturally, Paris itself, and the elect of theoutside world flocked to see him, and his receptions werea fitting tribute to his genius, goodness, and popularity.I think it would be easy for any one to picture tohimself those réunions.How easy to wake the echoes of all those voicesof Doré's slumbering past! Liszt with his marvellousfingers bewitching the keys; Michotte, the Belgian, whodrew tears from all who heard him; Patti with her golden.throat; Nilsson with her syren voice, fair hair, and enchanting northern eyes; Álboni, the great and good-272 GUSTAVE DORÉ.hearted Marietta , whose delicious notes shamed those ofthe nightingale that sang to Juliet-dear Marietta, who, although sometimes short of breath, always had an abundantsupply at her disposal when it was needed for Doré'sreceptions; Gounod, the most seductive charmer whoever subdued human hearts by his tuneful song; Paganswith his Boleros and Sevillanos, habañeras and serenatas,setting fans waving and eyes languishing with Andalusianfervour; Nadaud; and, not least melodious amongst thesongster throng, Gustave himself with such a " tenorinocharmant, s'il vous plaît; " Gautier's fine sword of witeliciting responsive sparks from Dumas' keen intellectualblade; Dalloz narrating his wondrous holidays withGustave; About touching on matrimony at home andabroad; Paul Lacroix lecturing and Taine philosophizing;Dr. Michel chatting with Bourdelin , Pisan, Leleux, andKratz; Daubrée talking " Doré; " Carolus Duran, Hébert,Harpigny, Jundt, and those other kings of the brush hereand there adding social laurels to their other coronals ofevergreen; a jocund crowd, taken all in all, coming andgoing constantly, and proud to honour the young artist ,their friend and fellow- worker, to imprint a kiss on hisdear old mother's hand, and to lay an ample tribute ofhomage at her shapely feet.Those were the good old days of Doré's reign, and ofthe celebrated salon in the Rue St. Dominique. Nowthe studio is silent and deserted; the violin no longerbreathes its soul through its strings, the pictures areturned to the wall, and dust lies thick on every inanimateobject." I do my best to keep things clean," says poor oldFrançoise; " but it is too much for my aged eyes. Then,too, there is no reason why I should, for they are allgone; only I am left; and some day some one else willbe here in my place. C'est clair; c'est bien clair! "M. THEOPHIle gautier. 273CHAPTER XXVII.THE GREAT FRENCH POET.A SLIGHT description of M. Théophile Gautier may notbe out of place in this memoir, as he was one of thefirmest and truest friends Doré ever possessed, as wellas the oldest, with the exception of Messrs. Kratz,Lacroix, and Dalloz .T. Gautier was born at Tarbes in 1808, and was therefore old enough to have been Gustave's father. Therewere few subjects with which he was not acquainted , andI believe that history places him at the head of that listof brilliant authorities which enriched our Paris worldof letters not so very long ago. He was unanimouslypronounced to be the first critic of his time, not only inliterature, but in the fine arts, and his opinions were asuniversally quoted as his books were read. His enormouserudition, vigorous intellect, keen but brilliant sarcasm ,penetrating wit, and marvellous powers of observation, aswell as his delightful literary style, peculiarly fitted himfor the task of judging others, not less gifted, perhaps,than himself, but less prominently before the world . Itwas Théophile Gautier who spoke in such decided termsof the artist Whistler, that Paris one morning woke up tothe fact that it had been a little harsh, and, perhaps, evenunjust towards that painter. His frankness may bejudged by the following remarks on one of the exhibitionsat the Salon: —"After leaving the Palais de l'Industrie I gave myselfT274 GUSTAVE DORÉ.the pleasure of going to the Exhibition at Le Salon desRejetés. My compliments to you, gentlemen. You havediscovered the real place wherein to put true works ofart; for I find relegated thither the masterpiece which,to my mind, should have received the first medal atthat other Salon. ' The Woman in White, ' by a certainWhistler, for originality of thought and treatment, Iunhesitatingly pronounce to be the first picture of thisyear's exhibition, and congratulate you on the rarejudgment, which buries rather than encourages rising talent. "Thewitty author of " Mdlle. de Maupin" and " Fortunio "at least had the courage of his opinions.It wasthis same audacity, perhaps, which went so far towardsingratiating him with the public. He imposed his convictions so peremptorily on the world that they wereusually accepted without hesitation as indisputable truths.His frankness of criticism was as relentlessly exercisedupon his friends as upon persons indifferent to him. Noone was so able, but few were more unwilling to paycompliments. This will be seen in his relations withGustave Doré, for whom he had conceived a genuine anddemonstrative affection.Doré had been in Paris little over three years when hemade the acquaintance of Théophile Gautier, throughhis friend M. Arthur Kratz. The exact date is notknown; but, to correspond with M. Lacroix's storyabout " The Abominations of Paris, " it should have beensomewhere in the latter part of 1851 , or in the early daysof 1852. Doré's introduction to the leading French criticcame about through Théophile Gautier having favourablynoticed one of Doré's paintings long before the exhibitionof 1853 , when Doré first exhibited in the Paris Salon .One day M. Arthur Kratz was talking with Doré aboutan evening he had spent at Théophile Gautier's house.'Apropos, Gustave," he said, " you ought to knowGautier. He is quite delightful, and I think would suityou to perfection . You would be sure to get on together;besides, Gautier is a man whom every one ought to know. "

FLOWER GIRL.LYON(Doré Gallery. London, 1869. By permission of Messrs. Fairlessand Beeforth . )Page 275.AN INTRODUCTION TO THEOPHILE GAUTIER. 275Doré put his finger to his forehead as if he were tryingto recollect something, and replied, -Théophile Gautier! Ah! I remember; you arequite right. He is a man to know; besides, he alwaysspoke well of me. I think he is myfriend. I have oftenthought I should like to know him. Pray ask his permission to present me to him as soon as possible. I amindeed anxious to meet him. "Thus it came about that the following Thursday evening, at Gautier's usual reception, Gustave Doré was presented to the great littérateur, and was received by himwith warm and demonstrative cordiality, as well as a fewwell-chosen words of compliment, which went straightto Doré's heart. As M. Kratz had predicted, the artistand critic suited each other to perfection, and bothinstantaneously conceived a strong mutual liking. Atthe close of the evening, as Doré went home he said toM. Kratz, ---"Arthur, I thank you. You have done me a real service. I feel and know that as long as I live I shall likeThéophile Gautier." And, indeed, from that time untilthe great critic's death Gustave Doré's life was intertwined with that of Gautier in a perfect and enduringfriendship .Even in those early days, when Doré's name was on thelips of every art connoisseur in Paris, public opinion wasso much divided as to his claims to be called an artistthat he was quick to remember any and every one whosaid a word in his favour. He was at that time still somuch of a spoiled child that his art- judgment could not betaken seriously; but in choosing his friends he was oftenhappily guided by an instinct far more trustworthy thanhis reasoning powers. But for this Doré would have leda life of still more pitiful delusion than was actually thecase. He never reflected on the why or wherefore of anyquestion regarding himself, and believed every unfavourable criticism to have been inspired by personal enmityto himself. He could never separate a man from hisprofession, and was sometimes singularly blind when hisT 2276 GUSTAVE DORÉ.best interests were concerned. This phase in Doré'scharacter was a life-long regret to his friends, which,however, they might have spared themselves. Doré'ssupreme gifts would have been a source of unhappinessto nine hundred and ninety-nine human beings of athousand, for their very fineness entailed a supersensitiveness in the disposition of their possessor which ordinarymortals could neither understand nor appreciate. Happilythe world in general accepts a genius for what he is inthe abstract, and in its ignorance spares him many a blow.On the other hand, only a person superlatively endowedcan appreciate and elicit the superlative qualities ofanother gifted nature. Théophile Gautier was so greata man that he recognized the boy Doré's talents andpotentialities, the resources of which were imperceptibleto the outer world, but whose existence was suspectedand revealed by certain signs plain to the mind of theskilled delver, as flecked veins betray the golden quartzin the ore, or tell- tale sand the diamond in the river'sbed.The ardour, contradiction , honesty, unreasonableness, enthusiasm , waywardness, boyishness, flightiness ,affection, constancy, and obstinacy of this many- sidednature gleamed upon Gautier's acute comprehension withthe clearness of the noonday sun. He gathered information from its every ray, and learned to love where at firsthe had only admired. After acquiring a perfect knowledge of Doré's character and capabilities, Gautieradvisedly bestowed upon him the most apt designationthe world will ever know him by, " Un gamin de génie."When in Paris, Doré dined every Thursday evening atGautier's house. Whether the party was large or small,the artist's face was never missing from the circlegathered round Gautier's table. The latter's death in1873 set the seal of mortality upon one of the mostbeautiful friendships of modern times. Too much hasbeen said and written of Théophile Gautier for me todilate upon him in this place; but I cannot forbearfrom pointing out the contrast afforded by his nature toCONTRAST BETWEEN TWO CHARACTERS. 277that of Doré, by his Olympian calm to the impetuouselement which reigned supreme in every fibre of theartist's being. They had two things in common, however, their love of the beautiful and a certain childishnessof disposition which made Théophile Gautier frequentlyappear as much of a boy as Gustave Doré. In a description later on of their trip to Spain this side of Gautier'snature will have a new light thrown upon it , one whichcertainly reveals another charming phase in his fascinatingcharacter. What a pleasure it is in these days of affectation and falseness to find a great man who is not abovebeing human; who without lowering himself one atomfrom his own greatness can still descend with naive andinfantine dexterity to the level of ordinary mankind; whocan remember that he, too, was once a child , and ishappy to fling away the restraints of manhood in orderto become a boy again! Such men were ThéophileGautier and Gustave Doré. Their works have surelynot been the less valuable because their natures were sosimple and transparently child- like.Those Thursday evenings at Gautier's were curiousblendings of seriousness and fun, reckless gaiety andsimple recreations. Some of the favourite after- dinneramusem*nts were private theatricals, acting charades,tableaux vivants, &c. Music, singing, and dancing alsohad their turn, but the favourite diversion was charades.It was a treat to see Gautier act and to hear him laugh.He entered into the spirit of every suggestion with asmuch ardour as the youngest person present; and whenDoré was in one of his gayest humours the scenes thattook place between these two beggared all description .Gautier said that he had never in his life known any oneof Doré's quickness and power of repartee.One evening after dinner the company was unusuallynumerous and strongly leavened with celebrities . One endof the salon was partitioned off to form a stage, onlyprovided with a drop curtain and the usual accessoriesof drawing-room theatricals.They were playing charades, and the soirée was well278 GUSTAVE DORÉ.advanced, when a new comer entered the room and satdown beside Gautier, who on this occasion was one ofthe audience. Gustave Doré was amongst the performers ,and it was his turn to make up the charade. They werejust in the act of dropping the curtain when he caught aglimpse of the new comer, who was none other thanHébert, the celebrated painter.As soon as Doré saw him he turned to his companions:-66 Quick," he exclaimed, " I have the subject! " andforthwith began to arrange his people, utilizing theaccessories at his disposal with amazing ingenuity andpromptitude. In a few seconds all was ready, and,striking an attitude himself, he called out " Curtain." Asthe drop rose, every one present shouted aloud, " LaMalaria! " " La Malaria! " This isthe title of one ofHébert's greatest paintings, at present in the Gallery ofthe Luxembourg. Such was Doré's way of complimenting the artist, and nothing could have been morespontaneous or graceful. The audience exclaimed, " Bravo,Doré!" and for the moment he was, if possible, even agreater hero than Hébert himself. This is only one ofmany instances of Doré's presence of mind and quickness. Gautier said that he had never seen a handsomercompliment paid by one artist to another, and that,moreover, he had never known a man of such amazingreadiness as Gustave Doré; not alone quick to conceive, but prompt to execute. Hébert received manyhonours in his lifetime, but none greater than was paidto him on that evening. Neither he nor his friends willever forget Gustave Doré's delicacy of feeling andmarvellous quickness of imagination . It may readily beunderstood that the charade in question was the chiefsuccess of the soirée; for after so happy a hit any otherpiece must have appeared tame by comparison.Gustave Doré counted the hours spent in Gautier'shouse as some of the happiest of his life. Indeed, allthe time he passed in the society of the poet was alikebeneficial and pleasurable to both the friends. ThéophileGAUTIER'S FRIENDSHIP FOR DORÉ. 279Gautier was without doubt one of the greatest poets andfinest gentlemen of France. Gustave Doré was certainlyone of her greatest artistic geniuses; and, although amere boy compared with Gautier, perfect harmony andsympathy prevailed between them. Not only wasGautier Doré's " guide, philosopher, and friend, " but hisattitude towards the younger man was always markedby the quintessence of delicacy, tact, and affection. Infact Gustave Doré never had such a friend as was Théophile Gautier. I say this advisedly, having in my mindmany noble hearts which still beat with a quicker throbwhenever the artist's name is mentioned. With twocharacters as widely divergent as the poles, these giftedmen never had a quarrel, though they very rarely agreed ,and used to discuss serious questions for hours together.Doré never modified his opinions; Gautier never changedhis; and yet the subtle essence of a perfect understanding bound these two together by indissoluble ties of devoted and tender reciprocity.Gautier was in a position rendering his friendship invaluable to Doré. The latter had many partisans; butthey waxed colder when the artist most needed theirprotection and support. Théophile Gautier never changedtowards him. From the very first he upheld Doré, proclaimed his phenomenal gifts to be an honour to hiscountry, and vaunted his honesty and faithfulness towardsthe public whom he had so indefatigably served. Inpraising Doré's illustrations Gautier exhausted his rich.vocabulary of laudatory epithet.His criticisms on the " Dante " and " Don Quixote " weresuch enthusiastic eulogia that Paris began to think thepoet was suffering from Dorémania; and when the artistexchanged his pencil for a brush Théophile Gautier wasready and waiting to herald this new talent, and to setthe seal upon all he had previously uttered by designatingDoré as a genius-" A word, " he said, " we are none ofus too lavish of." It is difficult to draw the line in thiscase between the friend and the critic; but it would bean insult to the memory of two great men not to attempt280 GUSTAVE DORÉ.to draw it, and I unhesitatingly say that this partisanshipon Gautier's part was fealty in a purely artistic sense ofthe word. Admitted to be a man of the finest powers ofobservation and most correct judgment of his epoch, hereally saw all that he said he saw in the artist's rich, although ill-balanced nature. But to his friendship for theartist we may attribute that steadfastness and constantcourage of opinion which placed him at the head of Doré'sprotectors, and made him through life the dearest andmost cherished of all Doré's champions.How different from Edmond About, who after years of" devoted friendship " (sic) , having written countlesseulogies on Doré during two decades, was prompted bya personal quarrel to head a newspaper article with thewords, " M. Gustave Doré, whose name we are ashamedto see at the head of a list of French artists," &c. , &c.I must again reiterate that I have laid stress uponGautier's protection of Gustave Doré with no intentionof reflecting upon those other true souls who were alsonever found wanting towards him. But there are degreesof comparison, and none will deny the poet's right to thesuperlative place in speaking of Doré's unflagging, unwearying and disinterested friends .Gautier's amity was often put to the test, and neverlapsed lukewarm. He spoke much and constantly inDoré's favour, and upheld him on every possible occasion.The more battles he had to fight for Doré the harder hefought them. He was as absolutely immovable as therock of Gibraltar-a very tower of strength and protection to the artist. He disclaimed any partisanship on theground of friendship, however, and was heard to say onmany an occasion , -" If my worst enemy had Doré's talent, in the cause ofart and for the honour of my country I should be boundto uphold him. Doré is a genius , gifted with a glorious,rich, and spontaneous nature. I like the boy. I like hishonesty, his naturalness, and his rare sympathetic disposition. But were he not a real gamin de génie I wouldforget his art and only speak of him as my friend Doré. "ANECDOTE OF THEOPHILE GAUTIER. 281Gautier's extraordinary coolness and self-possession areaptly instanced in the following incident related to me byM. Dalloz. A great admirer of the poet one day wasfortunate enough to obtain an introduction to Gautier,LONDON SLUMS.(Original Drawing, Doré, 1871. Unpublished. )whom he sought at the latter's house in Paris. On theway he prepared the address with which he would greetthe poet. He composed several fine speeches, and hadfinally settled upon one, when he arrived at Gautier'shouse, and was informed that the great writer was in the282 GUSTAVE DORÉ.country at an address whither the enthusiast started offto find him. He at last reached the house and rang thedoor- bell violently. After an interval of some moments,the door opened and disclosed Gautier himself standing onits threshold-Gautier, with his enormous, stately figure,his impassive, strongly- marked face lit up by majesticeyes, the whole head crowned by a profusion of longcurling locks. The visitor looked at him , and experiencedso much gratification at the realization of his hopes, thathe was struck speechless with pleasure.Both menstared at each other for some moments, until the situation became unendurable, even to the poet, who, with thesame imperturbable calm that had characterized hissilence, looking compassionately at his dumb caller,finally said, " Articulez seulement quelques sons. "Doré's enemies had but little chance of making anyimpression on a wall of granite such as this; and Doréhimself, with his fiery nature, was often cowed by thepoet's grave imperturbability. When Gautier died , leavingbehind him a sorrowful nation, a weeping family, and disconsolate friends, amongst these latter there was noheart which so copiously overflowed with grief as Doré's.When the last funeral rite had been performed he burstinto violent fits of weeping, and could only reiterate," I have lost one of my dearest and truest comrades.What can ever console me? "DORE'S SOCIAL SUCCESS.URBIS PALLETCENTIS283CHAPTER XXVIII.DORE'S PERSONAL CHARACTER.I HAVE hitherto dealt in detail with Gustave Doré'stalents and artistic achievements, but have said little ofhis personal character and real nature. It will be bornein mind that Doré, so to speak, had no youth . Whenother lads were thinking of football or cricket, the youngAlsatian was delving in hard but classic soil , drivinghis mental ploughshare through Olympian fields. Hisjuvenile shoulders were laden with responsibilities whichstunted his boyishness and prematurely developed hismanly character. It was said of him, " Doré is always achild;" but it would have been more correct to say, "hebecame too soon a man." The obstinacy referred to byM. Lacroix may have seemed to very many a disagreeable trait in his disposition , but it was none other than theprecocious determination of a proud and supremely giftedlad to stick to his principles because he believed them tobe the right ones. His ambition, self- reliance, volition ,and perseverance would have appeared less pronounced intthe man than they did in the boy. All these characteristics seemed exaggerated in Gustave Doré becausethey made themselves manifest too soon. The rest of hisnature had not had time to develop to the proper balance,at least in the eyes of the world. His best qualities werenever appreciated by an undiscriminating public.He284 GUSTAVE DORÉ.was always conspicuous, because of his talent; and, as isusual in the career of great people, his private life was toa considerable extent misunderstood by the world at large.But there was pure, unalloyed and precious metal inthe man's nature. What are ambition, self-reliance,volition and perseverance when offset by the greaterqualities of honesty, kindness, generosity, and fidelity?Gustave Doré possessed these latter in a marked degree.Could you but have seen him in the bosom of his family,in his intimate relations with friends, in his dealings withmankind in general, you would have been irresistiblydrawn towards him. Uprightness and sensibility wereso strongly stamped on his every action that you wouldhave said, as did all who knew him, " Gustave Doré is anoble fellow. "To his family he was all devotion; the most filial ofsons, the most affectionate of brothers. To friends, oreven mere acquaintances, his actions were characterizedby the rarest delicacy. No one ever heard of Doréhaving done an ungentlemanly thing. Perhaps the richestveins in this complex nature were tenderness and genuine.amiability. While his first thoughts naturally turned tohis art, he had quick human sympathies, and no oneever appealed to him in vain.If a friend were in trouble, he sought him with spontaneous kindliness, and his sympathy was never confinedto idle words. If his friend were ill, he left every hauntof fashion and pleasure to sit by his bedside, cheer himup, and bring the sunshine of his lively humour into thesick-room. He was brimful of anecdote and repartee,and no one was ever better company than Gustave Doré.The hours he stole from his work to thus devote to thosein trouble were not few; but he never broke faith withthe public. He would sit longer at his blocks, andabridge his time for sleep, would deny himself personalcomfort and pleasures; but he would be honest to hisart and true to his employers.If you appealed to Doré's heart, you struck a chordwhich vibrated harmoniously and sonorously throughoutAN EXAMPLE OF DORÉ'S GOODNESS. 285the entire compass of kindly human feeling. It was thisquality which made his friends adore him, those whomhe had befriended worship him, and his family bowdown before him.A particular instance of his goodness crosses my mind.For many years he spent his New Year's Day at thefoundling hospital, whither he carried presents of toys,money, and clothing to the poor little waifs whom fatehad cast adrift on the fair but barren shore of Parisianlife. He used to get up before break of day and takecarriage load after carriage load of presents to all thechildren's asylums in his neighbourhood. He woulddistribute the toys himself, sit by the infants' tiny cots,and amuse them until from those accustomed hauntsof suffering shouts of baby laughter arose. He toldthem Bible stories, and fairy legends, tales of angels andnymphs, of giants and pigmies; he helped them to eattheir bonbons, set their skip-jacks in motion, wound uptheir locomotives and spun their tops for them . Heentered into their joys and sorrows; in short he was oneof them, and there was not a thought or feeling withinthe range of babyhood's fancy which did not awaken aresponsive echo in his own breast.When he was obliged at last to tear himself away heleft behind him, besides a noble donation in money,memories of goodness and tenderness, which were morethan all his gold-such hardly- earned gold, too , couldthe children but have known it , earned by those multipletalents which brought him more enemies than friends,more unhappiness than joy.Few people understood this man's rare, loyal, and delicate nature. He would be seriously annoyed if heever heard of any friend buying one of his works. Youhad but to look at a picture or sketch, and he wouldimmediately say, " Do you like it? Pray take it, andkeep it as a memento of our acquaintance.'Hence it is that so few of Doré's original drawings canbe found. He was generous to an incredible degree,and gave away his happiest inspirations right and left.286 GUSTAVE DORÉ.On the other hand, he never presented any of his worksto fancy fairs or bazaars, to be disposed of for charitablepurposes. "Head your subscription with my name," he would say. "Set down whatever sum you please; butI cannot buy renown under false pretences." This rulehe never deviated from, though by adhering to it he incurred the reproach of eccentricity, obstinacy, and disobligingness.If Gustave Doré seemed proud, self- willed, and indifferent, remember that his art was the one absorbingsentiment of his nature, and every silent demand madeupon it exercised a secret strain which might elevate orwarp his character, but which the world at large couldnot appreciate. To his art Doré made every sacrifice." Not that I loved Cæsar less , but that I loved Romemore," has been the key-note to many a man's life; andwe need not have been born on the banks of the Tiber tofeel the force of this sentiment.This artist has proven to the world that Nature hasnot forgotten just when, where, and how to send hersovereign emissaries upon earth. How many are worthy tosit at the feet of Minerva or Apollo? Gustave Doré was,although he found few in the world who really appreciatedthat fact.Speaking of Doré's personal character, it occurs to methat I have discoursed of well-nigh everything concerninghim but his love affairs. He was a great social lion,and very much sought after about town. No soirée wasconsidered complete if he were not present, and thegreat ladies of the Faubourg St. Germain seemed tovie with each other as to which should pay him the mosthonour and attention . With all this flattery his headwas not turned. The more repeatedly circ*mstancescompelled him to frequent society, the more eagerly didhe cling to his own home and to his little circle of dearfriends.Some time before the appearance of Dante's " InfernoDoré built a studio in his house in the Rue St. Dominique,and gave up the one in Rue Monsieur le Prince. ThisSOME WINTER EVENINGS. 287delighted his mother, for it kept him so much at home.The long winter evenings were very pleasant, with Gustaveat the violin, his brother Ernest at the piano or thetrombone (which he played very well) , and some oldPORTRAIT OF A LADY.(G. Doré. Paris, 1867.)Evoyfriends who used to drop in without ceremony to passa quiet hour with the young artist and his family.It was a matter of surprise to many that he nevermarried. The late M. Paul Lacroix once said to me onthis subject:-288 GUSTAVE DORÉ."When Gustave was about nineteen he fell desperatelyin love with the daughter of a gentleman in the Government service, and raved about her beauty from morning tillnight. I never knew any man so profoundly infatuatedwith a woman as he was with Mademoiselle X-.Nothing would do but he must marry her. He proposedfor her to her father, and was immediately rejected.Monsieur's reply was not unamiable, but extremelymatter- of- fact. He told Gustave that he wished hisdaughter to marry a rich man. His words were these,as nearly as I can recollect:-" You are a young man of whom every one speakswell, one who possibly has some prospects before him asa draughtsman. I do not doubt your talent, but yourfuture is uncertain. That of my daughter must besecure; and I wish to give her to one who has a settledposition.'"He little dreamt then of the name and fortune ' thedraughtsman' would so soon make for himself! Gustavewas utterly stunned by the refusal, and vowed that hecould never love another woman, that he would kill himself, and I don't know what besides. For my part I thinkhe was lucky to have met with such a father anddaughter; for the girl of eighteen who preferred a secureposition to a charming young lover with a fine future.before him, could have been no fit wife for a man likeDoré. I therefore congratulated him on his escape.After a few days he regained his spirits, and as he hadevidently given up all idea of marrying, I ventured , alittle later on, to speak to him on the subject. He alludedto it with apparent indifference, observing, ' Ma foi, thathope did not last long.Towards the last days of the Third Empire Doréconceived a violent passion for a lady well known incertain Parisian circles. She was beautiful, clever,artistic, and fascinating, and Doré spent some of thehappiest hours of his life in her society. There was agreat deal of talk about their liaison at the time, andmany people said that he wished to marry her; but thisTHE SIMPLICITY OF DORÉ'S NATURE. 289was not so. Neither the lady in question nor Doréhimself ever had the remotest idea of such a thing.From all I can learn, their friendship was uninterruptedfor a long time; and to her charms and graces Dorépaid many a tribute of admiration and esteem.Doré's love for his mother was so absorbing that noneother could ever thoroughly supplant it in his heart. Thatat nineteen he experienced a caprice for MademoiselleX--is not surprising, for his devotion to his mother hadnot then gathered strength, and become to him the allin all which it was at a later period . Notwithstandingwhat M. Lacroix told me, he took his rejection very muchto heart, and his pride was severely hurt to think that hewas not considered an eligible candidate for matrimony.Years passed by without his again thinking of enteringthe marriage state.Doré was in some things a very temperate man. Hewas never noted for those caprices which so often distinguish fashionable, rising, and rich young artists. Hewas simple in his tastes, modest in his desires, and foundevery joy and comfort in his own home. His relatives ,commencing with his mother, steadfastly spoilt him;his every word was law to them; he lived in luxury, andwas surrounded by a circle of ardently-adoring friends,who thought everything he did perfection, everything hesaid delightful.By public report he had been successively betrothedand married to a great many female celebrities eversince his "Rabelais set Paris talking about its youngillustrator. At one time it was alleged that he wasmadly in love with Adelina Patti, and had threatened tokill himself in her boudoir; at another that his assiduitiesat the feet of Christine Nilsson had compelled the fairSwede to forbid him her house; again, that he had adoredHortense Schneider, and I don't know whom besides.But the fact is beyond question that he gave Parisno real occasion to talk of his love affairs, with oneexception, in the case of a celebrated and extraordinarywoman, whose eccentricities even to-day keep her name.U290 GUSTAVE DORÉ.before the public much more prominently than her talent.This caprice lasted nearly two years, and cost the artistmany a noble inspiration; but after all it was only acaprice. He was never really in love with her; but shewas the fashion, and for once he followed the exampleof his contemporaries.Doré's was a strange nature; at once too simple andtoo honest to find any real happiness outside his homecircle. With all his capriciousness there was never anything low about him, and he hated excess of any kind.For him women might be said to scarcely exist, aswomen; they certainly played no part whatever in hisdaily life. Wrapped up in his art, he amused himselfnow and then; but no passion ever held him long enoughto gain much ascendency over him, and he would haveleft any woman in the world at a word from his mother,or to pass half an hour in the bosom of his family in theRue St. Dominique.The only adventure which ever frightened his familyin the least was the affair with the actress before alludedto, which threatened to exceed reasonable limits , whilstgiving him neither happiness nor amusem*nt. On thecontrary, whilst it lasted he was moody, discontented, andvery much disturbed by assiduities which, after a veryshort period, began to irritate his temper and seriouslyinterfere with his daily habits. As Gustave detestedvulgarity in woman, and kept up a certain poetic ideawith regard to the sex, an entanglement with the abovenamed celebrity could not fail to prove the reverse ofgratifying to his taste and disposition . As soon as hecould do so he broke it off, and from that time forthno one ever heard of any more " caprices " of GustaveDoré.Before this episode he had once again thought ofmarrying, and this time things went rather far. Hisbetrothed was all that could be desired as regarded birthand position, and the match was thought in every way agood thing for Gustave. It was proposed to him byfriends; and he, thinking himself ready to settle in life,DORE ENGAGED TO BE MARRIED. 291accepted the idea, and seemed very happy at the thoughtof getting married. Doubtless he was strongly actuatedby his honest love of home and by that idea of familylife which is so deeply implanted in the German andAnglo- Saxon races. Doré was a true Alsatian in thatrespect, and looked upon marriage in one sense as a duty.He was rich; he could surround his wife with every comfort and luxury; and, as to social station , any womanmight have been proud to call such a man her husband.Doré was very fond of children; " fond " is perhaps not theword, for he adored them; and we may be sure that the hopeof having his own fireside some day illuminated by brightbaby eyes, and of hearing the ringing sound of clearyoung voices calling "papa" in the old house of the RueSt. Dominique, was a temptation too great to be resisted.All manner of preparations were made for his marriage,and the wedding-day was even fixed .I do not think any one knows exactly how it cameabout, but at the last moment the alliance was brokenoff. Madame Doré seems to have had some hand infrustrating it. At any rate, as the day approached shegrew more and more excited and unhappy. Doré couldnot help observing that the thought of his marriageseemed to prey upon his mother's spirits. Her life hadbeen devoted to him, and it is not strange that afteryears of the closest companionship and most unwearyingcare she could not see him given up to another woman'slove without feeling that her mission in this world wasended.The thought that any other human being could do forhim the things she had done-could take the first orindeed any place in his heart-racked her breast withjealousy. Yet she considered hers an unselfish affection!The only excuse for mentioning this episode in Doré'slife is that I believe when an attempt is made to writeeven the slightest memoir of any eminent man frankness in the biographer is as desirable as any merely literary quality. Doré's engagement was known to a greatmany persons, and had I not alluded to it, my silenceU 2292. GUSTAVE DORÉ.would have implied that I had some reasons for observing reticence upon the subject.Some of those who knew Doré well judged him veryharshly for the part he played in the matter, and madebut little allowance for extenuating circ*mstances.There were two very good and weighty reasons forthe course of action he adopted. Firstly, his love forhis mother amounted to idolatry, and at the last moment he found he could not bring himself to give herpain. The second reason was less poetic than the first,but certainly not less potent. Doré was used to his ownhome, fireside, and way of living; and what assurancehad he that in giving up all these things he would satisfactorily replace them? He was no longer a youth; andhabit, to one of his unconstrained, not to say Bohemian,mode of living, was much stronger than passion, love,caprice, or interest. The fear that taking a wife wouldentail a change in his entire mode of life had not a littleto do with his decision; and any man who has passedhis " salad days " will readily understand Gustave Dore'sposition.He had not even the excuse of being madly in love, ashe once had been when he made a confidant of M.Lacroix, and threatened to kill himself if he could notmarry the lady of his choice. Undoubtedly that wasthe only real passion of Doré's life; and although thewound was healed, the scar was indelible. Womenwere always his friends, and in later years he enjoyedsome very perfect hours of female amity; but it is alsoprobable that he found it impossible to forget " love'syoung dream. "Amongst his sketches I find a woman's face oftentimes repeated . It is very beautiful, and one that hemust have been very fond of to have had it so constantlyin his memory. His family do not recognize it as belonging to any one they have personally known; and as it isamongst his early drawings, I have an idea that it may bea portrait of his second idol. The picture in questionis given several pages back; if it be a good likeness, it isA POSTSCRIPT TO DORÉ'S DIARY. 293not to be wondered at that he lost both head and heartto so charming a person.Although a man of a strongly affectionate disposition ,Doré was evidently not cut out by nature to makeany one woman happy. He was generous to a fault,and his character was singularly noble and straightforward; but some of his notions were fixed, and hischaracter was a thought too independent and self-willed;added to which he was as volatile and fantastic in hiscaprices as he was stable in his friendships. It is a curiousthing that Doré rarely saw any charm in acknowledgedbeauties, and the women he was usually attracted to werethose whom not all the world admired. He loved aBohemian kind of life , unfettered by restraints. He wasspoiled at home and petted in society. What womanwould have had the tact not to undermine her ownhappiness had she been united to such a man as he?Gustave Doré must have known himself all too well.So it happened that in 1865 he added that postscript tohis notes:-" I am neither husband nor father, member of theNational Guard nor a Freemason. "294 GUSTAVE DORÉ.IDCHAPTER XXIX.A MEMORABLE DATE.AnTHE 15th of April, 1866, was an eventful date in Doré'slife; for on that day he organized and completedarrangements in connection with his famous studio in theRue Bayard, and for almost the first time the subject ofhis coming to England was seriously broached.English publisher was dining at Doré's house, in company with several of the usual Sunday guests, and afterdinner concluded terms with the artist for the illustrationof Tennyson's " Idylls of the King." At the same timea long conversation was held with regard to Doré'sestablishing himself for a time in England. At the closeof the evening Doré walked home with M. Kratz, andtalked to him a great deal about England. His mindwas full of it, and of the projected illustrations. Onething I may note here was Doré's enthusiasm for eachand every new work he undertook. His illusions aboutthem were something extraordinary. On this occasion.he was delighted with the idea of illustrating Tennyson'spoems; but the notion of going to England seemed todisturb his mind in an unaccountable degree."It is strange," he said to M. Kratz, "this schemeof going to London, there to open a gallery for mypaintings, awakens in me an odd presentiment. Youknow that I hate leaving my country, my people, and myhome. With the English I am not sure that I shouldDORE'S PRESENTIMENTS. 295get on. Something tells me that if I go to England, Ishall break up all associations with my native land, andlose much of the influence and prestige I now possess inFrance. You know that I love my home, my friends,my own pot-au-feu, and that I hate to begin knowingnew people, and getting into new habits. Then, too,how can I live without my beloved Paris? I have heardthat England is a land of fogs; that the people are cold ,and that the sun never shines there. They say that theChannel passage will make me dreadfully sick; besides,it is a long way off, and-and I do not believe I shall go.'These were Gustave Doré's words, followed by manymore spoken in the same strain. He entertained thefixed idea that coming to England was destined insome way or other to bring about a complete change inhis life; and the very notion of innovation terrified andunstrung him. With all his waywardness, petulance, andchildishness, Gustave Doré's was a nature susceptible ofany amount of persuasion when one only knew how todeal with him. M. Kratz was one of the few who didknow how, and, as usual, when he saw him harbouringextraordinary superstitions or fancies, tried to reason himout of them, telling him that he could not always consulthis personal feelings; that he was an artist, and had hiscareer to think of; and that it was quite obvious that hemust go whithersoever his interests might lead him. Hesaid, " England is not at the other end of the world. Afine opening is offered to you there. Try it; if you donot like it, come back. But don't give way to babyishnotions about your whole life being changed by breakinginto your old habits, and such like nonsense.You are nolonger a child; do look at the question of your owninterests, and reason like a man."M. Kratz, after a long and animated discussion, finallyinduced him to consider the idea favourably. Doré still ,however, insisted upon one objection, and repeatedlylaid stress upon these words:-" I know that going to England is bound to seriouslyinfluence my whole future. I have many and deep mis-296 GUSTAVE DORÉ.givings; but I promise you, as you think it is to myinterest, to go over there once, and see how I like it ."Even after having yielded thus far, he took a longtime to make up his mind. During the interim precedinghis coming to London, he never lost an opportunity to goover the old grounds of the radical change such a stepwas destined to make in his whole life . He was to lose.for a time his enchanting Thursday evenings at ThéophileGautier's house; he was to miss his delightful Saturdayréunions at Rossini's; he would forsake dear friends anddearer haunts; but most of all he would have to leavehis darling mother, and the Sunday evenings which wereso wedded to his heart would become things of thepast."I know what it is," he would reiterate; " I shallbreak up all my old associations by going to England;for after an absence one cannot easily take up the oldthreads again. I shall give the world here a chance toforget me; out of sight out of mind! I know I am ruining my whole life. Paris is so capricious, so athirst fornew names and newfaces. My friends will get out of thehabit of seeing my face; others will come in, and fill myplace. I shall be forgotten, but I shall go. "In the summer of 1867 an English divine happened tobe in Paris; and at the close of some important workconnected with the S.P.G. , he thought that before hereturned to England he would hunt up Gustave Doré, forwhom he had always entertained warm feelings of admiration. He visited the artist at his home; and a quick andlively sympathy made itself manifest between these twomen, so little alike, and who yet had much in common.They talked a good deal about England, and the reverendgentleman strongly urged Doré to come to London.Two days later the Rev. Mr. Harford was back in thegreat metropolis, and the artist was reflecting on his newfound friend's last words, " My dear Doré, as soon as youarrive in London let me know. I am, and shall ever be,entirely at your disposal. " This was the beginning ofanother lasting friendship.DORE'S FIRST VISIT TO ENGLAND. 297Mr. Harford was surprised one day some months laterby receiving the visit of a M. Arrymar, just arrived fromParis, who, in the course of conversation, said to him," M. Doré has thought a great deal about you andwhat you told him about England. He says that you arebound to influence his destiny, and that he is coming here-next year."Gustave Doré was as good as his word.He arrivedin London on or about the 18th of May, 1868 , and putup at the Grosvenor Hotel, Victoria Station. Heimmediately called upon his publishers , Messrs. Casselland Co., who had previously completed arrangements tobring out his Bible in England, and left a card on CanonHarford, which said plainly that he was at last in London.The reverend gentleman was at his father's country place,but lost no time in returning to town to see Doré, whomhe found amazed and astounded at the magnitude ofthe city. As soon as possible Mr. Harford made Doréacquainted with Colonel Teesdale, the hero of Kars; andthis introduction paved the way to others. H.R.H. thePrince of Wales had long admired the great French artist'sworks, and speedily showed him every mark of sympathyand distinction. As to the prince's aide-de- camp, ColonelTeesdale, he soon became Doré's attached and devotedfriend.The artist's first amusem*nts, impressions, and employments in the " gathering-place of souls, " I leave himto describe in a letter sent to M. Kratz a fortnight afterhis arrival, and headed by a pen-and-ink sketch, representing a cart filled with a dozen individuals, more or lesssick, drawn by a small but plucky nag.((London, June 2nd, 1868." MY DEAR ARTHUR, -The beautiful circular fountainwith twelve jets that you see at the head of this letter isa study which I have just made of ' coming home fromthe Dâââârrby! ' It has struck me that as a sportsmanand ancient tosspot you could not be insensible to thecharm of this Homeric scene. Several independent souls298 GUSTAVE DORÉ.have advised me to prepare for next year to be exhibitedin London, a painting thirty feet high representing thisepisode; but I cannot tell what secret instinct whispersto me that it would be poor policy on my part. Irenounce the project-shall I not?-but confess that itis a great pity to find oneself thus obliged to muzzleHigh Art!"But what is still more Homeric is the life I have ledhere for the last fortnight. Couldst thou but see thequantities of bullock and various other animals , and thecloudy wines with which they besprinkle strangers inLondon, O! thou guardian angel of feasts, thou wouldstperceive that thy place is not in the midst of Stateaccounts in Paris, but here-here, in this Babylon ofLunches!" How amiable you are, my dear Arthur, to havethought of writing to me; and how much more amiableyou would be were you only to feel like recommencing!For in spite of everything, and joking aside, at thebottom of my heart I am not happy. A crowd ofstrangers is never aught but a desert to me; and in themidst of attentions-nay, I may say ovations-of themost amiable kind , I cherish in my breast a barbed dartof veritable home-sickness."As to the details of my agitated, vertiginous life andconstant discovery and sight of novelties, it is impossibleto go into them here. I will explain all that in fifteenbottles of Roederer on my return to Paris."Write to me again, I beseech you, even if you areobliged to write to me in English; it is the samethink. i will become smuttch obliged te you, and ishall begin very happy to received any good news uponyou, my dear friend . i am with all my hearth,'" Grosvenor Hotel, Victoria Station. "" G. DORÉ.Gustave Doré's presentiments were in part realized .His life was indeed changed . He might be forgottenin Paris, but he stood little chance of ever beingDORÉ TRIES to read ENGLISH. 299forgotten in London, the world's metropolis , whichopened her arms to welcome the talented French artist.cher ami.vous 6voyez jesongis de hoartapour l'ignorancequi amjichmI. comprende ateboth Text- anglaispour pouvoirvous bienrisundu. Don prendscub etj'accourset vou reminres(à vousVousuninterakde comerGurdorschitin militantFACSIMILE OF PRIVATE LETTER SENT TO REV. FREDERICK HARFORD IN 1868.(London. )He was sought out, presented here and there, taken toballs, theatres, and " at homes; " put up at clubs, dined ,wined, and fêted; carried off to horse-races and boat-300 GUSTAVE DORÉ.races, to cricket and polo matches, to dinners atGreenwich and Richmond; he lounged in the Row andlunched in the Mall; kettledrummed at five and dined ateight, while it was yet daylight. He basked in the smilesof fair women and great ladies, in princes' favours andprime minister's civilities. Rich, gifted and engaging,preceded by his brilliant reputation, he was lionized andtalked about; in short, to sum it all up, he was " thefashion," and fairly in the swing of that dizzy socialvortex-a London season.Gustave Doré's nature was so expansive that it wasimpossible for him to receive all this homage and not tobe favourably impressed by it. He often recurred to hisidées noires, however, and with a lurking suspicion thatthese honours could not last, accepted his honours with,for him, considerable reserve. Still , how was it possiblenot to open his heart to such extraordinary proofs ofsympathy as were showered upon him by the greatestin the land? Before a month had passed over his headthe most genial elements of his nature had warmed intonew life under the rays of this English sunshine of recognition. The man who had known many heart-aches in Parisfound London's sympathy a soothing balm to his supersensitive and over- wrought mind. There was much ofthe woman in his temperament-infinite tenderness andsweetness . Crush these sentiments, and, like a flowerdoomed to a long winter, he closed within himself. Butthe first breath of the spring breezes sufficed to unfoldand expand this redundant nature. Of late years Doréhad suffered from misplaced affection and confidence.He had been attacked professionally and privately,humiliated in his pride and disappointed in his oneambition-to be thought a painter; he had shaken thedust of France from his feet , and had come to Englandin order to get away from his old self, his old disappointments, cares, and miscellaneous pin- sticking which Parishad of late so immoderately inflicted upon him.There was no half- heartedness in the welcome Englandextended to Gustave Doré. The consciousness , to aDon'LYONJ.SWAIN ENG.THE MONKEY AND THE DOLPHIN.(La Fontaine. Original Sketch. By permission of Cassell and Co. )Page 300.

半DORE'S FIRST Dinner PARTY IN LONDON. 301noble mind, of being thought excellent, and made to feelthat one is so, imparts a vehement stimulus to the productive capacity, and Gustave carried everything beforehim, personally, socially, and artistically.The first time he appeared in this new character of aLion was at a dinner given in his honour by the charmingand accomplished Viscountess Combermere. This entertainment will long be remembered by those who were present, not alone on account of the hostess, but on thatof Gustave Doré, who shone pre- eminent in fascination ,repartée, and savoir-faire; as Canon Harford has said ofhim, “ He had a talent for every hour in the day."Her ladyship, always the judicious patroness of literaryand artistic talent, showed Doré a special mark of distinction by placing him on her right and the BelgianMinister on her left at table. This was lost on nonepresent, and was a double distinction in a land where theaccident of birth and position decides who shall andshall not sit "below the salt. "Doré's introduction to London society was in everyway a felicitous one. He also went to Twickenham veryfrequently as the guest of their Royal Highnesses theComte and Comtesse de Paris, who were amongst hisoldest Parisian friends. It may not be generally knownthat Doré was a staunch Orleanist, and had often talkedwith his mother, Madame Alexandrine, about the Bonapartes and France's degradation under the NapoleonicEmpire. He was neither toady nor title- hunter. Heliked the late Emperor personally, and had received manymarks of special favour from him while his guest atCompiègne and the Tuileries; but he did not believe inImperialistic government for France, and never hesitatedto say so. Perhaps had his expressed opinions been.politically , more lukewarm, Madame Alexandrine wouldnot have had to nearly shake M. Dalloz's head off, nor thelatter (as he said in a letter written to the late BlanchardJerrold) to struggle for the simplest form of publicrecognition of Doré's genius."J'ai dû lutter autant par admiration que par amitié,302 GUSTAVE DORÉ.à plusieurs réprises, pour que les distinctions qu'il avaitsi bien gagnées lui fussent accordées; et c'est un desmeilleurs souvenirs de ma carrière de m'être fait l'avocatde son mérite exceptionel. J'avais honte d'avoir àplaider une cause qui se plaidait elle- même si éloquemment.'""Doré's reception in the very best English society wasin itself a financial " boom; " for with all due deferenceto British appreciation and taste, I opine that wereRembrandt to come to London without influential lettersof introduction, he might pack his " Ronde de la Nuitoff to America for one of those chromos that are sentout to favourite customers " with every pound of tea," ¹ orlet his " Syndic " figure as a banner in the Lord Mayor'sShow by way of achieving popularity.Gustave Doré was indeed a fortunate man. He received the most cordial and lavish attentions from theCassells, with whom he ever afterwards kept up admirable.relations; and I need not say that amongst Doré's friendsMessrs. Galpin and Petter, of the above- named firm , werethe earliest and most cherished.When Doré came to London in 1868 his Bible wasbeing published by Cassell's, and for several days someof the principal sketches were on exhibition in thewindows of the great publishing house. The followingis told of a picture of the Deity which Doré had exhibitedin Paris, and prized as one of his happiest inspirations.The picture was placed on exhibition, but after two orthree days, to his horror, was withdrawn from the publicThe artist learned that it was considered unusual, fact obsolete, to attempt any portraiture of theSupreme Being. Doré was greatly incensed, and upheldhis thesis by citing several instances of an attempthaving been made to represent the Godhead. Theseattempts, be it said, were produced in Latin countriesone, we believe, in Germany-but Doré's publisherswere obdurate, and the drawing in question had to beNew York way of advertising tea houses.Doré DINES AT GREENWICH. 303suppressed. Doré had so much changed since thosedays when M. Lacroix had proffered advice and receivedrebuffs, that he now yielded with extreme sweetness tothe inevitable . Some days later a rather frivolous friend,speaking of this drawing, asked the question, —"What was the matter, Doré? wasn't it thought like?Not a good portrait, eh? ""No, " retorted Doré with pleasant irony; "it resembledneither of my chief French nor English publishers. TheGodhead was there, but not the Trinity. 'On one occasion he partook of a fish dinner at Greenwich, and after one or two courses declared his appetitemomentarily appeased. He was not a little perplexed atthe sight of so much fish, but his amazement becamestill greater as he observed the relish and promptitudewith which course after course of finny food was despatched . He was indeed puzzled; and at the close ofthe dinner said, " But why so much fish? This is not.Friday." On his return to town his first words were ," Let us go to the club; I am starving;" and, arrivingthere, he called out, " Give me at once two-if you please,two-large beefsteaks."Doré was like an American friend of mine, who nevercould understand why fish were wanted out of the water,and who, on an occasion when she had eaten some,observed an hour later, " Fish must be brain food, for Inotice my stomach never gets any benefit from it . NowI should like something to eat.""64It need scarcely be stated that at this time Doré'sworks were enjoying an enormous popularity in London.There were the Bible, " the "Inferno," the " DonQuixote, " superbly published by Messrs. Cassell andCo.; the " Pyrenees," Spain," and the " Toilers ofthe Sea," issued with new drawings made especiallyfor Sampson Low and Co.; indeed it would have beendifficult to have entered a house in London where theword " art " could be correctly spelt and not to havefound one or more of Gustave Doré's grand illustratedclassics. The Rabelaisian furore of 1853 , and Dante304 GUSTAVE DORÉ.excitement of 1861 were revived and redoubled inLondon. Doré was indeed a rara avis; a Lion, young,gifted, and charming; but this time his head was neveronce turned by any amount of flattery. He was thesimple, hard-working artist, who had learned that thesweetest roses grow upon the thornie*st stems . Success.meant to him new effort and newer concentration ofthought. These new honours were the velvet lining tohis workaday dress . He never forgot that art was callinghim, and that he could only obey one master.In other respects, too, Doré's nature had undergone achange since he had begun to illustrate the "Bible." Hehad previously been heard to talk lightly on religion;and although he was professedly a Roman Catholic, hewas not a Church communicant. He might be reckonedamongst the few great men who thought of their giftswith a complacency wholly removed from petty vanity.One day in a conversation with M. Beeforth of the DoréGallery, he said in answer to that gentleman's remarksabout his many talents , of which he should be soproud,-"Not proud, Monsieur Beeforth. I am simply glad ofthem . I am not vain, but only grateful . God has beenvery good to me, and I thank Him every day of my lifefor my gifts. I would not change places with any manin the world. Understand me, not from vanity, butbecause, when I look around me and see how full theworld is of hapless people and hopeless talents , I godown on my knees to thank Him for having given me somuch to work with, and so much to be grateful for. "Doré had always been a thinker, and it would havebeen strange if, coming in contact as he did with thegreatest minds, his own should not have undergone agradual but steady transformation . He had broken breadwith kings and queens, but he had also known thatother and " eternal Court, with its society wide as theworld, multitudinous as its days, the chosen and mightyof every place and time; " and amongst all the famedworks that have graced the world since the rising of aDORÉ'S RELIGIOUS PAINTING.305bright particular star in Bethlehem, Doré placed in thefirst rank his Bible.After his " Neophyte " had been exhibited in Paris,many persons who were struck with the profound religioussentiment of the piece, marvelled much that Doré, anLONDON SLUMS.(Original Drawing. Unpublished. 1871.)enfant terrible of talent and irreflective spontaneity,could ever have composed such a masterpiece of creativepower. Others said, " He makes a show of religion thathe does not feel . However, it is a new departure in art,and he will probably make it pay." But many, on theother hand, felt that this step was no leap in the dark.X306 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Doré was planting a firm foot on a soil whose generousand loving fertility appealed to all that was inspired andtruthful in his ever fruitful nature.I must now speak of the Rev. Frederick Harford, thewell-known minor canon of Westminster, and may sumup his relations with Doré in a few words. He was theartist's English guide, philosopher, and friend. DuringDoré's stay in London he was in and out of this gentleman's house daily, and often spent hours there at a stretch.I need not say to what extent Doré was indebted to thiskind friend, whose name had been an " Open Sesame "for the young artist to London's best as well as mostcharming and cultured society. Canon Harford oftendiscussed religion with Doré, and one night on theirway to Sydenham to pay a visit to Mr. Grove (now SirGeorge Grove) , the subject of religious belief came up inthe train.Doré said to Harford ,"My friend, I am a Roman Catholic, a professedRoman Catholic. I was baptized in that Church, and Istick to it. That is all very well and good; but if youwish to know my real religion , I will tell it to you. It iscontained in the thirteenth chapter of St. Paul to theCorinthians."Then he began quoting, and, to the reverend gentleman's amazement, recited it through from the beginningto the end, without hesitation or missing one word.When he had finished, he turned to Canon Harford andsaid , -"Have I made any mistakes? and-and, believingin that chapter as I do, might I be considered aChristian? "We might imagine Canon Harford's reply, but happilyare able to give it , -"Any man living up to that chapter might be callednot only Christian, but Christianissimus. "I have given this incident a place here as it is of majorimportance in two ways. Firstly, it settles the questionof Doré's religious belief; secondly, this conversation led"CHRIST LEAVING THE PRETORIUM.” 307to the realization of the great picture " Christ leavingthe Prætorium. " Whilst the friends were speaking ofthe great religious paintings extant, many subjects ofthese latter were discussed at length, and their relative situations were commented upon. Episodes of thePassion of Christ and His crucifixion had been depictedby many great artists . The question arose whether oneparticular scene had ever been touched upon , viz . themoment before Christ took up the cross. M. Doré wasdetermined to attempt a work based upon this incident,and Canon Harford added, " You can do it, and it hasnever really been done.""Are you sure, are you quite sure?" responded theartist eagerly. "Then I will try. We will talk it overat length, and as soon as I get back to Paris I willbegin it at once. "It will be understood that the conversation begun inthe train on the way to Sydenham, was not completedthen, but was resumed at several odd moments. Fortyeight hours did not elapse between the first talk on thesubject and the last, which engendered the picture of" Christ leaving the Prætorium." Doré continued hisreligious conversations with his ecclesiastical friend , who,although he had the art- treasures of the world to drawupon in literature, painting, sculpture, and music, found areal happiness in discussing serious questions with Doré,whom he found not only a genius " with a talent for everyhour of the day," but a man of puissant intellect, marvellous creative power and imagination, with a nature ofrare simplicity, sweetness, and strength; a man whoseculture was no mean accompaniment to his natural gifts.Doré only needed this new element of religious impetuosity to set the seal upon his previous thoughts andefforts.Doré's stay in London lasted a little over a month, andduring that time he went into Gloucestershire to pay avisit to Canon Harford's father, where he was initiatedinto English country life, which ever after had a peculiarcharm for him. On his return to London he resumed theX 2308GUSTAVEDORÉ.old round of gaieties, dinners, suppers, balls , gardenparties, theatres, and the like . He lunched at Marlborough House and dined with the Heir Apparent atState banquets, and yet with all these honours there began to creep into his heart a longing which nothing butthe sight of home, friends, and familiar faces, and thesound of loved voices could allay. It was then that hewrote the following letter to his friend Arthur Kratz, andten days later he was folded in his mother's arms, backin the Rue St. Dominique, which had seemed desolatewithout him."London, June 16th , 1868." MY DEAR ARTHUR, -What an amiable and goodfriend you are to think of and write to me so often; onmy return only shall I be able to tell you all the pleasureyour dear letters have afforded to me. Be assured thatthey are addressed to a man more dazed by real excitement than gay at the bottom of his heart. I was notborn to live out of my own climate; and nothing inthese violent distractions, these Belshazzar-like feasts,which fill up my life here, can ever banish certain painfulreflections from my mind. Il me faut revenir à mesmoutons, and I repeat that it is indeed sad to find oneselfthree hundred leagues distant from home, from one'sfamily, and from all that he holds dear on earth. Butlook at the alternative: eternal exile for myself here, in theinterests of my fortune; or return to that dear Paris ,where the sky is of a deeper blue; where woman's foothas a daintier arch; where good Maman Pillaud prepares rare mayonnaises for your friends; where champagne flows in rivulets, and where! and so on, andso on; but-but-but! A truce to such souvenirs! Ibecome absolutely a nuisance." In my next I must initiate you into and keep youposted as to English beauty." Six o'clock is striking. I close my letter with all mybest wishes, and hopes to see you very soon. News ofMME. DORÉ " ONE OF THE BOYS." 309the metropolis, S. V. P. The State accounts -arethey in good order?"Yours," G. DORÉ,"Artiste Militant."Doré spent the month of September, 1868 , at St. Odileand Barr with his mother and friend Arthur Kratz. Wemay imagine his pleasure at living again in the oldfamiliar country, where every resinous breath of the statelypines seemed to add a year to his life. He dipped hisfingers in the fountains of St. Odile and thought of hisyouth's favourite legend, associated with the remembranceof happier days. For Doré was no longer the dreamingboy who had conjured up and communed with the gnomesand sprites of the Schwarzwald, but a man in all theplenitude of life's successes and life's disappointments.Yet a man with a boy's heart, a woman's tenderness, anda poet's fancy. As for his mother, she was well andstrong, and seemed as young as the day when she put onGustave's little jacket and sent him off to ProfessorVergnette's school. During former trips to Switzerlandno excursion had been complete without her; and nowwhilst they were exploring for the hundredth time theforest and glens of St. Odile, Madame Alexandrine wastheir constant companion. Doré was full of his season inLondon, of the plan for a Doré Gallery then in projectionof his religious paintings, and of countless schemes, oneand all of which he deemed feasible, -nay, was certainthat they could not fail to turn out well. His mindteemed with illusions as luxuriantly as on that day, fourteen years before, when his mother had written to M.Lacroix, " Gustave does nothing but build castles in theair. When I see howmany projects germinate in hisyoung head, I ask myself if they can be realizable, nomatter how strong the will oftheir originator." A monthat St. Odile patched up the tired artist's health, and hereturned to Paris feeling uncommonly well and happy.His felicity was of brief duration.310 GUSTAVE DORÉ.On the 13th of November his dear friend Rossinidied, and it was Doré's painful task to make a lastsketch of the great composer as he lay on his death- bed .It may well be imagined that his heart was torn with.grief; yet the skilful hand never faltered, so muchstronger are habit and mechanical training than sentiment and passion. Doré drew the white pillows, thesoft cloud- like tissue of the bed-linen , the old headwhose wonderful genius had evolved a thousand tuneful inspirations which shall ring through the tone- realmsof all time to come. He pictured the deeply-lined face,the massive aquiline nose, the heavy closed eye-lids,the mobile scornful mouth then set in death, which hadonce let fall the words, anent Doré himself, et untenorino charmant, s'il vous plait. That was the lastof it all. No more music, no more sparkling satire, nomore Saturday nights redolent of mirth and happiness;a dear friend had gone from him for ever; and as thelast lines of his sketch traced themselves on the paperbefore him, a film covered his eyes, and his handfaltered for the first time.his" I can do no more, " he said; and sorrowfully wendedway homeward, to the house that would never echoagain to the sound of Rossini's merry jest and heartylaughter. Then came the funeral in the Church of theTrinité, whither all Paris flocked to pay its last court tothe illustrious dead; where not the least touching episodeof the funeral ceremony was the " Quis est hom*o," sungby Adelina Patti and Christine Nilsson as we probablynever shall hear it sung again so long as we live. Andto think that the Swan of Pesaro slept peacefully throughit all!The day following the great Maestro's demise, Dorécompleted his sketch called " Rossini on his Death-bed, "and later on made it the subject of one of his famousetchings. This branch of Doré's artistic faculty I shallnot speak of in detail at present. Suffice it to say thatthe etching in question is one of the finest ever executed,and, although one of the first, if not the very first he everDORE AND WIDOR. 311achieved, holds its own in merit with any of his laterworks.The sameyear, in speaking of the " Idylls of the King,"Doré often alluded to his preference for these works;and one evening at a great party at the Marquisd'Osmond's, Doré had occasion to speak of " Vivien " withM. Ch. Marie Widor, the great organist of St. Sulpice,and one of the most splendid musicians and composersof France. M. Widor mentioned to Doré the greatTHE MARSEILLES SAILOR.(London Sketch. )success of the " Idylls of the King," and remarked howcharming " Vivien " would be for an operatic libretto.Doré seized upon the idea at once and said to Widor, —" Yes, you must compose the music and I will designall the scenery and costumes. "It was enough to speak of any subject affording scopeto poetical illustration, and Doré's great creative fancyimmediately saw the work come to life through the aid ofhis fingers. Certainly the Grand Opera House wouldnever have had such a great scenic designer as M.312 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Gustave Doré. If he was the despair of his contemporaries in draughtsmanship, he certainly would havedriven the Parisian scene-painters wild, had he attemptedto enter their ranks. One would think that with a thousand ideas coming and going in Doré's head, a casualconversation held at a Paris evening party might haveslipped his mind, momentarily at least . On the contrary,he seems to have thought a great deal about the notion ,and the following day wrote to M. Widor recalling theirconversation on the subject.Doré sent M. Widor a magnificent copy of " Vivien,"accompanied by one of his charming illustrated billets,and the letter, besides paying every compliment to M.Widor's musical gifts, said, amongst other things , how delighted he ( Doré) would be to collaborate with him, that hewas full of the idea of " Vivien," and he thought it wouldmake a most delightful opera.M. Widor well recollects this circ*mstance, and that,even in so hasty a conversation as they held upon thesubject, Doré's conception of the scenes was as completeand finished as if the scheme had for some time beenforming in his mind. This was one of the many projects which were destined never to be realized by theenthusiastic artist . We may some day have the opera"Vivien " from the pen of this celebrated composer Widor,but another than Gustave Doré will design the costumes,scenery, and stage decorations. Those who recall thiscirc*mstance will think with the poet " of what mighthave been. "With all his wishing to go out of his way to undertakenew work, some idea may be had of his multiple occupations of the year 1869 from the following letter, writtenby Doré to his clerical friend in London. As I find noaccount of his having returned to England in this year,presumably if he went at all, he went very late in theseason, and only remained there a short time. The lettersays:-"June 2nd, 1869." VERY DEAR, AMIABLE, AND GOOD FRIEND, —I amDORÉ'S "HIGH-PRESSURE EXISTENCE." 313filled with regret that my absence from Paris, since severaldays, prevented my thanking you on the spot for your goodand affectionate souvenir. I returned from Fontainebleauthis very morning, and had the pleasure of finding yourletter on my table; witness of a friendship whose recollection always touches my heart; I hasten to renew myassurance of its reciprocity, de vive voix. Alas! manyserious enterprises have continually obliged me to defermy journey to London, which journey I certainly, however,ought to undertake for all sorts of reasons. I see withchagrin days and weeks going by without the possibilityof putting myself en route. What a high-pressure existence mine is, my dear Harford; but you know all aboutit; and the mass of things which I often presumptuouslyundertake, and often without taking the exact time intoaccount, create for me chains and servitudes whose linksI can scarcely break." I see with regret that you speak to me with reserveof your health, but I hope that the little troubles ofwhich you have spoken to me, and which frighten me,may be counterbalanced by your magnificent constitution ,which seems to predestine you to live to be a hundred .How much I and every member of my family haveregretted, dear friend, not to see you drop down amongstus in Paris, for you may imagine how often it happensto associate you with myself in my talks about London,and how many times I have found in you an obligingcomrade, and with what cordiality you had ever receivedme. I hope that you will make it up to us next seasonand give the pleasure of making your acquaintance toso many persons in whom you have already enlisted solively a sympathy. Have you heard that I have had thepleasure of receiving a visit from your charming friendMajor Teesdale, and who has had the infinite graciousness to announce to me the visit of H.R.H. the Prince ofWales? Will you, I pray, should you see him, transmitto him (Major Teesdale) my best compliments, withrenewed expressions of gratitude for the signal honourwhich I owe to him? I mean, dear friend , to send you a314 GUSTAVE DORE.turn up.little word announcing my visit to London on or about the15th of this month, that is to say, if no new hindrancesWill you have the kindness to give my mostaffectionate and sincere compliments to Dean Stanley,and tell him that the amiable and gracious reception.which he accorded me last year holds a dear place in myremembrance? Will you also present my respectfulhomage to Lady Stanley? Hoping then to see you soon,dear Harford, believe always in the firm and unalterablefriendship of (6'Yours most devoted,"G. DORE."DORE THINKS HIMSELF A PAINTER. 315CHAPTER XXX.A NEW CAREER.No longer satisfied with his success as an illustrator ,Doré began seriously to think of himself as a painter. Heentered the ranks of the great Paris confraternity, carrying his head high, sure of himself and of his inspiration .Relying somewhat on the prestige of his name, whichhad already become famous, he looked forward to a shortprobation, followed by a speedy and complete triumph.Since the days when "The Abominations of Paris, " and"The Battle of the Alma " had come to life in the oldstudio of the Rue Monsieur le Prince, he had worked withunflagging zeal and industry. The effects of the criticisms passed upon him after the exhibition of 1854vanished like glow-worms in the night, and all disappeared before the dawn of hope which broke upon thisnew departure. He was ardent, inspired, and certain ofsuccess; but he counted too soon upon victory.M. Delorme, the celebrated French writer, says ofDoré:-" Success is sometimes a terrible thing; and so itproved to Doré. The public, dazzled by his illustrationsof Rabelais, ' Don Quixote, ' Dante, Atala, and TheWandering Jew, ' had consecrated to Doré the title of thefirst draughtsman of his day. Millions of persons enter-316 GUSTAVEDORÉ.tained that opinion of him. When he began to exhibithis paintings everybody was surprised. People couldnot comprehend a very simple thing, namely, that adraughtsman could wield a paint- brush. Cela choquait l'idée que l'on s'était faite et à laquelle on ténait d'autantplus qu'elle était fausse."To critics, to calumnies, to the daily pin-thrustsdirected against him, Doré responded by a majesticseries of exhibitions. "" ChezThese pictures are all more or less well known and aremost of them at present in the Doré Gallery, London.Chief amongst them were: "The Martyrs," " TheNeophyte," "Gideon choosing his Soldiers, " " Dante auxEnfers," " L'Entrée de Jésus à Jérusalem ,"Caïphas," " Les Contrabandiers Espagnols," "La Visionde Calphurnie," " Le Rêve de la Femme de Pilate, " " LaSortie du Prétoire," " La Promenade de la Sainte- Croixdans le Camp des Croisés, " " L'Alsace, " " L'Aigle Noir, ""Le Triomphe du Christianisme, """Le Dernier Jugement, '" L'Ascension, " " L'Ecce hom*o, " " Les Saltimbanques, ""Vénise," " Le Pays des Fées," " L'Enfant pauvre àLondres," " Le Chant du Départ, " " La Patrie enDanger," " La Marseillaise," " Le Ravin," " Forêt desSapins dans les Vosges," " La Grève," " Le Rhin Allemand,” and his latest picture exhibited in the Salon ," La Mort d'Orphée.""9Doré was certainly a great man, and painted wellenough to have been spared " calumnies " and " pinpricks. " From the time he exhibited his first pictures untilhis last, he was made to feel in France a lash of criticismas sharp as it was unjust. In order to judge fairly ofDoré's pretensions to be considered a great painter, it wouldbe as well first to sum up his qualifications for that title.He had genius, creative power, a lively imagination, andthe skill to make everything coming from his hand seemalive. These were no mean auxiliaries in his struggle forsuccess; but the world of artists and critics said he had"no school " in painting, and this phrase was acceptedas his conclusive condemnation.“ THE GREATEST ILLUSTRATOR OF HIS TIME.” 317Doré was the greatest illustrator of his time, andbrought so many qualifications to bear upon this branchORIGINAL DRAWING FOR STATUARY.(Unpublished. Paris, 1870. )of art that he surpassed all those draughtsmen who hadpreviously been considered incomparable. In Paris,even in those early days, he found competitors of no318 GUSTAVEDORÉ.small merit. It was something not only to excel them,but to stand so far above them that no comparison waspossible. In the art which boasted not only a Gérome.and a Meissonier, but many others of equally deservedrenown, Doré was heavily handicapped at his start inthe race for fame. Not only was he not first favourite ,but the odds against him were formidably long. Hismost insurmountable obstacle was his own acknowledgedsuperiority in another branch of the artistic profession .It has been generally conceded that a Jack-of- all-tradesis master of none; but there are exceptions to every rule.A person generously endowed by nature may learn to domany things equally well; and the career which provessuccessful in such a case, may not be the one originallyundertaken. Not infrequently, it is only after many yearsof fidelity to the wrong groove that a man has the luckto hit upon the right one. In order to succeed he mustfirst of all know what he is specially fitted to do, andsecondly, must stick to that one thing with inflexiblepersistence.Doré had the rare good fortune to begin life in the oneprofession to adorn which he was indisputably cut out bynature. Talents which are of secondary importance toa painter, are absolutely essential to an illustratingdraughtsman; and with these he was lavishly provided.Looking at his " Dante," his " Rabelais," his " DonQuixote," and " The Wandering Jew," any true lover ofart can scarcely fail to grasp the real force and nature ofDoré's genius. What difference can it make to me that alimb should be out of drawing here or there, or that ahand be too large or a foot too small? As well findfault with the thick wrists of Correggio's model and saythat, because nature had not endowed her with joints ofpatrician slenderness, the artist's sublime Magdalen wasa failure! What one looks for in an illustrator is thesoul, the idea , the essence, the meaning of the poetwhose works are graphically treated; and these Doré'sgenius has triumphantly conveyed to us. But the art ofpainting requires in its practician the knowledge of cer-" THE ACTUALITIES OF COMIC WORK" 319tain fundamental rules and mechanical training, to whichthe rarest of natural gifts must long be subordinate; whilstwith these rules the art of illustrating mayto some extentdispense, when genius guides the draughtsman's pencil.Had Doré begun life as a painter, there is every believe that he would have achieved grander successes.Although his disposition was impetuous, he could illbrook restraint, and his impatience would have promptedhim to sacrifice many an inspiration . But these faults of character were no hindrance to his success as an illustrator; for his ideas were executed as soon as conceived;his fertile brain, teeming with projects, required but theapprenticeship of immediate action and constant practice;and all those years which he regretted as having been"devoted to the actualities of comic work, " were merelysafety-valves by which his brain was relieved of overthought-pressure, whilst they accustomed his fingers tothe performance of still more cunning and difficult feats .Doré was greatest when he allowed his imagination torun away with his pencil. That is why his hasty sketcheswere usually more perfect than his laboured works.When he could reveal his ideas immediately through themedium of his fingers, they expanded under his magictouch, as a flower opens to the sun. When he feltobliged to bestow time, labour, and long consecutivethought upon his paintings, the original beauty of theirconception was obscured, for the executant detail wasusually more or less incomplete. His pictures, however,were always instinct with life , movement, and subtlepower. Critics might detect errors in their outlines andcolouring; but it could not be denied that they evincedthe genius of creative force and lively imagination.No one who knew Gustave Doré could possibly imaginehim plodding away at drawing- classes, fighting withshadows, or fuming at models. In his early youth, evento have become a second Michel Angelo, it may betaken as a certainty that he never would have submittedto such discipline.The hours and days and months that he spent at his320 GUSTAVE DORÉ.studio in the Rue Bayard were consumed in efforts tosatisfy his self-love and to gratify his ambition . Hisnature was rendered despotic by his innate sense of genius,by his successes, and by his constant craving for fame.Like the majority of human beings, he wanted what hecould not have; and had Paris proclaimed him a DaVinci, the next day he would probably have dropped hisbrushes, and would never have put forth the splendidefforts which make the Doré Gallery one of the wondersof the age.Beyond a doubt Doré's heart was in his painting. Heworked away steadily at illustrating; but that branch ofart occupied an inferior rank in his estimation . Hispictures were always accepted at the annual exhibitionsof the Salon, but were rarely mentioned by the art- critics;and Paris seemed persistently to shut its eyes to the factthat Doré, their prodigal child in genius and talent,their illustrator of Dante, Rabelais, and Don Quixote,was or ever would be anything more than a draughtsmanof the highest class .This cut Doré to the quick. He was received withprincely dignities in England, where he was called thePreacher- Painter, and his smallest canvas brought himmore than its weight in gold from America as well asEngland. But in his own country he was forlorn ofhonour; not in every sense, but in the one in which it.would have been his paramount happiness to have beenacknowledged. He painted constantly, however, and thestudio in the Rue Bayard was entirely given up to hugepictures and to models in clay, for he had also begunsculpturing. But of that I will speak hereafter.The world at large will be very much surprised to learnthat in France Doré was not considered a great painter.His genius was admitted; his creative and imaginativepowers were acknowledged to be unrivalled; his drawingswere raved about, and some of his water- colours wereclassed amongst the best efforts of the eminent artistsof the day. All these qualities were conceded to him;but in France he was positively denied the fame andA FRENCHMAN'S OPINION OF DORÉ. 321rank of a great painter, as the following incident willattest.Mr. H -, a Frenchman, and celebrated amateur ofthe fine arts, went to London a few years ago. Whenhe had been a day in town an English friend said to him, —" Now you must come with me to New Bond Street,and see the pictures of your greatest living painter,Gustave Doré."66 " What? Doré our greatest painter? You must bebeside yourself! " exclaimed Mr. H———. 'You meanyour greatest painter. He is our greatest illustrator; buta painter-never! He is neither greatest nor great;indeed, we never knew he was a painter at all until youtold us so."""Mr. H. spoke without prejudice; on the contrary,he was one of Doré's most fervent admirers and friends.He simply expressed a conviction which had becomeridiculously patent in Paris, and had so strongly impresseditself upon public feeling, little by little, that had Dorébeen Raphael himself, France would neither have perceived nor admitted that he was so. Undoubtedly hehad great faults; but at the same time his two redeeming qualities, creative power and executive capacity, havenever been surpassed by those of any living painter.Doré worked by pure inspiration , a rare and preciousgift which he too highly appreciated. However, thesolitary criticism pronounced on his paintings in 1854has been conscientiously repeated every year since thattime, at first by the few and finally by the many, -" Doréhad no school for painting."How much or how little truth there was in that assertion I leave the world in general to decide; but in justiceto Doré I must say that the critic's dictum was extravagantly severe. It seems almost impossible for Frenchmen to attain the right level of criticism and stick to it . Anartist is raised aloft to the very skies in the first instance,through some caprice of the public, and through no faultof his own is kept there feeding on celestial alimentsuntil mere mundane pabulum becomes unpalatable toY322 GUSTAVE DORÉ.him. Let the poor victim of popular fantasy and falsecriticism , encouraged by his first success, spread hispinions to attempt further flight into the empyrean, andhe is not only brutally dragged down from his airy heights,but his wings are clipped and he is given to understandthat he must not presume to have a will of his own;that his advancement from the very first depended on theinfluence of public favour, which, alas! was only thefickle caprice of the passing hour, not the genuinehomage to talent which takes time to build up into asolid reputation.Paris is a delightful city; but amongst its besettingdrawbacks are the craving for novelty, constant itchingfor notoriety, and irrepressible proneness to create reputations out of nothing. Inferior creatures, unheard ofyesterday, are exalted by Parisians to the seventh and allowed to drop to-morrow, by which timeanother victim is ready to be plucked from obscurity andcast into the aerostatic whirlpool of popularity. Perhapsone here and there may escape; perhaps all are sacrificed.What matter, so long as the beautiful vampire be satisfied, the public appetite for novelty appeased, and excitement of some sort continually kept up? Paris lives onthis sort of intellectual diet, and often her favour, political,professional, or social, is a venomous viper, warmed to lifein your bosom only to sting you to death as soon as thetemperature of its body varies, is either raised or loweredto any certain degree of heat.But, as it sometimes happens, great talents have thegood fortune to obtain speedy recognition, and GustaveDoré belonged to that exceptional category. It mustnot be assumed, however, that he benefited much bythis inborn privilege. His fate was little better thanthat of others who had not an atom of genius, but hadbeen chosen by fickle fortune to occupy a place ofhonour for the moment on the chariot of public favour.Doré, being possessed of supreme gifts, unconsciouslyfanned the flame of popularity so as to keep it alivelonger than another less talented artist could have done;FRENCH CRITICISM IN GENERAL. 323and this explains his having been for several successiveseasons the pet of the Parisian public. He never failedto work honestly and indefatigably, never played anytricks, never attempted in any way to ridicule his patrons,and, above all , never presumed on his position, except,perhaps, in being over-ambitious.That he certainly was. He felt Promethean fires glowingin his breast, and fed their flames by constant executiveeffort . It has been given to very few men to attempt andaccomplish what he attempted and accomplished. To bea successful draughtsman, engraver, sculptor, painter,and etcher, is what Gustave Doré alone has been amongFrenchmen. Not even the vaunted Renaissance produced such a genius. To say that his fellow- countrymenwere grateful for this quintuple triumph would be untrue.No; he was regarded as over-ambitious, and those whoexclaimed, " Lo! a genius! " at the least remarkable ofhis works, were first to say, " Thus far and no farther! "when it was discovered that he had taken his critics inearnest, and sought to prove that he really was one.As in the case of Wolsey, his ambition was acrime. The public cried out, " What! is he not satisfied? We have said that he is the greatest draughtsmanof his day. What more does he want? " GustaveDoré not only wanted the full measure of all that hisambition, talent, and industry demanded in the way offame, but he desired to be a great painter, and gaugedhis wants by pure aspirations, which were exalted andlimitless. No one can blame him for this , and least ofall for considering his lot a thorny one. We know thatlife itself, with fame, power, position, and riches, is notworth having when the one wish of the human heartremains ungratified. To see the sun daily rise and seton vain hopes, to watch the months and years roll by inceaseless disappointment, when the one thing which wouldmake life bearable is the only one that life refuses to give,is to be deeply and utterly miserable. It is all very wellto preach philosophy and contentment, but those whomnature has predisposed to be stoical, she has seldomY 2324 GUSTAVE DORÉ.endowed with keen sympathies or sensitive susceptibilities .In a word, they are exceptions to the rule of humanity;and Gustave Doré was intensely human. C'est tout dire!So Paris kept asking, " What more does Doré want? "and French criticism was not backward in reminding himof his former obligations to it, with that indelicacy whichis the outcome of facile favours. His relations to theParisian press at that time remind me of an AmericanI knew, rich in everything but worldly goods, who wascontinually invited to evening entertainments . Hesecretly borrowed a dress suit of a friend in order tofulfil his social engagements properly attired, until onenight, as he was standing under a dripping wax candle ,the owner of said garments publicly begged him " to becareful of his dress coat," whereupon he resolved toaccept no more such broadcloth favours. GenerousSenator C――, heaven rest his soul! subsequentlyinsisted upon the young man helping himself from his(the Senator's) wardrobe; and at the next ball, noticinghis carefulness and avoidance of the candelabra, bawledout at the top of his voice, " My friend, you may standunder as many candles as you please with my clotheson."Even pagans respect their idols; but " the centre ofcivilization," as Victor Hugo calls it , has little time towaste on real sentiment; and after Doré had been styled auniversal genius for so many years, it was not only uselessbut cruel to revoke the title so brusquely.To a country in which the first principle enjoyingpopular consideration is the caprice of the moment,England is far preferable; for while Englishmen arecolder than Frenchmen in the outset, and less ready toenthrone idols , once on lofty pedestals, the rock ofGibraltar is not more firmly founded than is their constancy to objects of their worship. A man once pronounced a genius in these islands will remain so, at leastuntil he " shuffles off this mortal coil;" and woe to thecritical or any other faction which dares throw mud athim! But in a country which has not the absolute cour-FRANCE versus DORÉ.325age of its opinions, and the self- respect to adhere to themwhen once pronounced, it is difficult to distinguish goldfrom dross, and real genius from acquired renown.Doré should have known how to bear his disappointments calmly. He was so highly gifted that he shouldhave been above wondering or caring whether or not theeyes of the world were fixed upon him. On the contrary,he not only worried himself in secret, but allowed hiscountry to see that its non- appreciation affected himseriously. At last, wishing to show that he did not carefor French neglect, in a lofty spirit of bravado hecarried off his paintings to England, established himselfthere, so to speak, and gave France to understand thathe could afford to laugh at her.From that day his doom was sealed in his nativecountry. He did not hesitate to let France know howhighly he was appreciated abroad; and the more splendidthe honours showered upon him in England, the more icythe indifference displayed towards him in his fatherland.And yet, in spite of all , Doré still hoped to make agreat name as a painter for himself in his beloved France.The greater part of the money he earned by illustratingwas spent on interminable yards of canvas, most of whichcame to life in the studio of the Rue Bayard. Forinstance, the cost to him of a picture like the " Entry ofChrist into Jerusalem " was about ten thousand francs( 400); and Doré repeatedly began works of this kindwith but little prospect of their being immediately sold.Unless they should be purchased for some cathedral,church, or religious college, he had not the remotest idea.what would become of them until the Doré Gallery wasopened; and yet he did not hesitate, from a pure love ofart, to spend months on his ladder, and to wear out hiseyes working by lamplight at his blocks in order to payfor the pleasure of indulging himself in this costly pastime,and also because he felt truly inspired, and had been toldthat he was capable of painting religious subjects.In vain he hoped that France would purchase some ofhis religious works. Tothis day there is not the slightest326 GUSTAVE DORÉ.chance of such a thing coming to pass. His " Neophyte,"one of the most remarkable inspirations of this century,and of which Alexandre Dumas said, " It was a triumphof nature and art, " came near winning him the grand goldmedal in the Salon of 1870; but only near!Doré once told the story of his first box of colours toM. Delorme. It is so interesting that I shall repeat ithere in full.One day-a sad day for Gustave Doré, when he hadbeen cruelly disappointed in his legitimate hopes; anddeeply wounded in his self-love-when his views ofart had been attacked , and his convictions and faith as apainter jeered at-he said by way of conclusion in speaking of these things, —" I might have expected it. Long ago it was predictedto me that painting would be the despair of my life . Iwas only as high as that, " he lifted his hand less thanthree feet from the floor, " when the prophecy wasuttered; and since then it has been but too terriblyrealized."Listen. I am about to tell you the history of myfirst box of oil- colours . This is it . I was very small, butfor a long time had despised the harmless water- colours ,free from mineral poison, with which I had been soprudently supplied . I ardently longed for a box ofthose little tubes in white zinc , in order to squeeze realcolours out of them. At last, as I was going one dayinto Josserond, a little commune in the Department ofthe Ain, to pass a week with a friend of my father, Ireceived a famous little oaken box bound with brass andfilled with tubes and brushes. I was wild with joy.Never before had I received such a present. I wasfor opening all the tubes and beginning at once to covermy palette with paints; but, alas! the carriage waswaiting, there was no time to be lost, and we started off." Naturally I carried my cherished box with me undermy arm say rather on my heart! At the same time.I promised myself a good go in at my painting thevery instant I should arrive at my journey's end. TheDORE PAINTS A CHICKEN. 327drive, however, proved longer than I had anticipated .We only arrived after nightfall. Then came a prohibition to touch my box; an order to go to bed; and-the lights were put out! All night long I neverclosed my eyes; and with the first grey streak of dawn Ijumped out of bed, seized my box, and went downstairsinto the courtyard . Alas! There was neither canvas,panels, nor pasteboard to be found . The evening beforethey had all been put safely away. I was dying to paint;it was a madness, an irresistible desire which I could notget rid of; and all the while I was anxiously asking myself how I should make a beginning, and what I shouldpaint? I began by uncorking my tubes, and decorated mypalette with several appetizing little clots of paint. Thefreshness, the gleam, the cheery look of those colourscaused a delightful thrill of intoxication to run through myveins--for what in this world, to an artist, ever equalsthe charm of his first palette? Amongst my colours.there was a beautiful green that delighted my eyes;what a lovely hue! -the real Veronese green in all itsglory!"But how to paint, and what? Whilst I was puttingthis question again and again to myself my eyes fell upona poor little chicken, not bad in form, but with a fearfullydirty pseudo-white plumage. This innocent creature wascalmly pecking at something in the gravel not two yards.distant from me. The real tone of the chicken's colourwas frightful. It seemed to me an error of the Creatorto have made any fowl so ugly in hue as that one, whenit would have been so easy to have clad it in a gorgeousdress, like that of a parrot's, for instance. I determinedto lose no time in rectifying this fault of Nature." The chicken, however, raised some difficulties in theway of my project's execution. The wretched ignoramuscould not understand that I was only working for hergood, in her own interests. However, I was tenacious,and finally gained my end. In a very short time she wasas verdant as spinach, and all my lovely Veronese greenwas used up. But-what a beautiful chicken! It328GUSTAVEDORÉ.was a pleasure to see her walking about in her gorgeousnew dress, so brilliant and fresh that it surpassed in vividness the loveliest spring verdure."I spent some time in contemplating my work; and,having momentarily satisfied my longing by this brilliantsuccess, I suddenly began to realize that I was sleepy,and should do well also to make up for myrestless night byindulging in a brief slumber." Two orthree hours later I woke up with a start, hearing cries, sobs , and lamentations ringing in my ears.What on earth could be the matter? Running to thewindow, I saw hosts of peasants and village folk stationedin front of the house. Some raised their eyes and handstowards heaven, others were crying pitifully, whilst othersexpressed in various ways the most profound despair. Intheir midst was my beautiful chicken. Whenever sheattempted to move, fingers were pointed towards herin horror, and lamentations burst forth with redoubledvigour."After a few moments' reflection , all at once I soundedthe mystery, for I remembered a legend of that countryin which a green chicken played a terrible part. Herappearance heralded floods, the loss of the harvest, adisease amongst the cattle, and a pestilent epidemicamongst the people. That was why the little town wasso stirred up by the apparition of my contriving; andwhilst I was still thinking about it, a poor woman, seizedwith a nervous attack, fell to the ground in convulsions.Then I hesitated no longer. I ran to find the master ofthe house, and made the most humble and completeconfession. It was not really my fault; that diabolicalVeronese green was at the bottom of all the trouble.Besides, why was that miserable chicken so ugly as totempt me to make it beautiful for ever?"I assure you it took my father's friend more than anhour to make those simple people and the superstitiousJosserond peasants believe that this green bird had notbeen sent by some evil spirit to blight them, instead ofbeing simply my first effort at painting. They only fullyTOO CREDULOUS PEASANTS. 329believed me when they saw my palette and the well- nighemptied tube of Veronese green. Not until their fearswere somewhat dissipated did I dare to show myself inthe town; and then one old woman, who had been moreterrified and was more incredulous than the rest, shakingher withered fingers in my face, cried out with a propheticvoice,'Wretched youth! You have made the world weep.In its turn it will make you shed bitter tears over yourpainting.' "330 GUSTAVE DORÉ.CHAPTER XXXI.THE DORÉ GALLERY IN LONDON.IN the earlier part of 1868 , the year of Doré's first visitto London, an exhibition of his oil paintings was held inthe Egyptian Hall, amongst them being the colossalpicture of the gaming- table at Baden- Baden, called , “ LeTapis Vert." This picture is larger than any other ofthose at present in the Bond Street Gallery, and in itselfalmost constituted an entire exhibition. Besides thiswere shown " Dante on the Ice Fields with Virgil " (anenormous picture) , " Jephtha, " and several others.This exhibition was started by M. Arymar, a Parisianacquaintance of Gustave Doré, who went to Doré'sstudio in Paris and made a proposition to him withregard to exhibiting the above pictures in London , whichworks of art were at that time in the Rue Monsieur lePrince. The next day Doré signified his willingness topart with the pictures for the above-mentioned object,and that same year these works were accordingly firstexhibited in London. It would be unnecessary to followthe fortunes of this first Doré Gallery, especially as theywere most infelicitous .The Doré Gallery, as it now exists , originated in acommission given to M. Doré by Messrs. Fairlessand Beeforth to paint the picture "The Triumph ofChristianity over Paganism." As it may be of interestTHE DORÉ GALLERY. 331at present and at some future day, by permission of theabove-named gentlemen, I am able to give a copy ofthat first contract, with some other valuable memorandain re Doré:-Dec. 7 , 1867."Memorandum of agreement, made this seventh day of December,One thousand eight hundred and sixty-seven, between M. GustaveDoré, of No. 3, Rue Bayard, Paris, on the one part, and James LiddleFairless and George Lord Beeforth on the other part."The said Gustave Doré undertakes to paint, in a highly finishedand his best manner, for the said James Liddle Fairless and GeorgeLord Beeforth, an oil painting representing the Fall of Paganism, ' forthe sum of eight hundred pounds ( £800 ) of lawful money of GreatBritain, to be received from them jointly on the completion of the saidpicture. This sum of £800 is to include payment for the copyright ofthe said picture in France, Great Britain, America, and every othercountry where such right is recognized, which right the said GustaveDoré hereby undertakes to transfer to the said James Liddle Fairlessand George Lord Beeforth, on payment of the sum mentioned . Alsofor the same sum to make a water-colour drawing of the said picture,fit for the engraver to engrave from, and all the original sketches whichhe may make in connection with the said picture, which he engagesshall be ready, with the original picture, not later than March the first,One thousand eight hundred and sixty- eight."Gustave Doré also undertakes to lend to the said James LiddleFairless and George Lord Beeforth his bust, to exhibit along with theabove-named picture, during the continuance of its exhibition, on theunderstanding that it is to be returned uninjured at its close.1"Gustave Doré further undertakes to paint one or two other pictures,representing either Christ healing the Sick, ' ' The Sermon on theMount, ' ' Christ leaving the Prætorium, ' ' St. Paul led to Martyr- dom ,' or any other subject of like character on the same terms ashe hereby undertakes to paint the ' Fall of Paganism, ' should it bethought desirable by the said James Liddle Fairless and George LordBeeforth, after the exhibition of the said picture of the ' Fall of Paganism.'" Gustave Doré also undertakes to sign, in the usual manner, withhis autograph, the remark proof and the artist's proof of the engraving from the Fall of Paganism ' when they are published ."Gustave Doré further undertakes to paint of the same size, andequal in quality and finish to the original picture, a second picture of¹ This has reference to a picture on a much smaller scale than thatwhich was eventually adopted. The great work which has added so largelyto Doré's fame was the subject of a separate treaty between Doré and Messrs. Fairless and Beeforth.332 GUSTAVE DORÉ.the Fall of Paganism, ' if the same is required by the said Messrs.Fairless and Beeforth, the said duplicate, or second picture, to be completed within the space of six months from the receipt of thecommission." Signed at Paris, Dec. 7 , 1867." G. DORÉ.66" JAMES LIDDLE FAIRLESS." GEORGE LORD BEEFORTH, "To the exhibition of this work was added a miscellaneous gatheringof pictures and drawings, which comprised the first general collectionof Doré's works, and these were exhibited at the Gallery, 168, NewBond Street, during the season of 1868, viz. April 17th to September26th. On April 23rd of the following year, 1869 , the exhibition wastransferred to much larger premises at 35, New Bond Street, where,from its opening at that date to the present day, the gallery has beenopen continuously, without the interval of a single day ( Sundays,Christmas, and Good Fridays excepted ) , a fact which gives conclusiveevidence of the unparalleled popularity of the artist.From time to time, since all the most important pictures painted byDoré-either bought or commissioned by Fairless and Beeforth-havebeen added to the attractions of this perennial show, and the collectionthus formed now comprises the following well-known works, to the listof which is appended the date of their completion.Gustave Doré faithfully fulfilled all the obligations ofthe above contract, as did also Messrs . Fairless andBeeforth. Probably at the present day few art galleriesin the world enjoy a higher reputation than the DoréGallery in London. From the time at which he translated his classics at school with the aid of his pencil, upto the epoch when his illustrations of " Rabelais, " " TheWandering Jew, " and " Dante, " disclosed new beauties inthose works to the civilized world, Gustave Doré's famehad been founded almost exclusively upon these lattermasterpieces of delineation. Yet how different is themeasure of his celebrity appraised within the radius oftwo countries which are separated by a mere " silvernstreak " of sea!In Paris, those who contemplate M. Doré's paintingsexclaim, "These are, of course, by the illustrator Doré! "In London, on looking at his illustrations , people remark," How finely the painter Doré could draw!Have younever been to the Doré Gallery? "SOME OF DORÉ'S LONDON PICTURES.333Although a book ought scarcely to degenerate into acatalogue, I must take leave to enumerate here the worksof art exhibited in the Bond Street Gallery, commencingwith " Christ leaving the Prætorium," the great pictureprobably well known to all Londoners. The story of thispicture's genesis has already been told, and it may beobserved that Doré's great religious paintings are allposterior in date to this grand work. The " Neophyte,"although a masterpiece of serious thought and feeling,has neither the religious depth, breadth, nor scope ofsubject displayed by M. Doré's later works.In theNeophyte" Doré dealt with a type of humanity giftedwith refinement of feeling, and animated by a spirit whosecomprehension of things divine is troubled by surroundings of materialism and hypocrisy. In treating thesubject of " Christ leaving the Prætorium," he enteredfor the first time as a painter into the grand domain ofthe Divinity and the sublimer element of the life andpassion of our Saviour.It will be remembered that this is the picture the possibility of painting which Doré discussed with the Rev.Frederick Harford, when the two friends were on their wayto Sydenham to visit Sir George Grove. The picture inits present state is the crystallization of Doré's inspiration, humility, and patience.Doré has been often described as unconquerable,opinionated, and extremely self-willed . The followingauthentic incident about the Prætorium picture will showthat he was neither the one nor the other, and that, onthe contrary, he could sacrifice every personal consideration to the exigencies of his art.In February, 1870, Doré was busy on his work for theSalon Exhibition of the following May, at which he wasto be represented by two pictures . "Christ leaving thePrætorium " was one of the works intended to be shownon that occasion. Three weeks or a month before theexpiration of the time allotted for sending in his picturesthe work above alluded to was nearly completed. Onemorning Canon Harford, who was staying in Paris, went334 GUSTAVE DORÉ.to visit Doré's studio. The picture was not what it is atpresent. Instead of the heavy sky and sombre pall ofcloud looming up in the background, which at presentintensify the fatal and lugubrious aspect of that sadmorning, Doré had painted a sunshiny sky, and all theroseate luminousness of a fair spring day. Canon Harford said little about the picture, and, remembering theirconversation and Doré's decision as to how he was todepict the scene in its every detail, felt that Doré hadeither forgotten his original intention, or had slightlychanged his conception of the work; for the fair morninghe had painted almost nullified the idea of sadness andfatality that should have been indicated by Nature'saspect on the day of that dread tragedy. Doré noticedhis friend's reticence, and remarked, " You say nothingabout my picture; our picture of " Christ leaving thePrætorium.The reverend gentleman hesitated to pronounce anabsolute opinion, but with a few apt words recalled theirconversation respecting the artistic conception of thesubject, and contrived to convey to the artist his impression that the picture did not absolutely represent Doré'soriginal preconceived idea of what it should be.Madame Doré, who was present in the studio, washorrified that any one should dare to speak so plainly tosuch an artist as her son. Doré seemed overwhelmed,but listened with profound seriousness to the sentimentsexpressed with regard to his picture. As a matter of facthe was too creative, original, and unpractised in meremechanical art to stick absolutely to any settled scheme.He could develop his ideas in a thousand different ways,each bearing to him a strict relation to the radical one;but perhaps the very redundance of this faculty ofdevelopment might lead him astray.After the brief conversation above referred to, a painfulsilence fell upon the studio. Doré looked at his erringpicture again and again, and seemed buried in profoundreflection. Then, at last, a sad, determined look overspread his countenance; he sprang up his ladder like aAN EXAMPLE OF DORE'S HUMILITY. 335cat, and, before a word could be spoken by any onepresent, seized a brush and commenced vigorouslypainting out the picture. Madame Doré nearly had afit, and screamed out with irrepressible anguish, " Oh,Gustave! how can you? Stop, stop , do stop, it hurtsme to see you ruin your glorious picture. Don't do it.You are both wrong! ""It is quite right, mother, and my friend is quiteright! " exclaimed Doré, emphasizing each word by afrantic lunge at the picture, " quite right! and I amglad he has told me the truth. There, now! " He gaveone final flourish of the brush, totally obliterating theunfortunate sky, and then descended his ladder.HeHe grewvery pale as he added, in a helpless sort of way, " Thatis done with, and-my work for the Salon? Nothingremains of this; what am I to do? " It was afterwardsthat he painted the " Massacre des Innocents " in twodays, a feat I have already alluded to.Doré, having been decorated for his services to art, hadthe privilege of sending his works in at the last moment,and he certainly had little time before him to think of anything else. Besides, the personal sacrifice of not sendingthis particular picture to the Exhibition was one whichcannot adequately be described. His heart and hopeshad been growing more buoyant with every stroke of hisbrush for more than a year. Yet all this went for nothingas soon as he conceived the slightest suspicion that hehad been wrong.I lay stress upon this incident, for I consider it anirrefutable proof of the finer qualities of Doré's realnature. Taking everything into consideration, the man'spersonal feelings, the artist's professional amour-propre,the circ*mstances connected with the Exhibition, andthe overwhelming probability of his not being representedthere at all after hissanguine hopesand consecutive labours,these are details which display the artist's disposition innoble and splendid relief. Few painters would have donewhat Gustave Doré did. It is curious to observe, in attempting to gather materials for a man's biography, the336GUSTAVEDORÉ.sparseness and sameness of the details gleaned fromone's informants. I think that up to the present timefew to whom I have applied for assistance in myself-imposed task have spoken to me of Gustave Doréwithout making reference to his obstinacy. Howeverslight in the case of each individual these allusions mayhave been, added together and summed up, their totalitypresents a startling array of evidence against a vice whichseems almost pronounced enough to merit the name ofvirtue. It may be presumption on my part to attemptthe refutation of all this evidence by one simple incidenteven more simply told, such as the above. But it shouldbe remembered that intimacy with our fellow- creaturesaccentuates and brings out all their least amiable qualities .In the mass of spoken and written matter emanatingfrom his dearest friends which I have compiled relativeto Doré, it has been with the greatest difficulty that Ihave contrived to get at one authentic anecdote illustrating his capacity for yielding to advice. My personalacquaintance with the artist was slight enough, however,to allow of my being an absolutely unbiassed, unprejudiced appreciator of his nature and talent.member once having been greatly struck with a remarkmade by a life-long friend of the late Professor Longfellow in connection with the latter's biography. Theperson in question remarked, " These biographers arespringing up everywhere. Why, I have known him allmy days, and far too well to ever think of writing hislife."I reI am now in a position to fully understand the meaningof this apparently paradoxical observation.From the spring of 1870 until nearly two years laterGustave Doré continued to work at his Prætorium picture, and practically repainted one-third of it. Beforespeaking of the London exhibition of this great work,its reception in Paris may be best described by Doréhimself.On the 21st of April, 1872 , Doré wrote from Paris tothe Rev. Canon Harford a letter, from which I subjoinSUCCESS OF the doré GALLERY. 337the following extract concerning the Paris success of" Christ leaving the Prætorium: '" I have at last finished my picture, which I haveplaced in a beautiful light, and to see which I have convoked the Parisian public until the end of this month,giving due notice that it must be in London early nextmonth." I assure you that if I have as much success there asat this moment I am having here, I shall be extremelywell pleased. You haven't an idea how the last month'swork has augmented the effect of my picture; I ought tosay our picture, because you have interested yourself init so affectionately, dear friend , that you must feel thesame emotion as I do touching the question of its reception in London. I am going to begin tormenting you nextmonth to see if there is no means of inducing you tocome to Paris to enjoy a few of our beautiful May days.Then we will choose a fine sunshiny day or a beautifulmoonlit night, aad return together to London. Mymother sends you a thousand affectionate remembrances,and I embrace you cordially." G. DORÉ."It would be useless for me to attempt the descriptionof a picture so generally known as this one. Its reception in England was of the most enthusiastic nature.The Doré Gallery was crowded from morning to night;preachers, painters, connoisseurs, art-critics, press- men,and the public in general kept up a constant talk andexcitement about the work. The unanimity with which itwas praised was astonishing, and for a wonder the art- criticsoutvied one another in descanting on its general merits.One review said, " The most marvellous picture of thepresent age is to be seen in New Bond Street; " another,that " for grandeur and boldness of mass and outline , andfor energy and passion of expression ' Christ leaving thePrætorium ' suggests a comparison with the masterpiecesof Michel Angelo;" another, that "this picture is wellworthy of notice, not only on account of the superhumanገ338GUSTAVEDORÉ.interest of the subject itself, but also on account of itswonderful elaboration of detail;" another, " In this vastassemblage Doré displays his extraordinary faculty forpainting character under its most varied aspects of thepicturesque. We are not disposed to dwell upon anyweak point in a work of such unquestionable power andsuch noble aspirations as this; neither can we complainof the preponderance of the complex forms and colouringof the picture over the higher requisites of simplicity andgrandeur, as necessary to these great themes of art. Apainter, like an orator, must be allowed his manner: if hecan impress us with his art, he deserves our praise andour gratitude. It must be owned, whatever one maythink of the style of M. Doré, he is always impressive.His picture of Dante's ' Inferno, ' his ' Wandering Jew, ' his' Gambling Salon, ' his ' Neophyte, ' his ' Christian Martyrs , ' and an innumerable host of smaller illustrations , areall wonderfully full of thought, and abound in artisticfacility; but this great achievement of his tells of morematured and chastened power of conception and muchmore scholarly work of execution . " Another critic says," The work in the picture is immense, but it is the leastinterest of the composition; for all the multiform typesof physiognomy, all the picturesque details of costume,all the touches of beauty are subordinated to the onegrand sublime expression of sorrowful pity that beams outof the divine eyes of Jesus Christ . It is by far thelargest canvas this artist has yet filled , and will , unlesswe are much mistaken, prove the most splendid manifestation of his genius which he has yet given to the world ."Gustave Doré could never have imagined abrilliant success for his picture; and it must have beena flattering testimony to his talent and perseverance.Considering his unfortunate first experience of the work,his finishing it at all was a marvel. Most men wouldhave been disgusted after so unfortunate a start. It islittle to say that, after the incident alluded to some timeback, Doré paid a double tribute of devotion both to hisinspiration and his public.ENGLISH CRITICISM OF DORÉ'S PAINTINGS. 339Doré received the lump sum of 6000l. for this picture,and it may be considered to have constituted a veryhandsome financial success. Speaking of money matters, naturally the prices Doré received for his laterworks were more than tenfold what was paid to him forhis earlier ones. For instance, the beautiful " Francescaand Paolo, " at present in the Doré Gallery, was originallysold for 400l. , but after various wanderings was acquiredby its present proprietors for something over 640l. Inthe beginning of his career as a painter Doré wassingularly modest in the prices he set upon his work. Itis a curious fact that Doré charged enormous sums forhis illustrations, which he cared comparatively little for,and put a ridiculously low price for his paintings, whichhe really thought a great deal of. The first privatepicture Doré ever sold in England was disposed of toSir William Frazer at a small price. The subject was aSpanish mother and her child. For the picture purchased by her Majesty, Doré was paid 400/.; and " TheMartyrs " fetched a much larger sum, namely, 1000l.Mr. Duncan, the Laird of Benmore, possesses amongstother magnificent works of art a splendid collection ofDoré's pictures and sketches.The following incident was vouched for by the painterhimself. Mr. Duncan came to his studio at Paris andexpressed his intention of purchasing a picture . Heselected one and was told its price, which we need notsay was extremely low. He looked at another, andanother, each time M. Doré's reasonable demandsevidently encouraging the buyer to continue adding tohis collection. In fact, he was not more surprised atgetting such works of art so cheap than was Doré to seeone man buying so many of his pictures; for he had nosooner shown one to his visitor and named its price thanMr. Duncan responded, " I will take it. " Presently Dorébegan to wonder about the destination of his paintings ,and hesitated just as he was about to point out one inparticular, of which he was very fond . He also remembered at the moment that his English friends hadZ 2340 GUSTAVE DORÉ.repeatedly said to him, " You must charge a high pricefor your pictures, otherwise the world will set the value.on them which you yourself do ." Doré, however, washonest and conscientious, even to the detriment of hisown interests . He stopped before the picture, "AMidsummer Night's Dream," then as suddenly turnedaway from it."What is that? " asked Mr. Duncan." I have not decided to sell it," replied Doré; and,thinking to check the seeming recklessness of his unknown Mæcenas for a moment, he mentioned at random2000 guineas, the first sum that came into his head , asthe price of his picture. To his surprise Mr. Duncanimmediately said, " Will you give me the refusal of it? "The work in question is now in Mr. Duncan's verycelebrated museum of paintings.Gustave Doré must have counted that as one of hisred-letter days, and it says a great deal for the artisticmerit of his works, setting aside any reflection on theirmarket price, that so celebrated a critic and art collector as Mr. Duncan should have secured for himself anentire Doré gallery. Through Mr. Duncan's liberality alarge sum was made to figure in Gustave Doré's bankingaccount.Mr. Duncan, it will be remembered, has one of thefinest picture-galleries in Europe, 120 feet long, and filledwith the choicest works of ancient and modern art. Hewas a sincere friend of Gustave Doré, a steadfast patronand ardent admirer of the " Alsatian genius ." Thefollowing incident affords very good proof of his affection:for the artist . He paid Carolus Duran 1000l. to painthim a portrait of Doré, and this picture, a capital likeness, Mr. Duncan now possesses. Doré stayed very oftenat Benmore, where he was a welcome and cherishedguest. In speaking of the picture by Carolus Duran wemay mention that the other best portrait of Doré extantis still in the house in the Rue St. Dominique in Paris.It is a sketch also by Carolus Duran, in which Doré isrepresented sitting on the top of his ladder in the studio.BIBL LYONTIME .(Decorative Plaque .London ,1869. G.Doré .Bypermission ofRev. Frederick Harford .)Page 340

AN ENTHUSIASTIC DORÉITE. 341in the Rue Bayard; and was made in 1877. The wayDoré sat for it is curious enough. He was in his studio,working at one of his great paintings, high up on hisperch, when Duran happened to come in. Doré lookedhastily up, turned round, and placed one hand on theside of his ladder without moving from his topmostround."At last! " exclaimed Duran. " Just what I want; youmust sit for me this very moment. I have long beenawaiting this chance, and have often wished to get yourface with just that expression on it. Don't move for aminute, and I'll have you down on paper all right."The picture is lifelike, and the attitude a striking one,as every one will remember who has ever seen Doré atwork in this studio.It would be superfluous to give detailed descriptionsin this synopsis of the pictures in the Doré Gallery. Theycomprise, amongst others, the magnificent canvases," Christ entering into Jerusalem, " " Moses before Pharaoh, " " The Night of the Crucifixion, " " The Battle ofAjalon," " The Soldiers of the Cross, " " The ChristianMartyrs," and " The Dream of Pilate's Wife, " one of themost superb pictures in the gallery. This was one ofDorés favourite paintings, and proved a great success inLondon. Amongst the many favourable notices received,the Graphic remarked:-"The Doré Gallery, 35 , New Bond Street, which hasnow deservedly taken a position as an exhibition ofpermanent interest, has recently been enriched by a newand important work from M. Doré's hand. It is entitled' The Dream of Pilate's Wife. ' Claudia Procula, thewife of the Governor, is represented as a beautiful youngwoman, standing with sleep- dazed eyes on the steps of abroad staircase. Over her hovers an angel, whisperingthe story of the wonderful vision in her ear; while behindher is the couch which she , an unconscious somnambulist,has quitted. The centre and right-hand portion is occupied by the vision , in which our Saviour stands as thecentral figure, surrounded by crowds of worshippers of342 GUSTAVE DORÉall peoples and languages, including the Roman soldiers.who assisted at His execution . In the background arelong lines of figures-Crusaders, martyrs, and the like;the sky is tenanted by a winged host of angels, whileabove and beyond all rises the cross, white and translucent. It is a very powerful picture, and those whohave been thrilled by The Crucifixion-Darkness,' and'Christ leaving the Prætorium, ' will not be the less awedby this vivid representation of Procula's symbolical dream. "The Daily News, in speaking of this picture, said, -" The Doré Gallery in Bond Street has become asmuch one of the sights of the season as the RoyalAcademy Exhibition, and most certainly none of ourcountry cousins can enjoy the solace of having ' done 'the exhibitions without having seen Doré's great picture,' Christ leaving the Prætorium, ' and his last painted work,'The Dream of Pilate's Wife,' which has recently beenadded to the collection which has for some years pastrepresented this most remarkable artist of his time.Doré has again proved himself a most original thinkeras well as a powerful and most resolute painter of hisown imaginings. In this picture he has chosen a subjectquite after his own heart, suggested by the message sentto Pilate, while he was on the judgment- seat, from hiswife, Claudia Procula: ' Have thou nothing to do withthat just Man, for I have suffered many things this dayin a dream because of Him. ' Painters have not overlooked the passage entirely, and they have before nowembodied all that was troubled and foreboding in somegrand figure which they chose to call ' Pilate's Wife;'but to paint the dream was reserved for the genius ofGustave Doré. How this has been accomplished, andwith what amazing artistic faculty of creation, no wordscan exactly describe away from the picture. The paintershows us the dream-troubled Claudia descending thesteps from her chamber in the blaze of strong light fromlamps within, and by her side, as if whispering in herear, is a flying angel, resplendent in glorious light. The"THE DREAM OF PILATE'S WIFE." 343dream is told by the figure of Christ, radiant with lightthat spreads around, showing the forms of Christianmartyrs , the Evangelists, and Fathers of the Church,and following these are crowds of kings and potentates,among whom we may discover the Roman Helena,Charlemagne, Godfrey of Bouillon, and Crusaders withbanners and crosses carried in triumph beneath theheavenly host of angels, above whom shines out a starrycross, shedding rays of silverylight over the scene.Allthis is brought before us so vividly by the brilliant effectsof light and colour, that the thoughts are taken captive,and we are carried completely into a world of wonderfulvisions. For the moment it does not occur to our criticalsense to inquire whether all this art may or may not belegitimate and orthodox, or to seek to discover how itis done. So it is that we bow to the power of a realmagician in his art, whether it is the beautiful, the terrible,or the marvellous, that he conjures upon his canvas. "The Doré Gallery also contains the " Souvenir ofLoch Leven, " " The House of Caiaphas, " and " TheDeath of Rizzio, " which we may positively state to bethe identical picture of which Edmond About spokein such enthusiastic terms in 1855. This work is enormously clever, powerful in conception, and splendid indesign. The face of the Queen as she bends overRizzio's body, and the foreshortening of the latter aremasterpieces in the art of drawing. The picture is crude,with much inharmonious colouring, but abounds in creativepower of the very highest order.The next picture is the " Day- Dream " (a companionpiece to " The Neophyte "), a young Monk seated at theorgan, while an angel or mortal vision, evidently occupying his thoughts, is corporeally present to the eye of thebeholder.Looking around these spacious rooms, we find rich evidence of M. Doré's genius and versatility. The eyeonly leaves one great canvas to fall upon another equallyclever in conception and artistic finish . We see aboutus "Mont Blanc from the Brevent," a " Snow Scene in344 GUSTAVE DORÉ.the Alps," " A Torrent in the Trossachs, " then we turnto the fated " Paolo and Francesca, "-immortal lovers,glorified by poets and painters ever since Dante saw thevision of the " Inferno," and the couple whose mortalecstasies had been stifled in the clutch of everlasting torment. I think this one of Doré's greatest works in everyrespect. Every one must admire the noble beauty ofFrancesca's clear-cut Italian features, the grand foreshortening of her limbs, the lovely flesh-tint, the harmonyof the sapphire drapery, and Paolo's countenance, whichis instinct with passion and aflame with undying love.This is indeed a noble creation, worthy to rank with thebest of the many Francescas with which the world isenriched .In the Doré Gallery we also see the last grand conception, " The Vale of Tears, " of which Doré wrote in 1878 ,the "Andromeda," "The Triumph of Christianity overPaganism;" " The Prairie " (exhibited in the Paris Salonof 1857); a " Head of Christ, " the famous etching, andseveral other heads of our Saviour taken from differentpoints of view; the great painting of " The Neophyte;"" The Falls of the Garry, Perthshire; " a reduction of"Genius killed by Fame," the group of which I speak inmy mention of Doré's sculptural works.Besides these there are many original sketches of thegreat pictures; and in these we see the full play of Doré'sgenius, for their execution followed so quickly upon theirconception that the ideas embodied in them were neverharassed by nor restricted to the dull limits of mechanicallines and figures.I have run across the following notes which mayconclude my remarks on the Doré Gallery. Messrs.Fairless and Beeforth vouch for their authenticity; andit may be of interest to know the exact date of eachpicture, when begun and when completed; also thenames of several purchasers of Doré's works. I alsogive an aggregate of monies received by the artist fromMessrs. Fairless and Beeforth, which, as will be seen,constitute no small sum.

HEAD OF CHRIST.BIBLLYON(Original drawing. Doré Gallery. By permission of Messrs. Fairless and Beeforth. )Page 345.LIST OF DORÉ'S ENGLISH PURCHASERS.345"The Triumph of Christianity over Paganism." Size, 9 ft. 10 in. by 6 ft. 10 in. 1868."Paolo and Francesca da Rimini. " Size, 8 ft. 10 in. by 6 ft. 4 in . 1863."The Christian Martyrs." Size, 4 ft. 10 in. by 7 ft. 6 in. 1870."Christ leaving the Prætorium." Size, 20 ft. by 30 ft. 1872."The Night of the Crucifixion . " Size, 4 ft. 3 in. by 6 ft. 4 in."Andromeda chained to the Rock. " Size, 8 ft. 6 in. by 5 ft . 6 in." The Dream of Pilate's Wife." (Claudia Procula. ) Size, 6 ft. 4 in. by9 ft. 7 in. 1874."The Soldiers of the Cross."Size, 3 ft. 9 in. by 6 ft . 2 in. 1874.1873.1868.(Scene from the History of the Crusaders . )Size, 17 ft. by"The Massacre of the Innocents." Size, 12 ft . by 17 ft."Le Tapis Vert." (Gambling-Table at Baden- Baden. )34 ft. 1867."The House of Caiaphas. " (Judas plotting against Jesus. )by 5 ft. 9 in. 1875."The Battle of Ascalon."Size, 3ft. 6 in .(Scene from the History of the Crusaders. )Size, 4 ft. 2 in. by 6 ft. 4 in. 1875 ."Christ entering Jerusalem. " Size, 20 ft . by 30 ft. 1876."Moses and the Brazen Serpent. " Size, 18 ft. 4 in. by 29 ft. 6 in. 1877."Ecce hom*o. " Size, 20 ft. by 13 ft. 6 in. 1879.Replica of Christ leaving the Prætorium." Size, 17 ft. by 23 ft. Completed with the exception of a few touches at the time of M. Doré's death(unsigned) . 1883."The Ascension. Size, 20 ft. by 13 ft. 6 in. 1879."Moses before Pharaoh. " Size, 17 ft . 6 in. by 26 ft . 6 in. 1880.Replica " Ecce hom*o. " Size, 6 ft . 9 in. by 11 ft. 1883.Ditto, "Ascension." " Size, 6 ft . 9 in . by 11 ft. 1883."The Day Dream. " (Young Monk at the Organ. ) Size, 8 ft . by 9 ft . 6 in. 1880.Ditto (upright) . Size, 11 ft . by 6 ft . 8 in. 1882."The Neophyte. " (One row of Monks. ) Size, 5 ft . by 8 ft . 6 in. 1868." The Neophyte." (The same subject as the above, but with two rows of Monks. ) Size, 8 ft. by 10 ft . 6 in. 1869."The Vale of Tears." Size, 14 ft. by 21 ft. "Come unto Me. " (Thepicture on which the artist was occupied within three days of his death.It apparently is finished, and required little else but signing. 1883 .The Death of Rizzio ." 3 Size, 8 ft . 6 in. by 10 ft. 6 in...The following pictures, amongst others, have been sold from the DoréGallery to the purchasers whose names are appended:-"Famille de Paysans. "-E. C. Potter, Esq. , Dinting Lodge, Glossop."High Lake in the Alps. "-Robert Tennant, Esq. , Leeds.1 Messrs. Fairless and Beeforth entered into an agreement with M. Doréfor the purchase of a picture of this subject on a much smaller scale on seeingthe monochrome sketch in 1867 (vide agreement); but the picture beingpainted of the dimensions here given, it was the subject of a subsequentagreement between the parties.The above two pictures were completed at the time of M. Doré's death,with the exception of a few touches.3 Painted in 1855 , when M. Doré was twenty-four years of age. It is said that he was about this time much under the influence of Delacroix, and thatthe style of this master is indicated in the picture. Ofthis work ThéophileGautier and Edmond About had a high opinion, and prophesied of him great things for the future.346 GUSTAVEDORÉ." The Dancing Lesson . ”—Samuel Thomas Cooper, Esq. , Bulwell Hall, Notts.La Gitana." -Samuel Thomas Cooper, Esq.Spanish Fortune- Tellers. "-Samuel Thomas Cooper, Esq." The Child Moses'asleep ." -J. A. Blencowe, Esq. , Marston House, Banbury."Solitude. "-Joseph Evans, Haydock Grange, Lancashire."The Ascent of the Matterhorn. "-The Most Hon. the Marquis of Queens- bury, Kingmount, Annan, N.B." Elaine. "-Hilton Philipson, Esq., Tynemouth."Knitters of Alsace. " -Hilton Philipson, Esq ."Psalterion ." -Her Majesty the Queen (at Windsor Castle) ." Street Scene in Spain."- Rowbotham, Esq. , Manchester." The Flight into Egypt."-The Right Hon. Lord Borthwick, Soltray House,St. Andrews, N.B."A Forest in Spring. " -Wm. Banbury, Esq., Lombard Street."La Figurante. " -F. A. Yeo, Esq . , Sketty Hall, Swansea." Girl of Valenciennes. " -W. H. Chamberlain, Esq. , Cleveland, Ohio, U.S.A.Loch Lomond. "-Dr. Montgomery, Penzance.46“ Loch Ech. ” —Benjamin O'Fallon, Esq . , St. Louis, U„S.A.66 Alpine Landscape. "-Chas. Kurtz, Esq. , Bettws - y- Coed ."The Blind Beggar. ” —Buddle Atkinson, Esq. , Woolley Grange, Stratford- on-Avon.66 Spanish Beggars waiting the arrival of a Diligence. "-John Moffat, Esq.,Ardrossan, N.B.Landscape, " Night." Purchased by Messrs . Thompson and Mackenzie "Morning for the Australian Government. ." S"The Flower- Sellers. "- H. Thompson, Esq., jun. , Liverpool.Walker Art Gallery.)(In the" Loch Canon " (the famous Rainbow Landscape, which caused so muchattraction in the Salon ) .- General Whittier, Boston, U.S.A." Avenue to Ruined Château." -J . C. Bowring, Esq. , Cranbourn, Windsor." Poor Peggy."-Edward Villiers, Esq. , London."Fleur des Champs. ” —Edward Villiers, Esq."La Mère."-Ephraim Hallam, Esq., Oakwood Hall, Romelly, Stockport .These pictures and copyrights, the aggregate prices ofwhich amounted to upwards of 60,000l. , have been boughtby Messrs. Fairless and Beeforth, of the Doré Gallery,from M. Doré, and the above sum was paid by them tothe artist.A volume would not suffice to relate all the incidentsattendant upon the inception and completion of eachone of these great works of art. The only thing wecan do is to call attention to their magnitude. Oneinteresting incident recurs to my mind in reference toDoré's painting of " The Resurrection." He had beenstaying in Gloucestershire, and had accompanied CanonHarford on a visit to Leigh Court, the beautiful countryseat of Sir Philip Miles. Doré admired the art treasuresthere, and on his return to Canon Harford's house re-DORE'S ENGLISH REMUNERATIONS. 347ferred to several things which had pleased him greatly.During dinner Gustave ate very little, and that littleappeared to distress him greatly. He evidently hadsome new undertaking on his mind, and as usual whenthus preoccupied, was suffering from a sort of suffocation.and a feeling of oppression in his chest. He finished.his dinner rather abruptly, went out into the garden, andbegan to smoke. He walked up and down for a little.while, puffing vigorously at his cigarette, all the whileelaborating in his mind the conception of some newwork. Doré was wrapt up in thought for some time,and during their return journey to London, which tookplace the same evening, his companion, the Rev.Frederick Harford, noticed that he was still absorbed inreflection, though evidently feeling somewhat better.The friends separated for the night, and the next morning at an early hour Canon Harford came to call uponthe artist. Doré's servant met him at the door, and inresponse to the query if Doré was up, responded , " Up!oh, yes, sir. He hasn't been to bed all night. He hasbeen working." At this moment Doré appeared, lookingtired , harassed, and excited. Still, he greeted his friendaffectionately. " Come in," he said; " I have somethingto show you," and he led the way to his work- room.On the easel was a magnificent sketch in black andwhite, which Doré called the "Resurrection . " Theartist had omitted but one detail-the stone before thedoor of the sepulchre, which we are told " was rolledaway by angels. " This observation was made to him ,and as quick as thought, whilst Canon Harford waslooking at him, he seized a crayon and deftly sketched ina broad, flat, and massive stone fallen to the earth; I say"fallen," but rather let me say, in the act of falling tothe earth, for the same exquisite art which expressed ourSaviour as walking, gave the appearance of corporealmotion to the huge granite slab. The movement in bothseems reciprocal; the earth trembles under the divinefootfall, whilst the air vibrates with the concussion whichfollows the shock of the supernatural tearing asunder of348 GUSTAVEDORÉ.mighty rocks . This was one of the triumphs of GustaveDoré's genius -the ability to express life, motion, action,reality!"What do you think of it? " said Doré. " It hasbeen on my mind for some little time, and I had todo it."I have the picture before me, and can recall everyline of this masterful work. The drawing, about thirtysix inches by thirty, represents " our Saviour," clad inastral-hued cerements, issuing from the tomb on themorning of that third day. Christ stands a few feetfrom the door of the divinely unsealed sepulchre. In thispicture, as in some of his Dante drawings, Doré has invented a climate, an atmosphere of such limpid puritythat we may imagine, as he must have done, the angelicface of nature, the softness of the air, and the brighttransparency of the unclouded sky on that auspiciousmorning when Christ walked forth in all the majesty ofthat sacred marvel, " the firstfruits of them that sleep . "The face of the Redeemer wears a radiance not ofearthly joy; His holy feet are buoyant with divine.lightness; He walks on the air and breath of God's omnipotence. I see the gracious form; I feel the flutteringmovement of those flowing robes; I gaze at the sublimestof all sights, the face of the Saviour illumined by thatdivine halo which only inspired mortals emit from thecrucible of their genius to spread in a golden substanceof reality before the eyes of their not less believing, butless inspired fellow- men.Surely, M. Doré worked all night , but he did not work.alone. He must have been in the presence of thatinvisible host which peoples the minds of God's chosenwhilst the prosaic world sleeps. As a little child he onlysaw the angel sent to Sabine von Steinbach; with lateryears, a deeper faith, and a purer inspiration, he was permitted to gaze on that other and greater vision . Surelyhe must have heard with enchanted sense the angelic choirsinging, " For now is Christ risen from the dead, the firstfruits of them that sleep."DORÉ SKETCHES, THE " RESURRECTION." 349This picture is at present in the possession of CanonHarford, to whom Doré gave it. I am not aware thathe executed a larger or more elaborate developed painting on the same subject; but I think there is one in hisBible series ( not unlike the above) which would of coursehave been designed prior to the sketch I have mentioned .It is a pity that all the world cannot see this drawing, theresult of one night's inspiration and work.The following year Doré came again to London, andamongst the many things he did during his stay here wemay mention one in particular-his visit to the dens ofLondon thieves in company with Mr. Blanchard Jerroldand the Rev. Canon Harford. The chief of police wrotethe following to Canon Harford , in reply to a note fromthat gentleman, mentioning Doré's wish to see the abovecelebrated haunt of vice:-66 3, Hobart Place, Eaton Square,"Wednesday Evening, 7.30 p.m." DEAR SIR, —I regret that I have only just heard ofM. Gustave Doré's wish to see the dens of the Londonthieves to-night. There is no time now to make properarrangements, but you may be put in the way of seeing agood deal by showing this note to the inspector on dutyat King Street Police Station."Yours faithfully," THOS. PEIRSON.'OnDoré had here an opportunity, such as he was alwaysglad of, to dress himself up in some disguise, althoughthe occasion was not a Parisian dinner-party, to whichhe would often go in carnival time with a complete costume hidden away in the pockets of his great coat.such occasions, whilst talking or walking with Doré, hisfriends would be surprised by his sudden evanishmentand as sudden reappearance, arrayed as a smart Pierrot,a ragged vagrant, or a lordly Venetian. Since his boyhood's days and those Sundays spent at " Dear Graffenstaden " with M. Kratz and his family, Doré had notaltered one iota in his love for tricking himself out in350 GUSTAVE DORÉ.fancy costumes of every description. It is a pity that wehave not his portrait as he looked on the night of thatvisit to the thieves' den. I am told that his dress was atriumph of vagabondage and Bill Sykes style of significance. Mr. Blanchard Jerrold has spoken so much ofthis episode in Doré's life that I am forced to pass it overundescribed . Suffice it to say that the book “ London,a Pilgrimage," contains the most explicit details of theadventure in question; and later on, M. Bourdelin , anold friend of the artist's, will also have something to sayabout it.Speaking of Mr. Blanchard Jerrold, I am reminded ofan incident which I am told took place at a Pressdinner given in Willis's Rooms, and presided over by aliterary celebrity. Jerrold and Doré both sat at thePresident's table. After dinner, when toasts andspeechifying " had begun, Jerrold wrote a hastylinein pencil on a card, and passed it up to the chairman .It ran as follows:-" In the absence of the French Minister, would it bemalapropos to request my friend Doré to say something?"We are to imagine that haste, the blunt pencil, or theeffects of the dinner had rendered Mr. Jerrold's handwriting somewhat illegible. At any rate the presidentreturned the following written answer:-"Certainly, my dear Mr. Jerrold, with pleasure; butwho the devil is door? "Doré once went to a ball at the Mansion House andwas indeed the lion of that entertainment. This wasin 1869. So much curiosity was manifested to have"just one look at him " that. as he came into theroom and the name Doré was announced, more than ahundred and fifty young ladies stood in double rowsawaiting him as they would have done in the presence.of Royalty. This flattered Doré in no small degree,but at the same time made him feel painfully shy.Speaking of the incident some days after, he said, "Inever was more surprised in my life, and felt as if I were192"There both,I thought, the eagle and myselfDid burn, and so intense the imagined flameThat needs my sleep was broken off." (By permission of Cassell and Co.)GAUCHARD BROMLEY J.SWAIN ENG.Page 350.

ANECDOTE RELATED BYBLANCHARDJERROLD. 351some strange wild creature." This ball was an experiencewhich Doré did not often repeat; for the farther he advanced. in his art and its multitudinous preoccupations,the less desire he felt to show himself about, and to gointo the great world. There was always the old elementof boyishness in his nature; the charm of novelty, thehero-worship and flattering attentions he received in London at first delighted him, and he behaved like a child.with a newtoy. Afterwards even he became surfeited withthese pleasures, because the elements for real satisfactionIN SCOTLAND.(Unpublished. 1873.)were not implanted in his soul. He was always dreamingimpossibilities in art; and the exactions made upon himby his task-master, ambition, were, like the inner fireswhich feed the smouldering lava of Vesuvius, alwaysburning, always fermenting within the crater of his imperious imagination, and rendering his life one turmoilof unrealizable hopes, irritated rather than gratified bypetty successes and small triumphs. What could bemore painful to the heart of an ardent, indefatigable,super-sensitive man, always working with the highest352 GUSTAVE DORÉaspirations , and unseasonably scattering lavish seed ofgenius, than to reap a premature and unripe harvest!The following is an incident illustrative of his sensitiveness and affectionate nature. Before Doré left Londonin 1868, he was one day at Canon Harford's house, signing some photographs to present to acquaintances, andafter diligently writing for some time, he looked up at hisfriend and said, -" But you do not ask me to sign any for you? "A response in the negative elicited a contented smile.Doré forthwith selected the best portrait and dated it twodays later in Paris. The photograph in question represented the artist seated at a table, with books , papers,and crayons before him , his head slightly inclined on onehand, an expression of deep thought upon his features,his whole attitude one of profound reverie. This is whathe wrote at the bottom of the picture. I reproduce theinscription in his own words: —"Un homme absorbé, ―" Plus dans le souvenir de votre bonne amitié, moncher Harford, que dans son travail."Paris, July 10th, 1868."" G. DORÉ.Doré was very fond of speaking Latin, and often wentso far as to make jeux de mots of no mean order in thatlanguage. One I recall is this, it was of course aproposof his friend Canon Harford. "Estimo tuam harfortitudinem. " He wrote many letters in Latin, and some of themwere extremely clever, all were correct and careful. Ofhis aphorisms, I see one before me on a portrait signed byhimself in 1870. I read " Ne soyez pas modeste dansvos entreprises, mais soyez-le toujours dans le succès. ” *These are not bad sentiments and are expressed withrare brevity. Doré certainly lived up to them. He4"Never be modest in your undertakings, but always be modest in theday of success .""UN HOMME ABSORBÉ,” ETC., ETC. 353also originated some really quaint and original aphorisms,wrote charming comedies, plays, and farces, and, as perhaps may not be known, in his earlier days composedthe entire text of some of his most important illustratedalbums. I think that " Three Artists, miserably misunderstood, & c." was his own, as well as " The Plumets'Pleasure-Trip," and others which do not now recur to mymemory. Amongst many of his Latin inscriptions onportraits, he once wrote to his friend Canon Harford ,—Quamtempora delentur omnia, sola manet amicitia."This was in 1869, and on another portrait he wrote aninscription which follows a curious statistical statementwritten as follows to the left and right of the photograph:-66


Statistique de mes chevalettes du 10 Mars, 1870.(Left-hand side of Portrait. )"Le Répos en Egypte." L'Entrée d'un Cathédrale."Le Néophite ( 1st)"Les Martyrs."Le Déluge"Jesus sortant du Prétoire."Le Mont-Blanc."Tenterden's Tavern."Le Massacre des Innocents ."Forsitan hæc olim meminissejuvabit.(Right-hand side of Portrait. )23rd of March, 1872 (Ouvragesd'importance) .Massacre des Innocents.L'Alsace.Le Christ sortant du Prétoire.Le Dante.Mox mei nunc hujus sed postea,nescio cujus.G. DORÉ."Lieut. - Colonel Dudley Sampson was an old and valuedfriend of the great Alsatian artist. He has kindly lentme a few notes relating to Gustave Doré, from which Iextract the following paragraphs . Besides recountinganother incident in Doré's London life, they throw a greatdeal of light on his real character.Colonel Sampson writes:-

" One of Doré's most extraordinary peculiarities was, I" Original sketches in the possession of the Rev. F. Harford.Аа354 GUSTAVE DORÉthink, his keen recollection of faces-good, bad , andindifferent.Manyyears ago I was introduced to him at a dinnerparty in Palace Chambers, St. James's Street; BlanchardJerrold, Edmund Yates, Mrs. Jopling, then Miss Good,if I remember rightly, and others equally well known inthe literary and artistic world, being amongst the guests.After a few commonplace compliments on my side as tothe honour and pleasure of making the acquaintance ofthe great painter, Doré turned suddenly round upon mewith ' Monsieur! this is not the first time we have met.Three years ago, in June or July, we crossed the Channeltogether from Boulogne to Folkestone. You stood, forthe most part of the trajet, talking to a very tall man ina very long coat, what you call an " ulster. " ' On myexpressing surprise at his having carried such a trivialincident in his brain so long, he added, ' It has nothingto do with me, c'est plus fort que moi. When I see aface it never leaves me until I have drawn it, perhapsseveral times.' I laughingly asked whether he wasridding himself of me in the Inferno ' or the ' Paradiso '?to which he made some goodnatured reply. But I alwaysdate our acquaintance and subsequent friendship fromthe peculiarity in question."(Apropos to the above, it appears to me that the brain.characteristic mentioned is, though of perhaps rarerquality, very much the same as that which a good manyof us unfortunately possess in another branch of art;that is, the involuntary and often exasperating remembrance of certain bars of music over which, be they fromoratorio or opera bouffe, we have for a time no powerof suppression whatever.

  • *

"I once asked Doré if there was any truth in a rumourvery current at the time, that he was engaged to bemarried to a certain celebrated prima donna. We werealone in the Rue Bayard studio at the time, and he saidnothing for the moment; then, suddenly waving his hand"NO; MY WIVES ARE THERE.” 355in the direction of the dozen or so of easels, each havingupon it some unfinished work, he exclaimed, half sadly,half mockingly, ' No; my wives are there! Better thatthey should be canvas ones, mon cher! ' and he added,laughing, ' A married artist not only must neglect one oftwo things, his wife or his art; but he is sure to get intohot water, sooner or later, with the former à propos desmodèles .'

" I always thought it a very remarkable trait in Doré'sgenius that he could go so rapidly from one canvas toanother and not get mixed ' as regards his colouring,They were usually ranged anyhow in the studio, and Ihave frequently seen him, chatting meanwhile, wanderround it and stop, first for a couple of minutes,say, over the dark and sombre interior of a Spanishcathedral; then, for five or six more, perhaps, opposite abrilliant rainbow-hued scene of Scottish moorland, andthen again, with only sufficient pause to knock the ashesoff the top of his cigar, wander across to finish somedelicate passage in a portrait or flesh painting.

" Doré's great idea was to have an immense gallery inLondon, standing by itself somewhere and built expressly,not only for the exhibition, but for the permanent homeof all his more important works."I fancy that he had ever Thorwaldsen's Museum, atCopenhagen, in his mind's eye; and no wonder, for thereis, perhaps, no more touching or suitable resting- placefor a great artist than some such ivy- covered grave in themidst of the immortal productions of his genius.

  • ** *

" He was extremely sensitive, at least I always foundhim so with regard to criticism, favourable or adverse,and nothing delighted him more than an honest assurance-given, I am persuaded, by his friends , in all genuineАа 2356 GUSTAVEDORÉ.truthfulness-that a century hence the former view wouldhave completely annihilated the latter." He thoroughly believed in his own genius, but, unlikethe majority of artists, more especially French artists,he never wantonly depreciated or sneered at his contemporaries."DORÉ VISITS THE EMPEROR AT COMPIÈGNE. 357CHAPTER XXXII.DORÉ A PATRIOT.GUSTAVE DORE was a sincere patriot. Although astaunch Legitimist, he had a profound liking and respectfor the Emperor Napoleon III. , and since the occasionof his visit to the court at Compiègne in 1867 had oftenspoken of his Majesty in terms of admiration and loyalty .However, some people have said that he set no specialvalue on the marks of Imperial favour so persistentlyshown to him, and once gave away a beautiful and valuable pencil, the Emperor's gift, to a fair friend whohappened to express her admiration of it . I will doDoré the justice to say that he really cared for this pencil,and that his giving it away was a greater proof of regard for the lady than of indifference to the Emperor.Surely he could not give anything he did not like to aperson for whom he cared? Doré's nature was of a finerfibre than was generally supposed. His generosity wasproverbial, and always costly to himself. He neveroffered a worthless sketch to a friend, or made any onehis pis-aller.In 1869 Doré was specially invited by the Empress tomake one of her suite during her journey to Suez for theopening of the canal. To her surprise -to every one's,in fact he refused the invitation. Twice at the358GUSTAVEDORÉ.Tuileries the Empress asked the artist to honour themby his presence-twice Doré refused. On the secondoccasion the Emperor made such a point of being agreeable to Doré, that the latter's persistency in not recognizing the honour extended to him became a matter ofserious concern to his friends. The following are theartist's own words on the subject:-


"His Majesty was most kind, most amiable. He hadasked me once to go to Suez, and I had made someexcuse, so I scarcely expected a second invitation. Itcame, however, and I refused it positively. The Emperorlooked surprised and half offended. He bit his lip andobserved, Pray let us say no more about it . ' "Two reasons have been assigned for this strange conduct, one of which would have been potent enough towarrant Doré in his refusal to go to Suez; the other cannot reasonably be so considered, as when once he hadovercome his political scruples so thoroughly as to deemhimself at liberty to be present at court- balls , fêtes, andpicnics, he certainly would have been straining at a gnatto have raised any objections to this last royal invitation .It will have been divined that the former reason washis political faith; besides which his mother's complaints"that he was seen too often at Bonapartist houses,"might have influenced him in no slight degree. At thistime, it will also be remembered, Napoleon III. was notin the heyday of popularity. The second reason I mustgive in full, as it seems eminently Doréish. In speakingof the invitation he said to his friend Kratz, —Arthur, they want me to go to Suez; but I shallnot go. I should meet new people, a new race. TheseOriental ideas and customs-how do I know but theymight instil new thoughts into my mind, and upset allmy present train of work? You know how I felt aboutLondon. Well , I have made up my mind to stick tothat, and to eternalize myself there in the interest of myfortune. You know that I am an impressionable dog.I am none too fond of that foggy land, but I haveresolved to devote myself to my new mode of work andTHE QUEENBUYS " LE PSALTERION" OFDORÉ. 359living, and shall not indulge myself in the luxury of visitingany strange and fascinating countries. It might upset me.I am too old to attempt new departures in art. I distrust myself, but I can resist temptation. I shall not go. "I leave every one to draw his own deduction fromthe above, upon which I will make but one comment.Doré's extraordinary nature, combining honesty andsuperstition to an almost inconceivable degree, certainlyshines out clearly in this latter argument. In short, noone but himself would ever have given such a reason asthe above for refusing an Imperial invitation, which isusually considered a command.I now come to some events of the war, but must disturbtheir chronological order by mentioning an occurrencewhich took place in 1868 at a dinner- party given byM. Joanne, Sr. , Doré's dear friend, the compiler of thevaluable " Guide Joanne." After the repast a livelypolitical discussion took place, in which Doré joined withgreat warmth, concluding his arguments by betting thatbefore two years should have elapsed France would bemistress of the Rhine. M. E. Forgues (Old Nick) tookup the bet, and staked all his works against all Doré's.M. Forgues attached little importance to this bet, whichhe considered merely a hasty after- dinner effusion. Twoyears later he saw a commissioner coming up to his doorladen with an enormous case. In it was a complete setof the works Doré had theretofore illustrated . Dorérarely spoke lightly, and never forgot what he had said.In 1870 Doré had the honour of selling a pictureto her Majesty Queen Victoria . This was hung in thegallery at Windsor, and is indeed one of the most lovelyworks Doré ever painted. It is called " Le Psalterion,and has for its subject a youth with his lute, singing anddreaming over his future.Doré's gratification at being thus honoured is bestshown in the following letter, sent to his friend CanonHarford , which also explains why Doré did not spendthe season of 1870 in London.It will be remembered that this was one of the most360 GUSTAVE DORÉ.terrible and eventful years France had ever known. Fromthe inception of the Franco- German war until the momentwhen the storm fairly broke over France, Gustave Doréhas graphically described his feelings in two letterswritten to Canon Harford , the first dated from Paris inJuly, 1870, and the second the 13th of September of thesame year. I give these letters almost entire . Doré'sheart, elevated sentiments , patriotism, and noble naturespeak for themselves in every line . I extract from thefirst letter as follows:-"July 27, 1870." DEAR FRIEND, -Without doubt you have alreadydivined the causes, the sad causes, which have delayedmy projected trip to London, which I announced to yousome days ago in my last letter. We are on the eve ofa gigantic and terrible war, and France is on fire withexcitement."Under these circ*mstances, dear friend, you mayimagine how little inclined I am to absent myself frommy country, where we all have at present but one thought,to unite together, and to face the common danger whichthreatens us. Besides, we are in momentary expectationof great news, which could only get to London secondhand. My brother, Captain Emile, has just written to usthat his division is on the eve of a campaign; but, dearfriend, across this lowering sky news has come to mefrom your country like a ray of the brightest sunshine.This news you must already know, and your friendlyheart will have already rejoiced over it with mine."The Queen of England has just done me the signalhonour to buy one of my works for her gallery, and, mydear Harford, I have no words with which to express theproud joy I feel, nor all my gratitude for this high markof patronage.Ipray you, dear friend, to keep me informed respecting your health, which I hope is always good."Your devoted friend," G. DORE."DON QUIXOTEPage 360

"OUR MISFORTUNE IS IMMENSE.” 361During the war Canon Harford sent a present to hisfriend Doré of a silver flask of a peculiar kind, onewhich could be drunk from without using both hands.Doré acknowledged the gift in the following terms:-66 September 13, 1870." DEAR HARFORD,-How shall I ever thank youenough for your kind and affectionate thoughts, and allthe good they do to my soul? With the day of distresscame the souvenir of a sincere and dear friend, and suchprecious wishes!"In writing to you thus, I profit by the last day uponwhich letters will be able to go by train to England; theenemy is at the very gates of Paris, and from one momentto another we may be in the throes of the first bombardment. Our misfortune is immense, and our anguishterrible. How shall we ever emerge from this gulf ofblood and abandonment into which poor France isplunged? No hope and no solution gleams on thehorizon; and yet it seems hard to think that our belovedFrance, so innocent of this war, should be the object ofuniversal execration." I shall carry my flask with me, dear friend , when Igo to the ramparts-this well- chosen object which youraffection has prompted you to send to me. I think itwill be to- morrow, for, as I have told you, the peril ismost imminent. My dear and well-loved. friend Harford ,I beg you to address your prayers to Heaven that thisdrama now in progress may have as prompt an ending aspossible, and that the grief that already overwhelms usmay not put all France into mourning." No news of my poor brother, the captain; we arein mortal disquietude. I have tried everything, even thehelp of several members of the Geneva Society, whothey say ought to know certain things; but have signallyfailed. Adieu, my dear Harford , my heart is very heavy,but it is with the best of my affection that I embrace you."Your devoted friend," G. DORÉ.362 GUSTAVE DORÉ." P.S.-I forgot to inform you that I have sent mythanks to her Majesty the Queen by Colonel Ponsonby."It may not be out of place in these reminiscences ofGustave Doré to say a few words here about his wellloved brother Emile. Lieutenant- Colonel Doré, whomGustave calls " my brother the captain in the foregoing letter, well fulfilled the promise of his early youth,when he was a brave, steady, and honest lad. He is today one of the most distinguished officers in the Frencharmy, and won his first honours at Strasburg duringthe terrible siege, where he was twice decorated on thefield for bravery and splendid military conduct. GustaveDoré, with his family, felt a justifiable pride in hisbrother's glory, which was to him one of the brightspots in that otherwise deplorable year. The Doréboys were made of fine stuff, as is proved by the wayin which they fought and won even the ordinary battlesof life.M. Bourdelin, a distinguished Parisian draughtsman,was one of Doré's intimates, and takes great pride in thefact that Doré regarded him as one of his oldest andmost valued friends . M. Bourdelin not only kindly toldme a great deal about his relations with Doré, but sentme a little handful of notes from which I shall here andthere quote verbatim, commencing with those havingreference to the war. M. Bourdelin says: —"Gustave Doré was an ardent patriot. Alsatian bybirth, at the first news of war with Prussia his heart wentback to the Rhine. He already saw the French armytriumphantly crossing that river which he had so oftencrossed, and this hope supplied him with the subject of oneof his finest sketches. He saw there modern Zouaves,wearing the honours of Africa and Lombardy, salutedby the soldiers of the first Empire, and the Republicuprising from her tomb at the sound of the Frenchclarion. He also saw the armies of Condé assisting atthis marvellous march, and again carrying into Germanythe heroes of Friedland and Jena. At that moment everyhand which held a pen was hot with patriotic fever; and"MY PASSAGE OF THE RHINE, ALAS!” 363I , who possessed this work of Doré, wrote an article fullof praise to a well- known journal, which shortly after cameto Gustave's notice." Then weeks rolled by, and the marvellous sketch wasleft in the studio of the painter, whose enthusiastic hearthad taken fire too quickly. One morning I saw Gustave'svalet entering my house; he bore a roll of paper and anote in his hands. The note said: -" My dear Bourdelin ,-Mypassage of the Rhine, alas!has been seen by you alone, and in consequence you alonewere able to give an opinion upon it. How kind andamiable you were to me in that newspaper article, in whichyou struck out right and left for your country! Ah! bothof our heads were filled with too extravagant dreams!My drawing has no longer any reason to exist; I give itto you. Keep it in remembrance of our vanished hopes. 'This picture, which I have seen, is indeed a gloriousinspiration, one of Doré's great imaginative creations inblack and white; and the characters represented in itare so real as to belie the idea of a fictive battle. It occupies the place of honour in M. Bourdelin's studio, andhe may well pride himself on so magnificent a gift fromhis celebrated friend . I walked up a great many flightsof stairs to look at it; but I would have ascended tentimes the number rather than have missed seeing thismemorable work. M. Bourdelin continues:—" Recalling Doré's marvellous faculty of taking in at aglance the physiognomy of men and things, I rememberone circ*mstance which occurred at the close of thesiege of Paris, when the capitulation had just been signed.Doré and I went to take a walk as far as the bridge ofCourbevoie. Our end of the bridge was guarded byFrench soldiers , and the other by Germans. In themiddle of the bridge we saw a group of officers , Bavarians, Prussians, and Saxons , whose various typesseemed specially chosen to prompt the caricaturist'spencil , had we but been in the vein to take advantage ofthe opportunity to sketch them. But we could not dreamof taking a pencil or drawing- book from our pockets, for364GUSTAVEDORÉ.we should immediately have been surrounded and suspected, had we done so." During a quarter of an hour Doré examined thesedozen different countenances. That same evening, whenhe returned home, he took up a sheet of paper in mypresence, and with the most extraordinary precisionsketched the entire group, not omitting a single detail.Even the different uniforms were marvels of correctness.Doré talked very little during the long walks we oftentook at that time, in the midst of the fearful débris thatfive months of siege had strewn about the ramparts andenvirons of Paris. He was happy to know that some onewas near him, and often forgot to speak. He always hadsome great project in his head, some great picture ordrawing. He composed while he was walking; he compiled all his documents; he remembered all his landscapes; and in the evening by lamplight with one touchof his magic pencil reminiscences and thoughts came tolife without erasure or alteration. "Doré has consecrated some of his most vigoroussketches to the memory of this war. Foremost amongthese ranks his " Marseillaise;" but it should be remembered that when he painted this great picture thestrains of Rouget de Lisle's inspired song were not oftenheard on the Parisian ramparts. " La Marseillaise " isalive with the forms of thousands of Frenchmen marchinggloriously on to victory, whilst the angel of the Republic,sword and torch in hand, hovers above the heads ofFrance's brave soldiers .The next stirring picture was entitled , " The Countryin Danger." The crescent moon shines above the gabledroofs, the streets are thronged with a frantic, shoutingmob of citizens and soldiers, and at the door of one greymansionthewarangel sounds the tocsin of alarm . There arealways angels in Doré's pictures; heavenly angels, angelsof peace and war, ministering angels , angels of nativity, andangels of Death. How easily we can trace in every stirring moment of Doré's life the quick memory, harkingback to his boyhood's days, when the celestial visitantALAS! POOR ALSATIA! 365broke through the vault of heaven and immortalizedSabine von Steinbach!There is another painting ofthe " Marseillaise." In thisthe Goddess of Victory leads Gallia's faithful warriors onto conquest or death . The well-known picture " War " represents groups of soldiers no longer in battle array, butstricken down on the field. Night has fallen . Strayingherds of wild- eyed oxen seek their pasturage in bloodstained meadows. "War" was painted in 1868, but iscommonly supposed to have been one of Doré's patrioticpictures of the year 1870." Le Rhin Allemand," " Le Chant de Départ " and' L'Aigle Noir " were painted during the year of the war.We now come to one of the greatest works Doré everproduced, the fame of which is world-wide. I refer toAlsatia." Who has not seen the Alsatian peasantwoman, standing in a mournful attitude, with the Frenchbanner clasped to her desolate breast? Hard by, an oldnurse caresses a baby that has obviously been left fatherless. The widowed woman's face is shadowed by darkdespair. Her sable cap and broidered girdle-even thelace-work of her hand-made sleeve-are as black as thecrape wound about her neck and round her country'smourning flag. None can look at this picture withoutfeeling a heart-throb of profound sorrow. One neednot be a Frenchman to ejacul*te with Doré, " Alas! poorAlsatia! " The Rhine shall flow on in its limpid course;young pines shall spring up midst the velvet of the BlackForest; mountain flowers shall bloom in all their luxuriantfragrance, and the voices of children wandering throughthe forest shall make the air resound with the accents ofthe unhallowed German tongue, which has supersededFrench in Imperial Alsace; but for many a year to comein every true Alsatian's house, be it palace or hovel, youwill assuredly find one picture: it may be a painting,drawing, lithograph, photograph, or even the trusty littleengraving of " Alsatia " which has been produced by wellnigh every illustrated journal in Europe. This you willlook at with reverence, thinking not of the painter, but of366 GUSTAVE DORÉ.the patriot who would have given his life- blood for hisnative province as freely as he devoted his talent toperpetuating her memory in the heart of France.During the Commune Doré went with his motherto Versailles. There they established themselves forsome time. Madame Doré, although in good health, wasnot in very brave spirits; the late terrible events had toldupon her nerves, and, at heart a proud Alsatian, shedeeply felt the bitter humiliation and melancholy fateof her beloved province. Besides, Paris was yet in astate of wild excitement; the ruins of the Tuileries werestill smoking, and the whole capital was in a whirl of wildtumult and ever- renewed panic.About that time Doré had on hand the late BlanchardJerrold's " London, " which, as will be remembered, wasthe outcome of Doré's visit in 1869 to the dens of theLondon thieves. Without entering into detail respectingthe preliminaries of this work, we have it on very goodauthority that before a page of the book was printed,Doré offered 600l. to be released from his bargain. Asis well known, Douglas Jerrold's talented son was an oldfriend of Gustave Doré; and as the reasons for theircollaboration are probably given in the text of the workitself, I abstain from any reference to them here." London, a Pilgrimage," was brought out by Grantand Company, and enjoyed distinguished popularity.Certainly with two such names as Jerrold and Doré onthe title-page, the former a writer of high distinction,and the latter the acknowledged King of illustrators, itwould have been strange had this work not commandeda favourable reception at the hands of the British public.Without touching upon the merits of Mr. Jerrold's work,which has already been judged and criticized, I will saya few words about Doré's share in it . Undoubtedlysome of his finest character- sketches are contained inthese volumes; sketches in black and white, sound andvigorous in sentiment and tone, touching in pathos,really comical in their humorous vein, life- like in actionand pose, some even Rembrandtish in colour, concep-BIBLLONDON, 1871.(Unpublished drawing in possession of Rev. Frederick Harford. )Page 366.

"A POOR CHILD IN LONDON.” 367tion, foreshortening, and finish . On the other hand, Imust call attention to one peculiarity, which seems to mealmost a prevalent defect in Doré's work, and a great onefrom an Anglo- Saxon point of view. His characters arefor the most part un-English. Their original conceptionwas not at fault, but the artistic execution was. Thehand of the great French draughtsman had too longbeen accustomed to draw the types of his own country.and continental faces, to change his method in a triceand suddenly display current proficiency in depicting anew and totally different race.This drawback is manifest in some of his other drawings ,called " London Character Sketches. " For instance,"A poor Child in London, " might be anything but anEnglish child; the curls falling about her neck are disposed after the manner of French hairdressing; theunreasonably shortened waist and unusual length fromthe waist downward is an absolute reproduction of ninetynine French children of a hundred.The method of dressing English and American childrenin youth is a physical preparation which gives them inlater life long waists and supple figures. To return tothe "Poor Child, " she may have been a denizen ofLeicester Square or Soho, but it is not likely that Doréwould need to draw upon his recollections of Venice orof the Revolution in the Faubourg St. Antoine in orderto sketch a typical London street- Arab. So it was withsome of the poor outcast women whom he sketched inthe streets-the only home they have ever known inLondon. The details of dress are in every instance.faithfully portrayed; there are the reeking, raggedflounces, the tattered shawls in every imaginable designand colour, the transparent bonnets ghastly with fadedtinsel and paper flowers, the unkempt hair breaking awayfrom comb or other restraint , the brows and cheeksseamed by debauchery and hardened by misery, theattitude and unsteady, almost reeling, gait bespeakingnon- memberhood of the Blue Ribbon Army, and thewhole figure a startling invocation to miserable humanity368 GUSTAVEDORÉ.Here and recalcitrant justice. But what of the faces!M. Doré's pencil is at fault, but perhaps justly and poetically so, for instead of the hard British irreclaimablevagabond's look we have-while in the same degree ofmisery-the more pathetic grace of the Parisian grisette,whose misery may have been deadened by one draughtof absinthe, or of the betrayed Zingara who chants tothe moon, and lies down in her misery and tatters, wooingeternal sleep from the dark shadows of the statelyAlhambra.The sketch we subjoin in this place is one of Doré'sunpublished drawings, originally intended for the " London." Its scene is an interior of one of the well-knownhaunts of the London thieves, and speaks for itself. Thesketch is in the possession of Canon Harford, and waspresented to him by the artist during the season of 1869.I must now revert to M. Bourdelin's notes, which saya great deal about Doré's visit to London in 1871 .During the Commune Doré was living with hismother at Versailles. About this time we decided to goto London together. Blanchard Jerrold was busy withthe text of a work on London, for which Gustave hadcontemplated executing two hundred drawings. Worriedby his publishers and hindered at the outset by thestirring events which had taken place in Paris, he hadrequested me to aid him in the architectural andpicturesque portions of his work. We went to Londonand passed nearly six months there together. Doréinhabited a superb apartment on the first floor of theWestminster Palace Hotel. One room had been transformed into a studio, and there we worked during thewhole summer of 1871. For our trips round and aboutLondon in search of material for our sketches and studiesof character from the life, two private detectives hadbeen placed at our disposal; and every night we spenthours in populous London districts such as Lambeth,Clerkenwell, Bayswater, and the Docks."It was a real pleasure to watch Doré, dressed insome ragamuffin style or other, hurrying in and out of theANILL-FATED DISH OF BACON. 369streets and alleys, and rapidly taking notes with therarest precision-notes which served him for the composition of his blocks. I filled in backgrounds, housesor monuments, which he afterwards animated with hisglowing fanciful pencil. There is no horrible place thatmay be seen in London into which we did not penetrate.I remember one Sunday morning in the Jewish quarterof Petticoat Lane; we went from one end to the other ofa long sort of market, where old clothes, comestibles ,and all sorts of heterogeneous wares were sold. In thisdingy lane we had remarked some poor wretches forwhom Doré bought some old shoes and hats, andamongst whom he distributed generous sixpences. Itwas there, in the open air, surrounded by a compact andcurious crowd, that he produced his famous sketch of the'Seltzer-water Maker,' my contribution to which wasan accurate presentment of the apparatus for manufacturing the effervescent liquid . Doré made himself excessively popular in London , and his photograph was in agreat many shop windows. It was by no means uncommon to hear his name inadvertently and inaccuratelypronounced by some street-boy or woman of the peoplewho recognized his likeness thus displayed." I lived in Brompton Square, and he sometimes tookhis breakfast at my house. One morning my landladygave a loud cry on seeing him, and dropped her dishfulof bacon and eggs. Mister Gustave Doré! ' sheshrieked out. She was indeed proud to see the greatman in her dining- room. Gustave's pleasure was equallyreal at her compliment. He said to me, ' You see sheknew me. I like to be recognized by the people, becauseI work for them.' I think Gustave enjoyed the compliment more than his breakfast, for during the whole ofthat day he seemed as happy as a child ." The London cabmen knew him as well as the Pariscoachmen, and likewise held him in great veneration.Doré was probably the first Frenchman who ever dreamedof paying a coachman five hours' fare for taking himonly from the Madeleine to the Rue Richelieu. TheB b370 GUSTAVE DORÉ.same eccentricity often repeated itself during his sojournin London, and this is how it generally happened. Doréwould take a cab in order to pay a visit; he would bekept to dinner, after which there would be music andconversation, and then, at one o'clock in the morning, hewould suddenly remember that he had a ' growler ' at thedoor. The concrete result varied between twelve andfifteen shillings in hard cash, for a fare which, but for thelapse of time due to his forgetfulness, would have beenhandsomely discharged by the payment of half-a- crown." H.R.H. the Prince of Wales had for a long timehonoured Doré with his friendship. He always apprisedhim of his presence in Paris, and invariably consecratedseveral hours to visiting Doré's studio . In London,whilst we were working together at Westminster PalaceHotel, the Prince came to see him several times incognito,accompanied by his aide- de- camp, Colonel Teesdale.One day his visit bore a more official character. PrincessLouise accompanied her brother, several ladies andgentlemen and officers of the Court and of the Princess'ssuite came, having the previous evening announced thevisit of his Royal Highness.Doré resolved to receive them right royally. Loadsof lovely flowers came in from Covent Garden Market,lavishly decorating his apartment, the staircase andvestibule of the hotel, and a magnificent lunch wasprepared. About three o'clock, when three carriages(each drawn by four horses) were drawn up in front ofthe door, more than ten thousand people had collectedin the street outside the hotel, and not the least frequentof their cries was, ' Hurrah for Doré.' It was a shorttime after this that Doré was presented to her Majestythe Queen." Doré was always smoking. It seemed to me that hewas never without a cigar or cigarette in his mouth; hishead used to be enveloped in such a cloud of smoke thatit appeared to come out of the top of his skull, to escapefrom his brain, a real cauldron always seething. We usedto go very often whilst in London to see the celebratedJUGGLING AT CASTELLANTS. 371collector of antiquities, Castellani of Rome, who eachyear spent some time in the metropolis. It was at hishouse that one evening after dinner, Doré, whilst jugglingwith some daggers, accidentally drove one into the palmof his hand, and for some days had to keep his arm in asling. He was very robust and fond of bodily exercises,especially of practising on the trapèze and with thegloves. Not infrequently, when he was in particularlygood spirits, he would walk on his hands all round thestudio, keeping his feet in the air." Doré was a long time in England, where he was madewelcome, and received with open arms by the most noblefamilies. Strange to say, he never learned to speakEnglish. He used to get off now and then a few phraseswhich helped him to get about in cabs. The reason ofhis not studying the language of the country was simpleenough. You see all the English people of distinctionwhose houses he frequented spoke French perfectly well ,which made his intercourse with them easy andagreeable.Bb 2372 GUSTAVE DORÉ.CHAPTER XXXIII.MORE LONDON INCIDENTS." I REMEMBER another incident of our stay in London.One day, in a street in Islington , we found ourselvesbefore the door of a public school for young ladies.Doré wanted to visit this school , so I summoned one ofthe servants, and bade her announce to the schoolmistressthe name of the unexpected visitor. We were keptwaiting some minutes in alittle parlour, and were thenintroduced to the presence of the lady directress, a mostdistinguished woman, by the way, who spoke the purestof French; another proof, I may observe, of our neighbours' superiority over us in learning foreign languages.Presently this lady conducted us into the amphitheatreof the school, where about 500 young girls arose, salutedGustave Doré, and began to sing in unison the ' Marseillaise ' to the accompaniment of the harmonium. Gustavewas visibly affected; you see he was a fervent patriot .Those ladies were not obliged to know what politicalopinions he entertained; but, as a matter of fact, he wasnot much of a Republican, and it was only in 1878,when he had been appointed an officer of the Legion ofHonour, that he could be brought to admit that Jules"WHY DIDN'T YOU SAY SO BEFORE." 373Ferry and Gambetta had not in person set the Tuilerieson fire. He saw Gambetta very often after that, however, and finding him agreeable and highly instructed,allowed himself to be carried away by the fascinationsof the great Tribune."I remember one day, at St. Katherine's Docks, inLondon, we were drawing some ships which were loadingand unloading at the quay. An old sailor was workingnear us, so, in the hope of obtaining some local information, Doré asked him a few questions in his own peculiarEnglish. The sailor looked somewhat embarrassed, andanswered in a tongue that did not seem very intelligibleto us. It was only by a great effort of imagination thatwe contrived to piece his words together into any sort ofa coherent statement. At last Doré, somewhat puzzled,addressed a few words of French to me, upon which theold tar began to laugh merrily, exclaiming, Eh! -Trounde l'air, you are Frenchmen! Why didn't you say sobefore? I am from Marseilles. ' An intimacy wasestablished on the spot, and Doré, having discovered alittle restaurant hard by, we went all three to dine à laProvençale, and soon laid hold of a bottle of expatriatedMedoc. The sailor would not have missed that adventurefor a good deal." Doré had the greatest affection for his mother; at theage of forty he lived with her just as if he had been achild. In their immense house in the Rue St. Dominiqueseveral superb rooms were encumbered with documents,cartoons, and books. He might easily have taken oneof these apartments for himself, but he never thoughtof doing so. He used to sleep in a little cabinet adjoininghis mother's room; the door of communication was alwaysopen, and the mother and son used to talk together forhours before they went to sleep, discussing every eventof the day, large or small. It was in this same littleschoolboy's room that Françoise, the old servant, usedto bring him his café- au-lait in the morning and histisanes if he had a cold. Françoise, as you know, wasan Alsatian, and has served the Dorés all her lifetime.She is more than eighty years old , and has survived all374 GUSTAVE DORÉ.the old people. She used to answer Gustave back whenhe attempted to make any observations to her. 'Leaveme quiet to attend to my housekeeping,' she would say,' and occupy yourself with your little wooden men. '" Doré had a generous and open hand; the people hehas obliged and done favours for it would be absolutelyimpossible to name. His manner was sometimes ratherbrusque, but he had an excellent heart and was alwaysgrateful for the slightest service one rendered him. Hedistributed drawings, sketches, and photographs of hisworks amongst his acquaintances with the greatest lavishness, and many were not backward in taking advantageof this generosity." He seldom went to the theatre, for heobjected tolosing his time in listening to a lot of rubbish that he hadno interest in. I must say he was a little narrow-mindedin that respect, for he evidently forgot how great washis own pleasure on seeing heads bent over his albums,looking at and admiring them. In his private life Doréhad not the gift of order; not that he was exactlydisorderly, but he alleged that if the best servant in theworld had even looked at his table or library he couldnever find anything afterwards. So he prohibited thoseabout him from touching anything that belonged to him,and in the midst of the greatest apparent confusion hisastonishing memory enabled him to know exactly whereto find everything."Doré was never a collector of curiosities; at his houseyou would see nothing but his own works. ' Doré everywhere, Doré for ever!' I suppose all great intelligenceshave their little weaknesses." He never played at cards in his life; he detested them .His mother was very fond of whist, so he was obliged tosport a card-table at his weekly evenings; but his chiefdelight was to tease the players. He used to standbehind the backs of their chairs and amuse himself bycalling out their cards in a loud voice. This proceedingsometimes caused no slight discomfiture to the whistparty. In these réunions general conversation was nottenor.DORÉ INVITES M. KRATZ IN ENGLISH. 375only difficult, but impossible; the sound of the piano andviolin predominated, or Doré's singing, with his prettyWe all used to laugh when he imitated Roger orany other famous singer, which he did so well that one.could almost imagine the artist in person was performing.How happy I am when I think of those evenings, towhich every one felt so much honoured to be invited asecond time, and at which one breathed the very life andsoul of gaiety and good- fellowship! 'As Doré himself remarked, coming to England wouldinterrupt his Sunday receptions at home; but it will beunderstood that the chief cause of his objection to travelwas because he would have been obliged to leave hismother in France. Although he missed the companionship of his intimate friends , his life was so filled up withsocial and material occupations that he had little timewhile in this great city to think of the old Paris days.He gives a fair idea of the way he spent his time, ina letter written in 1871 , to his schoolfellow, M. ArthurKratz:-"Bath Hotel, Thursday, 1871 ." MY DEAR ARTHUR, -The agitation of the life whichI lead here must be an excuse for my long delay inanswering your amiable letter. From the first gleam ofAurora until the moon sinks to rest I am in cabs, beatinground the cardinal points of this great city . If I makeany errors in writing to you in French, pray excuse me.I have really forgotten my native language, and onlytake up my pen in self- defence. [The rest of the letteris written in English. ] Ten weeks spent in this countrywithout speaking a word of French, that is my singular life from long ago. But I begin to be taking to theHome Society, and I long to see again all my friends,hoping find it in very healthy. I am most satisfied ofmy stay in this hospitable country, and I find there alarge indemnification of Foranzer and misfortune which Ihad suffer lately. Many, many, many thanks my dearArthur, pronounced 000ORSHUR, for your kindremembrance. The Right Honourable Lord Mayor and376 GUSTAVE DORÉ.all the Aldermen of the city beg me send to you their bestcompliments, and I add to you a strong hand- breaking.Your faithfuill," G. DORE. "Doréwent veryoften to visit the Sick Children's Hospitalin Great Ormond Street, and made many drawings of thepretty waifs both for himself and for them. Then he alsowent frequently to the Newport Refuge, to draw the littleshoeblacks and picturesque-looking lads. He alwaysmade friends with all of the children, they understoodDoré at once. One of his happy remarks was made inreference to his picture, " The Triumph of Christianity."One day at the Sick Children's Hospital some one spokeof that work, and Doré, looking at the interestedvisitors come from far and near, said , " These are yourtrue triumphs of Christianity-English ladies comingdaily here to care for the outcast, the sick, and theneedy. " M. Bourdelin has spoken of Doré's cuttinghis hand one day at Castellani's in London. Doré's lovefor mumming and juggling came very near on oneoccasion proving fatal to him. Many of his friends up tothis time have spoken about him in these pages; butnever heretofore his physician. The story of GustaveDoré's well-nigh fatal accident has been given me by Dr.Lavies, too well known in London to need further introduction on my part. His notes seem to me so extremelynatural that I shall insert them verbatim . He also isanother witness to the enthusiasm and simplicity of goodMadame Doré's nature. Dr. Lavies' friendship with Gustave Doré dates from-but let him speak for himself: -" Dear Gustave Doré! My first introduction to himwas a summons to his bedside at the Golden CrossHotel, ' where, in throwing a knife into the air and catch it , it fell with its point on his thigh and woundedhim. Perfect anatomist as he was, he knew it was exactlyover the femoral artery, and jumped to the conclusionthat he had inflicted a mortal injury on himself. I foundhim pale and anxious, his hand cold and clammy, and he"NO; I WILL STOP HERE." 377could hardly speak. The wound was very slight , and Iassured him there was no kind of danger, but he imploredme to visit him every hour till evening! Of course Icould not do this, so I applied suitable remedies, andpromised to come as often as I could, and I begged himto go on with his drawing, and to think as little of his legas possible. He was engaged at the time in illustrating' London, ' and I was amazed, when I called again, at thenumber of small sketches he had completed since I left.When I visited him in the evening the table was coveredwith them, thirty or forty, I should say." He got rapidly well, and a very close intimacy sprangup between us his expressed opinion being that I hadsaved his life; that was not in the least true; but it wasquite useless to attempt to alter this whim of his; and,when a year or two after I visited him in Paris, and wasintroduced to his mother, he had evidently imbued thischarming old lady with his views about me; for on entering the room into which I had been shown, she rushedacross to me, fell on her knees and embraced mine,declaring that the life of her dear child was due to myskill and care! My daughters were with me, and Dorétook us over to his studio in the C.E. , where we sawthe great ' Prætorium ' picture in process, and severalother paintings (in various stages) which have sinceattained a world- wide celebrity."Doré was very fond of visiting us, and I never sawhim more perfectly happy than when spending a quietevening with my daughters, Canon Harford, and myself.He would never leave to go to any second party to whichhe may have been engaged, though we often urged himto do so, feeling that his remaining with us must becausing disappointment to others. He always said, ' No,I will stop here. I go to them another time.' He gavemy elder daughter a wonderful sketch of ' Parrot Walk,'at the Zoological Gardens, which he made in my drawingroom, and in which a leading figure of a broad, middleaged gentleman was, I suspect, intended as a quizzicalportrait of me, but the face is not seen, the sight- seer378 GUSTAVE DORÉ.being engaged in looking at the parrots. My youngerdaughter received an exquisite coloured etching of ascene on ' Dee- side, ' and when he gave this he said thatPapa was not to be jealous, as he had something verygood for him; ' and very good indeed it was when it arrivedin the form of a highly-finished pencil picture of Merlin.and Vivien, from the Idylls of the King.' It is anexquisite work, the admiration of all who see it . Dorésent me an artist's copy of the Ancient Mariner, ' and Iam ashamed to confess that I had had it many monthsbefore I discovered that one of his original sketches hadbeen fastened in the book, containing his presentation ofthe work to me and duly signed. ' It is very interestingto compare the original with the highly- finished engraving.I prize these four works of the great artist very highlynot least because I know they were all expressions of hisregard for me and mine. Since his death I have receivedfrom his gallant brother an exquisite engraving of theNeophyte ' in memoriam. Doré, I must add, beforeclosing these few lines, was a clever mimic . One of themost wonderful pieces of mimicry I ever saw in him or in any one was what he called a Souvenir of the Shah ofPersia.'" He explained that this potentate never recognized anyone as being in front of him, still less bowed to or noticedany one, unless he had to turn slightly to do so . ' Ishow you, ' he would say, and then walking on his toeshe would turn his head now over the right shoulder,now over the left, and giving a condescending nod thatwas ludicrous in the extreme, and which seemed to amusehim quite as much as those who were looking at him ."sense.At the close of his long stay in London Doré returnedto Paris, where his life was very much broken up in oneAfter the war the receptions at the Rue St.Dominique were restricted to his most intimate circle offriends. The horrors of the late struggle were still too' I wrote to acknowledge this gift and my own oversight as to the 6thof January, 1883 ( Festival of the Epiphany), his birthday."I WORK INCESSANTLY." 379recent for Paris to seem itself; in fact the city was visiblyand deplorably changed. Homes were broken up; manyof Doré's friends were scattered abroad; the old familiarfaces were no longer to be seen in the old familiar haunts;there was an air of general desolation and unrest aboutthe place, as any one will remember who recollects Parisimmediately after the war. Added to this unsettledspirit, Gustave Doré had grave preoccupations about hisfamily, as will be seen by the following extract of a letter,dated 20th of June, 1873, and written to the Rev. FredericHarford; he also spoke of a table- piece, a fish dish presented to Doré by that gentleman::--"Your magnificent salmon is the delight of our table.It is a charming little work of truth, and we call it aBernard-Minton Salizay. This style of thing is reallyone of the industrial arts of your great country; it haswonderful

freshness of style, and a fine decorative tone.

  • *

" I have no good news to give you of my family. Myeldest brother has been ill for some time, in a way thatmakes us very uneasy. The doctor does not speakpositively about his illness, which, according to a medicalterm, is still in its first stages. From a psychologicalpoint of view I am much afraid that he is threatenedwith a serious brain disorder. There is a hypochondriacalmelancholy and a general feebleness which frighten me.In short, a striking change has taken place in his entireperson. My mother's health is not very good; thechronic bronchitis from which she suffers seems to megreatly aggravated. That, too, makes me very sad andanxious. I work incessantly, like one distraught, onthings which will probably go to London. This excessof work is my only presentable excuse for the rarity ofmy letters. You will soon receive, my dear friend, acopy of my last work of Rabelais --your enemy, or ratheryour antipathy. Let us hope that the sight of my jovialenergies will take a few of the wrinkles out of yoursevere face when you hear the name of this personagepronounced in your presence; and if you have the380 GUSTAVE DORÉ.patience to decipher some of this old French, you willallow that he also was a genius. I shake your two handscordially." G. DORE. "A month later Doré was in London, living much thesame life as before, as will be seen by the following letter,written to his mother on the 21st of July, 1873:-" DEAR MAMA, I have received all your letters thismorning. I thank you, and ask pardon for being so briefin mine, and for writing so seldom. Every day I seeescape from me the hour of solitude and calm in whichI hoped to write to you, for my life here is stretched outto its fullest extent. But I do not complain. On thecontrary, and I should have been greatly mistaken not tohave prolonged my stay here during this month. I musttell you, however, little mother, that I positively countupon embracing you on the 1st of August; and I nowpropose to you a long or a short hygienic trip to theseaside, or to the Pyrenees, just as you like. In spiteof all the efforts which they make here to persuade meto dissipate wildly, and to go into the country, &c. , I willkeep that for later on, all the while giving various goodpeople the hope of paying them a visit some day, butit won't do to show oneself too anxious."Always the same life here. Every day I breakfastand dine with interesting and notable people. I havedined twice with the Lord Mayor, yesterday with theLondon Rothschilds, and this morning with H.R.H. thePrincess Louise, at a veritable family party. There werebesides her Royal Highness, the Marquis of Lorne, theDuke of Argyll, his sister, and myself . To- day I dinewith a very interesting and singular notability, Mr. Shaw,chief of the London Fire Brigade; and after dinner,which is given for me two hours later than the usualtime, Messrs. the officers are going to have somemanœuvres in the large court of the general station withall the engines , pumps, machinery, ladders, and so forth;for you must know that one of the things in which theyFLOWER GIRL.(Early original Sketch in Doré Gallery. By permission of Messrs. Fairless andBeeforth . )Page 380.

J.SWAIN ENG.THE ESCAPE OF DAVID FROM THE WINDOW.(The Bible. By permission of Cassell and Co.)Page 380.

LYONORIGINAL SKETCH FOR BIBLE IN DORÉ GALLERY. ( Unpublished . )(By permission of Messrs. Fairless and Beeforth . )Page 380.

“ WE ALREADY suffocate herE AT 2 P.M.” 381pride themselves in London is their Fire Brigade andperfected art in extinguishing fires."I learn with great pleasure that the Doussoults areat last going to get to work on my studio, for I reallyam in desperate need of it for this winter, having incessant work before me; and I need plenty of light. Impressupon Doussoult not to put an ounce of Saulinia orPaulinia in his plaster. I have just received a charmingletter from F , who speaks to me of his illness witha Christian resignation and a really Gallic wit . Heannounces that he is leaving Lisbon for a post of DirectorGeneral. I have written to both of them."I hope before long that you will tell me that myhealth is good, and that you are less bronchitic . Heatis good for you; it seems to me that you have enoughof it now. We already suffocate here at 2 p.m. Let ushope that Paris is like London." I embrace you very hastily because I must dress togo and dine with my amiable Fireman."Your own son," Embrace all the family for me."" GUSTAVE.Doré made but a short stay in London this season,and was back in Paris, as usual, at work with hisillustrating and painting; he was also busy illustratingMichaud's " Crusades," and was just beginning his greatwork, " The Entry into Jerusalem. " . He was still thesame old Doré, thinking of a hundred things, and tryingto do twenty at the same time. He speaks more plainly of himself and of his work in a letter written to CanonHarford, in 1873, November 5th, a memorable date toEnglish ears:-("I am somewhat ahead in my fatiguing work on theCrusades. ' It has taken a great deal of time andresearch. I have been working also at the picture "TheDream of Pilate's Wife, ' which I am finishing withextreme care, and which I hope will do me honour inLondon. However, I must constantly listen to the voice382 GUSTAVE DORÉ.of reason in order to be able to work. There is alwaysdespair in my heart, and yet I have forgotten nothing.You know I am not without religion, and I sometimesthink that constant grief is a law that Providence inflicts upon us. She has a reward for those who, withouttoo much vacillation , have been able to drain the cup ofbitterness to its dregs."Alas! my unhappiness is very great, my dear friend .Pity me, the future seems to me very sad.I thank youfrom my heart for the kind interest which you take inme. I am also glad to hear that your health is better.Do write me soon, and above all speak to me of yourself.With all my heart, yours,"G. DORE."M. Doré has made so many sketches for the " Francesca da Rimini " that it is really a matter of interest toknow the destiny of the original drawing; that is to say,the very first one made by Doré of this subject. ÎnJanuary, 1870, he wrote to Canon Harford, and I makethis extract from his letter:-" The two little drawings, one that of Francesca,which you always said you loved so much, and the otherthe Scene of the Fall,' which sends them both to everlasting torment, and which ought to be called the Kiss.on Earth, or the Kiss of Eternity, these two sketchesare the first which I made of this subject, when, in1861 , I worked illustrating the Divine Comedy.' Youwill see that these two preceded both the book and thelarge picture. "During that season M. Doré went very often to visithis friend , Mr. Galpin, at Datchet. He was enthusiasticabout the beauty of the country, and thoroughly enjoyedthose brief intervals of rest in so picturesque and pleasanta spot. To him it was a glimpse of an earthly paradise.His admiration of Windsor and the surrounding scenerywas absolutely without limit. After once driving throughthe famous park he knew every tree by heart that he hadglanced at, and said that he could draw all from memory;indeed, he very much surprised Mr. Galpin some timeTHE HERO OF KARS. 383afterwards by referring to several of the known beautiesof the wood upon which his eye had rested only once, andthat seemingly without taking special notice.This year Doré went to Scotland, and revelled in thestrange romantic scenery. He made many notes forfuture works, but no sketches. He was as usual verycareful about data and memoranda.He had a wonderful memory for names, especially forScotch names. Strange to say, when in North Britain, hepronounced all the cognomens of the towns, villages, andcountry seats perfectly well. Near Skye this faculty wasput rather severely to the test.Another proof of Doré's carefulness and systematicmethod of training his memory will be found in letterswritten to his mother from Scotland, which I will subjoinshortly.Still speaking of Scotland, I may here insert severalletters written by Doré whilst visiting his friend ColonelTeesdale, of whom I have heretofore said so little in thisrecital, perhaps not enough for one to whom Doré wasso sincerely attached. In any case, my words would beweak in comparison with the stronger terms used by Doréhimself in a note written to his friend Canon Harford inDecember, 1871-" I have just received a letter from the good and braveTeesdale, in which he announces to me the death of hisfather, in such touching terms as only afford me anotherproof of how much there is that is elevated and tender inthis lion's heart. "The hero of Kars is too well known to need furtherintroduction from me. With others of Doré's friends hewas only too willing to testify to the artist's noble anddear qualities; and in proof of a sincere friendship haskindly added to these memoirs. He shall speak in hisown words; and, as they have reference to Doré's visitto Scotland, I shall insert them here. I shall makeextracts from letters recently received by me fromColonel Teesdale. He wrote from Bognor:-" So many people are acquainted with Doré's life in384 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Paris and London, it will perhaps be best if I write a fewlines about his trip to Scotland with me in April, 1873.It was with much difficulty that he was persuaded toundertake the journey, as he was very averse to leavinghis home. At last it was managed by my going to payhim a visit at his house in the Rue St. Dominique, andthen bringing him back to London with me. After a dayor two spent there, we started from St. Katherine's Wharfin an Aberdeen steamer, and had very fine weather forour voyage. Unfortunately my poor friend was anythingbut a good sailor, and was so thoroughly upset, thatwhen we landed at Aberdeen he could take no interest inanything, not even in the lovely drive from Ballater toBraemar. However, a good night's rest soon restoredhim , and he then began to thoroughly appreciate thebeautiful scenery that we were in the midst of." I did all I could to make him take to salmon- fishing,but it was a very unfavourable moment, and he wasnot an apt pupil . He soon became wrapped up in thescenery of the Deeside, and was far happier with hissketch- book than with his rod. He used to get up onthe hillside with an old stalker, and dash down all sortsof memoranda there. In the evening, at our comfortablelittle hotel, when dinner was over, the sketch- book usedto come out again, and then with his water- colours , oranything that came first to hand, the memoranda of theday were amplified. Doré's memory of anything that hehad once seen was marvellous, and he seemed to workat night as if the scenes he had made note of during theday were still before his eyes.66 He could take the stump of an old pen, or a pencil,use his finger or thumb, and always manage to producejust the effect required. Once, when I saw him usingsome common ink and water, I laughed, and asked himwhy he did not try coffee, upon which he said it wouldbe just the thing, and immediately flooded nearly all hissketch with it, producing exactly the required effect."We spent a very happy fortnight at Castleton, andbefore leaving Doré drew two admirable likenesses of theLAST OF COLONEL TEESDALE'S NOTES. 385two old stalkers who had been with us, and gave to eachhis own. They have been religiously kept as greattreasures, and the renowned French painter is still wellremembered in these parts.'""" From Castleton we drove down to Ballater, visitingBalmoral on the way. From Ballater we made a veryinteresting excursion to the Dhu Loch, with which Doréwas very much impressed; and from a sketch which hemade then he afterwards painted a fine picture, but whatbecame of it I never knew. Amongst his other talentsDoré was a capital performer on the violin; and havingdiscovered one in the hotel, in his kindly, genial way,would often amuse the people by his performances. Onenight he took it into his head to take a walk to look atthe river by moonlight, playing all the way. On arrivingat the bridge a party of country people were coming in,and as they stopped to listen , Doré began to play a verygood imitation of a reel, upon which every one danceduntil there was not a breath left in fiddler or dancers. Itwas a droll scene; the moonlight, the bridge with theDee rushing swiftly underneath, the gillies dancing andshouting, and the great man playing away, drinking inand mentally absorbing the unusual and curious spectacle.We gave a dance in his honour at the hotel at thecountry side before we left Ballater, so that he mightsee the historical dance and Scotch costumes. When ourstay came to an end we travelled home by Edinburgh,and Doré was so much struck by the picturesqueness ofthe old town that he quite determined to return to itsome day, and to remain there long enough to makemany studies. He never did so, though he againvisited Scotland, and the country evidently made a greatimpression on his mind, as he painted many beautifullandscapes subsequently, either from sketches that he hadmade, or impressions that had been left upon his mind,and I have a charming souvenir of that Scotch trip in awater- colour picture that Doré made for me, includingportraits of all the party."I cannot enter into all the grief that I felt at my poorсс386GUSTAVEDORÉfriend's death. The wreath that he sent me to lay uponmy mother's grave had scarcely withered when the news.came that he had been suddenly taken away; and nowI can but live amongst the reminiscences of one of thedearest and warmest- hearted friends that it was evergiven man to possess."Colonel Teesdale has spoken as usual all too modestlyof himself and of his relations with Gustave Doré when .he said in the outset of his letter that Paris friends knewthe artist better. He might have said Paris friendshad known him longer, for I think no one knew Dorébetter than Teesdale. Of their friendship, surely noword of mine could now lend additional evidence.Any one who has been to Scotland will readily imaginethe life Doré led there. Although he was not in thenorth during the summer season, the weather was charming, and he found his stay most agreeable. We mayjudge of his Highland experiences by the following letters,written to Madame Doré in April, 1873-"Invercauld Arms, Braemar, Saturday." DEAR MAMA, -I wrote to you this morning beforestarting off to fish, and now, on my return, I send youa second despatch. We have just supped after a longand exciting day, entirely devoted to the violent exerciseof salmon fishing. I promise you that were I to spendsome time in practising this class of sport, I should soonlose several pounds of flesh, of which I still have enoughto complain about . This method of salmon fishing isvery far from being like what you think itit isis.. Instead ofthe immobility that characterizes ordinary fishing, it islocomotion, or rather perpetual motion, all up and downthe banks. It resembles no other kind of fishing. Wedo not use ordinary bait; what we drop in the water is asort of fly, which we make run up and down the surfaceof the pond, just to tease the fish. Up to the present, thishas amused me very much; but the important thing isthat it takes place in the midst of pine forests and rockswhose snowy peaks are reared high above our heads.AN EXPECTANT MORROW'. 387The view is indeed magnificent, and I fish. above all, inorder to catch beautiful landscapes. Until now my othercompanions, Messrs. Freme and Ponsonby, are the onlyones who have caught any salmon. Teesdale and myselffor the moment are plunged in all the fury of wild jealousy,I am afraid. But he promises them a splendid revengefor the day after to- morrow, Monday. To- morrow,Sunday, we do not fish. You know how Sunday isblotted out of one's life in England; but that is nothingin comparison with its treatment in Scotland. Here theyare what is called ' Methodists ' and ' Presbyterians, ' andevidently everything which makes one tired is lookedupon as work; so we have planned, instead, a long walkin the mountains. Friend Teesdale sends you his bestcompliments."Yours,"GUSTAVE."This letter is one of the famous illustrated ones, and itstwo inside pages represent a party of gentlemen engagedin salmon fishing; another of Gustave's lamp-lightsketches. The water is water-like-the trees are treelike the men are man-like and the lines line-like-but Iam afraid it would take a mother's fond eye to recognizeany of these hooded figures, and to tell which garmentsconcealed the body of her son. If we are to judge byappearances, two expectant creatures patiently waiting,may be the two who promise themselves an ardent revengefor the morrow. The following Monday Gustave wroteas follows:-"Invercauld Arms, Braemar,Monday, April, 1873." DEAR MAMA, -I hoped this morning to have had aletter from you, for I have been three days without news,and begin to be very uneasy. We quit Braemar tomorrow, and I beg you to send your letters to our newaddress," M. G. DORÉ,"Invercauld Arms,"BALLATER,"Aberdeenshire, Scotland.C C 2388GUSTAVEDORÉ."You will see that there is but one word changedbetween this address and the preceding one, that ofBraemar to Ballater; but take careful note of it . Weshall stop in Ballater until Tuesday, and our stay inAberdeenshire will terminate on Monday evening by asplendid ball which the friends of Teesdale have organized in my honour. All the people present will bedressed in full Scotch costume. On Tuesday morningwe shall go straight on to Edinburgh, where we shallspend Tuesday evening and the following day; and thenon Wednesday evening without fail we shall go back toLondon. This time we shall adopt the terrestrial routein order to vary our pleasures. On Thursday I shallbe in London, where I shall also pass Friday and Saturday. On Saturday evening I shall start for Paris, andshall be back on Sunday for our usual family réunion." I shall return enchanted with my trip. I have seen somany things that it seems to me as if I had been away formonths. People are wrong to say that I am visitingScotland at an unfavourable time of year. True, it iscold; but one discovers so many landscape effects inthis season amongst these grand transparent forestsvariegated with a sombre green, certainly as fine as anypines in summer time. One of the most beautiful andcurious things that we see at this moment is a herd ofstags which has descended from the hills to the valleys.As this is not the stalking season, they are not very timid.I shall have my memory pretty well filled with an amplenumber of landscapes, which seem to me more suitableto my London Exhibition than Swiss Alpine scenes. Ihave just written to Mrs. Beeforth , to give her notice ofthe date of my return to London, as you see my excursionhas been prolonged for a week more than I had anticipated.But, to tell the truth, if I had hurried up things , I shouldhave much regretted it, and might have interfered withthe benefits of so long a journey. I am afraid on myreturn to Paris I shall find things a little complicated , butlet us hope not too much so. Are there many letterswaiting for me? I am not much at description, and verySOME SCOTCH SKETCHES. 389little of a narrator in my letters; but I shall have a lot ofthings to talk about on my return; for I have seen much,very much; many new and interesting objects; and withthe best and most precious guide that heart could wishfor, Teesdale; that man has the talent of showing oneeverything rapidly and well."I embrace you most tenderly. With affectionatecompliments to the family,"Your faithful' GUSTAVE. "It was after this trip that Doré painted the magnificent" Scotch Landscape " and " A Highland Trout Stream , "at present to be seen in the Doré Gallery. Always at hisbest in mountain scenery, he has never surpassed some ofhis delineations of the lochs , crags, moorlands, and wildheather of Scotland. A delicious air of freshness breathesover every inch of the ground he has depicted . Of hisScotch pictures , two in replica, called " The Torrent, " arefine enough to rank with any of the works of the firstartists of the day.At a recent public display of the Modern Masters inParis I was struck by a large painting, which not onlystood out conspicuously among many great works by celebrated masters, but, by the boldness of its design, brilliancyand naturalness of its colour, and by its inimitable execution cast everything around it absolutely into the shade.A great many people were looking at this picture, and itwas some time before I could get near it. Althoughanxious to know the name of the artist, I did not regretthe delay, as it gave me a further opportunity of studyingthe picture. I heard exclamations of praise uttered onall sides, and finally curiosity prompted me to approachthe picture sufficiently near to see who might be thepainter of so admirable a work. As I read the name “ G.Doré" on the frame I involuntarily started. A lady standing at my elbow looked significantly at the work and atme, and then remarked, " And yet they say that hecould not paint! When I look at that I am glad to be390 GUSTAVE DORÉ.a Frenchwoman."Torrent."The picture in question was “ LeAmongst the other works in the Doré Gallery are afine study in black and white, called " Hades, Minos andRhadamanthus; " "A River Scene in Normandy;" " ThePeasant Women of France; " " First study for the largepicture of Christ leaving the Prætorium;" " Drawing ofthe Neophyte; " a reduction of the group in the FrenchInternational Exhibition , " Fate and Love; " "Ganymede;" " L'Effroi," and, lastly, a capital bust of Doréhimself executed by M. A. Carrier.Amongst the other drawings in the Doré Galleryare the following: -Drawings illustrating Coleridge's"Ancient Mariner." Series of drawings after the picturesby Gustave Doré: " Ecce hom*o;" "The Ascension;'"The Night of the Crucifixion; " " The Dream of Pilate'sWife;" "Soldiers of the Cross; " " Christ's Entry intoJerusalem;" " The House of Caiaphas; " " The Massacreof the Innocents; " " The Brazen Serpent;" " Le TapisVert " (the gaming- table at Baden- Baden); "Christ'sEntry into Jerusalem " (original sketch in water- colours ,by Gustave Doré, signed in black, height, twenty-threeinches; width, thirty- one inches); " The Vale of Tears "(the original sketch); and " Moses before Pharaoh(the original sketch) .MY FIRST VISIT TO DORE'S STUDIO. 391CHAPTER XXXIV.MY FIRST VISIT TO GUSTAVE DORÉ, IN 1873I HAD been in Paris but a short time, when one day thewish came over me to make Gustave Doré's acquaintance.But how was I to obtain an introduction to him? Ithought over this question for some hours, and failed toanswer it satisfactorily to myself. True, Doré and I hadfriends in common across the Atlantic, where the artistwas not only well known, but worshipped from afar, andin England, where his name was a household word. Ithought of writing to America for a letter of introduction,but soon abandoned that idea. Four weeks to wait forthe post seemed an eternity; and suddenly rememberingthat my English friends were on the Continent, I knewnot exactly where, I began to fear that I should have tobide my time, and trust to kind fate for the fulfilment ofmy desire. Doré's name, however, kept running in mythoughts, so I took down from my bookcase a volumewhich, ever since I had become possessed of it , hadexercised a strange enchantment upon me-Viardot's"Don Quixote." How many times had I turned thosefascinating pages; yet how new their illustrations allseemed as I looked them through again! The wondrouscreations of Doré's imagination, prompted by that of392 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Cervantes, were engrossing my attention, when I heard asharp ring at the bell. Too deeply interested , however,to stir from my book, I awaited my visitor with curiousindifference. A few seconds later the door was opened,and a familiar face appeared on the threshold."Don't get up," said the owner of the face, advancingtowards me; " I presumed on our old acquaintance, and.came straight to you on my arrival in Paris. What areyou doing? Looking at ' Don Quixote, ' Doré's ' Quixote '?I am not surprised that you were absorbed in your book.What a wonderful work it is! but what a still morewonderful artist is my friend Doré! "The word Doré was enough for me. Up I jumped,and " Don Quixote " fell headlong to the floor." I am so glad to see you! "" II exclaimed; " and ifyou are a friend of Doré, you are the man of men whomI could have wished Destiny to send to my door. Soyou know him! Tell me all about him, what he lookslike, how does he speak? Is he young, handsome, andamiable? Is he in Paris now? Where does he live?Can one get at him easily? Of all the people in theworld he is the one man I am anxious to know. Youmay as well tell me what he is like. I am not curious,but-"" Exactly," interrupted my friend, calmly conveying"DonQuixote" to a place of safety on the table. "Exactly;you are not curious, and therefore I shall tell you nothing.But you shall see him and judge for yourself, if you will."There was a something else in his manner which seemedto say, " You have given me plainly to understand that Iam only welcome because I can tell you something aboutmy friend Doré, and yet I generously offer to take you tohis studio. " Aloud he added , " There is no time like thepresent. This is just the hour at which to catch him.Put on your things, and we will start at once."Need I say that I did not require much urging?Before I realized how it had all come about, we werewalking down the beautiful Avenue Cours la Reine, onour way to the Rue Bayard. It was a clear autumn day,ON THE WAY TO RUE BAYARD. 393and the fallen leaves were spread like a golden carpetunder our feet, nearly to his very door. I felt that I waslucky, and began to suspect that Aladdin's lamp musthave come secretly into my possession; for nothingcould have been more fairy- like than the sudden realization of my wish. Somehow, it in no way surprised me,on arriving at his door, to hear that " M. Doré was atwork in his studio," and that " so old a friend as Monsieurmust certainly go in to see him. " Forthwith Jean, Doré'sfaithful servant, showed us through a little corridor intoan antechamber, drew aside a curtain, and conducted usinto the studio.I glanced hastily around it. After all, studios aremuch alike, the only important difference between oneand another being in their inmates. This one, however,was to me particularly interesting, because it belonged toGustave Doré. There was an unusual aspect about itwhich at first I could not place, then suddenly it somewaylooked to me like the interior of a grand old cathedralthere was an air of solemn grandeur, an aroma of Gothicgrace, which impressed me, as I have always beenimpressed upon entering any holy place; and this wascertainly a sanctuary. It was a spacious apartment, welllighted by one large window. I had a confused idea atfirst that it was filled to overflowing. In reality, it contained little more than the usual paraphernalia of an artist'shouse and workshop. There were tapestried hangings hereand there to the walls, arm- chairs and little sofas , busts,casts, scores of pictures with their faces turned from thegaze of the curious, statues, finished and unfinished ,groups in clay, and heads in bronze; a piano, books,smoker's accessories, and perhaps a dozen half- finishedcigars lying in a little Japanese ash-tray. Most curiousof all was a high double scaffold . The first one stoodeight feet high, and was on wheels; the second wasa sort of movable step-ladder, placed on the level ofthe other's top surface, and even on the steps of thisupper ladder there were innumerable brushes and pots ofpaint. On this side of the room were many yards of394 GUSTAVE Doré.canvas, seemingly starting out of the ceiling . This canvaswas partly rolled up, and beneath its folds I saw headsof saints and sinners, with bright eyes looking downgravely at me. Upon this scaffolding, and on the topmostround of that topmost ladder, was perched a man; witheyes intent on his canvas, and his hand holding a paintbrush in mid-air, he was seemingly oblivious to all otherearthly or spiritual objects.He evidently had not heard us come in. We stoodquite still, not wishing to disturb him.His face wasalmost wholly hidden; he still held his brush aloft foran instant or two, and then dipped it into a jar by hisside. How many pots of paint there were on that scaffold and on the steps he alone knew; to me they seemedcountless. Withdrawing his brush from the pot, hedashed it vigorously upon the canvas, once, twice, andthrice, then gave one final sweep, and deliberately wipedit on the picture. His was the most astonishing way I hadever seen of painting even the background of a sketch.He made a few more deep dives into the jar, each timefetching forth the brush fairly dripping with paint, andeach time industriously cleansing it on the canvas. Aftera few episodes of this kind, and a few more voyages intothe jar, he stopped suddenly, held his brush again aloft ,and turning his head slightly to one side with a ferret- likegesture, surveyed his work with manifest satisfaction .After eyeing it closely from one point of view, he turnedhis head in another direction, evidently trying to obtainsome particular effect of light, and caught sight of us. Hisbrush dropped upon the scaffolding; an "Ah, mon Dieu! "escaped him; he poised himself for a moment on hisperch with a look of mute inquiry, and then skipped downthe ladder with the nimbleness and grace of a kitten.During his momentary pause before descending to ourlevel, I had taken him in from top to toe.So this was Gustave Doré! Naturally! Any onemight have recognized him from his photograph; but Ifound him much more youthful and nicer in reality than heappeared to be in any of these latter. My opinion under-GUSTAVE DORÉ'S MANNER. 395went a rapid crescendo in his favour as he drew nearer.There was a charm in his manner and an instinctive gracein his bearing which were strangely attractive. Hebegan speaking at once to my companion, and after wehad been introduced he made me welcome in a few wellchosen words . He then turned to my cicerone—anofficer in the British army, who was one of his oldest anddearest friends , and asked him a long string of questions,answering a great many of them himself in the same.breath; and then he insisted upon our sitting down andmaking ourselves at home.His manner of receiving an old friend pleased me.It was warm without being effusive, hearty withoutbeing studied, and affectionate without being affected.I could readily believe all the stories that I had heard ofhis fidelity to his friends, and the genuineness of his sentiments where he really conceived a sincere attachmentfor any one. One could perceive this at a glance, and itwas to me as patent at this first time of seeing him as atthe fiftieth.Every gesture, every word, every movement betrayedthe man's inner nature as plainly as a clear mirror reflectssurrounding objects . Hepaid the most cordial me, yet at the same time seemed full of his friend'svisit . Doré had the perfect and rare knack of appearingcompletely absorbed with two people at one time. Hisconversation was quick, impetuous, and flowing.While looking and listening, I soon discovered that hepossessed the power of personal magnetism in an extraordinary degree. This is, perhaps, one of the rarestgifts Dame Nature bestows upon mortals, and constitutesan irresistible personal charm which no words can justlyportray. All the world can attest to the beauty of theblack eye or the blue, of raven hair, or locks of Venetiangold, to the arch of a brow or the curve of a lip, the poiseof a head, or the shapeliness of a limb; but no one cansay exactly what this one charm is , although every onemay feel its influence and know instinctively when theyare in the presence of a person endowed with it .396 GUSTAVE DORÉ.I looked at Doré closely, but his face perplexed me.It was not so easy to read as I had at first thought;while I pondered I inadvertently cast my eyes in thedirection of the scaffolding, and started, for the momen- tary vision came to me of a man on a ladder surroundedby paint-pots and brushes. It was so real that I thoughtI saw the artist himself; and yet Doré was no shadowbut a bonâ-fide substance at my elbow, still chatting withhis friend. He was a man one would always turn look at; but he never appeared so well as when on hisladder, for there he was certainly a personage. Thereare some people whom you may meet once in circ*mstances of a peculiarly striking character, and they mayturn up in after-life at a thousand different times, with asmany different side-lights thrown upon them, but you willalways see them as you first saw them, and think of you first thought of them. We may magnify or modifyour opinions in later life, but suddenly coming upon theobject which once appeared striking, our first unhesitating estimate of it is regulated by the first impressionwhich by some peculiar law of nature remains an indelibleone. Thus I looked at the man at my elbow and sawwith him alternately the artist hovering in air, a god ofthe canvas midst paint-pots and brushes.What was he like? What impression did his featuresconvey to me? Woman, you know, sees-or perhapsfancies she sees-much, she divines much, especiallywhen for the first time in the presence of a man of genius,and I am so like all other women.Picture to yourself a face of a squarish oval shapesurmounted by masses of dark brown hair, and perfectly smooth, save for one questioning wrinkle justabove the right eyebrow; a firm, broad, intelligent forehead, full at the temples and but thinly covered withan almost transparent clothing of flesh, not hiding butindicating the powerful mental mechanism of a perfectly constructed instrument. On looking at this prominent feature of Doré's countenance one felt that,although rich in those outward signs which phreno-PEN PORTRAIT OF GUSTAVE DORÉ.397logists call intellectual, there was much more in itthan mere intellectuality. It told a tale of exhaustlessreserve of power, and an everflowing fount of invention.and genius which he would never succeed in drainingdry. Wells there were indeed of imagination and perennial creativeness, and I felt that he could draw uponthem at any or every moment, while the world in generalwould never know whether his inspiration came from thebrink or from the bottom, but one accustomed to readhuman nature might divine many truths from the intenseness of this speaking countenance. They say geniusesdo not know themselves; an occasional flash of humilitytraversing this strange face might have caused me tothink so. Certainly much that I had heard of GustaveDoré led my mind into strange musings. Did he knowall his own vantage-ground? This question I put tomyself many times, and finally decided in the affirmative.His lineaments expressed too much proud consciousness.of power to be compatible with self- deception; nay, morethan this, Doré not only knew himself, but possessedan equally correct knowledge of other human beings.As he deduced merit from his own personal standpoint, so could he also deduce and put the properestimates on his fellow- creatures. This intuitive sightinto the characters of others Doré had the power and,for his own reasons, an evident wish to conceal. This Ifelt instinctively. I am sure he would never have askedHamlet's question about the recorders, not that he was notclever enough, but there was a Semitic cunning added toa certain indifference in his nature which passively permitted many liberties, and one could easily " draw himout;" still he always perceived when any one was in theact of doing so, and often passed for what he was not, tosave himself the trouble of even inadvertently explainingwhat he was.When I had decided that Doré knew himself so well,I looked for and found a confirmation of this in his otherfeatures.He believed in his own potentiality, and the inward398GUSTAVEdoré.conviction of his greatness had indelibly stamped itselfon his face, not in positive lines, but in vague, shadowynuances of expression which suggested rather thanrevealed themselves; as we may imagine from the outward contour the hidden charm of the half-veiled figure,or presuppose from the perfection of the Venus de Milo ,the beauty of her arms, were those members restoredwhich no eye for many a century has been permitted tocontemplate.Doré's eyes were a greyish blue, dark, soft, yet fathomless. Their prevailing expression, while proud, was oneof anxiety and half- trouble, half- interrogation . Ever andanon a momentary resentful light sparkled in them aswhen he first saw strangers in his studio. But that looksoon vanished from his features, and the true, straightforward gaze, about which his friends were enthusiastic asconstituting his greatest beauty, was revealed in all itsvaunted honesty.But I have nearly finished my portrait without havingas yet spoken of his mouth, which, shaded by a slightmoustache, was too small for a man's face. It was wellformed, but closed so tightly that the lips had borrowedtheir humour from his eyes and forehead. Pride andself- consciousness were there signalized to an extremedegree, especially in that of the upper-lip . The restof the face was soft and mobile. Yet the salient expression stamped on his forehead and brows gave oneplainly to understand that those lines were no caprice ofform, but an index to his real character, which was boundto repeat itself in his every lineament. This feature.seemed to reiterate the expression of the others, whichappeared to say, "Whatever the world think of me, Iknow what I have in myself and am able to do . "I could have gone on for a long time studying thisman who had made the world bow down to his phenomenal talent. What with the creature in the flesh besideme, and the vision my fancy had evolved, which cameand went, perched at the top of the ladder, I wasstrangely impressed. My attention was divided between two Dorés, alternating from the one so life- likeSUBSTANCE AND SHADOW. 399in the ideal world, to the other so phantom- like in thereal. When an expression puzzled me on the face ofthe phantom, I sought to read it aright in that of theman. When I had minutely dissected the features ofthe shadow, I fitted them together again and recomposed them, aided by the completeness of the livingman's face. At last, when I had almost finished myscrutiny and had taken a last look, wondering what thelips would utter were the phantom mouth to speak,I heard a very clear voice close at hand, asking me," Mademoiselle, are you dreaming? " With these wordsM. Doré arose, and I noticed that he was of mediumstature, perhaps not even so tall. His build was compactand elegant, although slightly inclined to embonpoint; hishands were shapely, delicate, and full of character;his feet small but heavily shod, in English fashion.The elasticity, elegance, and vivacity of his slightestmovement denoted him as one of Nature's spoiledchildren, endowed with perpetual youth.Before I could answer his question a goodhumoured,careless smile played upon his lips , and lighted up hisface with a debonair expression of singular attractive- ness.Was I dreaming? It certainly looked as if I were.My friend laughed, and M. Doré repeated his question ." I was thinking," I answered frankly, " of two men inone, and I find that you are both of them. "" Good," he rejoined, smiling, " but I do not quite.understand you. I find it as much as I can do to support the existence of one man; and you generously burdenme with the cares of another. Pray explain yourself."But I had no intention of explaining. Like mostwomen I scattered sentiments of doubtful meaning athazard, and then, courage failing me to vindicate theirjustness, I quietly let them drop. I think any one wouldhave done the same under the circ*mstances. I couldnot really be expected to tell M. Doré to his face that Ihad been surreptitiously studying him both in flesh andphantom for so long a time. He would have thoughtme presuming, and I had no wish to make so unfortunate400 GUSTAVE DORÉ.an impression upon him at the outset of our acquaintance. But answer something I was bound to, and inmy anxiety not to betray my real thoughts I stumbledupon the very remark which revealed them to him."I was thinking how like you are to your photographs,"I said. "I am sure I should have known you anywhere,from the resemblance you have to them. ""Ah! " he interrupted coldly; " that is strange. Inever could trace the slightest feature in any one whichcould claim to be exactly mine. As a rule, photographsare either very flattering or very inferior to the original. "This was not what might be called a happy departureon my part, so I tried again."It is a pity we interrupted your painting. You lookedso well on the ladder, " I said. " You know we werewatching you for some time before you caught sight ofus. I don't think I ever saw any one put as much paint atone time on a canvas before. You do it so quickly, too .I should think you must be afraid of falling; that scaffolding is so high-""Not he," interrupted the captain. " Monsieur Doréis like a cat with nine lives. Besides, he is a trainedacrobat. "" But is it very strong? " I persisted, glancing unconsciously towards the ceiling." Mademoiselle," said the artist, with a certain gentleirony in his voice, " do you refer to the walls, to thepainting, to the scaffolding, or to the ladder? "I explained what I had meant, but he looked as if hescarcely understood me. It is possible my meaning wasnot over and above clear to him. At any rate, my Frenchwas execrable, and that was one thing in my favour.My friend began talking to him about his paintings .He seemed greatly pleased, and offered to show us somepictures which he had recently finished. If I rememberaright, one was the lovely "Alsace," there was a “ Dante, "and one which he called " Le Massacre des Innocents. "1 " Alsace " was purchased by, and is at present in the gallery of, the Baroness Burdett Coutts.TWO ARTISTS. 401"Is that one sold? " asked the captain. " Is it forEngland or for Paris?" pointing to a marvellous Swisslandscape. Doré gave him one look, and replied, with afine irony in his voice,-" Paris! my friend, I cannot paint well enough forParis. Whither should it go but to England, where youall spoil me? "" Or America," I added, " where we should like tospoil you.""Or America," he repeated, bowing with grave courtesy. " How could you ask such a question? It shallgo where I would like to be appreciated. "He sighed profoundly as he spoke. I could not understand the sudden sadness which had come over him.The light died out of his face, and he seemed quitechanged from the proud artist whom I had seen soaringaloft, as it were, but half an hour before.Without seeming to notice the artist's strange depression, the captain began speaking of his paintings with suchenthusiasm that the cloud soon passed over, and Doréwas led on to talk of his projects and works. Presentlyhe offered to show us the one upon which we had seen himengaged when we entered the studio. He went up theladder so fast that he made me dizzy, and from his loftyperch pointed out various features in the picturewhich seemed to please him. If I remember aright, it wasthe " Christ entering Jerusalem," and was at that timenot even one-third completed.He took some time to explain the various points whichmore particularly interested him; others, the merits ofwhich were doubtful, he spoke of with great franknessand even asked the advice of the captain, himself anadmirable artist and critic .I listened with profound interest, his anxiety to take advice striking me as quite different from what I had heardof him. Afew moments later he descended from his shelf,and began to talk with extraordinary vivacity and ease. Ithought of the late Hans Makart, who, except as far ashis painting was concerned, not only seemed idiotic, butD d402 GUSTAVE DORÉ.on the extremely rare occasions when he opened his mouthdid all in his power to confirm that impression . Howdifferent to him was Doré, whose conversational powerswere of the highest and brightest range! -who addedto the charm of his manner a flow of language andgrace of expression as rare as they were fascinating.During the whole time we remained with him-morethan two hours -he talked of everything under the heavensand under the earth, and, although averse to speakingof himself, not infrequently mentioned his pictures.was easy to see that his whole soul was in his paintings.I felt as if I had shown myself a creature of very poortaste to even admire his pencil sketches and pen- andink drawings, and was so much surprised at his makingno mention of the latter, that I bluntly asked him whetherhe did not like his own illustrations, and, if he did, whichof those works he thought best.ItHis answer amazed me even more than his previoussilence on that particular topic."I illustrate now to be able to pay for my paints andbrushes," he said; " and even long ago my heart wasall the time in my paintings. I feel that I was born apainter. Of those other things, bah! " here he shruggedhis shoulders, " you ask me which one I like best. Ianswer, the one that I have not yet done, " and he laughingly pointed to a blank drawing- block, then added, " But Shakespeare, that is indeed a great work. I am in theseventh heaven over it ."Then he began talking about Shakespeare, and his comments ran on in a brilliant stream. I was not surprisedat his fluency, but at his knowledge of this author. Hepronounced several words of English with a guttural soundwhich proved that he had been well accustomed to hearthem from the mouths of English people; but I foundthat he could neither speak nor perfectly understand theAnglo- Saxon tongue. The captain tried to get him toattempt a few phrases, but he shook his head, as much asto say, " You don't catch me trying anything as difficultas that."A WONDERFUL VALET. 403He isChance brought up another subject, viz. , Jean, Doré'sdevoted servant. Jean, it seems, was a wonder, amarvel, indeed a most curious type of creature.dead now, Heaven rest his soul! but his faithfulnessdeserves some tribute to his memory, and I shall speakof him here. For years, I think from the opening ofthe Rue Bayard Studio in 1866 until the day on whichI saw him, he had been the jealous guardian of hismaster's new artistic home, his works, and his honour.He seemed, nay, was, to look at, utterly impassible,and he had a faculty which one might fancy he hadliterally imbibed from his master, namely, a rare knowledge of human nature. He treated visitors whom heknew his patron disliked with arch but frosty ceremony, and sent them off without the possibility of anappeal for grace; to the friends and habitués of the houseand studio, with his reception of them he always joineda gracious smile of protectorship and welcome. He knewDoré's pictures by heart quite as well as Doré didhimself, and he sometimes collaborated with the artist ina way which rendered him as proud as a fighting- co*ck,and certainly was a necessary aid to the picture's successfor he rubbed out drawings and cleaned canvases. Onehabit of Doré's went to his heart and completely unnervedhim, to wit, his master's prodigality in brushes and reckless liberality in colours, and he actually succeeded aftera time in checking some of the fearful and ruinous waste.He assorted the tubes, cleaned all the brushes, andprepared all the palettes. This was very good; butJean's connoisseurship did not stop there. He kneweventhe exterior of the little leaden pipes with their variouslabels, and his practised eye could detect the differencein shades of every colour with a quickness and truthwhich were as useful as miraculous. He established asort of proprietary right over his master, the studio, thepaintings, and painting utensils. Doré was very fond ofsampling new colours, and of helping himself freely.His fingers absolutely itched to unstop a newtube . Thinkyou Jean permitted this? Never! He would watch hisD d 2404 GUSTAVE DORÉ.master work for some little time, then seemed by asort of instinct to feel that Doré was on the eve of somerecklessness . He was rarely deceived. The artist wouldstop a moment, espy an untouched lead, and proceedforthwith to open it. Jean, with wary eye, choler- scentedvoice, and authoritative accents, would call his patron toorder. On one occasion Doré was gleefully about to trysome new shades of blue and yellow."I wish to remind you, sir," said Jean determinedly,"that you have still some sea- blue, the exact shaderequired, in this lead, and the other," indicating a neartube, " contains quite a quantity of Indian ochre. Youwould do very well, sir, to finish them both, before beginning on fresh colours ."I asked Doré if he took Jean's advice? " Always, "he answered me, laughing, " Always-in the studio . "Such a servant was indeed a treasure. I cannot tellyou all his solicitude about his master's health andwell-being, his observations on the weather, his reflections.on certain habitués, nor the respectful authority with whichhe reigned in the Rue Bayard. He was devoted to allDoré's friends, and would have gone without questionthrough fire and water for them, or for any one whomthe artist loved.There was a good deal more talk, and suddenly I beganto suspect that M. Doré was not quite happy. His gazewandered, and he began to exhibit signs of restlessness.Finally his glance fell on a table suspiciously bestrewnwith tobacco ash. My eyes followed his; perceivingwhich, he at once begged leave to smoke. Of course,the asked-for permission was promptly accorded, and helighted and consumed one cigar after another until ourdeparture. It seems that he had not smoked for severalhours , and I have since been told that he rarely went aslong without his favourite weed. In this habit, as in theone of work, he indulged extravagantly, and puffed awaywith such contentment that it was a pleasure to watchhim.I cannot tell you how quickly the time passed, norA BITTER reflectION. 405what pains he gave himself to make our visit an agreeableone. He showed us every picture in the studio, talkedover some statuary he also had there, and to my amazement I learned that he was a sculptor as well as a painter,for it was only about that time that he had seriously takenup this branch of art. I could not find words wherein toexpress my admiration of his work, nor my surprise atthe variety of his talents. I think he was more gratifiedby my start of amazement, when I was told that he hadsculptured a certain group, than he would have been hadI exhausted a whole vocabulary of flattering adjectives."Oh, yes," said the captain, " M. Doré possesses everytalent. He paints, chisels, engraves, draws, dances , sings,and plays the violin, all to perfection . He is a favouriteof fortune, and the spoiled child of France. "How quickly Doré's face fell!66 Yes," responded the artist, half bitterly; " you meanspoiled everywhere but in my own country. Don't accuseFrance of ever having spoilt me. Besides, I have askedlittle enough of her. Perhaps that is the reason shevalues me so little.'This time it was impossible to ignore his meaning.My friend made no reply, but unfortunately I did so:-" Console yourself, cher maître, you yourself know thatyou are great; besides, no one is a prophet in his owncountry; and yet, of all men, should you be an exceptionto the rule."He flushed slightly, and the captain came to the rescue." M. Doré is an exception to all rule, " he said coolly;"and, by-the-way, when shall we see you in England?You know you belong to us now. "I was beginning to feel uncomfortable. Could it bepossible that such a man was really serious in believingthat his country did not appreciate him? Was it amomentary pique, or a settled conviction? I had nottime to decide before he answered, -"You will always see me there as long as I have somany and such warm friends amongst you."Then he shook hands with the captain as if he had406 GUSTAVE DORÉ.none dearer in the world than he; at the same time itwas a polite way of putting an abrupt end to the conversation about himself.We could not decently stay any longer, although Iwas loth to tear myself away. Each time we had madea move as if to depart there had been something stillunsaid, or some new object to examine. In vain wereiterated our apologies about taking up so much of hisvaluable time. He refused to listen to them, protestingthat he had not spent so pleasant a day for an age, andbegged us to interrupt his labours whenever it shouldsuit us to do so. There was no mistaking the sincerityof his words and welcome.The daylight in the studio had considerably lessenedwhen we finally tore ourselves away, and I felt half guiltyon learning that five o'clock had struck. Three hours ofGustave Doré's time had we engrossed; in other words ,three hours of enchantment and delight. The captainwas enthusiastic about him, and all the way home spokeof his talent and kind- heartedness, his simplicity andstraightforwardness . He touched on the question whichhad so much puzzled me, namely, Doré's idea that he wasnot appreciated in France, but looked upon it more as afancy than as anything serious, and said,—" His time will come. He is very young to haveacquired so unique a reputation; but, great as it is, thosewho know him intimately feel that it is not half as greatas his merit. You will live to see the day when Francewill bow down before him. He is indeed a rare genius.'When I reached home I thought over my visit, andcame to the conclusion that, even setting his talent aside,Gustave Doré was the most remarkable and fascinatingman I had ever met; and when I looked again at his" Don Quixote " I was compelled to say, " You are verywonderful, but nothing in comparison to the man who made you. "After that I frequently returned to the studio in theRue Bayard, many times when the master was not there;and during a long residence in Paris Doré's became oneFIRST IMPRESSIONS. 407of the familiar faces which I constantly met in salon,theatre, public places, and public promenade; but, asyou will have divined, I never could forget my first visitto his sanctum, nor the first impressions the man himselfmade upon me. I never had occasion to alter eitherin after-life . As I had opportunity to know him better healways stood out in my mind as one of nature's noblemen; one of her rarest, truest, and most gifted subjects.The other things I thought of him, the other deductionsdrawn from his life and character, are purely impersonal,in one sense. It may seem strange that all I have toldof my individual impressions of the man were actuallythose I formed of him on first looking at him. It maybe remarked that I saw much at a first glance. I didThought out-travels speech, as idea out- distances expression. Thinking it all over, I am sure that I sawmuch more that day at his studio than I have told , anddivined more than I should ever have dared to tell. Doesthe Greek proverb still hold good, that the half is sometimes better than the whole?408GUSTAVEDORÉ.CHAPTER XXXV.A NEW DEPARTURE IN ART.EVERYBODY has heard of Doré the illustrator, and Doréthe painter; but few have heard of Doré the etcher.HeSome years ago this branch of graphic art began toenjoy great popularity, and Gustave Doré, always abreastof the age he lived in, insisted upon learning it.worked at it with the same faithfulness of purpose andindefatigable application which charactized all his undertakings. One day Doré was found in his studio insensible, having inhaled the fumes from the nitric acid, andit was feared that etching would have cost him his life .He was brought to with the greatest difficulty .In an extract of a letter from Gustave Doré to the Rev.F. Harford, dated Paris, 5th November, 1873, speakingof this accident and of his health, he said, " As far as Iam concerned, I am very well , but I have had a violentshock, and a fortnight ago I literally poisoned myselfwith azotique acid, in doing my etchings, which, by myown choice, you know occupy me very much lately."To return to his etchings. This well-nigh fatal episodein no way checked his passion for this art; he keptsteadily at it, month in and month out, cutting his fingersand burning his skin, until he felt that he had reached aDORE TAKES UP ETCHING. 409stage of expertness enabling him to produce somethingworth looking at. The astonishment of his friends maybe conceived when they learnt that he had entered thelists as an etcher. I say his friends advisedly, becausefew Parisians paid any attention to the rumour thatGustave Doré had taken to etching. Even to this daythere are those who refuse to believe that he ever succeeded in it; but he did succeed, and marvellously, for thefinest eaux fortes I have ever seen came from his hand.Dr. Michel has a rare collection of them, amongstothers the " Neophyte," which was reproduced from theoriginal painting, and which is indeed an admirableeffort. The Doctor kindly explained to me how hardDoré had toiled at this engraving, and what patience hehad displayed in its production . He showed me nineproofs, each one of which had been retouched and alteredbefore Doré himself was satisfied with his work. Afterlong study, not content with making a small engravingat first, he commenced the " Neophyte " on a platemeasuring nearly a yard in breadth and over half a yardin height. To say that he did this work quickly wouldbe only to repeat the old story of the time he allowedhimself for executing any of his works; and yet he was,comparatively speaking, a long while about it."For the first time in my life," said Dr. Michel , " Isaw him work without fretting. His temper was sweetness itself, and the pleasure of mastering this craft outweighed all the trouble of learning it .. I confess that hisfamily were never surprised at anything he attempted;they seemed to regard his success as a foregone conclusion. He was, indeed, an astonishing man."The second remarkable etching by Doré is " Rossinion his Death-bed." I can now state that it was reallyexecuted before that of the " Neophyte," althoughgenerally thought to have succeeded that work, his greatsuccess at the 1867 Paris Exhibition. The etchingspeaks for itself, and is the reproduction of a sketchmade by Doré at Rossini's house, in Passy, on theoccasion of the composer's death.410 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Another remarkable work is a landscape with villagersin the foreground. This is one of Doré's latest efforts .It will be understood that Doré worked at his etchingsalmost in secret, and in the midst of multitudinous caresand preoccupations. No one inquires nowadays how hedid these things. It is enough to knowthat he did them.The result of his superhuman labour tells its own tale.Another extraordinary plate is called " Le Christ," atpresent in the Doré Gallery, Bond Street. It is a headof wondrous beauty. As a piece of work it seems tome even finer than the " Neophyte." The agonized soulof the Divine victim gleaming through the heavy lids ofHis half- veiled eyes; the blood- flecked forehead andtear- stained cheeks; the expression of resignation revealedby every feature, once seen can never be forgotten.Many great masters have portrayed our Saviour without having entirely divested His countenance of a certainmaterialism out of keeping with our preconceived ideaof divinity. This may have resulted from two causes:a too common- place model or a too unbelieving painter.This may perhaps not be the place wherein to speak ofDoré's religious convictions; but I may be permitted tosay that he firmly believed in the divinity of Christ, andthis belief has been expressed by his inspired fingers witha humility and reverence which have stamped themselveson the face of the Redeemer in his famous etching withall the majesty of true religious fervour. Doré has givenus the man- Christ, but with that sublimely divine lookirradiating every feature which, as all the faithful believe,distinguished the face of Jesus from that of any otherhuman being.One day at Madame Braun's there were several peopleengaged in conversation , and the remarks of one ladyparticularly struck me. Mdlle. Bader, as I have sincelearned, is a remarkable writer, a profound student ofhuman nature, and one of the few women authors whodo not write novels. She was an intimate friend of theDorés, and, as I entered the room, by a singularcoincidence, was just pronouncing Gustave's name. TheMDLLE. BADER speaks of doré. 411subject under discussion was his religious works, and Iwas not sorry to hear an opinion respecting them one who knew the artist so well. The talk went onfor some moments, and I ventured to ask if it was true,as I had once heard , that Gustave Doré selected religioussubjects for his great pictures in order to make a show ofpiety, which, however, he did not really feel?66 On the contrary," she replied; " I was once talkingwith him on that very subject, and his remarks surprisedme. I had expressed my astonishment at the raptexpression of some of his personages, and the air ofreligious fervour that seemed to prevail throughout hispictures. I remarked that it must be very difficult toreproduce an expression which was spiritual rather thanearthly to try to paint the soul rather than the body." It is not difficult , ' he answered. ' I shall tell youthe truth. Of all I have ever done, nothing has everaffected me so deeply as have my religious works. Iconsider that my greatest and truest inspirations werederived from my most sacred subjects, and I never havefelt such fervour with respect to any other tasks . It didmy soul good to labour at them, and as I believed in thesentiments of the people I pictured, I found it easyenough to portray them.'" I readily understood what he meant, and in all greatreligious works you must feel that Doré himself was abeliever. Take his Holy Bible illustrations and Michaud's' Crusades.' Nothing can exceed the truth of their sentiment. They reveal the best of the man's mind as completely as may be. He was truly good; and although Inever heard him make any other profession of faith thanthe above, what he said then was enough for me. "Madame Braun, the kind old lady whom I have alreadydescribed, then spoke as follows:-"Yes, indeed; when Gustave painted a religiouspicture his soul was in his work. It seemed to him aconfession of faith, and he always said he did not believethat a heretic could properly portray any sacred subject.You speak of his goodness? Let me tell you that the412 GUSTAVE DORÉ.world at large never knew much of it; but I , who haveknown him since he was born, can testify to it unreservedly." He used to go to hospitals and visit the sick; hewas never appealed to for charity but he gave freely.His mother used often to tell me of little things he did,always to help the poor, and without a thought of mentioning it to any one."Doyou mean to say that such a man was not innatelygood? He was not obliged to go to hospitals; he spentthousands upon thousands of francs in relieving distress ,and in all Paris no one knew of it at the time except his ownfamily, the hospital attendants, and one or two of hisintimate friends . I think, had he been able, that he wouldnever have heard of any one poor or in trouble withoutgoing to their aid at once. He was the best-heartedman I ever knew; his hands were always in his pocketswhen there was any question of helping the needy; andin those visits to the little sick children, so he told me,he passed some of the happiest hours of his life . Poorbabies! they missed him last year, and so they will manyanother for a long time to come."You were speaking about his sacred pictures ," shecontinued. " Was it not curious? Every time he drewa head of our Saviour it proved a striking likeness of hisbrother Ernest. I told him so; and the strange part ofit was that Ernest never sat to him. Yet he managedto get his face in every position . No matter how yousee Christ represented, you will always recognize ErnestDoré's features." He also sketched his mother. I could not tell youhow many times he drew her face, especially in hisSpanish pictures. I know Madame Alexandrine at aglance in her counterfeit presentments by Gustave.Others might have been deceived; myself, never. "While on the subject I may take occasion to repeatM. Lacroix's words:-" Gustave had only his family and intimate friends tostudy from. His mother he always painted as anMADAME BRAUN SPEAKS OF DORÉ. 413accomplished gipsy. It was by no means odd that hereproduced the same faces in almost all his early works;and even in his later ones I have recognized manyfamiliar countenances of times past. He was very cleverat that; his memory was so prodigious that no person orthing ever escaped it.'""I sat some little time with Madame Braun, and wish Icould repeat all she said. Some of it I have given substantiallyin otherplaces; but on the occasion above referredto there was only one sentiment expressed by everyone present regarding Doré, and that was of the highest praise.Many little family matters were recounted, which I cannot make public; but in every detail his character stoodout conspicuous for its honesty, simplicity, and goodness.Any one who thinks that Gustave Doré painted his greatreligious pictures for money, or from ostentatious motive,may immediately divest his mind of that idea. Doré saidhimself that he followed a divine inspiration, and that hebelieved he was destined to paint pictures which woulddo some good in the world.It is a pity that my readers cannot hear MadameBraun speak of him, for every minute detail of his lifewas known to her. From the night he came into theworld—" that snowy night, " as old Françoise said—tothat of his death, he was as dear to her as one of herown. She knew him, in short, under every circ*mstanceof joy or sorrow; and after fifty years of intimacy, pronounced the most heartfelt eulogies upon him as a man.Perhaps they acquire unusual moment from the fact thatthey are uttered by one who has lived so long and knownso much; for Madame Braun is much more than ninety.Her memory, however, is absolutely unimpaired, and sheseems as young to-day as many a woman not half herage. She says, "Were I to live to be a thousand, Iknow and feel that I should never again see the like of Gustave Doré."Speaking of Doré's drawing from memory and refusalto study from models, I may here interpolate an incidentproving that he was not always opinionated, but really414 GUSTAVE DORÉ.did everything in his power to work in the orthodox way.Doré heard on all sides that he ought to draw from models,and at last determined to try the experiment. It wasabout the year 1874, so we may assume that he was atwork on his " Death of Orpheus," exhibited in Paris in1878. The above story is told by the model herself,a strikingly beautiful woman, well known to most Parisartists.M. Doré had sent for her, and she arrived in the studio ofthe Rue Bayard about ten o'clock a.m. The artist receivedher most politely, and after some few preliminaries posedher to his satisfaction. He looked at her with a criticaleye, stationed himself a little way off, and began sketchingrapidly. He glanced at her once, twice, thrice , and thenwent on for a long time, without again looking up. Asis usual with models, after a prolonged sitting, the younglady moved in order to rest herself, and said so in a fewwords. These the artist did not seem to hear, beingapparently absorbed in his work. In a few moments themodel reassumed her former pose, maintaining it for aconsiderable time. She lifted her eyes now and then toM. Doré's face, which wore a strangely preoccupiedand puzzled expression. He worked on vigorously, butmarvellous to relate, never even glanced in her direction .After she had watched him attentively for a few minutes ,it suddenly struck her that he was paying little attentionto her. She changed her position, took one attitudeafter another, still he made no sign of having noticed.what she was doing. She was curious, amazed, andfinally offended at such strange treatment, and said toherself, " Is this a farce? What kind of a painter isM. Doré? " The morning wore away, until the poorgirl had been " sitting" nearly three hours, utterly ignoredall the while. At last, very angry, she jumped up ,exclaiming, " M. Doré, excuse me, but what can youmean by such behaviour? "Doré started as if he had been struck by a bullet,dropped his pencil and paper, and stared wildly at her, asthough she had been a phantom who had risen throughDORE'S FIRST AND LAST MODEL. 415the floor. Presently he stammered, in accents of helplessamazement, " Ah-mademoiselle; you are here—what isit? Can I do anything for you? Did you wish to see me?Are-are you ill? I thought I was alone! " He was stillapparently quite dazed.This was rather too much. The model energeticallyexplained; Doré appeared deeply mortified, and wasprofuse in his apologies. Whilst he was speaking, hepicked up the paper which he had dropped when hestarted to his feet. The model perceived that no trickhad been played her, and that she had been simplysitting to an artist whose models were with his inspirationin his brain. Doré went on apologizing, and at last tookher hand, while one of his rare sweet smiles came overhis face. " I am sure you will never forgive me," he saidhumbly; " but I had really no thought of keeping youso long." Then he added a few hasty, well-intentionedcompliments; but she could see that he was speaking ina fearfully distraught manner." I have had no breakfast," she said simply. "Praydon't think any more about it;" and she turned to leavethe studio. As she did so, curiosity prompted her tolook at the sketch."He had not even drawn one outline of my figure,"said the model afterwards, in relating the story. " Therewere only men-madmen, I should think-on that paper.But M. Doré also forgot something else. He paid meas if I had been sitting to him for a month instead of amorning. But I was never asked to repeat my experiment. "M. Kratz said to me, apropos of the same subject:"Once, when Gustave was at work on one of his greatsacred pictures , I dropped in; and he said, ' Arthur,please put on that mantle, and pose as a Roman for an instant.' I did so . He was working away; and afterkeeping my position for a few moments, I saw that hewas not paying the slightest attention to me; so I doffedmy mantle. He could not work from models; he wasnot organized to do so; his brain acted too quickly;.416 GUSTAVE DORÉ.one idea crowded another out, and he was always greatestin the first flash that he threw off from his original inspiration. Hastily drawn lines gave all their life and movement to his pictures, and these he dashed off with thefirst few strokes of his pencil. Only of late years have Iknown him to repeat any one sketch many times. "I have made but slight mention of Doré as a watercolourist, and must here repair the error. To speak of hisSwitzerland," the " Vosges," pine forests and meadows,Scotch scenes and landscapes, to refer to his ideal conceptions, is to set forth the most perfect achievementsof any water- colour painter since the Renaissance.In this branch of art Gustave Doré had few rivals, andmay unhesitatingly claim unlimited praise. Critic andconnoisseur may pick flaws here and there in Doré theillustrator, Doré the oil-painter, Doré the etcher, Doréthe sculptor; but no one in justice can deny the ripe perfection of Doré the aquarellist . The vigour of his Alps,the coldness of his glaciers, the force of his mountain.torrents, the texture of his mists, the odour of his pines,and perfume of his heather, are things as true to thatmultiple nature he so lovingly and steadfastly worshipped,as life is true to life.Strange to say, Doré attached little importance to thisparticular talent. He was often heard to say, "As forme, I look upon a water- colour sketch as merely a leaf ofa note-book.In 1878 a celebrated Society of Water- Colour Painterswas formed, numbering amongst its members Mesds.Madeleine Lemaire and Maslini, MM. Heilbuth, Worms,Detaille, Eugene Lami (whose lovely "Carnival ofVenice " decorates a smoking-room at the RothschildChâteau of Ferrières), Leloir, and many others; allgreat and worthy disciples of this delightful art; theyunanimously decided that without Gustave Doré theirassociation would be incomplete.I need scarcely say that this art-wonder made hisdébut amongst them by a series of master- pieces, themost remarkable, perhaps, being a life- size portrait ofPEN PORTRAIT OF MADAME ALEXANDRINE. 417his mother, which I hear figured in the catalogue list as" La Veuve."This picture represents Madame Alexandrine Doré asexactly as though her counterfeit presentment were aliving woman about to open her lips and speak. She isseated in a red plush chair; one shapely hand holds abook, the other slightly uplifting an eyeglass, in anattitude she frequently assumed when a stranger's facewas visible amongst her guests. Her lips wear an expression as though ejacul*ting, " Ah! you know Gustave,charmed to see you; " and her questioning, large blackeyes shine with a glow of welcome. The little head ispoised with steadfast dignity, and on it is perched themauresque violet and white turban, which, as M. Lacroixsaid, gave Madame Alexandrine the look of an accomplished Spanish zingara. And she sits so well, too, in herincarnadine chair. Her position is one of expectancy,yet unconscious ease. Her amethyst misty dress drapesher limbs in graceful folds; a heavy gold chain hangsfrom a brooch and seems by its sheer weight to indenta rich broidered kerchief folded across her comelybosom. One noticed all these things in the picture.because they were part and parcel of Madame Doréherself, and when her portrait was introduced to thesociety of water- colourists , there was such delicacy,softness , life , colour, and vigour in its every feature thatbut one opinion was reiterated on all sides, and Doré'sconfrères exclaimed , " It is Madame Alexandrine in person; but are we in the Rue St. Dominique or in the RueLaffitte?"3Doré sent many works in rapid succession to thesociety's art- rooms. The following are amongst hischief productions: " Gargantua dévorant les Vaches, "painted in 1877. In 1879, besides the portrait of MadameDoré, he sent in " Les Géants," " Le Rencontre," " LesPropos de Panurge," " Sur le Pont de Londres," "L'Euf,"" La Charité des Poissonières, " " Ecole d'Enfants Juifs,"four portraits, " Fruits et Fleurs," and three large landscapes.་ ་E e418GUSTAVEDORÉ.In 1880, " Le Soir des Alpes, " and " Le Torrent. " Thelatter was reproduced in two large paintings, one at present in the beautiful art collection of Madame de C- n,in Paris, the other in that of the Rev. Frederick Harford .Both are Scotch scenes, grandiose in conception andexecution. The other works of 1880 were respectively" Le Désert," " La Diseuse de bonne Aventure," " LaNuit sur le Pont de Londres ," " La Volière," " LaCrépuscule," " Le Lac," " L'Orage, " " Souvenir duch*emin des Avents," and " Le Petit Puck. "In 1881 Doré produced " Le Pays des Fées," " LesChâlets de Naye," " Pâturage des Avents," " Le Breithorn, " " L'Ange de Noël, " " Le Soir dans la Campagnede Grénade," and several other sketches.In 1882 he sent in fourteen more pictures on diverssubjects, and innumerable small sketches. Near the endof that year he also sent in his last contributions, "Songed'une Nuit d'été, " " Les Elfes," " Docks de Londres,""Mendiants à Burgos," and several landscapes.Space will not permit me to enter into detail of anyof the above works. Suffice it to say that in them Dorérose above criticism; and yet these successes gave himno genuine satisfaction . One hungry longing was stillunsatisfied, lurking deep down in his heart. Thetriumphs that works of the above class brought to him.were as sometimes are the pearls which costthe diver hislife; and when any one praised his water- colour paintings ,a pained look would cross his face, and he wouldmurmur,-"Always those unimportant things! They say nothingin praise of my painting. "DORE ILLUSTRATES SHAKESPEARE. 419CHAPTER XXXVI.DORÉ ILLUSTRATES SHAKESPEARE.I FEEL at present that it would be considered strictlyrelevant to speak here of that other strong ambition of hislife, viz. to illustrate Shakespeare. There are in existencenearly two hundred sketches in black and white which sonearly resemble the water- colours that I had rather rankthem with those works than assign an isolated place tothem. Their incompleteness, in one sense, is my excusefor not devoting more than one chapter to these greatefforts of Doré's brain; another excuse is their probablepublication at some future day. Some few words I maysay, however, relative to Gustave Doré's conception andmanner of work in connection with this his last ambition.Doré had determined to bring his Shakespeare outhimself. Although he was on the best of terms with hisdifferent publishers, the great houses of Hachette in Paris,Mame in Tours, and Cassell's in England, he still thoughtthat he did not realize enough money by his work, andconceived the project of publishing his Shakespeare himself. I need not say that this dream was destined neverto be realized. He determined to spare no pains withthis last and crowning effort of his life, and prepared himself for it by the most exhaustive research and study.E e 2420 GUSTAVE DORÉ.The single instance, referred to by M. Kratz , of hismaking a sketch over and over again, had special reference to the Shakespearian drawings. I have seen no lessthan six sketches of Macbeth at the banquet, whenconfronted by Banquo's ghost, while the idea in all isradically the same.The six sketches differ from one another in treatment.Doré was so original that it was almost impossible forhim to repeat himself, even designedly. No two copiesof any work of his are absolute fac- similes of theoriginal, and yet all his reproductions were so admirablethat it would be impossible to choose between them bydistinction of merit. This was one proof of Doré'sgenius. I remember that Ary Schaeffer has painted twopictures of " Francesca da Rimini, " at the moment whenDante sees the perjured lovers floating in the atmosphereof eternal damnation. One painting was given to PaulineViardot by the artist, with an affectionate inscription offriendship in Schaeffer's quaint calligraphy in one corner.The second is said to be in the gallery of the Duke ofDevonshire, and also bears a signature. The picturesare identical, and it would be impossible to say whichwas painted first, for both are originals. Ary Schaefferknew how to repeat himself, but Gustave Doré never did.I hope the series of Shakespearian illustrations will soonsee the light of day. They are magnificent, grand beyonddescription, and perhaps their perfection lies in their incompleteness. Doré is here in his element, as thoroughlyas he was in his " Dante " and " Wandering Jew." Thegreat English poet's ideas, the life- like forms and facesof all his well- known characters are set down in hastybut inspired outlines. Let them come before the worldas they were designed, before the imaginative painterhad time to dull his pencil and dispel fancy by researchafter perfection of style. I must mention as one of themost potent of the Macbeth series the sketch representingMacbeth for the first time questioning the three weirdsisters . On contemplating this drawing I was enabledfor the first time to realize the dramatic situation inA LETTER IN FAC- SIMILE.ther mantieLe Bente ches421alemezaper unir at: absent depuisli matin -Mille regreto deà avoir pur répondre à cotregracientemissivesehr verimoi mêmallevo us le disa ,sijede ги netais oblige jeterbienste an wagonpour alenà Clapan Sche in TaylorJunaincepas?Yourlastman!!GuidoreFAC-SIMILE OF LETTER SENT TO THE REV. FREDERICK HARFORD IN 1869.(London )422 GUSTAVE DORÉ.question and the flower- crowned babe that rises from theenchanted cauldron would have won Doré immortallaurels, even had his artistic past been an absolute blank.One of Doré's wishes was to illustrate Campbell'spoem, "The Last Man." On the 10th of January,1876, he wrote to his friend , Canon Harford, respectingthat work and the " Ancient Mariner: "—" DEAR FRIEND, -A world of thanks for your kindinterest in my future prospects, and especially in that of'The Last Man, ' which is one of my fondest dreams.But, alas! there is no question of ' The Last Man ' atthis moment, but of ' The Ancient Mariner,' the sale ofwhich preoccupies me greatly. I cannot engage on anyother work until I see some of the money reimbursedthat I have spent on this book, a sum which, up to thepresent time, is something really enormous. I feel thatI have the sympathy of the public and the press; but thenumber of my purchasers is still limited . I do not knowwhether I am to attribute this to the laziness of mytrustees, or to another drawback which I dare notmention; for I still hope and wish to believe that I haveto do with honest people. I have spent about 3500l. tohave this work engraved. Should I recover a part ofthis sum-even a third—I would immediately undertakesomething else. I am very impatient about it; but Isuppose that as soon as it shall be known a little insociety that this new work of mine, which I consider oneof my best and most original, is ready, some impetuswill be imparted to the sale: however, I am clothed inarmour of courage and perseverance." I recently sent one copy to Dr. Lavies. To- morrow orthe day after I will send you some copies to offer to ourmutual friends . I learn with lively and profound affliction.the news you give me of the illness of Lady AugustaStanley. You do not tell me what is the nature of herillness pray inform me of it in your next, which I hopewill at the same time bring better news and the possibilityof hope. Will you also, I beg, my dear friend, make knownSOME NEW AMBITIONS.423to Dean Stanley my affectionate solicitude, and tell himhow deeply I feel for his distress and anxiety? With anaffectionate hand- shake," G. DORE. "IDoré also wished to illustrate Schiller's " Diver," aswell as "The Last Man. " This was another dreamdestined never to be fulfilled . About this time Doréwas possessed by a mania, we can call it nothing else,for drawing the head of our Saviour. He probably drewit fifty times in every conception, shape, and size.have already mentioned the etching the head on thecross, which is on view at the Doré Gallery, and iscertainly the most perfect work of this class he everexecuted . I had been very much surprised to hearseveral of Dore's friends say, " Oh! I have a sketch byDoré; an original head of Christ, which he gave me;and I suppose each of these persons thinks that he orshe possesses the only original drawing of this subjectDoré ever made. The knowledge that there were manycannot detract from their value, any more than in thecase of Raffaelle's " Madonna," numerous replica ofwhich exist, painted by his own hand. Each of M.Doré's heads is signalized by some rare and beautifulcharacteristic; one, for instance, in the possession ofCanon Harford, a life- size study in black and white, ismagnificent in conception and realism , the face being asweet mask of mingled strength, tenderness, and divinity.Another beautiful head is in possession of one of Doré'sold Paris friends, Dr. Pratt, who used to see a great dealof him after the war. One day Doré sent a parcel toDr. Pratt, accompanied by these words: " My dearfriend, you did me the honour to admire this sketch.Pray keep it, in remembrance of yours,GUSTAVE DORÉ. "This drawing is also a highly finished and verybeautiful work. It differs from the others in severalrespects, but resembles them in expression, the divine424 GUSTAVE DORÉ.countenance wearing the same look of ineffable sweetnesswhich characterizes them all.On the 5th of March, Doré wrote a letter to CanonHarford, in London, from which I make the followingextract:-"DEAR FRIEND, -Your little letter made me veryhappy, as happy as I am unhappy to have seen youdepart so soon. You were like a meteor; your visit wasreally too short. Every moment I wanted to call uponyou, to ask some advice about finishing my great picture,and you may flatter yourself, my dear friend, that yourvisit will have been the ultimate cause that I have beenable to decide upon several important matters, amongstothers a head of Christ, executed after your idea; andI believe that it will be a magnificent thing. I havealso thought a great deal about your suggestion for"Claudia Procula," and have surrounded her with a groupof Roman women, which seems to me to have a verygood effect."I learn with profound affliction the death of LadyAugusta Stanley. How great must be the Dean's griefto find himself alone, after having had for a companionso dear a soul, so noble and elevated a mind! I begyou to convey to him my affectionate and most sincerecondolences."I may here say a few words more about "The AncientMariner." We may suppose that Doré was but slenderlyreimbursed for his heavy preliminary expenses, as inAmerica only is the book a household companion.Hundreds of thousands of copies have been sold there,and I do not know of any city, from the State of Maineto the Pacific coast, where, in some cultivated household ,there would not be found a well- bethumbed copy of thisgreat classic . Granddames and grandsires, fathers andmothers, youths and maidens, boys and girls, will speakto you of Doré's " Ancient Mariner." With their tinyfingers children will gleefully point out to you thealbatross flying over Polar seas; the bearded man tellinghis story to the earnest youth arrayed in classic Venetian•LYON DAWTONANCIENT MARINER. 1875.(Original drawing in possession of Rev. Frederick Harford).Page 424.

DAWSONICANCIENT MARINER, 1875.(Original drawing. In possession of Rev. Frederick Harford . )Page 424.

ANOTHER NEW STUDIO. 425garb; the wedding feast, with its bride and groom,and wedding guests, flowers and wedding favours; thehorrible night on which the mariner killsthe tutelarybird; the wretched murderer chained to the ship's deck,and each gaunt visage around him fatally sick withdeadened hopes; the hulk with its rotting dead, and eachspirit, as it rises clothed in celestial light, winging itsway to an immortal sphere. They will show you all thesemasterful creations, and with their soft voices will tenderlylisp Doré's name in a way which, could he but have heardit, would have given him more pleasure than many riperand more judicious tributes of admiration.With regard to the sums brought in by the sale ofsteel engravings of M. Doré's famous pictures, it is saidthat " The Entry into Jerusalem " alone has realized thesum of 100,000 francs; but of course only part of thismoney found its way to the artist's pocket.About this time Doré conceived the idea of buildinga new and magnificent studio and house in one, and forthis purpose bought a suitable piece of ground near theParc Monceau, in Paris, the only plot of land availablefor building in that district. It was a corner lot, facingtwo streets, and overlooking the park, one of the loveliestand most picturesque spots in Paris. The price askedfor the land was a long one, £ 24,000, and Doré estimatedupon building himself a mansion which should cost anadditional £40,000 Was he tired of the Rue St. Dominique, where the ghosts of the Regent, of St. Simon, andhis reckless satellites used to hover about noiselesslyin the night-watches, and converse mysteriously withthose other ghosts, creatures of Doré's brain and fancy?His mother might have a richer, more empurpled chair ofstate than her well-known throne; the walls might behigher, the tapestries richer, the plate-glass thicker, andthe chandelier of a rarer rock crystal, but the new homecould never have been wealthier in memories than the oldone, nor could his banqueting-table be illumined by amore auspicious lustre than shone from that first astralwhich, when so light-heartedly shattered by himself, had426GUSTAVEDORÉ.scattered a thousand good omens over the first homelymeal prepared in the Rue St. Dominique.This season Doré came as usual to London, his mind.and hands busy with multifarious prospects and work.He was still sketching on his " Orlando Furioso, " whichappeared the following year, and the drawings of which,with the exception of some large cartoons, Doré submitted, for the first time, to the new process of fac - simile.At last he was happy; for there was no more quarrellingwith engravers, no more fretting over spoiled work.This book was brought out by the great house ofHachette and Co., and is a triumphal monument to thealready solid reputation of that firm.In this work Doré shows improvement in his figuredrawing, and has embellished it with some of his finestarchitectural designs . The decorations of the interior ofthe Palace at Senape may rank with the best of theGreek friezes . The elaboration of detail is so completeand the drawing so fine that we are reminded of cobwebsor Venetian point. It may readily be seen that Doréwas working with a more practised hand. Was this afault? In one sense it was; for Doré ought never tohave elaborated any details to such a pitch of perfectionas to interfere with the effect of his original design. Themarvel of Doré's art was its powerful incompleteness .His first idea gives us a sense of vigour, rare fancy, andinherent occult force. Doré's name will live in art forthese excellences, when the works of more perfect butless imaginative draughtsmen shall pall by the sicklinessof their perhaps more correct but certainly more stiltedwork. A proof of Doré's independence of conception maybe found in his earliest work of importance. It is a longstretch back from " Orlando Furioso " to the " Inferno;"but the lad of twenty who illustrated Danté's masterpieceshowed even then a strange scorn for all rules of precedent,and disdained to follow beaten paths. Who but Doréwould have improved upon Botticelli, and given us asmooth-faced in lieu of a bearded Virgil? And yet wemust admit that the young Alsatian's conception comes.DORE AND JOSEPH JEFFERSON. 427nearer than that of the early Italian to our idea of whatthe great epic poet should have been like. Virgil, laurelcrowned, and clean- shaven, has a poetry and grace whichare not found in Botticelli's portrayal of the immortalMantuan.As when working on his heads of Christ there weremany of these cartoons which Doré had sketched andre-sketched before he was satisfied , he was now botheringhimself about perfection in detail, was subjugating hisnatural gifts to rule and measure, was-shall we say it?-seemingly trying to forget his spontaneity, and to perfectwhere he should only have executed .The idea of drawing the Saviour's head must have beenconstantly running in Doré's mind, to judge by the following incident. Joseph Jefferson, the celebrated Americanactor, who was at one time playing in London, occupiedrooms over Doré's head in the same hotel. Mr. Jefferson, like all Americans an ardent admirer of Doré,wished to possess the signature of so distinguished apersonage, and sent his book of autographs down toDoré's rooms, with a gracefully-worded request that hewould inscribe his name upon one of its pages . WhenDoré learned that Mr. Jefferson had asked for hisautograph, with the lively sympathy of an artist and thetact of a man of the world , he presently returned the bookto its owner, accompanied by a little note. When Mr.Jefferson opened his book he found it enriched by aminiature head of Christ , the outcome of one of thoseinstantaneous flashes of genius which constituted Doré'schief and unrivalled speciality.During every summer of Doré's successive sojourns inLondon, he had been invited to the Prince of Wales'sGarden Party at Chiswick, where he was often, not only awelcome guest, but one of the lions of the day; and onMonday, July 5 , 1875, he had the honour ofbeing presentedto her Majesty.¹ The Queen, surrounded by her suite, was¹ Doré was presented to her Majesty this year, and as there was onlyone occasion on which the Queen was at Chiswick and Doré was alsopresent, the latter's presentation to her Majesty was presumably on that428GUSTAVEDORÉ.standing in a pavilion that had been erected in thegarden, when the prince came forward and introduced toher Majesty first Baron Rothschild and then Gustave.Doré. Her Majesty received the artist most graciously,and was pleased to mention some of his early works ,which she said she remembered with great pleasure.Doré's rejoinder was as usual an apt one, for it hadrelation to the late Prince Consort and the great influencesome of that illustrious Prince's teachings had had uponhis early mind. With a child's straightforwardness andsimplicity, Doré replied, —"It is I , your Majesty, who remember with gratitudethe encouraging influence some of the Prince Consort'swords exercised upon my life."Doré referred to the admirable speeches on art whichhis Royal Highness gave to the world, and which remainan indelible and invaluable literary legacy not only toart students and amateurs, but to all people and to allclasses who love to combine elements of truth, wisdom,counsel and grace. The Queen held an animated conversation with Doré, until at last the artist , seeing theeyes of the court fixed upon him, feared that he might beexceeding the limits prescribed by court etiquette, andbegan to bow himself out of the Queen's presence. HerMajesty was even more gracious in her dismissal than inher welcome of the young artist . As Doré was retiring,she said, hastily and cordially,--"I hope to see you again, M. Doré. When you cometo Scotland, I shall be at Balmoral , and you must comeand see me. "Rarely had a royal invitation ever given greater pleasure. Gustave Doré had been the recipient of world- widehonours, but no praise had ever seemed sweeter to hisdate. I have given her Majesty's words on most authentic hearsay, asmany present on that occasion remember the Queen's gracious speechwith the artist. Doré himself was so proud of this page in his life thatI think he must have learned the Royal Lady's words by heart, as heoften spoke of that day at Chiswick and said, repeating the above, " Thisis exactly what her Majesty did me the honour of saying to me. "DORE AND PELLEGRINI. 429soul than the Queen's gracious reception of him. Inshort, Doré became thereafter so staunch an adherent toEngland and England's royal family that he might havebeen a Briton born. His enthusiasm on the subject ofVictoria and her dominions was such that, as a friend ofhis remarked to me only a short time ago, " Doré était devenu de moitié Anglais . "The same year (1875) Doré made the acquaintance ofthe justly celebrated Italian artist and caricaturist, Pellegrini, known under the pseudonym of " Ape." Theydined with mutual friends and spent a curious eveningtogether, holding a sort of artistic tournament with onlytwo competitors -themselves. Dozens of sketches werethrown off, the quickness and rival merits of each werejudged upon by the friends present, anon Doré, anonPellegrini being awarded the laurel for the best, quickest,and likeliest work. Perhaps no two persons present enjoyed this " breaking of lances " so much as did the rivalartists themselves. Pellegrini was enthusiastic in praiseof Doré, and awarded him unlimited encomiums, at thesame time specially noting one of M. Doré's figureswhich he declared to be, taken as a whole, a masterpiece. Doré was neither to be outdone in appreciationnor politeness by London's adopted child in art . Helistened with extreme pleasure to M. Pellegrini, andresponded, ―" My talent compared to M. Pellegrini's is slight.Show me his drawing of but a portion of a man's figure,and from that I can see the whole body. "The next year Doré went with his friend, CanonHarford, to visit the Earl and Countess of Warwick, atWarwick Castle. Doré's room was the superb and wellknown chamber, made entirely of oak from Kenilworth .When Doré opened his eyes the morning after his arrival,looking around and drawing a deep breath, he said, " Mafoi, c'est impérial. " His delight at this marvellous castlewas unfeigned. There was not a nook left unexplored,not a room he had not admired, not an angle nor a gablewhich had not some beauty to his artistic eye. He knew435 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Cæsar's tower, Guy's tower, and the Bear tower by heart,whilst the magnificent grove of cedars was sketchedunder many lovely aspects; and, if we are not mistaken,the frontispiece of his " Orlando Furioso " is an etherialized, scarcely idealized, drawing of Warwick Castle andgrounds.If Doré had heretofore conceived a liking for England,English country homes, and country life, that likingbecame an affection at Warwick. This old-world town,which revives our love for medieval lore and mediævalfolk, held a charm for him which may readily be imaginedby one who, like himself, had been a life- long denizen ofsome of the world's greatest metropolises. Warwick,lying in one of the sweetest of Avon's valleys, with itshistorical houses, quiet streets, its lovely cruciform church ,with pointed arches, mullioned windows, carven cathedralsaints and cathedral sinners smiling in the classic stone,with its hardy buttresses, vaulted nave and roof, whosedelicate fan-like tracery alike charms the eye of artist andamateur, this formed a tender and touching picture inDoré's memory. This saintly edifice brought back thedays of his youth, and those hours when he built hopesfor the future, and haunted the dim aisles of StrasburgCathedral, hoping, like Sabine von Steinbach, for supernatural inspiration.Doré was so enchanted with his stay at Warwick thatit was protracted longer than he had originally intended.He not only made some portraits, but played a new rôleat the castle-the position of artist being reversed byhis charming and accomplished hostess, the Countess ofWarwick, who made a portrait of the Alsatian painter.Doré was for the second time in his life a model, not anartist; we may presume that he was an obedient andattentive one, for the result was most felicitous. Thehighest compliment was paid to Lady Warwick's reallysplendid talent by Doré himself, who pronounced uponher work in a few words which said volumes of praise.On looking at it, he exclaimed, " It is perfect; me myself! "Thanks to Lady Warwick's interest in Doré, and herDORE AT WARWICK 431pleasant recollection of him, I am able to give a reproduction of her original drawing, most kindly lent by herselffor this occasion. No higher praise of the sketch maybe given than was bestowed upon it by Doré; and weare indeed indebted to her ladyship's amiability for sochoice a souvenir of the artist and his personal appearancePORTRAIT OF DORÉ.(Drawn by Lady Warwick.)during that memorable year. This picture also hasanother but sadder interest; it was one of the last likenesses or portraits ever made from life of Gustave Doré.Doré drove all about the country in the pony- carriagedrawn by Lady Warwick's pretty Arabs. From morningtill night he was " on the go," and in speaking later of432 GUSTAVE Doré.Warwick, he said that he knew every inch of it and itsneighbourhood by heart. On one occasion he visitedKenilworth Castle. In these matchless ruins, whereScott's heroes and heroines, truly or fancifully, had playedso thrilling a part, Doré, with his usual sensibility, love,and reverence for historical scenes and people, put himselfat once in thorough sympathy with this most romantic ofall spots; being also a Scott-worshipper, he undoubtedly believed -for the moment, as who would not?—inElizabeth's vagaries, Amy Robsart's woes, and Leicester'sperverted sincerities? Be that as it may, he looked longand lovingly at the old place; he feasted his eyes on thebeauty of the ivy- crested, decayed battlements, and thesurrounding woodland, which, with its wealth of variedverdure and misty atmospheric tints, enshrouds all Kenilworth and her country with a sacred veil of mystery andhallowed romance.Stoneleigh Court was next visited; and here Doré'staste for landscape was gratified to the utmost. LordLeigh's lovely country seat lies in a park whose very woodland is watered by the silver Avon; and the Abbey itselfproved one of the most interesting that Doré had everlooked upon. Many rustic scenes and charming pictorial bits which he afterwards introduced in illustration ,painting or landscape, have been recognized as fac- similesof Stoneleigh Abbey. And now I come to the greatestof Doré's wanderings, his pilgrimage to Stratford- on-Avon.Think you that only the British heart beats a quickerthrob in re-treading the ground hallowed by remembranceand the still- echoing footfall of the great bard? Ah! no.With all due deference to Albion and her sons, the manmay have belonged to you, but his works and memorybelong to the world. There beats no tropical sun toohot, nor gleams any winter moon too cold, to alter theenthusiasm and universal reverence which is borne to thename of Shakespeare. So it was that Doré looked andlingered, revered and pondered, just as if he had been born within sound of Avon's water. He went where weall have been; he saw what we all have seen; during theTHE POET A DEER- STEALER-NEVER. 433hours that he spent in Stratford-on-Avon he ate , drank,lived, and breathed the immortal bard. It would takebut slight imagination to recall the Alsatian enthusiast,with glistening eyes, as he was on that day in the homeof Shakespeare. One can see him in the house wherethe poet was born, looking with reverential eyes at thetime- stained walls and antique mouldings; for had notShakespeare himself gazed upon those very walls? anddoes it not seem as if each inch of plaster reflected a lookwhich, in days long ago, in their scintillation betrayed thehearts of women and the minds of men? Oh, the occultmeanings which that house calls up to mind! Then hewanders to the grounds, where every rose that blossomsand every leaf that falls for time immemorial will be notalone national but universal property. He goes to theMuseum, and a little desk is shown, where, perhaps, theunwilling school- boy "turned to his books ," he the Grammar School, and thinks of his own youthfuldays. Of those struggles with Calypso, Telemachus, andMentor; those wonderings at Nero's levity; those harrowings at cl*tus' death. Then he wends his way to thechurch, and stands with awe- struck mien and reverentialfront; in the heavy shadow of the clerestory window helooks uponthe portrait of Shakespeare; he bends his entranced footsteps towards the cottage wherein blithe AnneHatheway first heard such a poet's words of love; hewanders on to Charlecote-the poet a deer- stealer-never!Back Doré comes from the famous park, back to a spotwhose very precincts are hallowed , and here he bends theknee in silent homage; and a prayer goes up to heaventhat from the breath of this atmosphere, from the dust ofthese ashes, he may gain inspiration, light, and power, toimmortalize anew the name of Shakespeare.Once away from the sound of the " soft- flowing Avon, "Doré thought more than once of this memorable visit; andit is not strange that, in the midst of every kind of mentaland manual labour, his thoughts reverted to it andto his kind friends. He was extremely attached to theWarwicks, who on their part bestowed upon him theF f434 GUSTAVE DORÉ.most cordial marks of sympathy and friendship . Hisremembrance of the Countess of Warwick was nevereffaced; he proved once more his appreciation of character by yielding in her case the palm of superiorgraciousness and culture to one of the fairest specimensof English womanhood.Doré made no sketches of Shakespeare's home; hedid not need to make them, his pictorial memory wasmuch too accurate for that, inasmuch as he rememberedwhatever he saw, whether he bestowed a casual or anattentive glance upon it, for Doré never looked uselesslyat anything.Not only had he a marvellous memory, but a thoroughlypractised and skilled one, accustomed to retain any sighthe had once seen, in the same manner as many trainedintellects enable their fortunate possessors to read downa page of a book for the first time and then repeat itscontents word for word. Doré never looked at anythingwithout saying to himself, " I may need to make use ofthis later on. Consequently the word " casual " wouldbe inappropriate to describe any glance directed by Doréat animate or inanimate objects. When he looked atanything, he did so seriously, and with that intensity ofpurpose which produces an indelible impression on themind. In the matter of taking notes Doré did as he hadbeen wont to do when a boy visiting the Bibliothèque inParis. He was a very careful archæologist, and nevertrusted to his memory for data or historical facts. Theprecaution was a wise one, considering that he onceforgot his own birthday. So it was that at Shakespeare's home he made many and copious notes, butnever a drawing.The faithfulness of his recollections may some day beknown, but only when his Shakespearian illustrations shallbe given to the world.A NEW DEPARTURE IN ART.www435CHAPTER XXXVII.DORE A SCULPTOR.As early as 1871 Doré had begun to take up sculpture , abranch of plastic art for which he had not only a strongpredilection, but a decided talent. The world had longceased to marvel at his frequently varied new departures in art; nevertheless the surprise was general whenin 1877 he exhibited a superb group in the Paris Salon,called " La Parque et l'Amour. " Like most of thisartist's creations , it was characterized by imagination andoriginality. The novice's touch was scarcely to be detected in this sculpture; still it was an inspired ratherthan an accomplished chisel which cut the features of thesmiling child who watches a lifetime glide away intoeternity. The ideal figure of Love is executed alike withstriking boldness and delicate finish.This work was followed by a group called " Glory, "also exhibited in the Paris Salon of 1878. " La Gloire 'is represented by a beautiful female figure, tightly clasping in her embrace the form of a handsome and shapelyyouth. Whilst her rounded arms strain him closely toher bosom, a hand bearing a laurel wreath hides apoignard which is to deal him his death- blow.F f 2436 GUSTAVEDORÉ.This group is instinct with pathos and poetical feeling.The woman's vengeful beauty, and the youth's slender,yielding form are admirably rendered . One turns againand yet again to look at the marble counterfeit ofgenius, helpless in the arms of relentless destiny, and atthe futile struggle of the victim, who instinctively feelsthat some occult danger menaces him; whose shrinkingflesh anticipates the impending blow; whose once god- likestrength, indicated in the lines of the neck, is manifestlyparalyzed by a spell to sheer impotence. The laureltrails in unconscious beauty almost to his knees, theredrooping over a lute, the strings of which are stilled forever. Its ornate frame rests carelessly against twocoronals, abandoned for that third and fatal wreathbeneath which lurks the death- dealing blade.Gustave Doré's pride must have been flattered by thecirc*mstance that this group occupied the place ofhonour in the garden, where all the sculpture sent to theSalon is exhibited . Crowds surrounded the work, andpeople who read the name of G. Doré on its picturesquepedestal thought how strange was the coincidence thatthere should be two G. Dorés. Few connected thesculptor of " La Gloire " with the creator of the " Neophyte," Rabelais, and the " Wandering Jew." Criticspraised the work enthusiastically; and yet the jury of theSalon, after giving the place of honour to a young manwho exhibited sculpture for the second time only, probably thought that this distinction was reward enough.One of the most beautiful works of the day was, so tospeak, practically ignored by the Parisian tribunal oftaste.It will be noticed that Gustave Doré's mind was alwayshaunted by the spectre of unsuccessful effort. Therecan be no doubt that he distinctly alluded to himself andhis hopes as a painter in this allegorical group of " Glory.”In all his sculptured works the grandeur of success isnever stamped upon his creations , but always the sublimityof pathos, the mournful realism of unrequited ambition,of ineffectual and hopeless striving. Doré seemed, likeTIME CUTTÌNG THE THREAD OF LIFE. 437many other poets, to revel in the luxury of melancholy-adangerous but enchanting indulgence. He could not becontent with what he had, because his aspirations werelimitless and consumed themselves by their own fire . Theplatitude, " L'amour ne se commande pas, " may beapplied to ambition . There was always some void inDoré's life, some great longing unsatisfied, some yearningunfulfilled; and he died, like the youth on the Alpinepeak, still crying Excelsior! " Even his failures mustbe regarded as successes, for they represent " the earnestupward struggle of a soul " which could not tie itself.down to the vassaldom of conventional routine.66Had all Doré's sculpture equalled his " La Gloire," hisname as a sculptor would have been handed down toposterity. In this, as in everything he did, the world.should have appraised the poet, not the handicraftsman .The bronze group called " Time cutting the Thread ofLife," is another highly poetical and original composition.Again a melancholy sentiment is apparent; youth issacrificed , the cord of life is cut by unseen fate withsharper shears than even those of Clotho. This workis finer in the original drawing than in the bronze. Thesketch embodies artistic skill as well as poetical thoughtand conception, ever singularly faultless in Doré's next ambitious attempt was a group intended forthe Opera House at Monaco, built by M. Garnier in 1878.This work is called " La Danse," and represents a beautifulwoman, evidently a high priestess of the TerpsichoreanHer face is wreathed in smiles, her brows are rosecrowned, and her slender, supple limbs seem to float inthe air. The idea of motion is so admirably expressedas to remind one of the famous Hermes poised on thesummit of the Bastille monument in Paris. Any one whohas gazed at this masterpiece of sculpture must surelyhave been impressed with the fancy that at any momentit might soar into space. The lightness of M. Doré'sfigure, " La Danse," also suggests potential but suppressed motion. The outstretched arms hold a garlandof flowers, the dainty foot keeps time to the invisible438 GUSTAVEDORÉ.notes from Pan's immortal pipes, the very drapery floatsin air to the tune of Arcadian lyres. M. Garnier, wellknown as the architect of the Parisian Grand OperaHouse, did a wise thing when he went to Gustave Doréfor an allegorical group; for the success of " La Danse "was beyond all dispute, and once more testified to therichness of the artist's fancy."Ganymede " was exhibited before the Cercle del'Union Artistique in 1878, and achieved no less atriumph than its predecessors. Was ever human creaturemore audaciously or relentlessly clutched by a bird ofprey! Again we see the form of a youth presenting arare combination of grace and strength, yet helpless inthe grip of the eagle's talons. Even a Ganymede couldnot resist the touch of Destiny.The next work of M. Doré was one which may beranked in the category of Decorative Art. It was amonumental vase shown at the Paris Universal Exhibitionof 1878, where it was placed at the end of an open courtor garden, just in front of one of the doors of egress.After looking at many of the marvels the world's fairafforded, I remember coming by accident upon this vase,which struck me spell- bound. Although tired beyondexpression I sate me down at a little distance to gaze uponit at my ease, and was soon rapt in contemplation of socurious and extraordinary a composition . The viridescent hue of the bronze gave a peculiar life to everyanimal and floral form. Especially one serpent, glidingamongst bowers and vineyards, brought to my mindFlorida's dismal Everglades, where blossoms perfumeonly to poison; where soft breezes fan the heated browonly to coat it with the damps of death; where tremulousgrasses and smiling ferns only wave with gentle motionto lure the unwary into sloughs of fatal quicksand.To look at M. Doré's vase is to revel in fancy andrecollection . It would be difficult to describe this uniquecreation, or to say exactly what it means. It tells adifferent story to every one; the story, mayhap, thateach spectator locks up within his own breast.TheMONUMENTAL VASE.(Art Decoratif, G Doré. Paris, 1878.)Page 438.

"THE POEM OF THE VINE." 439vase is called " The Poem of the Vine," and is necessarilyallegorical . In shape it resembles an Italian flask; insize it is colossal; the story of the vine is told by thecountless figures standing out life-like on its curvedsides. To the commonplace I would say, imagine a taleof love, intoxication , enjoyment, life, and mystery.Fawns, nymphs, cherubs, and roses mingle in oneluxuriant harmonious maze. Babies clasp the foot ofthe pedestal; cupids crown the neck of the flask; heavyladen vines cling and droop with a wealth of fruit and aworld of imagery; the sculptured creatures live, move,and speak; the flowers waft rich perfumes, the grapes afaint aroma; this world of human and humanized beingrevels in one dizzy whirl of delight and maddeningecstasy. What could have been the state of Doré'sbrain whilst this mad carnival was going on within it?Like Endymion when he followed the nymph, a glimpseof whom meant madness, whilst looking at this greatwork we are overwhelmed with varied feelings of audacity and hesitation, courage and fear, delight anddespair.Gustave Doré put his highest aspirations and fondesthopes into this work. He laboured night and day, dayand night, sure of his inspiration and happy in his fancy,alternately excited and soothed by those fast-coming,ever-flowing illusions which characterized his every newambition. He planned, sketched , modelled, even mouldedhis work, and his time for some months was absolutelygiven up to " The Vine, " as well as the material resultsof his other mental and manual labour, which werelavishly devoted to the composition and execution of thismasterpiece. It is estimated that the vase cost Doréover sixty thousand francs, or very nearly three thousandpounds sterling. But he never thought of his hardearned money. He only said to himself, " I am creatinga work which should give all men pleasure; " and from theperfection of his labour and the conscientiousness withwhich every leaf was modelled he felt that he must bedoing good work, and positively hoped to see his vase440 GUSTAVE DORÉ.adorn some great public building, some well- knownpalace, or some square in his beautiful Paris.Need I say that he was disappointed? When theexhibition closed, not only did Doré neither receive anymedal or recompense from the Government, but amongstthe many foreigners upon whom medals were bestowedfor sculptures there was not one name, unless we exceptthe Italian sculptor Monti, whose works were not vastlyinferior to Doré's . Although decorative art is not necessarily expressed in sculpture, this vase must be rankedin both categories. There was a great deal of commenton this lack of appreciation evinced by the French for theirfellow- countryman, especially as " La Nuit, " another ofDoré's superb creations, occupied a place in one of theinterior galleries of the Champ de Mars buildings . This"Torchère," as it is called , reminds us of one of Marlow'spoems, describing Helen arrayed in starry robes andbearing a circlet of light above her head. As we havebeen assured , it was in fact that very poem which inspired M. Doré; and certainly his inspiration was a mosthappy one.By an ingenious contrivance flames of bluish light ,emanating from concealed gas- jets, shed a glow ofmystery and weird beauty over this statue. " La Nuit "stands on a crescent issuing seemingly from a group ofcupids. Her attitude is a peculiar one, the outstretchedarms firmly sustain the circlet, whilst the drooping countenance is studded with tear- drops. Again, the vision ofsadness makes itself manifest! M. Doré embodies pasthopes and future fears in all his creations; but the formeridea usually predominates the latter.This work was greatly admired, and some recompensewas expected for the artist. It is a curious fact thatnowadays most people are of opinion that Doré receiveda great many medals, and was usually one of the mostdistinguished contributors to the Paris Salon.As amatter of fact, he never received one; not even anhonourable mention. His Cross of the Legion of Honourwas conferred upon him after the " Inferno " appeared in1861 .THE ROSETTE OF THe legion OF HONOUR. 441After nearly twenty years of superhuman labour, duringwhich period his name had been constantly on the lips ofthe inhabitants of two continents, Gustave Doré was notconsidered a paragon by his own people. He had notdone enough to merit any public reward. Happily oneman was found susceptible of righteous indignation atthis lack of appreciation for one of the greatest artphenomena France had ever produced . M. Bardoux wasthen Minister of Fine Arts, and personally obtained therosette of Officer of the Legion of Honour for GustaveDoré.After the exhibition Doré was very much cut up. Tobe sure M. Bardoux had made strenuous efforts in hisbehalf; but the more trouble these efforts had cost theMinister, the more galling were his honours to GustaveDoré; for they had not been the spontaneous outcomeof that public favour which he felt that he had justlyearned. A real artist always knows when he has donewell; therefore Gustave Doré cannot justly be blamedfor taking this circ*mstance to heart. It was the man'spatriotism and noble, unflinching nature that promptedhim to incur any amount of toil, self- imposed or otherwise,in the cause of art, and for the honour of France. Hewould have laboured on just the same, as indeed he alwaysdid, without a thought of recompense, till his last breath.To gain public appreciation of talent is as much a profession as the career which that talent suggests. Anyone who wishes to achieve a certain outward recognitionof his merit in the present day must keep that soleambition steadily in view. He must say to himself at everyhour of the day, at every wakeful moment of the night, atevery step he takes in his walks, and with every conscious.breath he breathes, " I have this or that object in view;every other earthly consideration must be subordinate toit." Whatever be the career, the outward forms of graceare the ones to immortalize. Cherish the public, adoptpopular tastes, run after ministers, dine and wine cabinets,resurrect Ovid to write sonnets to society belles; shameLucullus with marvellous midnight repasts; be at thebeck and call of princes and parvenus; wind yourself442 GUSTAVE DORÉ.around and about with the graces of the tangled skein offast- growing popularity; be always conspicuous beforethe world, a time- server, a sycophant, and a Pharisee, andyou will find that the world will take you along with itscurrent and land you-where it lands itself. ·Gustave Doré still had old- fashioned ideas about merit,and merit alone, making its way unaided in the world.Genius has often been born in a garret, but let it tastethe world, taste early success , and let the distractingelement of social life come into its existence, and itspristine strength is slowly but surely undermined. Likethe dormant lion who accidently tastes blood , or the tamedboa-constrictor whose body comes carelessly in contactwith the earth, these creatures become unmanageableeven to the hardiest tamer ever afterwards. Doré knewtoo much of society, and paid too little attention to it,to succeed in obtaining its homage, or in deriving anysustained gratification from its attentions.About this time his own health was much impaired.He suffered terribly from a morbid condition of the heart,and from continual indigestion . As soon as he was possessed by any new inspiration , he neither ate, drank, norslept until he had put it to a practical test, but spenthour upon hour at a stretch in his studio, and nevertook any exercise.SheA great trial was in store for him. His belovedmother's health began to fail; she suffered from chronicbronchitis, and in a short time became seriously ill .did not keep her bed much in the daytime, but sat upin a great armchair and insisted that she was well. Shewas above all fearful of worrying Gustave. Her familyand friends lavished the most constant attention upon her,and Gustave was unwearying in his devotion.He had his work- table brought into her bedroom, andsat up with her night after night, drawing away at hisblocks by lamplight, every now and anon stepping softlyto her bedside to see if she wanted anything. It was bythis invalid's couch, whilst obeying the dictates of filiallove and duty, that Doré sounded his own death- knell .Every social tie was severed, every recreation connectedMME. ALEXANDRINE BIDS A LONG FAREWELL. 443with the outer world was ignored by him; in short, hethought of nothing but his mother's illness . The bestof invalids are sometimes fretful, irritable, capricious,and unreasoning; Madame Alexandrine taxed her son'sindulgence but lightly in these respects; still her everycaprice was humoured. He petted, caressed, andamused her, and ministered to her slightest wish with allinfinite tenderness. He divined her thoughts as it wereby intuition. Only near break of day, when she waswont to fall into a troubled sleep, did the artist snatch amoment of repose. In the morning, as soon as shestirred, he was again at her bedside, and when compelledto leave her by imperative business, he went off weariedand fatigued to work at his huge canvases in the RueBayard. This went on for nearly two years, and at lastthe end came. Madame Alexandrine's eyes were closedin that profound sleep which knows no mortal waking.She left behind her a weeping and disconsolate family,besides many sorrowing relatives and friends.Of Dore's feelings, he may best speak himself. Hewrote the following letter to his friend, Canon Harford,whom Madame Doré had always regarded with suchspecial favour:-" Paris, March 16, 1881; 6 o'clock a.m." DEAR FRIEND, -She is no more. I am alone. Sheis dead; my mother, so tender, so deeply venerated;dead, after a long and cruel agony; and this morning, afew hours hence, I shall carry her to her last restingplace. I am without force, my friend , and do not knowhow to submit myself to that hard law which spares noneof us. It seems that a black, unbridgeable gulf yawnsbefore me. You are a priest, my dear friend; I conjureyou, then, send up all your prayers to heaven for therepose of her dear and sainted soul, and for the sustainment of my own reason; for I am singularly overpoweredby despair, discouragement, and fear of the future ."I embrace you tenderly.66 Yours," G. DORÉ."444 GUSTAVE DORÉ.In this letter Doré writes to his friend, Canon Harford ,giving some slight details of his life and general feelings .Doré wrote:-"April 26, 1881 ." MY DEAR HARFORD, —I have still been , during threeweeks, cruelly absorbed by the sad but imperious occupations , and carrying out the last wishes of my poormother, and the division of property with my brothers;in short, a thousand other forced obligations; so thatyour last letter, and the questions you put to me, unfortunately slipped from my memory.

  • * *

" I am always, dear friend, in the shadow of an awfulsolitude, which I live in since so long a time. It was aterrible trial, and I ought to have prepared myself eachday for it; but how could I ever imagine the horror ofsuch a void? In spite of all one hears about the salubriousness and all - powerful influence of work, I find noneof it very true. Work does not console me; nothing consoles me; for I am alone, alone, alone, without family,and almost without friends. Existence has no longer anycharm for me, for I have had the improvidence not toknow how to build up a home for myself, and some oneto lean upon. Without that, life is but a cursed andabsurd thing."I embrace you tenderly." G. DORE. ”As Doré announced in a letter which we give later, hehad been chosen to immortalize in marble the memory ofthe great Dumas. An incident connected with this factmay not be unworthy of notice. A committee of gentlemen came to Doré and spoke of their intention to erect astatue to the celebrated writer. Knowing how busyDoré was, they scarcely ventured to suggest to him thedesirability of his sending in a design for the proposedstatue. To their surprise, however, the sketch they secretlydesired reached them the next day, and was unanimously adopted. The original intention of the Committee

BLLYONALEXANDRE DUMAS.(G. Doré fecit, 1882. Erected November 4th, 1884, in Avenue de Villiers. )Page 445.LET ME DO IT FOR LOVE. 445had been to give the work to Dubois, but he was engagedat Chantilly; and Doré, after listening to many pros andcons, said, " Gentlemen, you have honoured me by consulting me and by adopting my idea for the Dumas statue;but one thing remains. Let me also be the sculptor, andpresent to you gratuitously this memorial of a dear friendwho lightened some of the sadder hours of my youth byhis rare and treasured works . It is little enough towardsrepaying some of the enjoyment I owe to him."Doré's offer was accepted with real thankfulness; sucha gift was, morally and materially speaking, no smallmatter. So Doré buried his sadness in his new work, anda few weeks later a fine cast of the monument stood in hisstudio; the central figure being Dumas, laurel- crowned,sitting in his toga or Roman-like working- dress, pen inhand. The pedestal was to be embellished by figures ofpersonages who play leading parts in the author's works.The idea was a grand one, and Doré worked with hisusual superhuman energy to carry it out. All his oldillusions were renewed in this enterprise, and the onedream of his life was now to see his new work set up in apublic square of Paris, where thousands must daily passby it, where rich and poor alike might gaze upon theface of their venerated Dumas, wrought by the chisel ofGustave Doré. He was proud and happy to consecratehis time and labour to this mission, and although handsome remuneration was constantly pressed upon him, heas persistently refused all payment for his work." Let me do it for love," he would always answer." Do not speak of money; my payment is in the workitself. This is my contribution to the memory of AlexandreDumas, my dead friend."The monument itself in many respects deserves thehighest praise. The ease of Dumas' attitude is truly artistic , and the small statue of D'Artagnan, the adventurer,is a masterpiece of beauty, grace, and power. Doré hasdelineated every detail with rare skill and vivacity. Thereis plenty of scope for criticism in the execution of theface of Dumas as well as in its expression, which betrays446 GUSTAVE DORÉ.weakness rather than strength of intellect, but the groupsand figure of D'Artagnan might shame a Canova. Dorébestowed a world of time and labour upon this monument,although the execution is not in every respect felicitous .The dream of his life , as I said before, was to see itplaced in some public square of Paris, but his hopes werenever realized; for a greater Power than his country'spublic opinion set the death seal upon his brow ere hislast sculptural achievement was set up in the position itoccupies at the present day.BIBLLYOND'ARTAGNAN.(Principal figure, statue of Alexandre Dumas. G. Doré, 1882.)Page 446

DORE'S HEALTH BEGINS TO FAIL. 447CHAPTER XXXVIII.LAST DAYS OF '81 AND '82 .DORE was failing in spirits and in health. The thousandand one cares, the constant work and constant disillusionhe met with began to tell on his iron frame. His onehope now was to see his statue placed in some publicsquare in Paris, and to this end he had spared no mentalnor physical labour. The following letters written to theRev. Frederick Harford in '81 show how much his lifehad been a blank since his mother's death. I extractthis much:-" Sunday, June 26 , 1881 ."VERY DEAR FRIEND, -The reasons which haveretarded my writing you were in reality those which youmight have supposed . I thank you for your affectionatesolicitude. I am not ill altogether, but I suffer from such acurvature of my mind, and mental prostration on accountof all the vicissitudes which I have to suffer , withoutcounting the rude and material difficulties forced uponme in my new condition of solitude and my otherdifficult tasks, that I daily lack the energy that is necessary even to write a letter; I am alone, without assistance,without company, and with heavy cares of which youcannot even have the slightest imagination!448GUSTAVEDORÉ." Like all those in whom the splenetic sentiment isuppermost, I have a sensation of languor in the very pitof my stomach which breaks down my will, and whichdisgusts me of all effort. Even the day before yesterday,at the very moment of starting, and for the very excellent reason of assisting at the Lord Mayor's dinner ofyesterday, the 25th , I felt myself overcome by such anunsurmountable apathy that I was obliged to write anexcuse for myself at the last moment. It is absolutelynecessary, however, that I should be in London a littletime this summer, it is positively obligatory that I shouldthrow a little look around upon my affairs; which at thesame time are becoming quite mediocre, and I attributethe cause to the unconscious negligence of which I haveso often spoken to you. Alas! I confess to you thatafter twelve years of this career across the Channelwhich presented itself under such beautiful auspices, Imust say I am greatly disappointed , and I have half anidea to turn my efforts in another direction." I shall write to you at the end of the week tospeak toyou of my arrival." Yours with all my heart," G. DORÉ."From the second letter I extract the following:-Letter to Canon Harford ."July 12 , 1881 ." DEAR FRIEND, -Your letters and affectionatepleadings, for which I am very grateful, render mereally unhappy, for I continue to be quite unable toquit Paris. I am not positively ill, but I am so indisposedthat I am sure any moving about would certainly fastensome malady upon me. I have had so many vicissitudesand disappointments in these last months that my headis dazed . Ah, how much I wish I might be near you, topour out some of my troubles into your friendly heart!However, I have

a little hope

." Thanks, dear friend, for your good and brotherly"I HAVE SET MYSELF ONCE MORE TO WORK.” 449solicitude, but be assured that I am a man indeed mostunhappy and heart- stricken.((Always yours,"G. DORE."The same year Doré wrote again to his reverend friend ,and this letter seems to depict, more than any other, thereal state of Doré's feelings; it also gives some details ofthe way in which he had passed his summer; and isanother proof of his fidelity to and unfailing remembranceof his comrades. He wrote:-66 Paris, Dec. 30, 1881 ." DEAR FRIEND, I know that you cannot receiveletters on Sunday in London, so I take the night beforeto address to you all my affectionate good wishes for theNew Year. It is , indeed, a century since I last saw you.I felt I could not bring myself to parade my recentmourning in the midst of receptions, galas, and dinnerparties without number, and amongst the turbulence ofgreat cities. I preferred the calm of the Alps, where Ihave passed more than three-months, successively in theCantons of the Engadine, St. Moritz, and Pontresina.I stayed there until the first flakes of snow chased meaway; and I had wished that winter would never come,so that I might be able to rest in that disposition of calmand peacefulness which this majestic nature always inspires in me." I have now and then had news of you from yourfriends visiting Paris; but I would have liked better to have seen you in person. Have you, then, sworn neveragain to cross the Channel?"I have set myself once more to work-that is still thesovereign remedy for heart-aches and the dangers ofmelancholy which surround me; for I am indeed alone.Alas! I pass entire days without any exchange of friendlywords, and look forward to Sunday, the first of the year,when I shall perhaps be the only soul in Paris who shalldine alone. Every one I know has his family; and Ileave each one to the tendernesses of these festivities.G g450 GUSTAVE DORÉ." I have been wrong to let myself glide on to my presentage without having established a home and hearth formyself; and now, more than ever, do I repent this shortcoming. Tell me, dear friend, what has become of you,what you do with yourself, and how your health is. Iknow that you are lazy in the matter of correspondence;but as to that you are not more so than myself."I embrace you with all my heart," G. DORÉ. ”The following P.S. needs little explanation as theRev. Mr. Harford's love for sculpture is well known:-" How goes on your sculpturing? Are your angels intheir places? Apropos of sculpture, I have had onerecent success. I carried off the jury's verdict for theorder to make a grand monument of stone and bronze,which is to be placed in the heart of Paris, and whichhas for its object honour to the memory of AlexandreDumas. "An extract of letter written to the same in London.Speaking of his work, Doré said:-February 6, 1882." I am working at some important things, and Icherish the hope to see you come in to have a look atthem before spring is over. I think you will find I amimproving in my art. Without a doubt you already knowthat I am going to make a grand monument which shallbe publicly placed in Paris. ' Tis the statue of AlexandreDumas, with figures, accessories, groups, and so forth.Agrand affair for my reputation . Myplan took precedenceof all others by the complete unanimity of the Jury of Commission.(6'Yours with all my heart,"G. DORÉ."Some idea may be had of Doré's real and profounddejectment, both spiritual and moral, on perusing thefollowing extracts from a letter, the last he ever wrote"THE VALE OF TEARS.” 451to his friend Canon Harford. After many affectionategood wishes for the coming new year, 1883 , he spokethus regarding himself:

-—"Paris, December 27, 1882."As for me, I say farewell without pain to a fatal yearwhere I have known but grief and chagrin. Since thedeath of my mother there is always the same heavy cloudwhich lowers over my existence, and in spite of muchcourage I often faint by the way- side. I am finishing atthis very moment my picture, ' The Vale of Tears '(' Come unto Me ' ) , which cannot fail to arrive soon inLondon. I have been interrupted by my work on themonument of Alexandre Dumas, which little by little hasbecome something considerable. Without a doubt itwill be erected in its proper place in the spring of nextyear. It is absolutely the greatest effort which I shallhave accomplished in my lifetime."I may state here, although it is generally unknown, thatDoré, being deeply enamoured of a young lady in Paris, had ,through the negotiations of friends, recently entered with herinto a matrimonial contract. The match would havebeen in every way a suitable one, and Doré's complaintsthat he had neither real home nor hearth were madewhen the prospect of a happier domestic future seemedfutile and unrealizable. However, the settled gloomwhich of late was rooted in his nature , could not immediately be eradicated, and although betrothed, athis time of life material discomforts and serious phy- sical ailment would have intruded their shadows acrossthe sunniest pathway of any man. Yet this time theprojected marriage was broken off through no mortalagent. How true is the old saw, " There is many a slip' twixt the cup and the lip "!After the death of Madame Doré there had been nomore receptions to speak of; and the Sunday dinners,which once reunited the greatest celebrities of Europe,had dwindled to small family parties, at which onlyGg 2452 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Doré's oldest friends still found their accustomed placesawaiting them at his table.The dinner of the 31st of December, 1882 , was noexception to this rule; only, as it was given on the lastday of the year, the party was likewise a " watch- meeting, "and stayed to welcome in the 1st of January, 1883 .The dinner was mortally dull , and, long before dessert,seemed as though it would never come to an end.Gustave sat silent and absorbed, so different from his usualgay rollicking self that, struggle against it as they could, amost painful impression was experienced by all present.He drank his champagne mutely; every time any ofhis guests spoke a word to him, he started as thougharoused from a profound reverie, and in his absence ofmind answered with a lack of aptness which was as unusual as incomprehensible. When they all rose fromtable and went into the studio for coffee and cigars,Gustave as usual went up to his little table in the corner,and carelessly took up a pencil; but he did not sketch.anything. On second thought he laid it down and leftthe room. He was so constantly in the habit of doingthis that the majority of his friends present paid no attention to him; but M. Kratz, after an instant's reflection ,arose and followed him.He found him in his late mother's room, standing nearher picture. M. Kratz went up to him, and laid hishand tenderly on his shoulder." Gustave, old boy," he said, " what is the matter?Are not you well? ""Yes-no. Do not trouble yourself, Arthur," heanswered not unkindly." I do not know what is thematter; only I was thinking how different it all is now.This is the last day of the year, and-and I think one isalways more or less preoccupied on such anniversaries .Shall we go back to the studio?""M. Kratz saw that he was still not quite himself and littleinclined to keep his guests company." No-no, my friend. Don't hurry yourself. I will go back now, and you return when you please.""IT IS LIKE A FUNERAL PARTY." 453With these words, M. Kratz left him and returned tothe studio. As soon as he entered the room he wasinterrogated on all sides, -"What is the matter with Gustave? Is he ill? Hasanything happened? Mon Dieu! c'est donc un enterrement ce soir? "M. Kratz replied that Gustave was all right; a littlesad, perhaps, but would be with them shortly, and so on.Doré came back almost whilst his friend was speaking about him, and some one laughingly questioned himas to what had come over him." It is like a funeral party," he said.pass the last night of the year!music? ""What a way toCannot we have someDoré assented readily to this proposal, and M. Kratzwent to the piano. Gustave took up his violin; but, afterplaying a few bars, put it down again." I am not in the humour, " he said. And no oneurged him further. But M. Kratz still kept his place,running his fingers idly over the keys, as a man would dowho was not exactly playing a set piece, and yet wishedto fill up a gap in a dull conversation .How the evening passed may readily be imagined.Gustave's low spirits seemed to weigh doubly on hisfriends. The contrast between that soirée and otherspreviously passed under his roof was too great not to bepainfully felt. Every one thought of Madame Doré, thegoodnatured lady who had been so recently amongstthem. Her vacant chair seemed cause enough for herson's sadness. The hours dragged tediously along untilthe midnight bells rang out on the stillness of the nightair.The guests arose one after another, embraced Gustave,and wished him a happy new year, last of all M. Kratz .As soon as these greetings were over, the guests hurriedaway, all excepting M. Kratz."What?" said Gustave half bitterly . " You are notanxious to leave me? This has been a dull evening; Ifelt very sad; and yet you still stay on?"454 GUSTAVE DORÉ" You know that I will not leave you ," said M. Kratztenderly. " I am glad, on the contrary, to be alone withyou. But what on earth is the matter? Are you ill?"Then Doré began to unburden his heart. " This hasbeen a miserable year," he said. " My affairs do notplease me." He continued pouring out a string ofconfidences, all more or less lugubrious. M. Kratz wasperhaps the only man in the world to whom the disappointed artist could freely disclose his innermost thoughts.He talked and talked away, always in the same strain ofsadness, until one would have thought him the mostunfortunate wretch in the world.M. Kratz finally said, " For the love of God, Gustave,do not look upon life as such a failure; you, of all men,who have great honours yet in store for you! Thingswill look brighter soon. For my sake, for your own, forthat of all your friends, do not give way to these fits ofdespondency. They are already telling upon you tosuch an extent that you are greatly changed; believe me,Shall we go out and walk? It is a fine night.Let us go to the Boulevards and see a little life andmovement; it will do you good. Or let us drop intosome café, if you prefer that.'you are.“Well, I will . ”With that he lit a cigar and started to get an overcoat.He took it up and then put it down directly." It is all of no use," he said . " I hate the world. Ido not want to see any one. Let us stay here and talk."M. Kratz yielded, and Doré recommenced the tale ofhis grievances. He spoke of his pictures, so many ofthem unsold, and of the great vase upon which he hadbuilt such a hopeful future. As he talked, he grew moreand more unhappy, until tears finally started from hiseyes, and he turned half apologetically to his friend."What can you expect? " he said, half covering hiseyes with his hands; " c'est plus fort que moi. Anotheryear gone, and the same old disappointments over again,besides other new ones." He then began speaking onseveral subjects of too private a nature to find any place"I AM HALF DEAD WITH FATIGUE.” 455in this recital, but which to one of his sensitive naturewere enough, each one in itself, to cause profound unhappiness. M. Kratz let him talk on uninterruptedly,knowing that attentive silence was the best consolationhe could offer.After a few moments had passed thus, Gustave suddenly stopped.""Come," said M. Kratz; " it will do you good to takea walk. You must not brood over these matters. I feelthat everything will come round to your satisfaction .Let us go out and get a breath of fresh air. Accompanyme to my house, if you will not go to the Boulevards.Allons!"Gustave arose. " My friend," said he, " I will tell youthe truth. I am half dead with fatigue; I cannot keepmy eyes open; je tombe de sommeil. I did not sleepwell last night. I think I will retire at once. "M. Kratz was so stupefied by this excuse that he hadnothing more to say; in truth, Gustave did look tired ,and his eyes were glazed with weariness. He yawnedonce or twice, and passed his hand over his face with amovement, however, which was more indicative of preoccupation than of fatigue. He looked bored, but perfectly wide awake. His friend was puzzled; but knowingthat of all living human beings Gustave Doré was themost erratic and incomprehensible, he decided uponleaving him. Their parting was an affectionate one.They embraced each other in foreign fashion, and M.Kratz went away with these words, -" Good night, old boy. Sleep well, and may Godbless you in a happier new year!'The following Sunday was as gay as this one had beensad. Gustave gave a dinner, the guest of the eveningbeing M. Vallerand de la Fossé; indeed, the feast wasorganized in honour of his having been recently decorated. It was like one of those old jollifications whenwit flowed as freely as champagne, when the old studioechoed and re-echoed to the sounds of music, laughter,and happy voices; one of those pleasant soirées that456GUSTAVEDORÉ.Dore's friends remembered with such delight and pride.Gustave, who was in his wildest spirits and richest veinof humour, absolutely outdid himself in gaiety and grace.His guests said again and again, " There is only oneDoré in the world. Who else ever embodied such talentsand was gifted with so irresistible a personal charm? "And when the early hours of morning came, they werestill loth to depart. M. Vallerand, on his way home,decided upon returning Dore's dinner within a fortnight,and, out of compliment to him, to invite only those whohad been present on this occasion. He remarked thathe should remember it as one of the pleasantest days ofhis life. “ I knew that Doré was a charming man," hesaid, " but never realized before what a veritable enchanter he could be. It is really too much that oneperson should unite all the agreeable qualities of mind,manner, and person. Gustave Doré is the most brilliantand most sympathetic great man I have ever known."Now I must speak of another occasion when Doré'sfriends gathered once more round his hospitable board .It was Sunday night, January the 14th, and the circlewas unusually small. Doré was neither so brilliant ashe had been the Sunday before, nor so sad as on theoccasion of December the 31st, when he saw thenew year in with such strange feelings of apathy and despair. This time Doré seemed almost his old self. Therewere present, amongst others, M. Jundt, the celebratedpainter, M. A. Kratz, M. Paul Joanne, and Dr. Robin.Doré had been prompted by some strange caprice todecorate the dinner-table with white lilacs and whiteroses. These he had placed under an enormous globe,with a " Guide to the Pyrenees;" and the effect was bothunnatural and depressing."It is not gay, " said M. Jundt. " It looks exactlylike a tomb."Doré brightened up during dinner. Each time heraised his glass to drink he began to parody the discourses pronounced on the occasion of Léon Gambetta'sfuneral. He would begin, " Upon this tomb, still open,A QUARTER OF AN HOUR'S GRACE. 457an expectant world hangs desolate," and so on. Then hewould break off into some jest, having the grave forits subject, and end by alluding to the flowers alreadycovering the tombs of distinguished dead men."Strange to say, " observed M. Joanne, " none of thesepleasantries could dissipate the depressing effect of thosepure white flowers . It was impossible not to say, withJundt, Cela a tout-à- fait l'air d'un tombeau.' "The Saturday evening following was fixed for M.Vallerand's dinner and reception . All the other guestsassembled, but there was no Doré. M. Kratz came inlast, and looked about him. "What!" he exclaimed ,"Gustave not here yet?""We will give him a quarter of an hour's grace, " saidthe host, smiling; and the conversation continued in thatdisjointed fashion which is common to all dinner- partieswhen the host is ready, the guests are waiting, and theone who should have been there first of all is the onlyone who has not yet put in an appearance.The quarter of an hour passed-twenty minutes , halfan hour-still no Doré." I cannot think what keeps him, " observed M. Vallerand. "Can anything have happened? It is so strangethat he of all others should not be here. Has any oneseen him to-day?"No one had seen him." I dined with him last night," said M. Kratz; "hewas then perfectly well, and said ' à demain ' when I left.him; so of course I expected to find him here. Thedinner was got up expressly for him, as he knew; and ofcourse he will be here directly. "Another quarter of an hour passed, and still he did notcome. M. Vallerand began to look annoyed and uneasy."It is too bad of him!" said some one. Speculationwas rife as to what could have occurred.The feelings of the master of the house may better beimagined than described . To make matters worse, manyof the gentlemen present were strangers to him, speciallyinvited out of compliment to Gustave Doré.He was458GUSTAVEDoré.deeply mortified, and when an hour had passed in fruitless expectation, he grew really alarmed . M. Kratzproposed that they should dine. He was secretly worried, but out of deference to M. Vallerand, endeavouredto help him out of his difficulty."The dinner is ready," he said, and we have all waitedlong enough. I say let us wait no longer. Doré hasbeen detained, perhaps by a street accident; but he willsurely turn up presently.'M. Vallerand then insisted that his guests should seatthemselves without further delay. They had barelyfinished their soup when a sharp pull at the bell washeard."At last! " ejacul*ted the host, and a smile of reliefspread over his features. "We will scold him well, andthen forgive him for keeping us waiting so long, nowthat he is here at last. "But it was not Doré. A messenger had brought anote for M. Vallerand, on opening which he seemedscarcely to understand what it meant. He then read italoud without comment. It ran as follows:-"M. Doré presents his compliments to M. Vallerand,and begs he will excuse his not being able to dine withhim. Heis very much indisposed, and not able to go out.(Signed) MARTIN, valet to M. Doré.""(The suspense was over.He would not come. Butwhat was to be made of such an excuse, and why had itbeen sent at such an hour? Every one was fairlypuzzled, and for a moment it was thought that perhapsDoré had been playing one of his practical jokes . Noone could apprehend anything serious from such a lukewarm letter; and M. Vallerand began to feel extremelyill at ease. Presently, he could stand it no longer, and burst out,-" Have I offended him in any way? I cannot imaginethat I have; but his is such a sensitive nature, that perhaps without my knowing it something has occurred tochange his feelings towards me.""COME AT ONCE. GUSTAVE IS ILL.” 459A strenuous denial was his answer. M. Kratz repeated that he had seen Doré the night before, whenhe was full of the notion of the dinner and of the pleasure it promised to afford him.Nothing more was said about Doré, and the dinnerdragged on to its end as best it could.Most of the company retired early; and as to M. Kratz,he was extremely anxious about Gustave; but, havingbrooded over his strange conduct throughout the evening,began to lose his temper as well, and, instead of goingto see Doré, as he always did late or early in the day, hewent straight home.As soon as he reached his door, his housekeeper,Madame Pillaud, stopped him on the threshold, saying, -"M. Kratz, here is a despatch for you; and a messenger came beside just after you had gone out to dine."He tore open the envelope of the telegram, and hisheart stopped beating as he read, —" Come at once. Gustave is ill . Apoplectic fit . Veryserious.((' (Signed)DR. ROBIN."460 GUSTAVE DORÉ.CHAPTER XXXIX.DEATH OF DORÉ.ON Saturday morning, January 20th, Doré arose asusual, at seven o'clock. It was cold, bleak, and scarcelydaylight. He went into the dining- room, and sat downnear the window. Françoise utilized the privilege of longfriendship to scold him, exclaiming, --"Here you are, M. Gustave, as usual, prowling aboutbefore daybreak! You take no rest. It is inconceivablehow you can work until two or three o'clock everymorning with those blessed blocks, and never compensateyourself by sleeping a little later the next day. Yesterdayyou looked tired to death, and mortally pale. Now, toplease me, go back to bed. Do. I will bring you yourbreakfast there."" Nonsense, Françoise, " he replied. " I am all right ,only my head feels a little heavy. I must have takencold last night. Back to bed, indeed! I should thinknot. I shall be all right after I have had my coffee."Françoise did not quite like his looks. He was fearfully pale; his eyes were bright and restless, with deepblack dents under them sinking into his cheeks, and contrasting strangely with their deathlike pallor. But shemight as well have talked to the wind; he laughed at her,and went on jesting about her proposal that he should goback to bed.46"AM I IN MY DOTAGE?" 461Voyons, Françoise! " he said. " Do I look like aman who needs to cosset himself? Am I in my dotage?Did you ever know me to go back to my bed when once.I had got up for the day? Françoise, you are old andONE OF TWO SKETCHES MADE BY DORÉ ON FRIDAY AFTERNOON, JAN. 19TH, 1883,THE LAST HE EVER EXECUTED. SUBJECT AT PRESENT UNKNOWN.(Unpublished. )crotchety; but I am young, and cannot permit myself theindulgence you so eagerly recommend. No; I have agreat deal to do to-day, and must begin at once."462 GUSTAVE DORÉ.He drew his chair nearer to the window, and sat forsome little time without saying a word, seemingly thinkingdeeply, and about something important, for he passed hishand several times over his forehead, and finally leanthis cheek on his hand with a grave and preoccupiedexpression.Old Françoise bustled about and soon brought him hiscafé-au-lait . Seeing that he made no effort to move, shedrew a little table forward and placed his breakfast besidehim. He took his coffee without a word, ate part of aroll, and, when he had finished , rested his elbows on thetable and supported his head with his hands for severalmoments. It kept drooping lower, until his arms werecrossed on the table and his hair fell over his coat sleeve.Françoise was about to rouse him, when he suddenlythrew back his head with the old impetuous movement,yawned, and stared blankly out before him."Ah! enough of this, " he said. "Let us be off towork; " and he arose briskly. Françoise seized his hand;a feeling of inexplicable dread came over her.My poor Gustave! " she exclaimed, " what has happened? Are you ill? Your hand is like ice, and yourface looks like that of a corpse. Do go back to bed.'" Nothing is the matter," he said feebly. " I onlyfeel very cold; that is all . I shall be myself again assoon as I get to work." With those words he arose andshook himself with evident effort, as if to dispel a certainlethargy. Then he went to his studio, muttering, -" It is strange. I never was so cold before in all mylife. Allons! a little movement will wake me up . I shallsoon be all right again."Françoise knew him too well to insist upon anythingfurther. He always had his own way, and she set aboutputting the house to rights , well aware that he would beoffended if she paid any more attention to him. Besides,he hated being thought ill, and above all being told thathe looked out of sorts.He had been in his studio about an hour or more, whenhe came carelessly through the passage and went straight"WHEN SHE HEARD A HEAVY FALL. 463to his bedroom. Françoise was at work in the salon andsaw him as he passed. He had no sooner closed hisdoor and got out of sight -certainly not two minutes hadelapsed-when she heard a heavy fall and a crash. Sheran to the bedroom, flung open the door and saw Gustave,who had fallen on his face, stretched out insensible onthe floor. The wash-basin and pitcher were broken inpieces, and he was lying in a pool of water. Françoisescreamed with all her might, and tried to raise him; shedragged him, still unconscious, a little way, and then hadto leave him in order to call for help. She threw up thesash of the window which looked over the front court,and brought Martin from his room with her cries." Come quick," she screamed , " my child is dead!Gustave is dead! " Martin was in the bedroom before shehad time even to close the window. Although Doré wasso strongly built, Martin took him in his arms and puthim on the bed. He remained unconscious for sometime, but they finally brought him to. He opened hiseyes and looked at them with a mute, agonized gaze; buthis lips were dumb. He shivered constantly, and theybegan rubbing him to try and promote circulation; theyput hot flannels on his body and hot water to his feet.Brandy and camphor, everything in the way of spiritsthey could lay their hands on, was poured upon his body,and both Françoise and Martin rubbed him till his skinbecame blistered . Still he did not speak; so Martin startedfor the doctor. While he was away, and old Françoisewas still trying to restore circulation , Doré seemed togrow colder instead of warmer. She was in despair, butkept on at her painful task. Finally she saw he wascoming to, for his features worked with agony. Herheart leapt into her mouth when he muttered his firstword. Before Martin got back he could speak coherently,and told Françoise how it all happened."I stayed for some time in the studio, but could notwork; my head felt too bad; so I thought I would goand dip it into some cold water, and had just plungedmy face into the basin when I lost consciousness and464 GUSTAVE DORÉ.knew no more. En effet," and he glanced at the floor," I should think I did lose consciousness! and the washbasin is broken, too, that is a pity! " He ceased speaking, leant back on his pillow, and for a moment seemedvery much better. Françoise got over her fright as soonas she heard him speak, and thought she would scold himfor his imprudence." Did I not tell you to go back to bed? You see thatyou have to finish by obeying me. You are still a greatbaby. You looked ill , and I knew you felt so. Why didyou wish to frighten me? I always knew what was bestfor you. I said, go to bed; you would not, and now yousee what has happened. Je te l'avais dit! "Françoise was a faithful friend , but only a woman afterall. How could she resist the temptation of saying, "Itold you so "? She went on alternately petting and scolding him; but after the first few words he spoke but little,and seemed to be getting worse.His eyes never left her face, and at last he laid hishead on her old withered bosom, just where he hadplaced it so many times when a child. He put his handon his chest and kept murmuring, " I feel so ill here,Françoise; it hurts me here; try to do something forme."Like a sick baby he turned to her for comfort, just ashe always had done since that Twelfth Night when snowhung heavy on the Schwarzwald. He seemed to think thattelling her about his ills was a guarantee that she couldcure them. All his life long he had gone to her with hislittle ailments, and after his mother's death Françoisewas the strongest link that bound him to the happy past.For once in a way he did not complain because she andMartin had treated his illness seriously. He kept onsaying,-"I have only taken a severe cold; but it is just aswell to have sent for the doctor. Robin is a friend, andwill really tell me what ails me. Of course it is notserious; but I am glad he is coming."The morning was not far gone when a doctor cameI WANT KRATZ-HIM YOU MAY TELL. 465back with Martin; but it was not Robin. Doré's condition had grown worse instead of better, and he couldnot speak. Dr. Blavet was horror- stricken, for he at oncesaw that Doré had had an apoplectic stroke, brought onby a cold and severe indigestion . He worked over himnearly the whole day until Dr. Robin arrived, and atone time they thought that he would not last till sundown.However, he rallied and brightened up considerably. Hedid not want any one to know that he was ill, andabsolutely refused to send for any member of his family."I want Kratz," he said. " Him you may tell; butno one else." He remembered his engagement to dinnerwith M. Vallerand de la Fosse when it was already late;but with all the cunning of a sick man, and the extremedelicacy of a well-bred one, he determined to say nothingwhich could lead his friends to suppose that he wasseriously ill, fearing to break up the party. Rather thanspoil the evening for M. Vallerand and his friends, hepreferred to pass for a capricious fellow once more. Itwas the only thing under the circ*mstances to be done.To the last he was a strange but thorough gentleman .During that long Saturday afternoon Gustave Dorébelieved that his time had come. Who can tell all thebitterness and sadness of his thoughts? Thus suddenlyto quit a world that had grown so hateful to him; andyet to leave undone his great work of Shakespeare-tothink that another would take up the task which for years had been the dream of his life-to die withouthaving seen his statue to Alexandre Dumas placed inone of the city squares! This, his last ambition , againto be rendered uncertain of fulfilment! What wouldbecome of it when he should be no more? To be sure,it had gained the competition prize, and had been accepted; it was completed, if not perfected. He had givenhis heart's blood to this tribute to an old friend , but hehad often seen the sun rise and set on so many hopes!Good-bye would have to be said to his brothers andto his friends. Ah! that would be hard; and as hethought of it bitter tears coursed down his pallid cheeks.Hh466 GUSTAVE DORÉ.His friends-those other companions, children of hisheart and fancy, silently awaiting his coming, even now,in the studio; and those new ones, D'Artagnan, Dantés,and the fair Mercedes sitting in sunlit bowers, midstacacias and waving palms. Ah, yes, the palms; thepalms for the base of his statue! The men had notyet brought the cast from the first moulding; one of themany things left undone. Oh, only to be able to arisefrom this hideous bed which was keeping him there helpless, in the very moment of all others when he had somuch to do. "I have not time to be ill ," he murmured tohimself, " I have not time! " Then the million fears,fancies , and ambitions which teemed in his over-wroughtbrain struggled like so many demons to overcome thelast remnant of his fading strength. He tried in vain torise, to make the least movement, to utter even a loudcry; but, alas! the once mighty will was subjugated tothe sterner and more unbending one of Fate.Indeed, he had much to think of in those hours whichdragged so slowly on, with no one but old Françoisesoftly moving about, or Martin coming backwards andforwards to see if M. Doré wanted anything.It had just gone midnight when M. Kratz arrived, andto his joy found Doré much easier than he had expected.He passed part of the night there, and a young medicalstudent from one of the hospitals kept watch until Dr.Robin came on Sunday morning. The doctor foundhis friend better, and told him that he had nothing moreto fear. However, he said to M. Kratz, " I amgoing totelegraph to his brother, Colonel Emile, in order tobring him here on some pretext. I shall feel easier whenhe knows that Gustave is ill; but I shall not tell himthat the illness has been so serious."So Colonel Emile Doré was telegraphed to, andanswered that " by chance " he would be in Paris to dineon Sunday evening.This was famous good news.The doctor went away,leaving Doré so much better that even M. Kratz hadovercome his feelings of alarm.DORE PASSES A FAIR NIGHT. 467Doré passed a fair night and fell into a deep sleep atdaybreak. By the time he awoke, at 10 a.m. on Sunday,M. Kratz was already at his bedside. The first thing hespoke about on opening his eyes was not his health, buthis work. He inquired if the casters had brought theDernier dessin fait par Gustave Dorele vendredi 19janvier 1855,DrJosefleMichelpalms for the base of the Dumas statue, and an answerin the negative annoyed him sorely.That was so like him, to think of his work before hisown well- being!Sunday being the day on which Doré was usually toHh 2468 GUSTAVE DORÉ.be found at home, several friends dropped in after breakfast; amongst others MM. Leleux and Pisan; they werepainfully shocked to find him confined to his bed. Hewould not allow them to tell any one that he had beenill, and seemed delighted that no one, so far, had heardof his apoplectic attack.""When his visitors had gone he talked a great deal andvery freely with his dear friend Kratz-" ce cher Arthur,'as he called him-and even confided to him how he hadfelt on the Saturday, when he had thought he was goingto die. M. Kratz cheered him up, and begged him tobanish from his mind such lugubrious ideas. M. Kratzthen told him about the dinner- party, how it had passedoff. Afterwards they conversed upon family affairs, forat that time, it will be remembered, Doré had a greatmany griefs, which weighed heavily on his mind.M. Kratz, again, was a comforter and consoler, andbegged him not to fret over these troubles." Things will come round all right, Gustave," he said." Your only object now is to get well. Your health is thefirst question; we shall have plenty of time to discussother matters when you are better.'He said au revoir affectionately, and went home.A little before 5 p.m. , Colonel Emile Doré arrived ,and could scarcely realize how ill Gustave had been, forhe found him bright and unusually cheerful. The coloneldined alone, and during the evening Doré was so wellthat the precaution of employing a nurse or extra night attendant seemed almost unnecessary. He felt wellenough to get up, and quite counted upon being his oldself again on the morrow. After a good night's rest heawoke early and took some slight nourishment. Mondaypassed in much the same manner as Sunday, except thatthere were fewer visitors. M. Kratz, who had been therein the early morning, came back after dinner and foundthe patient very little like a sick man." I am all right now," said Doré gaily; " and theproof is that I want some champagne. " So Martin wentand fetched a bottle, and gave him a glass. He found it“HIS NEXT VISIT WILL BE ONE OF PURE AMITY.” 469good, but it had not the old relish for him, because hewas obliged to drink it with water. He grumbled a littleat that, but gave in rather than not have it at all.He sipped it several times, and each time he put downhis goblet, remarked how natural it seemed to be drinkingchampagne. Poor Doré!He was so fond of it. Then, too, it brought backagreeable recollections. How many times he had drunkhealth and happiness to his friends, and how many morehis own successes had been toasted in deep draughts ofthe sparkling wine!While Doré now and then refreshed himself with hisfavourite beverage the evening wore on apace.He wasin the blue saloon; the candles were lit in his bedroom,and cast flickering shadows on the pictures, the furniture,and the long low table nearly covered with white blocks—those square pieces of wood which slept until the master'shand should awake them and give life to a thousandcreatures, each one perfect of its kind. Portraits of hisancestors were hanging round his couch, and in a sidepanel of the wall reposed " Venice, " with her bowed headand silent, slumberous beauty. Good Françoise flittedhither and thither, whilst M. Kratz sat constantly by thesick man's bedside. Colonel Emile went out for a walk.The family physician, who had been called in at first,also left his patient, telling every one present that alldanger was positively past. He said to Doré, as he wentaway,-"Now, monsieur, I am happy to leave you so well.Good- night; sleep well, and do not get up early. Tomorrow morning I shall come in to see you, but late .Bonne nuit! Do not get up early."Doré promised obedience with a smile. When thedoctor was gone he said, -"It is just as well. I like to have doctors come to seeme, but in a friendly way. His next visit will be one ofpure amity. "He seemed pleased with this idea, and began talkingto M. Kratz, who kept faithful watch at his bedside. He470 GUSTAVE DORÉ.looked anything but a sick man, sitting up supported by hispillows, his eyes glowing and his face animated, as it alwayswas when he was speaking. Except for a slight pallorand for two shadows lying on the upper part of hischeeks, M. Kratz saw the Gustave Doré of old, as cheeryand bright as could be. He talked a great deal duringthe evening; so much, indeed, that his friends beggedhim not to overdo it . Then he closed his eyes with asort of happy obedience, and, sighing like a tired child ,lay back on his pillow.Afew moments passed. No sound broke the stillnesssave the measured ticking of a clock and the almost inaudible hum of life in the street. Now and then asolitary vehicle would pass by, carrying some gay andhappy, or perhaps some careworn denizen of Paris to amidnight ball or supper. Then the noise would ceaseand quiet would again prevail. The candles were burninglow and the shadows were deepening in the room, deepening and lengthening, while the night wore on .invalid's breathing was soft and regular; his head wasslightly resting on one hand, his eyes were open, gazingwith the far-away look of one who contemplates unrealthings. M. Kratz looked at him and said to himself,Gustave is dreaming."66TheYes; he was dreaming. He heard not the windwhich moaned in the chimney, nor the soft footfall ofold Françoise as she came ever and anon to his couch,nor the hushed night- cries of ever- wakeful Paris; he sawnot the friend at his bedside, for why should any one beat his bedside? He was not ill; he-Doré-oh, no! farfrom it; on the contrary, he was rich in the strength ofhappy manhood, and his dreams were those which are born.of vigour in the noonday of life . Perchance, he thoughtagain, " Oh! those palms; not yet come; " and of hisstatue. If Dumas could only see that it was not hisfault! -Dumas-a great man-and Shakespeare--ah!his Shakespeare! -Cæsar-Calphurnia-the musketeers-a jolly man, that D'Artagnan, and a brave one. ThenMacbeth-thatbanquet-horror- stricken? Of course thatHE HAD SEEN brightER ONES AT CHISWICK. 471must be the right expression; besides, what the witcheshad told him was enough—the witches-the three hovering together—not the three Graces! The tree , the cauldron, and the rose- crowned infant. Ah, that child! He hadseen one with a face just like it, in Petticoat Lane.Petticoat Lane, where he had watched a hawker makingsoda-water. What a curious apparatus! What a morning! He had seen brighter ones at Chiswick. Thereis the Pavilion, there sits her Majesty; he hears hergracious words murmuring in his ears. She speaks ofone of his works; such praise was worth having! In hisown country, his " Dante "-bah! It was after all a wearylife; work, work, work; but there had been some happiness! Now perchance he is walking again beneath theacacias of the Bois de Boulogne, a fair woman leaningon his arm. The night is still, the leafy trees murmur theirorisons, and the violets' scent is sweet and strong. Themoon casts a broad belt of silver in their pathway, thesand gleams, and their footfalls make music upon thefine gravel. " Ah! when one is shod with happiness!but that was long ago. Who could have been likeDante, like Tasso? Beatrice-Leonora-these womenmay also have been in the world, but more likelyMessalinas and Lucrezias; and as to men, why Rabelaiswas a man; he knew what men were like. Why, any manunderstands that book. " Doré moved slightly, and hiseyes gleamed with a still more rapt expression. " Heis still dreaming, " thought his friend; " still dreaming.I shall not disturb him. " Yes, he was dreaming still ,thinking of his Rabelais success, perhaps whispering tohimself, -"Understand it-well, that was my first success. Whyshould I not think of it now? How manyyears ago thatwas! It cannot be possible, for it seems but yesterday.I can just see myself now as I was then. Mamma wasso happy; so were Emile and Ernest and Arthur and M.Lacroix-M. Lacroix, who scolded me and loved me too .I shall never forget his surprise about those Vilanies deParis-dear Gautier understood me always, and so did472 GUSTAVE DORE.Dalloz; dear Paul, how we enjoyed those trips throughSpain and the Tyrol! I can hear Gautier laughing now.Ah me! no wonder I sigh; his laugh has been stilledfor ever, as mine will be some day; and now I think ofit, I came very near the end on Saturday last . But,nonsense; I am so well now. I shall go back to Alsatiaagain for my holiday, or to see the Alps. What goodthey did me last year! Or to Scotland-perhaps thatwould be better still -to Scotland with Teesdale. Iwonder how my pet owls are coming on; shall I everforget how Paul laughed when he saw them? No, notScotland. I will go to Alsatia, dear Alsatia-to St.Odile and Barr. Oh, my God; only the sound of thosenames takes me back to the days of my youth . Thereare all the old faces before me; papa, grandma, MadamePluchart; how beautiful she was! and Madame Braunand M. Daubrée, and Graffenstaden. What fun we boysused to have there on Sundays! Yes, I will go backthere this summer, and that soon. I shall see the oldplace, the Minster Square, our Fête de Gutenberg. Iwonder if Professor Vergnette's schoolhouse is still there!Ah me! how long ago is it since papa gave me fivefrancs for my first prize at school- how small I was.can't think of it all without crying. Oh! the days ofmy boyhood, those happy days when I ran and walkedand played; when Arthur and I bathed our eyes inHohenwald fountain. Oh for a sight of St. Odile, of myVosges, of my dear Strasburg, and the cathedral "-hesighed and closed his eyes, for he saw himself at hismother's knee-he, a child angel, and she robed in light.It is dark in the fortressed town, the gates have longbeen shut. Erwin von Steinbach has gone to a troubledrest-and pretty Sabine's filial tears have changed hercoarse pillow to an immortal fabric for seraphs to touch.There is no sound in the city, the good Strasburgerssleep the sleep of the just; the night is clothed withmajesty, its thousand eyes gleam from the frame of noearthly tenement. The blue ether opens and a swiftmessenger comes sailing earthward through space. SheITHE SERAPH AND SABINE WORKAT THE PLANS. 473reaches the city; the gates are closed. What matter!Mortal bolt or bar cannot shut out God's envoy. Shespurns the crest on the outer wall, and flies swiftly,swiftly, straight to Sabine von Steinbach, upon whom shebreathes the breath of her celestial presence; she converses in accents that mortal ears have never before heard ,she smiles with a sweetness that has never hitherto honiedearthly clay, a perfume of sanctity emanates from herradiant garments, and the halo of pure inspiration crownsher head with a supernal diadem. Gustave's handclutches his mother's gown; he draws nearer and nearer,at last! May he not also enter the sphere and bask inthe light of this Divine glory? Madame Alexandrinestirs and shivers softly; -does she, too, feel an invisible,angelic presence! Together the mother and son drawnearer, till at last they reach the hallowed pillow. Gustave's baby breath comes hard, and his baby fingerstremble as he sees the angel draw forth a scroll from herseraphic garments. She speaks, she raises her hand,she holds in her fingers a pencil which she has fashionedfrom heavenly lightning. Yes, she speaks and Sabinestirs, wakes; half blinded by immortal light , she lifts hercharmed lids, and sees the angel. Gustave strains eyeand ear.Now the seraph and Sabine work at the plans;the cloud- like being dazzles the mortal with her art andsmile. She talks with Sabine; Gustave sees all, hearsall, and his child-nature yields to its first unearthlyintoxication. Fascinated, awe- stricken , dazed, his eyesare riveted upon this supernatural spectacle; he, too,feels inspired, and with a loud cry stretches out his armsto the angel, begging to be admitted to the sublime andholy council, to the genesis of genius. As he entreats, theangel turns and looks upon him, she smiles with ineffableecstasy, and a calm, never seen upon earthly visages,settles on her celestial features. She looks once atSabine, then at Gustave, and before he can lift his hand,she floats away, spreading her wings in one last cycle ofbenediction and grace. What, gone-gone-gone!Doré uttered a stifled groan; his body moved con-474 GUSTAVE DORÉ.vulsively, and his head sank deeper into his pillow. M.Kratz started forward and laid a hand upon his shoulder." Gustave, Gustave! " he exclaimed; "what is thematter? what are you thinking about?"Was Doré still dreaming? He suddenly lifted his headand replied, -"Arthur, you are still there? that is right," and helooked straight before him into his friend's eyes." Yes, I am here-do you want anything? What wereyou thinking of? You are trembling. "Doré looked tenderly at him, stretched out his righthand, and answered in a voice half-choked with emotion,-"Arthur, dear, I-I have been thinking of my past,of how we played together as children; and-and Ithought of our youth-my youth, and my childhood atStrasburg." His head dropped again on the pillow ashe ceased speaking, and a faint sigh parted his lips.M. Kratz drew nearer to the bedside and looked athim with a world of affection in his eyes." Yes, Gustave," he answered gently, " we had beentalking of home, and that brought it into your mind.Now do not think or talk any more. It is so late that Iam going away myself. I shall see you the first thingto- morrow; good-night. God keep you. It is late; tryto sleep. "He pressed Doré's hand and turned away, but cameback to bid the friend of his youth a last good- night.Was Doré dreaming again? He half roused himself,and at that moment his brother, Colonel Emile, cameinto the room and approached his couch.(6Good-night, " murmured the artist drowsily; " goodnight, Arthur, old boy. Come early to - morrow morning.We will breakfast together and go out to -to the studio.God bless you! good- night. I am perfectly well, but sosleepy."Even his brother did not disturb him; a soft goodnight, and M. Kratz is really gone, and Françoise shutsthe outer door upon him.Colonel Emile sleeps as soldiers only know how toTHE ANGEL WRITES THE LAST LETTER. 475sleep. The moments pass; the lights burn lower; thehush of midnight falls on the house. Françoise starts asshe goes on her accustomed night- round. Now she haslooked at him once more; how quiet he seems, how still,how pale! Martin goes to his bedside; ah! Doré stirs,moans feebly, and mutters, " Some drink; I am choking.I-Françoise must go to bed; she is tired , and you, too,Martin."He drinks and seems better. " Leave me now; goodnight," and Martin follows old Françoise out of theroom .Why howls the wind so pitifully? Why so mournfullyprates the uncanny rook on the roof? Why hovers thebat o'er the silent gables of the house in the Rue St.Dominique? Why seems the air heavily freighted withimpending woe? Ah! Martin, do not leave your master,turn back once more; cannot you feel that your post willsoon be filled by another?An irresistible power stays his footstep, and promptshim to turn once again to gaze upon his master.He looked and saw a man's eyes glazed with the awfulfilm that obscures the vision when we look our last onearthly sights; he heard an ominous rattle , to which therooks ' dismal prating was a celestial music; he saw a facecovered with the grey veil that approaching dissolutionso warily spreads on mortal features. Martin saw this,and rushed headlong to throw himself into his master'sarms; then he called out in a despairing voice forColonel Doré to come at once.Martin lifted his dear master's head; as he did soColonel Doré hurried towards them; but, alas! a swiftermessenger outran even a loved brother's fleet footsteps!Paris was sleeping; her gates, too, were shut; yet the angelof death had scaled the mortal walls and was come withher pencil to inscribe one more name on the eternalscroll. Gustave Doré's head rests on his brother'sbreast, his eyes look fondly into the face of his dearEmile; those eyes gaze and gaze while the angel writesand writes. Ah! she reaches the final letter, Doré's head476GUSTAVEDORÉ.drops, his eyes close, and Colonel Emile clasps a deadweight in his arms. Only one voice breaks the fatalstillness of that sad chamber; one voice, his own, exclaiming passionately, —" Gustave! Gustave! can't you hear me? Ah, God!he is dead

, dead, dead! "

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Paris could scarcely believe its senses when it heard thatGustave Doré was no more. I pass over the grief of hisfamily and friends, and the general excitement arousedin the city. The one theme in private houses, clubs,theatres, artists ' homes and artists ' studios was GustaveDoré's sudden, unexpected death .

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The funeral reception took place at noon on the 25thof January, 1883, at No. 7 , Rue St. Dominique, the housein which he had passed so many years of his life.Thousands of persons gathered in the rooms, corridors ,and court fronting the house. The coffin was barelyvisible through the mass of flowers , wreaths, and inscriptive coronals which covered it . Amongst many floraltributes we may mention those sent by the water- coloursociety, the wood- engravers and etchers, the committeeof Alexandre Dumas's statue, the Monde Illustré, Figaro,the Moniteur Universel, and the publishing houses ofHachette, and Cassell.Doré had too many intimate friends to have his pallbearers chosen amongst them. This sacred office wasentrusted to the members of his family: his brothers,Lieut. - Col. Emile and M. Ernest Doré, his nephew bymarriage, Dr. Joseph Michel, and to the family physician,Dr. Robin. Some of the most distinguished persons inFrance followed the cortège; amongst others, MM.Daubrée, Kratz, Madame Braun, MM. Jules Ferry,ancien ministre des Beaux-Arts, Camescasse, Préfet dePolice, Koechlin - Schwartz, Maire du VIII . arrondissem*nt, Alexandre Dumas fils , Léo Delibes, Munkacsy, DeBlowitz, le Baron Larrey, Calmann Lévy, Bonnat, Dalloz,Jundt, Quatrelles, Hébert, Albert Wolff, Charles Comte,GUSTAVE Doré's funERAL. 477Faure, Guillemet, Jules Huyot, Feyen- Perrin , Louis Ratisbonne, Louis Leroy, Hébrard, Edouard Pailleron, GustaveDroz, Vaucorbeil, Nadar, le Docteur Fauvel, Pierre Véron,Charles Risler, Maire du VII . arrondissem*nt, SaintGermain, Gille, Bourdelin, Pisan, Leleux , Edmond About,Campbell Clarke, Giacomelli, Grévin, Pagans, Paul Lacroix, Joanne, Widor, Bourdin, Edgar Courtois, RichardWhiting, Henri Meilhac , Abbé Roussel , Baron Davilliers ,Paine, De Rothschild, and many others. Doré was buriedwith full military honours, as one bearing the grade ofOfficer of the Legion of Honour.The religious service was held in the Church of theSainte- Clotilde, and a requiem was being sung as thefuneral train approached, preceded by the grand master of ceremonies of Sainte- Clotilde, bearing a crapeveiled cushion, on which were the various decorationsand orders received by the lamented artist during hislifetime . The mass was said by Abbé Gardey, and thetouching "Libera " of Plantade was chanted; after whichthe body was borne to the cemetery of Père-la - Chaise.It was a beautiful day, but bitterly cold, as the procession made its way along the principal streets of Paris,most of the artist's friends following it on foot with baredheads.Amongst the passers-by how many were there whoknew that they were looking their last on the mortalremains of Gustave Doré? And yet he received fromevery person who gazed upon his bier the last silenthomage that Paris invariably pays to her dead; for thewomen, rich and poor alike, signed their breasts with aholy cross, and the men of high and low estate bared theirheads as the corpse passed by. It is a long way fromthe Rue St. Dominique to Père-la- Chaise, and every footfall of that weeping band awoke a dread echo in the heartsof some one of the populace, and stayed alike the stepsof the curious and the pleasure- seekers who thronged thestreets and famed boulevards. At last the funereal trainreached the Rue de la Roquette, and passed the doors ofthe famous prison , the very air about which is heavy with478GUSTAVEDORÉ.the unspoken orisons of those who are destined to spendtheir morrow in another world; La Roquette, whitherGustave Doré had so often gone to contemplate theglazed eye, the despairing look, the trembling form, inorder that he might be enabled to show the world howthe living looked who were already as dead. Even nowDoré passes this place for the last time, and as he arrivesat the great doors of his last earthly home, the sun casts abright gleam upon the words encrusted on the stone archway, and reflect on the pall covering his coffin: " He thatbelieveth in Me, though he were dead, yet shall he live."Here, in this famous necropolis, where lie the bones ofsome of the world's greatest and most renowned , whereMadonna and Magdalen, saint and sinner, prince andpeasant, men of deeds and men of letters, now all sleepthe great sleep, Gustave Doré took up his abode, to wakewith his companions at the sound of the last trumpet.He was laid side by side with his mother in a new butconsecrated grave. Amongst all whose hearts that daywere filled with grief and voiceless speech, to two personsalone was vouchsafed the honour of bestrewing his coffinwith immortelles and ever-verdant laurel, and of utteringtheir last words of love, praise, and reverence for thedead. Those two men were M. Alexandre Dumas andM. Paul Dalloz . After a few preliminary words, AlexandreDumas said:-"However celebrated, loved, necessary to the worldone may be, none dare believe in the morrow. All thatlives is unquiet, and in the present moment he who conceives a project or lays a plan seems to be a madman,seeking to call down upon him the wrath of that impassible and mysterious Master who disposes of humanhopes and fears after a fashion of his own choosing. Ifever in this world a man had a right to count upon thepresent and believe in the future, that man was the prodigious artist whom we have just lost. Never havevolition, energy, grace, and talent, never has life itself—that life which seems to come direct from God in humanguise-been crowned with more radiant and convincingDORE THE VERITABLE ANGEL OF WORK. 479symbols. Who amongst us shall ever forget the face ofthis young man, with his noble forehead, his hair thrown.back, his large limpid eyes, soft yet proud; his voice,warm and tender, yet breaking out into contagiouslaughter; this man with lineal traits as those of a Roman;features which, after half a century, and even in death,gave him the aspect of a beautiful adolescent?

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" To those who knew him at twenty, when he hadalready been a celebrity for nearly ten years; to those,Gustave Doré will be ever present with his slender figure ,agile limbs, boyish, youthful, beardless cheeks, shapelyhand, always armed with a pencil, a pen, a brush, achisel, or a graver. When he walked-I should sayrather when he flew towards a large table, where he hascomposed thousands of drawings on wood; to his ladderson which he has executed thousands of pictures; to hisscaffoldings where he carved his statues and groups; atsuch moments Doré seemed the veritable angel of work."What rapidity! What originality of conception! Whatan inexhaustible, far-seeing imagination! What a miraculous knowledge of cause and effect! What a grandiose,dramatic, troubled appeal from earth to heaven of lightsand shadows, of chaos, of the fantastic, the invisible, thevisionary! What a world of gods, goddesses, saints ,martyrs, apostles, virgins, archangels, heroes, giants,fairies, spectres of celestial and monstrous types, divineor droll, taking all at once birth, form, colour, movement,and life in this luminous brain for ever blotted out andobscured!

" Let us console ourselves by thinking of the enchantments which such an imagination must have felt when itfound itself in direct contact with Rabelais, La Fontaine,Milton, Chateaubriand, Balzac, Cervantes, Dante, Shakespeare, and the Bible. Why should we be astonished byhis versatility, by his audaciousness, by his faith, whenwe see him every hour and every day drinking at theeternal founts of the beautiful , the great, and the true?480 GUSTAVE DORÉ." Remark, also , how the horizon of the draughtsman iscontinually enlarging; how his ideal expands, how heaspires unceasingly, howhe feels the need of the immenseand the infinite in its physical as well as in its intellectualorder! Doré needed constantly to multiply and enlargehis fields of labour, which never sufficed to his fever ofproductiveness. In his works he has made horizonswhich lose themselves to the view, infinite forests andinaccessible mountains. When he left his studios inParis or in London, he travelled from Switzerland to thePyrenees, from Scotland to the Alps; he descendedprecipices, and abode in vast solitudes; he communedwith himself on mountain summits; and from thesemagnificent haunts and superb visions he brought us backlife-like landscapes that are known to all of us, now inundated with light, now lost in shadow; with sinister pinesand transparent lakes; with vertiginous heights and unfathomable abysses; with heavens of sapphire, opal, andgold; with snowy peaks reddening under the sun's lastkiss; now one of those great eagles ' creating spacewith one flap of their wings , ' as the poet has said,traversing the canvas and bearing us away with him!"What creations this mortal creature leaves after him!Think you that the calm and silence which lie beneathour feet will be too much to recompense him after somuch unceasing labour?"In France, in France alone, people often passedironically, or, what is worse still , indifferently before thosegrand canvases of which the composition and the ideawere always majestic . Doré suffered horribly throughnot having been understood. Who was wrong? He whosuffered or he who did not understand? The painter whoaspired to the applause of the world , or the passer-by whor*fused it to him?"Who, then, amongst the contemporaries of a greatartist may be able to decide upon his merits and pronounce a definite sentence upon him? How many havequitted this world, deceived by a success which themasses have voted to them, with the certitude that theyCONTINUATION OF M. ALEX. DUMA'S ORATION. 481leave behind them imperishable work, the remembranceof which has only survived by a few years the acclamations of which they were so proud? Who could notdefine the difference between works which were too easyof comprehension and a crowd which was but too easilydeceived? On the other hand, how many of the misunderstood, how many who have been scorned andridiculed, long since dead of despair, we must come toseek here, in order to entice them to achieve the glorywhich their own epoch refused to them! Our FrenchPantheon is paved with our repentances. Do not let uspronounce upon Doré too hastily; let us be patient; letus leave something to posterity to do; above all let us berespectful towards those who, like Doré, having lived butfifty years, have been able during forty to give the greatestexample that can be given to mankind, namely, that ofincessant work, the passion of the ideal and the eagernessof its eternal pursuit. It is not only admiration , notfriendship alone which prompted me to discourse by thetomb of this great artist. When others hesitated, Doré,with the enthusiasm and generosity which were the basisof his nature, in testimony to his admiration for the fatherand his friendship for the son, spontaneously and modestlyoffered to execute the statue of the author of ' Henry III . ,'Mademoiselle de Belle- Isle,' 'Impressions of Travel,'and the ' Three Musketeers. ' Doré would accept nothingfor this work except the pleasure of doing it, the tardyglory, or, perhaps, after having finished it, the accustomedinsult offered to anything he did. He gave all his timeand all his talent to this great composition. He gave,perhaps, even his life . Who can tell whether or not thismonument, which absorbed him from morning until night,and sometimes from night until the next morning, andwhich he has executed in six months, brought on themalady from which he died, a malady which is theprerogative of the ardent and passionate only?" And so for the last six months he lived face to facewith that other grand producer, whom he resembled in so many ways; in invention, fecundity, variety,Ii482 GUSTAVE DORÉ.power, disinterestedness and goodness. His heart, whichfate so ruthlessly ordained should break after the fulfilment of his work, this filial heart beat in unison withmine to the consecration of a glory which to me is mostsacred. The writer and the artist were well made tounderstand each other; and indeed all the soul of theartist has passed into and illuminates not only the faceof the writer, but the poetic figures with whom the artisthas surrounded him."There they are, publicly and for ever united in theremembrance of man, for happily the statues of poets arenot those which are razed to the ground. At last theunacknowledged sculptor defies indifference and injustice,forces every passer-by to look at his work, and is carriedviolently by death into the terrestrial immortality whichhe has just bestowed upon another. At last here we aretogether, Doré and myself; become of the same familyby the same love; and thus it is that I bring here to hisdear memory the homage of my sincere admiration; of apious and almost useless gratitude, which alas! I cannotlike him fashion and mould in bronze.ALEXANDRE DUMAS FILS . "M. Dalloz, one of Doré's dearest friends, whose namehas so frequently occurred in these pages, pronouncedthe closing address at the tomb of the great artist . Allthat M. Dalloz has hitherto spoken or intimated in thesepages was combined in the eloquent discourse which hepronounced over his dead friend. Were I to repeat all hiswords verbatim, I should be going over old ground.Suffice it to say his speech was a worthy companion tothat of Alexandre Dumas. A few passages, however,may not unfitly be reproduced in this place, ut seq.: —" My heart is too sore and my head is too muchtroubled to enable me to render the homage he merits tothe incomparable, exceptional, and unique artist whohas been taken from us. Since the beginning of thisyear, Death, with sudden and vertiginous fury, hasstricken down men who, in various ways, have illustrated"DEATH IS RELENTLESS.” 483and celebrated their names. Death is relentless; he scalesthe highest summits, and seems to choose by preferencethose of supreme intellectuality and intensity; those towhom were promised many long days. Thus it is thatno matter how highly tempered the steel, every sword mustbreak; no matter how enduring the brain, it must burst;flashes of steel, flashes of thought, are a waste of forcewhich death economizes to her own profit. To rear up amonument to Gustave Doré, durable and worthy of hisgenius-he had more than talent -my fugitive words willbe unable."What eloquent phrases would not be requisite tocelebrate the inexhaustible faculties of this prescientimagination? What richness of words could ever equalthe variety of the subjects which he treated of in theuniversal language of art, to which the birthright of talenthad given him the golden key? What precise nouns ofcommon sense, what adjectives of lively and supple colourcould ever designate the creative and interpretativefaculty which was the predominating characteristic of hisnature? What terms can we find complimentary enoughin the dictionary of enthusiasm to characterize thisvisionary and faithful worshipper, this man of the mostoverwhelming instantaneousness, completed by a perseverance carried to the last extreme?"What suitable expressions can we find to praise thisday-dreamer, whom dawn of day found already at work,and whom the shades of night overtook still labouring bylamplight? What literary form can we find wherewith topersonify and formulate the invisible and half- seen , whichthis trusty hand, working without intermission, forcedfrom the ideal and converted into reality for all of us?No! I find myself very much below my task; but I callupon the masters of all time and of all countries whohave re-lived in our thoughts, who have peopled ourdreams, who have put action to our words, and crystallizedour visions; I evoke them all around this tomb-all ,Dante, Cervantes, Rabelais, Ariosto, Chateaubriand,Balzac, La Fontaine, Perrault, Tennyson, ColeridgeI i2484 GUSTAVE DORÉ.without excepting Shakespeare, whom for long years hecherished in his potent brain, and for whom he reservedthe coronation of his labours;-without excepting ourgreat Dumas, whose statue in his studio awaits thehonours of its public exhibition in Paris. All thesemasters are here; each one bears a palm- branch and laysit upon the coffin of this man who, although dissatisfiedwith himself, yet had the honour to please them all.They all thank this posthumous fellow-worker; andgenii, priestesses of dreams, accompany this radianthost, while I seem to hear midst cypress groves the irresistible foot of the Wandering Jew, who comes in personfrom the end of the world to honour this human assemblage and the illustrator of this symbolical legend. I seea luminous hand trace the sign of a white cross onthe portentous blackness of this beatific tomb: it is theSaviour, just as Doré has shown Him to us in his Bible,the holy book which was more the inspiration of his soulthan the work of his talent."This is the apotheosis that I see for Gustave Doré;this the immortal choir which I hear sing his glory; thesound of my mundane voice would but trouble this concert, for in the midst of supernal praise I can onlymurmur in plaintive wailings the echo of my undyingfriendship. To the man whom I have loved and whom Ishall love beyond this life I address, not a farewell, myfaith promises me a more lasting hope, but an au revoirtoo deeply treasured in my heart to find fitting expressionby my lips.66 PAUL DALLOZ. "M. Dumas's speech had inspired and electrified thevast throng of Doré's mourners; the words of M. Dallozpenetrated and touched the hearts of all present. Thelast rite was then said, the last word was spoken, the lasthandful of dust, and the last flowers were strewn uponthe mortal remains of Gustave Doré. As the band offaithful friends prepared to quit his tomb, the wintry skybroke and the sun gleamed forth in golden glory upon the66 "THEY WEEP AND SAY, THAT IS POOR DORÉ.' ” 485marble sepulchre, so that those who came in sorrow anda sunless sky to bid their last farewell to the dead artist,left the irradiated precincts of Père la Chaise with wordsof hope and of divine benediction echoing in their hearts.There are many and precious relics stored away inPère la Chaise. In that consecrated ground lie the bones.of philosopher, wit, and fool , of queen and courtesan, ofmonk and nun, astronomer and astrologer, poet andpolitician, tragedian and comedian, of betrayed men andheart-broken women. When you visit this ossuary realmwith curiosity in your mind and a guide- book in yourhand; when you shall have looked at Grecian cross andmarble sarcophagus; when you shall have wanderedthrough interminable alleys and umbrageous avenues inthis city of the dead; when you shall have re-lived thepast in memory, and to the throbbing of your own heartshall have echoed the name of hero and heroine, you willthink of one more denizen in this world-famous necropolis, whose ashes are scarcely cold beneath their mortuary tablet; whose immortelles take root in thishallowed soil of immortality, whose golden blossoms shallflower with each new spring-time, of the man whosename yet is on everybody's lips . You will turn to yourguide and pronounce this name, and he will say withrespectful accents, as he lately said to one of Doré'sfriends,-"Gustave Doré? Oh, yes, sir! Go up the Allée desPins, traverse the rond- point of Casimir- Perier, go to theend of the Allée du Bassin, and stop before the Mausoleumof Pradier. There you will find him, lying beneath thegranite monument that he raised to his mother. His vaultis part of the Désaugier's sepulchre in the twenty- seconddivision to the right, near the chapel. There is no nameon the tombstone yet, sir, only a plain white marble slab;but everybody seems to know it . There is a head there,carved in the stone, and those who see it weep, and say,'That is poor Gustave Doré! '"'486GUSTAVEDORE.CHAPTER XL.GUSTAVE DORE'S WILL.GUSTAVE DORE in his death as in his life had beengenerous. He left by will remembrances to all hisfriends; to Colonel Teesdale the choice of two of his bestworks, and the same to Canon Harford. To the severalpublic institutions in which he had taken so deep aninterest he bequeathed large sums of money. Of theseinstitutions I may particularly mention the Orphelinat desArts, which received the sum of forty- five thousand francsfrom Doré's executors. This asylum, of recent foundation, was devoted to the interests of his native province,Alsatia. Doré could never speak of his birthplace without emotion, and after the disasters of 1870-71 he wasforemost in his aid to all who were in need, and to thoseAlsatians who remained faithful to France.The textual elementary conditions of his will need onlybe made known in part to the public. I copy verbatimfrom a letter recently received by me from ColonelEmile Doré:-" Gustave Doré instituted his brother, Emile Doré,officer of artillery, his universal legatee and testamentaryexecutor. He particularly favoured the institutionsof L'Orphelinat des Arts and L'Orphelinat des Alsacienset Lorrains, the Association of Painters, the Associationof Sculptors and Engravers, and other charities. Helargely assured the future of all the old servants. "POSTHUMOUS LETTERS. 487Doré left behind him a modest fortune, having freelyspent the large sums he had received. He helped hisbrother artists right and left, and few men have givenmore solid proofs of real goodness and unselfishness.This was never generally known during his life , but afterhis death innumerable letters were found amongst hisprivate papers, letters of gratitude for services rendered,the knowledge of which was confined to donor and recipient. M. Albert Wolff, the clever and justly celebratedParisian critic and essayist, has dedicated some touchingwords to the memory of Gustave Doré, bearing publicwitness to the almost unexampled kind-heartedness of theartist.Doré's will was signed about eighteen months previousto his demise, just before his trip to Switzerland in 1881 .He had had some unhappy differences with one memberof his family, which were never healed; hence the nonmention of the latter's name in his will, and yet, on thatSaturday, when Doré thought that he was really going todie, his heart cried out in longing towards the brotherwhom he feared to wrong in deed as he had wronged himin thought. He begged his physician to write down athis dictation another will, and in trembling accents spokethe words that should have made his brother Ernestco-heir with Colonel Doré, his youngest brother. Thedoctor wrote as requested, but for lack of sufficient witnesses, the paper was invalid. Of this circ*mstance thedying artist could not well be aware. So he slept soundly,thinking himself at peace with all the world. BeforeDoré could commune with one from whom he had beenestranged, the hand of death made the reconciliationimpossible, save in thought. Surely this was reparationof the kind that goes to the heart more directly thanbequests of gold or land.It will already have been inferred that the artist'sunhappinesses were not alone confined to his artisticdisillusions . And yet , when Paris awoke to the fact thathe was dead-that his cheery face would no longer beseen at home or abroad, that the magical pencil of the488 GUSTAVEDORÉ."Gamin de Génie was dropped for ever, it said, " Surelyhe should have been content, if not happy. He had muchto live for; we only denied him one thing. "Doré had been dead but a little over a year when oneof his posthumous works, so to speak, was brought out bySampson Low and Co., in London, and Harper and Co. ,in New York. This was " The Raven," the immortallyric of America's greatest poet, Edgar Allan Poe. Asmight have been expected, Doré's imagination here againfound great range, and yet not such limitless opportunityas in other works of more varied sentiment. The luxuryof melancholy affords scope to the poet where wordpainting can multiply effect. It restricts the draughtsman, who with all his art can have but certain lines toexpress certain sentiments. It is evident that Doré, withall his genius, was hampered by the monotone ofsadness which permeates this great poem. Always thegreatest artist in black and white of his time, the trainedfancy and fingers could not well betray this accomplished illustrator into palpable error. There are certainsketches which might have been drawn by any ordinarytalent. There are others that only Doré could have done;masterpieces of thought and fancy, splendid efforts inline, form, and detailed execution. Notably the first, ofwhich we give a faithful reproduction . The next illustratesthe lines, " Doubting. Dreaming dreams no mortal, "&c., " Surely, said I , surely that is , " &c. , " Openhere I flung the shutter," A stately raven of thesaintly days of yore," and the truly magnificent "Wandering from the nightly shore,' "She shall press, ah!never more,' "On this house by horror haunted, "" Tell this soul with sorrow laden, " and the last a granddesign in foreshortening and figure- drawing to illustratethe lines, " And my soul from out that shadow," &c.""""The fault I find with Doré's work is slight, perhapsunreasonable, but why did he not trace in the features ofthe love-lorn singer a suspicion of the features of the illfated Poe? The man and his life are so identified withthis poem that on seeing it illustrated one almostNEVERMORETHE RAVEN.(Sampson Low and Co. , 1884.)Page 488.1

EDGAR ALLAN POE. 489Anexpects to recognize the bard himself, beautiful, unhappy,despairing; and yet we should scarcely make Doré responsible for a fault which is at best a national one.American or an Englishman might have done justice tothis sentiment. Even Chas. Baudelaire's cleverness hasonly shown the world how utterly original and how widelydifferent from all men was this man, his genius andworks, and with all that Doré has drawn-a Frenchman.The work has met with a great reception, and not theleast interesting thing is Stedman's brief but tellingintroductory biography. It is not an infelicitous circ*mstance that the last work by Doré's hands should onlyrender his name one degree more memorable to Englandand America. He has linked it in a last bond with thatof one whose genius was, alas! but too meteor-like anapparition in the world of literature. Like the faireststar falling from the farthest heaven, it has been caughtup again, and sheds its reflection in rays whose brilliancyis fed from the flame of the eternally nourished lamp ofimmortality in the name of Edgar Allan Poe.A long time after his death, casually noticing the nameof Gustave Doré on a page of print, I came across theselines published by his faithful London editors, the Cassells ,in their Household Magazine of February, 1883:-"""GUSTAVE DORÉOBIIT JANUARY 23 , 1883."Doré is dead. Still is the wondrous handThat seemed to run with Time, and win the race;And now no more will his keen fancy traceThe glorious visions of each age and land.And lo! the mourners meet in concourse grand:Dante and Milton, one in lasting fame;Cervantes, too, and many a one whose nameUpon a later muster- roll will stand.Doré is dead! alas, that it is so!But though the giant powers rest with night,The giant works remain with us to showThat Genius dies not with Life's fading light,But lingers ever, while the world shall last,Linking the Present to the mighty Past."G. WEATHERLY."4༡༠ GUSTAVE DORÉ.As I read I remembered old Françoise, and wonderedhow she fared, not having seen her for many a day. Nosooner had I thought of her than I determined to try andfind her at her home, that is to say, in the Rue St.Dominique, for according to Gustave Doré's last wishes,she is never to leave the old place until God or she sowills it. Doré's tender heart foresaw many things, butnever that his faithful old nurse when lying down to sleepat night, or awaking in the morning, should fix her dim.eyes on new scenes, or have to weep at the sight of anunfamiliar, unhallowed habitation. Ah! no. Françoiseis in her old home, in the midst of her household gods ,For her only one idol is shattered, only one voice silenced,only one hand stilled; the rest make up all her past,present, and future. So in the old place I determined toseek her.When I reached the Rue St. Dominique, Françoisecame to the door of the house in answer to my summons,and offered to take me over the rooms I had visited inhappier days. She drew a bunch of keys from her girdle,while she preceded me up the long flight of cold stonesteps leading to the house proper. It seemed to me thatshe was more bent than when I had last seen her. Herface was the picture of despair, her eyelids were red, and the poor old eyes beneath them much faded from constantweeping. Her cheeks were pinched and withered, andher mouth drooped pitifully at the corners.She was nolonger the cheery Françoise that Gustave had paintedonly a short time before in a beautiful portrait which gaveher such pleasure and earned him so many complimentsfrom the most famous masters and critics in Paris. Icould not but notice the change, and it struck a painfulchill to my heart. The next one thrilled me when sheturned the key in the lock, which grated with that harshsound given out by locks when the master of a house hasquitted it for ever, and doors open on a deserted dwelling.She ventured a few words as she went before me.Françoise, I don't want to bother or disturb you, "I said, " but I have come to see the old home once more.FRANÇOISE.(From the portrait made by Doré in 1880.)Page 490.

"ALL THIS IS NOT IN MY LINE." 491Don't let me hinder you in any way. I want to roamabout and look at everything, just as if I were seeing it forthe first time. I have been thinking a deal about youlately. Are—are you well? "I did not dare to ask if she were happy; her face spokefor her as to that." I am well, yes and no, " she replied faintly. " ColonelEmile has been here again, trying to put things a little torights, but it is not easy; besides, his heart is too sore ---it is like mine."As she spoke I remembered that one day I had seenthe colonel moving restlessly hither and thither, endeavouring to restore order to the apartment, and his briefwords recurred to me as, half in explanation, half inapology, he gave me a portrait of his dead brother. Wishing to write a dedication upon the photograph, he lookedabout him for a pen. Every time his hand touched anobject it seemed to displace some other; and he startedalmost guiltily at each mishap . Then, pointing towardsthe table, he said, --"All this is not in my line. I understand very littleabout it, you see-I am a soldier. "He was a soldier; but he found the pen.Before Françoise had ceased speaking we were in thehouse, and I was astonished to find it still the same as ofyore. Have you ever been to the home of a great manafter his death-not immediately, but long after; whereeverything remains just as the master left it; whereevery inanimate object pays silent tribute to his genius;where everything speaks of him with a thousand tongues;where even the neglected dust but hallows and enhanceshis memory? If so, you will know what must have beenthe aspect of Gustave Doré's home as I looked upon itso many months after he had said his last farewell tothis world. So strongly did his memory and personalitypervade the place that I could not think of him as dead.No, he was not gone from us, but was there, in his owndwelling; and as I entered the dining-room I almost fanciedI could see him waving his luckless heels high in the air,492 GUSTAVEDORE.could hear Madame Alexandrine's exclamations, and thetinkle of the glass falling from the broken chandelier.Two of his old friends seemed to see and hear it all withme; his pet owls, who stared at me with solemn eyes.Then we went into the next room, and there what livelyimaginings came over me! the room in which the Regenthad danced with the gay duch*esse de Berri, and St.Simon had plotted his court scandals and jotted downhis reminiscences. In this very room, strange to say, Icould think of only one court, one king, one nobleman .The remembrance of this latter swept away all thoughtsof another past; for the memory of princes, dukes,and even kingdoms pales before the remembrance of aprouder and more sovereign lineage, the birthright ofgenius, the heritage of a heaven- born talent. Thus it isthat when you see this house, rich in a historical pastthough it be, you will never more think of Regents norrevellers, but will only remember one man, who has setthe seal of a lasting nobility upon it, the stamp of hiscreative ability and of a life devoted to noble thoughtsand grand aspirations.I recollected every circ*mstance in Gustave Doré's life,from the moment at which Dr. Goupil dropped him intoold Françoise's apron until that other when he bade hera long farewell. When a man is dead, no matter howgifted he may have been, in his own house one thinks,first of the man himself, and afterwards of his works.Thus, in imagination, I saw Gustave Doré, the man, notthe artist . I recalled to mind his sunny nature, warmgenerous heart, hours of gladness and of sorrow, gnawingambition and insatiable thirst for fame, moments ofcontentment and days of despair, ceaseless labour andindefatigable perseverance.The large chamber was littered with a heterogeneousmass of objects. There were tables bestrewn with lettersand papers, and on one a broken packet of visiting cardswith "Gustave Doré " printed on them in script. Thecards were scattered here and there, as if he had justfilled his case, and hurried off to pay a visit. He had" THAT WAS QUITE NEAR OUR HOME.” 493been much given to leaving those bits of pasteboard,as they are termed . They were freely sown in the grandfaubourg, to be reaped in the Rue St. Dominique later onin the shape of all sorts of flattering invitations.Of all the things my eyes rested on I turned oftenestto the pictures, of which there were a hundred I shouldthink. Pictures on the bed, on the floor, on the tables ,leaning against chairs and sofas, piled up in corners, andpropped up in angles. On the walls hung some of thoselovely woodland scenes in the Vosges where he had spentmany of the happiest hours of his life; scenes which noneknew so well how to paint as he.Can you not also see him, a cheery lad running by hisfather's side in the forest amidst the slender pines? Theyare watching a silver rivulet which has forced its way fromsome hidden source, and is leaping merrily in the bed ithas made for itself in the soft sward . The sun is gleaming through the trees and its glorious rays play amongstthe branches, striking downwards, dipping their gold intothe very earth, and flecking the trunks with patches ofgleaming yellow.Françoise followed my eyes and said , -"The Vosges and the pine forest he loved so well.That was quite near our home. It is so natural thatwhile looking at it , I can smell the very perfume of thosetrees. " Her voice faltered with suppressed emotion.Françoise," I said , " don't talk about him."((Yes, I must, " she rejoined. " It will do me good. "Then she sat down; I drew a chair close to hers, andshe began talking, twirling her keys and weeping, alternately wiping her eyes with her apron or the palm of herwithered hand; talking of him, "her boy," " her poorGustave." As she dilated on his many virtues I glancedaway from her now and then; and once I saw a face andheard a voice which seemed to say, " Yes, a charmingtenorino too, if it so please you! " I started:-WasFrançoise a sorceress? Had she really called back deadpeople from the past? Were their voices still lingeringin the air, or only in my imagination?494 GUSTAVE DORÉ.Presently she reached a point in her narrative to whichI listened with eager interest. It concerned Doré's lastillness. She talked on with faltering voice, and finallytold me all that I have already told you in words foregone.Yes," she continued, sobbing, " he walked past thisvery spot for the last time."66Át that moment the house- bell rang. She stoppedsuddenly, looked at me half questioningly, and arose.Go, Françoise," I said. " Don't mind me. I willlook about me. I will go into the work-room and thestudio. You know I want to see everything. Take yourown time; don't think of me; I can find my way aboutperfectly well."Indeed I was not sorry for the interruption, for the poorcreature was well- nigh broken down by the painful weightof her sad remembrances. She nodded a respectful butfriendly affirmative, and left me to my own device.I wandered about the room; I strayed into anotherapartment; I went into the Blue Chamber, of late hiswork-room, and there took a peep into the tiny bedroomwhere Gustave's little cot was standing, just as it stoodwhen he was a happy lad, drawing for Philipon, and hismother used to come to him night and morning withtender words of love and encouragement. There was thelittle table on which Françoise used to deposit her cupsof tisane, those drinks concocted from sweet herbs andthe hearts of flowers, which the jealous, vigilant eye oftheold peasant woman had watched brewing into a soothingbeverage for her boy. Perhaps he was not ill , perhapshe was neither tired nor thirsty; all that made no difference. He never dared nor cared to say so. She hadmade the beverage, and he would not hurt her feelings byrefusing to drink it; so the cups were nightly drainedand nightly replenished, for Françoise never forgot herself-imposed task.I left this sanctum and returned to the Blue Chamber,where the greatest confusion reigned; and here I seemedto feel his presence most, for it was his work- room.Perhaps after having wandered through those other"DRY YOUR eyes, o DRY YOUR EYES.” 495apartments I was so filled with thoughts of Doré that myimagination fairly broke bounds, and it seemed to methat I saw him living and working amongst his household gods. The room was warm with the breath of hisgenius, and peopled with that host of the elect who hadthronged its precincts at the bidding of his pencil. Youhave but to think an instant and you can see them as Idid. There they were, on a long table, sitting, standing,or lying on their white couches, some with draped limbsand others unclothed , save by virginal chastity; somewith outstretched arms and others tranquil in the calm ofa perfect repose; some laughing, some weeping; and, asI approached one maiden, whose face was veiled, shepointed to the heavily laden work-table. I followed thedirection indicated by her finger, and, lo! before me layall the master's implements, just as he had left them,helpless and waiting for the hand that should restoretheir cunning. The steel was tarnished, the crayons werescattered and broken, lying purposeless here and there,in piteous and mute appeal. It was very sad.While I gazed upon them the chamber began to fill withdarkling shadows, and a soft voice, his own, seemedto sound in my ears. It ought to have comforted them,poor, forsaken creatures, as it did me; for it said,-"Dry your eyes, O dry your eyes,For I was taught in ParadiseTo ease my breast of melodies;Shed no tear."As the voice sang the shadows grew denser, and I hurriedinto the studio, for my mind was already teeming withstrange fancies. It looked more desolate than any placeI had yet seen. I sat down and gave myself up tothought. Many moments passed, and I was still thinking-thinking and dreaming about Gustave Doré. Whatbetter place wherein to think of him than here in thiscrucible- studio, where he had melted the gold of his rareinspirations into pages , each one of which helped to makeup his book of life.It was different from his work-room, though quite as496 GUSTAVE DORÉ.sad and much more pitiful. People were standing about,and seemed to turn to me altogether to beg for news ofhim . As if I could give any! I wished they would notlook at me with those tearless eyes and bloodless lips .They made me shudder! I felt a chill creep over mewhich penetrated the very marrow of my bones. PerhapsI should freeze into one of them, and should be left tomourn for ever as they were now doing!It was not strange that they were unhappy; their faceswere covered with a grey pall of dust, their shoulders andlimbs had lost their fairness, and their draperies revealedneglect in every fold . It must be hard, when one hasbeen cared for so long and so tenderly, all of a suddento miss such watchfulness.The dust gave me great distress, for I felt that itwould have hurt his feelings; it seemed so heartless.There it was, resting on the musketeer's plumes, dimming the stars in Night's crescent, poor Night, who hadbeen holding aloft her gemmed circlet so long; her eyessearching in the past for what she hoped to read in thefuture. Then " La Gloire," ah! that was an even saddersight. You remember the statue, that of a young manwhose life had been given to fame; and the laurels hehad won were never plentiful enough to cover his nakedness; they could not even hide the dart which struck.him his death-blow; and now they had a scornful look,as though they would say: " We are no longer fresh;we are utterly worthless." It is a pity they had notspoken sooner, and saved him so much trouble. It wassuch a mockery that a little child—a beggar-girl , I think-looked on and seemed to cry " Shame! " She was inrags, and her lips were unsmiling; but said plainly, “ Ido not envy you."On the opposite wall shone a gleam of livid light, andI had to draw quite near in order to make out what itreally was. In a moment I saw Dante and Virgilstanding near the open tomb of Farinata, with the flamesof the "Inferno " reflecting rubescent light on everything near. The spectral form, emerging from its tomb,"WHAT CAN YOU SAY FOR YOURSELF?" 497was speaking; and these words seemed to float aroundme:-"Guardòmmi un poco; e poi, quasi sdegnosoMi dimandò: Chi fù gli maggior tui? "How can I tell the names of all these people, each oncof whom appealed to me for one look, one word, toassure them that they were not forgotten?I felt for them deeply; had I only been an inspiredmessenger! It was presumption even to think of such athing; and yet I did venture to murmur, quite undermy breath, " Be patient! he summoned you from thespirit land, and will surely call you back again to join him. "That was all the comfort I could give, and I believe ithelped them. " It grows late, " I said, " and I mustsoon leave you; but before I breathe a farewell whichmay be eternal, I must assure you again that he has notforgotten you." As I spoke I started quickly, for I sawthat I had not noticed the monumental vase which shouldbe a lasting honour to his name and country-the workwhich had cost so many hours of happiness and misery,perhaps life itself, to its maker.Thinking of this I half turned away; and then a feelingof pity came over me, although I longed to say, "But foryou, he would be here to- day. You have desolated manyhearts and homes; what can you say for yourself?Speak! "As I uttered these words darkness seemed to fall uponthe earth; and a moment later I was suddenly dazzledby the blinding brilliancy of an unearthly light. Theroom was transformed. Where I had looked at fourhumble walls a palace now reared its stately columns ofmarble and porphyry; vines of gold and jasper clung totheir base, and the vast edifice itself rested on a cloud,the texture of which had been fashioned from immortal resplendence. A garden teeming with blossoms surroundedit on all sides; and before the door of this palace stoodthe vase. And I had thought it a dead creation! As Ilooked it stirred , it became alive, a golden nectar streamedK k498GUSTAVEDORÉ.from its throat, diffusing itself in words which burnedinto my very soul. And thus it spoke: -" I am the allegory of the vine of human life . Frommy flower- wreathed pedestal to my slender neck andcupid- crowned head there is not an atom of my clay thatdoes not typify some phase in the existence of the poorenthusiast who fashioned me." The children of genius cluster round my feet, born inthe vine-seed of prosperity. Then begins the upwardcourse of youth and maiden, plucking the roses of illusionwhich grow so thick in the morning of life; childrendrinking their fill of happiness. Then come the bramblesof discontent; the serpents of envy and jealousy glidesinuously amongst the flowers to poison the yet unbornblossom with their venom. Then upward-always goingupward-midway to the goal begin the labyrinths of thevine, grow the thorns of disappointment, where monstersof desire crawl stealthily around to gloat on their victims.One wretch by the wayside is already inebriated and helpless, caught in the toils of fair women, who representevery form of hope and illusion. They float around him,and at every turn temptation presents itself, now with theinnocent face of childhood, again with the fuller charmof womanhood; each temptress dragging him a differentway, but ever upwards. He has climbed high, but eventhis momentary success is a torment instead of a joy.Then do you not see countless lovely shapes clutchingand clinging to every bough which bears a bud of promise?This train of maddened and reckless nymphs is but lightlypoised on the hope of the immediate present. Theystretch their itching palms high above their heads, tryingto coax to a premature fall the coy golden fruits ofautumn, which ripen, alas! only when summer has fled!There is still the same train climbing upward, not in thesterility of single aim, but luxuriating in the abundance.of lofty aspirations and fair ambitions. The thorns growthicker and the way becomes narrower; yet up theyclamber, and the one who reaches the highest point isshe, who, to get there, has left the roses behind. SheGUSTAVE DORE DIED OF A BROKEN HEART." 499clings to the neck-my neck-of this cup of life, and seestriumphant at its summit, just above her head, not godsand goddesses diademed with the laurel of immortality,but the babes which represent our childhood; our childhood, his, mine, and yours. Those poor little waifs of desire and exaltation, with their tinselled crowns, their loinsbe- garlanded with the same flowers which bloomed in ouryouth, and which shall bloom everlastingly for those whostop to pluck them, who stop to inhale that cruel perfumewhich emanates from the ever- swinging censers of ambition and hope. "" In this allegory of ' La Vigne ' read all the life ofGustave Doré, line by line and page by page. It was asad one, for all its successes; for he was always hopingfor something he could not have. He had known all theintoxication of early fame; all the bitterness of hopeless endeavour; the sleepless nights and weary days ofwaiting; the fleeting moments of triumph, and the morefleeting ones of popularity. He had fixed his heart on aload- star that was for ever beyond his reach; and he,whom all the world thought a man to be envied, waspoorer than the veriest beggar who walks the streets, ifonly that beggar be void of ambition . Gustave Doré diedof a broken heart; of crushed ambition and ruined hopes;of the ever-corroding, ever- present thought that he wasnot appreciated by his country. Let those who have beentortured as he was, who have suffered disappointment inall their fondest desires; who have loved their countrywith a passionate fervour, and in turn have seen thatcountry coldly critical and persistently indifferent -letthem look at my form and think, not of the genius whocreated, but of the man whose life - blood oozed out fromhis finger-tips while he wrote this human history thereupon. It cost him his life; but it repays him withimmortality."The vase ceased speaking, and I was about to answer,when its voice was heard again,--"But do not wish him back on earth; for here,here amongst gods, he is a god; here, amidst immortals,K k 2500 GUSTAVE DORÉ.he is immortal; here, where life is one long dream.of happiness, he is happy; here, where ambitions arerealized while yet unborn-here shall Doré finish hisinspirations where they first began . Do not wish himback on earth. Here he walks in endless peace andhappiness. But see! -he comes! "The voice ceased, and I felt my blood stop in myveins; for suddenly a mass of white shapeliness upreareditself in front of the vase. A crowd of people surged up,clothed in glorified and gorgeous attire . There were allthe creatures of Doré's genius and creation . There wasa sound of heavenly voices singing; the air re- echoedone long strain of celestial melody; the children ofgenius uplifted their voices in a hymn of joy, whoseaccent awakened echoes from Pan's pipe and Apollo'slu*te. They flung exotics in front of the white mass, andthe air grew heavy, surcharged with the essence of flowerswhose seed was sown in paradise . As the velvet leavesfell in a shower of roses and lilies, a man steppedforth from the front ranks of the crowd and, as he strodeproudly forward, was hailed with acclamations burstingfrom a million unseen throats. He turned and salutedwith a sweet smile; and I beheld-Gustave Doré himself!bearing in one hand a wreath of palm leaves, and in theother a chisel. He made a few mute gestures, ran lightlytowards the white mass, and began to strike sure andquick blows upon it . It grew and grew, and, under hisinspired fingers , took upon it the shape and form ofAlexandre Dumas.What am I awake or am I dreaming? Is thisDoré's studio in the Rue St. Dominique or have Ibeen transported to another world? I shall call- callFrançoise! But the statue-yes! there it is He is stillworking at it; he himself! I hear fresh acclamations;he has finished his work, and an angel places a crown ofimmortelles upon his forehead. The children sing again;fainter perfumes pervade the air; the vase assumes aneternal stillness, and, as I look, I hear the sound ofsomething falling, and a chisel rolls on the ground at myfeet."WHAT! IS HE GONE? ” 501The palace fades away, the cloud disperses, the lightsdie out; I am in the Rue St. Dominique alone, in thestudio, and night has nearly fallen!I look at the vase and at the statue before which Ihave just seen him standing. "What! is he gone? " Icall out, but my voice is stifled in my throat; again I tryto utter a sound, but none comes. I see the sculpturesstill and silent; D'Artagnan gazes at me with speakingeyes; but I am alone. And yet I saw him-I saw Doréas we see people in the flesh-and again my blood runscold and my heart stops beating.66 Françoise! Françoise! " I cry.In a moment the good old woman is at my side. Ithought my voice had uttered a shriek; and yet it musthave been no louder than usual, for she does not seemin the least disturbed.""" Françoise! " I gasped, " have you seen-seen nothing? Did you not just now-FrançoiseI looked hopelessly around me."You have been asleep, perhaps dreaming," said oldFrançoise tenderly. " I did not know that I had left youso long. I did not like to awaken you.'"Awaken me? " I gasped.asleep. I just saw- him!no one? ""But I have not beenHave you seen nothing-" I see so little, " interrupted the aged creature; " myeyes are no longer what they were. I am growing old.Had I been younger I should have gone out on this day,of all days."" This day, of all days," I interrupted; " and why thisday more than another?Françoise smiled, and the light of a beautiful prideoverspread her countenance:-" Ah! did you not know? " How proudly she spoke!"It is to-day-now, at this very hour, that the statue toAlexandre Dumas is being unveiled in the great squareof Paris. All the world is there except myself. I-Iwasn't well enough. I could not go; I , who would haverejoiced so much. " Her poor voice faltered and herapron went to her eyes.502 GUSTAVE DORÉ.The statue-surely I had forgotten-and this was the4th day of November, the very date fixed for the publicceremonies. I had forgotten, but—he had not.For as sure as I live and have my being, I saw him.To think that after all he should not assist at his greatesttriumph, and yetFrançoise's voice breaks in on my reverie,-"I am getting old , but I should have been so proud tohave seen the great square, his statue, and all the people.He was my child-but there is one thing I can do. Ishall go to bed early to-night, so as to be up early tomorrow morning. There is to be a mass sung to hissoul in the church at seven. " Françoise raised her headproudly, but her voice faltered. That is all that is leftfor me now. I have asked M. le curé to say it . This ismy mass, said for him; besides, I am rich-he left merich; to what better use can I put his money? Ah!you are going now! perhaps you too will come to-morrowmorning. Martin is coming, but it-it is my mass," shereiterated half vacantly, twisting her bunch of keys in herfingers. " I have it said, and I know he sees that I havenot forgotten him. Nothing is left me now but to-toweep and-and to pray for him. You are really going?Au revoir! perhaps it is adieu, not au revoir. Don't forget him; I never shall."And I said au revoir to Françoise; but perhaps shewas right. My farewell has indeed been a long good-bye.Who knows if we may ever meet again? BIBLIOTHDE LAVILLE DELYONTHE END.(


Table of contents

TABLE OF CONTENTS.CHAPTER I.The city of Strasburg-The Doré family-Françoise the nurseMadame Braun, related to the Dorés, speaks of FrançoiseThe birth of Gustave Doré-Born on Twelfth NightFrench extract of the certificate of his birth-M. Daubrée,ex- president of the Institute of France, a life-long friend ofthe Doré family, speaks of Gustave and his early life-MadameBraun describes Gustave's grandfather, and M. Paul Lacroixdescribes his maternal grandmother, Madame Pluchart-Description of Doré's mother and his love for her-GustaveDore's youth-Gustave fond of playing at circus-The familyat home in the evening-Gustave's first sketches - MadameDoré declares her son is a genius-Her husband declareshe is nothing of the sort-He is destined to go to the Polytechnic School with his brothers, but his father will notpermit him to study painting-Early evidences of his lovefor the extravagant and mysterious -The fairy tale in Alsatia-The legend of Strasburg Cathedral-A life-long impression on Gustave Doré's mindPAGEICHAPTER II.Gustave Doré spends the first ten years of his life in the shadowofthe great minster-Gustave's love for the cathedral-Atthe age of five he is sent with his brother Ernest to ProfessorVergnette's school-Gustave's dearest school companions thesons of M. Kratz-Sundays in Graffenstaden, M. Kratz's beautiful country place-Gustave devoted to music, the drama,and acrobatic performances-General prediction, " Gustavewill be an actor or a musician "-School- days at ProfessorVergnette's-Gustave head of his class -A remarkable letterwritten on this occasion and illustrated with the portrait oftheX CONTENTS.Professor before Doré was six years old-He begins to studythe classics, Telemachus and others -Doré begins to sketchall over the margins of his school- books -The startingpoint in Gustave's artistic career-The fête of GutenbergThe corporation of glass- stainers -Professor Vergnette'sfête-day, and how Gustave Doré repeated the celebration ofGutenberg's statue-M. A. Kratz, Doré's life-long friend, describes Gustave's fête of GutenbergPAGE16CHAPTER III.After the Gutenberg fête-Sunday at Graffenstaden- Gustavesings some comic songs-A demon of gaiety and mischief—Professor Vergnette's fête-day-Gustave voluntarily choosesto represent the corporation of glass stainers-At the headof his car makes sketches which he launches right and leftto the crowd- His picturesque appearance-He paintedfour banners, one at the head of each chariot, and decoratedfour chariots with apropriate designs-A school- boy's celebration marching in the Place de Cathédral-Decision thatGustave shall become an artist. The starting- point in hiscareer- Gustave goes to the college of Strasburg-Hisassiduity and astonishing cleverness-His allusions andfancies and the development of a marvellous imaginationCHAPTER IV.An early evidence of Gustave Doré's generous disposition -At theage of seven he meets a barefooted ragged urchin in the deadof winter, takes off his own shoes and gives them to himFrançoise speaks of his usual generosity-Gustave's love forlounging in the street-He develops a talent for gymnastics—He begins to sketch the people in the street-Madame Doréenchanted with her son's talent-A discreet grandmother-Gustave begins to learn to read- He is interested inmythological and Biblical subjects-He begins to illustratethe adventures of Jove-Gustave has a passion for musicHe sees " Robert le Diable. " His love for this operaGustave learns to play the violin-New development in hisnature-He begins to sketch goblins and fiends-He illustrates Dante at ten-Sketches from a " Voyage de l'Enfer "-About the same time he illustrates a little book from hisown text-First time of sketching the Pine Forest of theVosges The " Metamorphoses du Jour " by Granville--Gustave makes a parody of it called " La Charité". 2635CONTENTS. ΧΙCHAPTER V.Doré's life as partially told by himself-Some notes which hedictated to his mother-He begins by forgetting his birthday-He describes his father and his profession -He speaksof his love for Alsatia-His first attempts at painting-Theresult of his early training-(We take leave of Doré's notesfor a moment to interpolate some things he omitted)—Gustave spends his holiday at Saverne-He illustrates alittle book for Madame Braun-He is sent to the Collegeof Strasburg-Spends two years there-He next goes toa young gentlemen's school at Bourg-Soon gains a reputation in the school for his drawing-He makes two sketcheswhich are publicly exhibited-A clever and kind schoolmaster-Doré's way of learning his lessons-He describeshistorical events by his pen-He wins the post of honour inhis class by his sketch ofthe " Death of cl*tus "-Doré goeson a walking tour with his father-He makes a thoroughacquaintance with the mountains and valleys of the Vosges-Doré hears tales and legends of Alsatia and the BlackForest-The legend of St. Odille-The real story of DukeEtticon and his daughter-The patron saint of AlsatiaGustave Doré believes in the healing properties of Hohenburg Fountain-Two legends which form two great worships in Doré's life-Doré's natures revels in the idea of the fantastic and unreal-A further development in his naturePAGE42CHAPTER VI .Françoise tells how Gustave fell in the garden and hurt his arm-So fond of his sketching that he was bolstered up in bedto work at his drawing -A cheerful invalid -Description ofthe Braun family-Gustave draws a series of sketches whichhave for subject Madam Braun's dog Fouilloux-Thewonderful creature and all that he did-Fouilloux learnsto dance the polka-Some family and friendly likenesses-A fine portrait of Madame Doré, who teaches Fouilloux to dance gracefully-M. Doré does not wish to havehis son draw, and discourages any more miscellaneoussketching-Doré's memory-His self-will and his boyishbattles-Notes from Gustave's diary-In September, 1847,he goes to Paris-Wishes to consecrate himself to the careerof fine arts-Doré falls in with M. Philipon, the editor ofthe "Journal pour Rire "-Doré offers M. Philipon somesketches-Philipon asks the lad to become one of the staffof his paper-M. Doré consents to let Gustave remain inxii CONTENTS.Paris and work-The contract between M. Doré and M.Philipon Doré goes to the Lycée Charlemagne- Doré'scollege companions, Edmond About and H. Taine- Dorébecomes celebrated as a caricaturist-Already begins to dislike comic work-Doré meets some old friends of his familyin Paris-M. Paul Lacroix-Some friendly advice-Dorégives evidence of a marvellous memory-An authentic incident on the reproduction of a photograph-A newspaperanecdote-Doré is called a marvelCHAPTER VII.Gustave's college days and college companions -His reputationin the school for drawing-Doré studies the classics - Doréexplains the characteristics of a Roman emperor to his classby a sketch of Nero on the blackboard-M. Burger, Gustave's witty professor, a second Falstaff-In view of Doré'stalent for making pen portraits, he decides never to put anyquestions concerning Vitellius -Doré begins to illustratepopular books in secret-Paris begins to talk of Philipon'sprodigy-Dore's versatility and assurance-The story ofCalypso-Doré's idea of Ulysses-The story of Telemachus-A Homerian goddess speaking in an Alsatian dialectDore's life at Madame Hérounille's-Doré's delight withParis-He visits the Louvre-The Museums-His admiration for pictures-The Venus de Milo-Gustave Doré nevercopies any works -Gustave Doré's pride and artistic intelligence-Doré visits the Bibliothèque Nationale-His carefulness in archeological study-He begins to rave about art andthe great masters- Always working-A busy studentCHAPTER VIII.·Death of Gustave Doré's father-His widow comes to settle inParis -She takes a house in the Rue St. Dominique-A celebrated house-Once the home of the Duke St. SimonHistorical souvenirs-An historical people-The Regent,the duch*ess de Berri, and others-First dinner in the newhouse-Gustave's spirits-He jumps over the dining- table andbreaks the new chandelier-A happy omen-Madame Doré'sfirst evening party-Some tableaux-vivants-Revivifyingscenes and personages of a century back-Description ofthehouse The blue room-A schoolboy's sanctum-A plaqueof Gustave Doré-Gustave paints his father's portrait frommemory-Portrait of Paul Lacroix at thirty-A handsomesavant-Gustave's room next his mother's-Making a studio of Madame Doré's chamberPAGE546779CONTENTS.CHAPTER IX.xiii""M. Paul Lacroix-A description of the great writer-Paul Lacroixspeaks of Gustave Doré-A little sketch of M. Lacroix's lifeHis literary career-An erudite at twenty-His historyof the 16th century-The author of the " Danse Macabre-Le Roi des Ribauds —A great celebrity - Balzac's brotherin-law by marriage and almost a literary rival-A celebratedarcheologist-A marvellous memory-Personal descriptionof M. Lacroix- M. Lacroix speaks of Gustave Doré-Tellsthe true story of his early life in Paris-Doré's ambition toelevate the art of wood- engraving-Gustave illustrates abook for M. Lacroix-A prolific talent-Jumping over M.Lacroix's best sofa-An enthusiastic publisher-M. Du Tacq-Some model drawings hold a place of honour in Du Tacq'ssalon-Gustave scolds the engravers-Trying to teach themtheir own art-Complaints because his work was spoiled-Afretful lad-Doré's appearance at seventeen-An indefatigable workerPAGE85CHAPTER X.M. Lacroix still talks of Gustave Doré-He gives him some goodadvice-Doré refuses to study with models-His model theswimming school-He has confidence in himself-Secretlytaking Lacroix's words to heart-Doré finds some copies ofold engravings in Paris-Sketching " Raphaels " from memory-Doré's dislike of being called a draughtsman-A visit toDieppe His first painting all in one colour, that colour grey-A comical painting-Doré resents M. Lacroix's laughing-He paints other pictures-His mother tells him he is agreat artist-Painting landscapes without going out of thestudio-Jean Goujon-Gustave takes a holiday- He returnsto his native town-A walking trip in the Vosges -M. Lacroix again visits the studio-Some lines from Virgil-Gustave paints an imaginary picture-M. Lacroix's delight andunstinted praise-Gustave's fertile and beautiful imagination-M. Lacroix for the first time calls him a geniusCHAPTER XI.The unpleasantness of a pleasure trip-A sketch of M. Plumet'svisit to the Alps-In ecstasies over " William Tell " as doneat the Paris Opera House-Home from the opera-Plumet'sdream-A white heart floating to Switzerland- Strange mêléeof Alps, Plumets, dogs, and beggars-A Parisian menagerie98CONTENTS. xiv-The different publics of Paris-Another amusing book,"Three Artists, incomprehensible, misunderstood, and disconfor Gustave Doré-A prolific tented "-Another success draughtsman- The publication of two hundred humorous and grotesque sketches-Some remarkable drawings - Doré begins to show the value of his school education-A description of the historical sketches from the 1st century to the19th-Les Merveilleuses-New sketch of Corinna strongly suggestive of Madame de Staël-Some sheep in the time of Louis XV. A pastoral under Louis XIV. -Scene at the Court of Versailles-" Ten Years Later, or a Change ofFashion " The last of the historical sketches •PAGE109CHAPTERXII.Doré's many disappointments-His work refused by many publishers-The fall of Louis Philippe and Revolution of 1848— It's an ill wind that blows nobody good- Doré makes sketches from real life-Horrors of another revolution.Fearful scenes in the Faubourg St. Antoine-Gustave Doré learns the art of grouping masses together-A terrible but effi- cacious proverb-Popularity of Lacroix's book illustrated by Doré-At seventeen Doré collaborates with Gini-Doré's nextpopular success -The life of a Parisian, Marsceline, and others -Gustave constantly working as a caricaturist-Continuationof Doré's notes-Some description of his life in Paris-Doréis compared with Michel Angelo-Two friends made byDoré atthe Lycée Charlemagne-Edmond About and Hippolyte Taine-Sketch of Edmond About- Doré's pleasure inthis acquaintance125CHAPTER XIII.Doré takes his summer vacation--A lion in Paris society-Courtedby the noble Faubourg St. Germain-Doré's love for theOpera-"Aux Italiens "-A devoted "first-nighter "—Doré's love for " William Tell" -Doré has anewteacher on theviolin-A busy artist-Music a consolation-Doré's homelife and his public life-An artist's up-hill work-Theenvious and jealous-The pet of the Parisian public-Dore's love for his mother-An enthusiastic admirer-Gustavehappy in his home, and his yielding to home influence-Dorétakes a vacation and goes to Switzerland-Madame Doréwrites from Switzerland-She speaks of Gustave's health andspirits-A reference to Rabelais-Doré returns home through Alsatia-Gustave's reception in his native country-HeCONTENTS. XVthinks he is not appreciated by his old friends- Doré's disappointment-His return to Paris-His first supreme disillusion-New work and new labour-His continual successand increasing popularity •PAGE137• 145CHAPTER XIV.Doré does new work in the " Album pour Rire "-Doré finishesthe illustration of Rabelais-Some recollections of theapostate priest-The story of Rabelais-Hislearning, his goodqualities, his cunning and his talent-The great history ofGargantua and Pantagruel-M. Paul Lacroix concludes hislife of Rabelais in a preface to the edition Doré illustrated—M. Lacroix's belief that Rabelais created not only this greatallegory, but was also the intellectual progenitor of Molière, LaFontaine, Le Sage, and others-Doré's cleverness in comprehending Rabelais-He knew what to illustrate and whatto let alone-Some portraits made from imagination-Thedelight of Paris on meeting all the old Rabelaisian band faceto face - Some vivid and realistic sketches-The giant Gargantua-M. Lacroix speaks of the excitement caused byDore's Rabelais-General wonderment in the French capitalwhen it was known it was the work of a mere boy-Dorévery much elated with his success-The hero of the hourGustave Doré's greatest triumph-A new RabelaisCHAPTER XV.After the success of Rabelais-A peculiarity in Dore's signature-Dore's dislike at being called a draughtsman-Dore con- tinues his notes-The success of illustrations of comic medieval works-Doré illustrates " L'histoire du Chevalier Jaufre,"" La Belle Brunissende, " the Legend of " The WanderingJew," and Balzac's " Contes Drôlatiques "-Doré is requestedto illustrate other comic works-Doré founds the journal"Le Musée Anglais-Français "-A glorious success for Doré-Daily illustrated imaginary bulletins from the seat of war-The book called " La Sainte Russie" -Acaricatural historyof the great empire-How Doré worked-An incredulouspublic-A contemporary speaks of Doré's sketching- His visit to Switzerland- Some notes from Madame Alexandrine's letters- Doré and his brothers win the respect of allthe guides near Chamounix-An affectionate family-Gustavevisits the Netherlands-A trip to his old home-A prophetin his own country-The result of one wet day's indoorwork-Some lightning-like sketches-The intelligence of afrontier Douanier-A second Solomon's judgment • 153 Zxvi CONTENTS.CHAPTER XVI.Doré continues to work-A photograph of Gustave Doré-Aboyish-looking artist-Gustave's second initiative in painting-M. Lacroix speaks of Doré's works-Doré's early disliketo artists, and jealousy of their works-Judging Meissonier'spictures -Gustave's pluck-He determines to paralyze theworld-M. Lacroix gives his opinion of Gustave's newworks-An extraordinary set of realistic paintings-M. Lacroix's surprise-Théophile Gautier comes to look at thepictures -Embarrassed critics-The destination of such aset of horrors-Some would-be purchasers for the pictures- Gustave Doré consults his mother-Madame Alexandrine'sextraordinary way of reasoning-Some curious arithmeticGustave refuses to sell the pictures to his would-be buyersMadame Doré's arguments-Concluding conversation aboutthe pictures -Pictures destined to America-Gustave's am- bition for notoriety but his love for his mother-He ultimately takes her counsel-Disappearance of the pictures—Théophile Gautier's wonderment and M. Lacroix's surprise -A natural conclusionCHAPTER XVII.The summer of 1854 -Paris Salon-Doré makes his first publicappearance as a painter Two original works-Paris publicdo not realize that Doré is the painter-The press speak slightingly of his work-A criticism by Théophile GautierDoré painter and illustrator-the house in the Rue St.Dominique Gustave's irksomeness at his work-Illustratingready fame and ready money-Gustave's incessant toilMadame Doré a careful housewife and adoring mother-Hercare of Gustave-The mother and the nurse-Two lovingbut jealous women-Françoise speaks about mother and son-The domestic arrangements of the Rue St. DominiqueDoré in danger of being spoiled-M. Daubrée speaks ofMadame Doré-Some recollections of Gustave's motherThe mistress of the house and the nurse-Gustave's disap- pointment about the success of his paintings - M. Lacroixrecognizes in one of them an old acquaintance-The originof the " Family of Saltimbanques "-One of the realistic setof paintingsPAGE164173CHAPTER XVIII.Doré illustrates new works-" La Chasse au Lion "-Doré with onespeciality of doing everything well-Sketch of the way Doréworked-He draws upon boxwood-His honesty and con-CONTENTS. xvii2scientiousness-Doré's ambition in the way of wood engraving-He wishes to elevate the standard of the art to itshighest attainable point-Remarks by one of Doré's family—The hour Doré went to work in the morning-The studio inthe Rue du Prince -His hasty meals -M. Kratz tells aboutDoré's work-Some recollections of those first years in Paris-Alist of his illustrations for the year 1855 -Somethingabout Balzac's " Contes Drôlatiques "-A second RabelaisDore's new triumph-Paris looks upon him as a prodigy—Heis unhesitatingly styled "The first draughtsman in Europe "CHAPTER XIX.Doré's secondpublic appearance as a painter-TheSalon of 1855-The "Bataille de l'Alma, ""Le Soir, ""La Prairie," and " Rizzio"-Some criticisms on Doré's paintings-Théophile Gautierspeaks ofthe " Battle ofthe Alma "-A magnificent and justcriticism-M. Gautier describes Doré's work and his methodof painting-He calls Doré a genius -Edmond About speaksof the paintings -A clever and witty criticism -Some happy similes--Some recollections of the Paris Salon -Talent andredtape-An American's remark about the Salon - Dorébegins to learn who are his friends--Paris disinclined toencourage Doré as a painter-Some elaborate pin - stickingby critics and enemies-Doré's self-love is deeply wounded-His supreme disillusion -Some remarks upon art technique-Reflectionsmade uponDoré as apainter-Doré's ideas aboutart-Théophile Gautier an artistic godfather, and Paris'ssponsorship -Doré's multiple ambitions -He begins to show.signs of overwork-Another trip to Switzerland -Some ex- tracts from Madame Doré's letters to friends in Paris -Reflections on the indelicacy with which Doré was treated insome business affairs-The return to Paris-Doré's regain ofhealth and elastic spiritsCHAPTER XX.Doré conceives the idea of a trip to the Pyrenees-Doré's summer vacation-He accompanies Théophile Gautier and M. PaulDalloz to the land of Cervantes-A description of M. Dalloz,one of Doré's oldest and warmest friends-M. Dalloz speaksof his early acquaintance with M. Doré-The first break intheir friendship -Gustave Doré's childishness -A quarreland its reconciliation-Their journey to the PyreneesGautier, Dalloz, and Doré together -Biarritz-The Emperorand Empress with their Court-Théophile Gautier describesa bull-fight-Fêtes in honour of the Empress - Gustave Doréwitnesses his first bull-fight-Gustave's disappointment ataPAGE179186xviii CONTENTS.the show-Gautier promises Doré a new head- dress -Gautier's amiability -The second bull-fight -The scene in theCorreo -The Empress Eugénie -A brilliant spectacle -Thematador Domingues-A plucky fight-Gustave Doré'semotion-Gautier's triumph-A dinner and a discussion onart-Some schoolboys' pastime-A practical joke in whichGautier, Dalloz, and Doré were the principals concerned-Avisit to Urrugne-Doré's return to Paris and his rejoinderabout VelasquezPAGE197-CHAPTER XXI."Inferno 29More illustrations-Theyear 1856-"The Legend oftheWanderingJew"-Awork of unexampled popularity-"The WanderingJew " described by Delorme-Undoubtedly the one book ofDore's which is absolutely himself-Doré returns to his notes-Mentions his conception of the plan of the folio editions—Doré is obliged to work alone-The influence of cheapliterature renders publishers incredulous-Doré's unavailingarguments Doré's inception of his "Dorépublishes the great work at his own expense-Its greatsuccess-Doré plans out his work for the next ten years—Anextraordinary list of works-Doré finishes his biographicalnotes-An instructive postscriptum-Magnificent projects ofa young man of three-and-twenty-Doré scrupulously avoidsusing the word " painting "-Still sore on the subject of hisnon-success-He disdains to use the word to his compatriots ·CHAPTER XXII.Some remarks on Dore's " Dante "-The work of Pier Fiorentino-Doré shows his knowledge of Latin-He studies Dantevery hard-The art of translation-Doré's sympathy withDante Alexander Dumas' opinion of Doré's talents- Someitems about the cost ofthe " Dante "-Doré's great successSome marvellous cartoons-Doré is compared to Rembrandtin foreshortening -Théophile Gautier criticizes Doré's"Dante "--Some marvellous word painting in criticism—Gautier compares Gustave Doré to Rembrandt-Some moredescriptions of the " Dante "-Paolo and Francesca reading-Reminiscence of the " Dante "-Gustave Doré's supremepower of self- concentration -Doré pays a visit to M. Kratz--A new way of sketching-Gustave Doré works and talks atthe same time -Extraordinary preoccupation-Interruptionfor breakfast-A hasty meal-Going back to his work-tableDoré's absent-mindedness-An erratic genius-Finishing his207CONTENTS. xixdrawing and showing it to M. Kratz-It turns out to be oneof the finest in the Dante collection- Gustave is decoratedfor his success-He is made one of the Legion of HonourM. Dalloz describes how Gustave received the decorationAn irritable but enthusiastic lady-The healing qualities ofthe Cross ofthe Legion of Honour •CHAPTER XXIII.A summer trip through the Tyrol -M. Dalloz and Doré gopleasuring together-Doré charmed with the country-Fullof schemes for new illustrations-Up to his old tricks - Aschoolboy's escapade -Changing a mountain torrent- Heand Dalloz spend the afternoon lugging stones -Somefrightened peasants-Doré in a pugilistic mood- Hepolishes off several lusty men -Making friends with theTyroleans-A merry party-Dancing in a village inn-Arustic revel -Gustave plays the violin and M. Dalloz the piano -An old woman's offer, and a search in the mountains-The wonderful violin which was hidden in a cave-Theold woman fetches it to Doré at midnight-Doré plays andthe villagers dance - Continuation of the revel -Farewell tothe village -Arrival in Verona-A visit to the home of theCapulets and Montagues-Sight- seeing in Verona-Thetomb of Romeo and Juliet-Doré inspired, but not sentimentally-Coming thence he conceives the idea of playingthe role of street-beggar and saltimbanque -Performing circustricks in the streets-A delighted crowd, and enthusiasticchildren-Doré passes round his hat, collects money pay for a good dinner-" I never dined at the Anglaiswith greater pleasure ',,CHAPTER XXIV.Gustave Doré visits Venice in company with M. Dalloz Hisdelight on seeing the "Queen of the Adriatic "-In thestreets of Venice-M. Dalloz begs Doré to visit the Fine ArtGallery-Doré's refusal-M. Dalloz and friend in the ArtGallery-A celebrated Bordone-A familiar face in one ofthe rooms of the Gallery-M. Dalloz thinks he recognizes it .-The marriage of the Doge with the Adriatic- M. Dallozreturns to his hotel-Finds Doré presumably as he left himstanding idly in his room at the window-Doré finally confesses that his was the familiar face looking at the " Bordone "-Doré's delight in this famous picture-He never was afterwards heard to speak depreciatingly of Italian picturesReturn to Paris-New illustrations-Some of the sums Doréreceived for his work, earning 10,000 francs in one morningPAGE212228a 2XX CONTENTS.-Doré's conscientiousness-His versatility and indefatigablelabour-Doré's generosity-His spontaneous gift to a poorworkman-Doré illustrates " New Paris," 66 Aline," fourAmerican novels, " The Tempest," " Le Roi des Montagnes,""Mythologie du Rhin, " " Les Contes de Perrault, " andVictor Hugo's " Toilers of the Sea, " " Captain Fracasse, "Dante's "Il Purgatorio," and " Il Paradiso, " " The Holy Bible," " London," and " Orlando Furioso "CHAPTER XXV.Doré admires Cruikshanks-A dedication by Blanchard Jerrold-Doré sketches for the Illustrated London News-BadenBaden-Doré wins 10,000 francs at roulette--Doré's firstillness, bronchitis-Illustrating " Don Quixote " with M.Viardot-Sketch of the Viardot family-Doré's friend, M.Joanne, tells of the holiday at Baden- Baden-A lunch atthe old chateau-An impromptu performance of " Orpheusafter breakfast- Scene amongst the rocks-Madame Viardotthe soloist-Doré leads the chorus-Doré revisits Alsatia—Back to Paris -Dinner with Rossini-Doré visits the Emperorat Compiègne-A letter from Victor Hugo-Some entries in M. Kratz's note- book""PAGE233· 245CHAPTER XXVI.Dinners and receptions at Doré's-A new studio in the Rue St.Dominique Doré's salon the resort of the most illustriouspeople in Europe-Two photographs and their dedicationsDoré's memory of friends-Some musical evenings in theRue St. Dominique-Soirées where Patti, Nilsson, Liszt,Gounod, Théophile Gautier, Daubrée, Alexandre Dumas,About, Taine, have all been present-Madame Doré andher niece receive their guests-An invitation to a dinnerThe dinner and a new pâté de foie gras-A practical joke—Some musical decanters-Drinking claret to the measure ofthe Blue Danube Waltz-Doré drinks only champagneMadame Doré's enfant terrible-Some new guide- books-New names for old places-Doré's gaiety and wit-Thegood old days of the Rue St. Dominique-The last chord on the violin . 262CHAPTER XXVII.Dore's relations with Théophile Gautier -Sketch ofthe great Frenchpoet-Evenings at Gautier's house-Some private theatricalsCONTENTS. xxiand charades-Gustave Doré's quickness-Compliment to abrother artist-The picture " La Malaria, " by HébertSome of the people Doré met at Gautier's-Théophile Gautier's estimate of Doré's characters-His love for GustaveDoré-He names him " Un gamin de génie "-Doré foryears spends his Thursday evenings at Gautier's houseDoré and Gautier spend many of their holidays together incontinental travel-Gautier's partisanship-The discrimination between friendly and artistic criticism-Contrast betweenDoré's nature and Gautier's—New characteristic anecdote ofThéophile Gautier-The poet's death-Gustave Doré almostdisconsolate-Weeping friends and weeping nationCHAPTER XXVIII.PAGE273Gustave Doré's personal character-Reminiscences of his earlylife-Gustave Doré's laborious youth and eventful life-Theeffect on his personal character-Gustave Doré's goodheartedness-His devotion to his family-His disinterestedness with friends-How Gustave Doré spent some of his NewYear's Days-His visits to the sick children in hospitalsEntertaining the babies-Fairy stories for little folks-Gustave Dore's donations to the poor-Gustave Doré's delicatenature-Giving away original sketches to friends-Hiseccentric manner of giving to fairs and public charitiesNever offering his works, but giving large sums of ready money-The artistic side of Doré's nature-He recalls thegreat people of the Renaisance-Gustave Doré's social lifeA youthful passion-A rejected suitor-A desperate youthA mended heart-The days of the Empire-A celebratedParis beauty-Love and friendship-Afashionable capriceEccentricity versus talent-A matrimonial project fallsthrough-Doré's love for his mother-Gustave Doré's lovefor his home-The simple life of a great artist-Doré's fanciesand their fantastic nature-A postscript to a diary in 1865. 283CHAPTER XXIX.""The 15th day of April, 1866, an eventful date-Organization of the famous studio in the Rue Bayard-An agreement withan English publisher to illustrate the " Idylls of the King 'Talk of coming to England-Doré's fancies, superstitions,and misgivings -Final decision A new friend-Rev.Frederick Harford visits Doré in Paris-Renewed talk ofLondon-Doré's pleasure at his English friend's acquaintance May, 1868, Doré arrives for the first time in London-He renews his acquaintance with his ecclesiastical friend—-xxii CONTENTS.Doré's impressions of London in letters written back toParis-His introduction to society-A dinner at Lady Combermere's-Doré the guest of the evening-His friendshipwith Colonel Teesdale, the Hero of Kars-Presentation tothe Prince of Wales-Invitations to Marlborough HouseDinners, fêtes, balls, suppers, and races-Doré the great lionof the day-He visits the Comte and Comtesse de Paris atTwickenham-Doré's political faith-Avisit to SydenhamDoré's religious convictions-Inception of the great picture," Christ leaving the Prætorium "-Home- sickness-Return to Paris-Death of Rossini-Gustave makes a famous etching, " Rossini on his Death- bed "—" The Idylls of the King "-Doré's idea to collaborate an opera with a celebrated French composer, M. Widor-Doré's ambition to be a scenicartist " It might have been "-Letter written to a friend in LondonPAGE• 294CHAPTER XXX.Doré begins seriously to think of himself as a painter-He looksforward to this new career in Paris-Some remarks by M. Delorme -Reference to the " Wandering Jew "-A series ofmajestic compositions-Doré's practical way of replying tocriticisms and pin- sticking-Doré is subjected to unjustcriticism-French artists in Paris -The reason why Doré wasso criticized -An instance of Doré's good fortune-A fewremarks on the exigencies of the art of painting-Doré'squalifications towards a recognition in this new art-Dore'sincessant work-His enthusiasm about his painting - Anincident refuting the idea of his obstinacy-A proof of lovefor his art-A Frenchman's opinion of Doré-Paris stillincredible, and unwilling to recognize Doré as a painter-Afew remarks on French appreciation of talent-The meaningof the word " popularity " in Paris -Doré's continual disappointments-The story of Senator S -Doré grows more and more unhappy about his work-Gustave Dorérelates the history of his first box of colours--The green chicken of Josserond .•• 315CHAPTER XXXI.The first Doré Gallery in London-Exhibition in the EgyptianHall-M. Arymar and his enterprise-What he paid Doréfor the first pictures in that exhibition-The gaming- table atBaden-Baden, "Francesca da Rimini, " "Judith," "Dantein theIce-fields with Virgil," first shown to a London public-Thefailure ofthe first Doré exhibition -The contract for the DoréCONTENTS. xxiiiPAGEGallery in New Bond Street-Reputation of the new gallery-Measure of Doré's celebrity in Paris and London-The" Neophyte"-"Christ leaving the Prætorium "-Its receptionin Paris-In London-The criticisms-Doré pays a doubletribute of devotion both to his inspiration and the publicPrice he received for the Prætorium picture-The price Doréreceived for the Francesca da Rimini-Mr. Duncan's ArtGallery-An enthusiastic Doréite " The Dream of Pilate'sWife " at the Doré Gallery-English criticisms on some ofDoré's paintings-Some of Doré's important landscapes-The Resurrection-An incident of the sketch of the Resurrection-Doré visits the dens of London thieves-An incident at apress dinner at Willis's Rooms-A ball at the Mansion House-Feminine hero-worship-Some of Doré's aphorisms- Somecurious statistics-A leaf from Colonel Sampson's note- book 330CHAPTER XXXII.Doré a sincere patriot-Refuses an imperial invitation-Tworeasons for his refusal to go to Suez-One of Doré's presentiments The Franco-German war-Picture bought by herMajesty " Le Psalterion "-Doré writes to Canon HarfordPresent to Doré-Doré writes from Paris about the warA proof of his heart and his patriotism-Something about hisbrother, Lieutenant- Colonel Doré-His bravery and honourswon on the field of battle-M. Bourdelin's notes-Mme.Doré moves to Versailles during the Commune-Doré andBlanchard Jerrold's book on London-Some remarks onDoré's sketches- More notes of M. Bourdelin-Doré's wayof remunerating London cabmen-Doré receives H.R.H. the Prince of Wales-Doré at Westminster Palace HotelImpromptu floral decorations-An enthusiastic street crowd" Hurrah for Doré "-Doré always smoking-A visit toCastellani's Some amateur, but nearly fatal, juggling-Doré'slove for physical exercise-Doré's reception by the Englishnobility-Doré never learned to speak English-His love and enthusiasm for England 357CHAPTER XXXIII.More notes-An incident in Islington-Visit to a school- An incident at St. Catherine's Docks-Doré's affection for hismother-Doré's generosity-Some of his characteristics-Hisdislike for cards-Discomfiting a whist party-A letter to M.Arthur Kratz-An incident concerning the picture of "TheTriumph of Christianity "-More dangerous juggling-Dr.Lavies' recollections-Doré as a mimic-His return to Parisxxiv CONTENTS.-Paris changed-A letter to the Rev. Frederick HarfordAgain in London-Letter to his mother-Return to ParisThe original drawing for the " Francesca da Rimini " -Doré'swonderful memory for names-A visit to Scotland-Lettersto his mother-An anecdote concerning the picture "LeTorrent "-Other works in the Doré GalleryCHAPTER XXXIV.In 1873 my first visit to Doré's studio in the Rue Bayard— Description of a famous studio-Gustave Doré at home-Atwork on one of his great pictures—The man on the ladder—A practical acrobat-A curious rencontre-Two DorésPersonal description of the artist-A remarkable face-Somepersonal characteristics -Talk about pictures-Looking atthe studio-Some questions put to M. Doré, and someanswers-A curious way of painting-The curious paraphernalia of the studio in the Rue Bayard-The scaffolding andstep-ladder-Talk of England-Apen portrait ofthe artistM. Doré's servant-A valet protector-One of a thousandDoré's prodigality and Jean's thrift-An exemplary attendant -Doré in conversation-A talk of illustrations and ofShakespeare-M. Doré speaks of France-A prophet is notwithout honour, and so forth-Comparison with a late artist-Gustave Doré speaks a few words of English-Doré aninveterate smoker-Farewell to the studio -Some personal reflections .CHAPTER XXXV.•Doré the etcher-A nearly fatal accident-The astonishment ofhis friends-An etching of the " Neophyte "-Dr. Michel'sremembrances-Doré's family never surprised at anything he attempted " Rossini on his Death-bed "- " Le ChristDoré's religious works-His greatest and truest inspirationsdrawn from sacred subjects-Madame Braun's comments onDoré's character-Doré's fondness for painting his motherand intimate friends-Doré disliked drawing from modelsAnecdote concerning a model- M. Kratz's anecdote-Doréas a water- colourist-Doré attached but little importance tothis talent -Society of Water- Colour Painters " La Veuve ”-Doré's contributions to the Society's art- rooms -Doré risesabove criticism-Success in water- colours gives him no permanent satisfactionCHAPTER XXXVI.•Doré's ambition to illustrate Shakespeare-Doré determined tobring the work out himself-Six sketches of the banquetPAGE372• 391408CONTENTS. XXVscene in "Macbeth"-Doré never repeats himself—A letter toCanon Harford concerning " The Ancient Mariner " and"The Last Man "-Doré's fondness for drawing the head ofChrist-A letter to Canon Harford containing a tribute toLady Augusta Stanley-Great success of "The AncientMariner " in America-Sums from the sale of engravingsDoré's building projects-The "Orlando Furioso "-Doré andJoseph Jefferson-Agarden-party at Chiswick-Doré and theQueen-Her Majesty's kindness-Doré makes the acquaintance of Pellegrini-At Warwick-His delight at the castlePortrait of Doré by the Countess of Warwick-Doré visitsStoneleigh Court-At Stratford- on- Avon-Doré's memoryCHAPTER XXXVII.Doré as a sculptor-" La Parque et l'Amour" -" La Gloire ”-Doré's pride flattered-Always some void in Doré's life-Timecutting the thread of life-Group for the Opera House atMonaco-The success of " Ganymede "-The vase called"The Vine "—“ La Nuit ” —No awards or medals to Doré-Illness of Doré's mother-His devotion to her-Deathof Dore's mother-Letters to Canon Harford-Doré'sstatue of Dumas-A work of love-Some more letters-Dore's failing health and depression of spirits-Enthusiasm about his work on the Dumas statue-Doré's ambition tohave it placed in a public square in Paris.CHAPTER XXXVIII.PAGE· 419• 435Gustave Doré a second time engaged to be married-There'smany a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip-The last dinners of1882-The house in the Rue St. Dominique after Madame'sdeath-Doré writes a letter of congratulation for the NewYear to his friend Canon Harford-Watching the Old Yearout and the NewYear in-Asad family party-Gustave Dorévery unhappy and distrait-Felicitations for the New YearRemark by the company, "Is this a dinner-party or afuneral?"-Bidding his friends " Good-night. "-M. Kratzstops, when other guests are gone, to talk with Gustave- Dorégives a dinner to M. Vallerand—A brilliant repast -Contrastfrom the last dinner of the year-M. Vallerand and Dore'sguests enchanted with the artist's wit and sparkling manners-M. Vallerand decides on giving Doré a dinner within afortnight-Gustave Doré's last dinner-Doré seemingly hisold self-A leaf from M. Joanne's note- book-A curiousfreak of Doré's-The table decorated as if it were a tombSome unfortunate flowers-Doré parodies a scene at Gam-xxvi CONTENTS.betta's grave-A fatal impromptu-Doré's last sketchesTwo unknown figures- The day of M. Vallerand's dinnerA waiting host and expectant guests-A lugubrious repast—A laconic message from Doré-A telegram to M. KratzPAGE• 447CHAPTER XXXIX.Explanation of M. Kratz's telegram-Ascolding from FrançoiseDoré ill, but determined to work-He takes his café- au- laitas usual-His attitude is rather listless-He gets up and goesto his studio, but after an hour goes back to his bed again-Françoise hears a heavy fall-Doré has an apoplectic fitFrançoise rushes in- Doré unconscious-Martin puts hismaster to bed, and goes for the doctor-Doré's conditionvery critical- A long Saturday- Doré for the first time fearshe is going to die-Some bitter reflections-Arrival of M.Kratz-Doré tells how he fell ill-Sunday morning- Doréopened his eyes and asked for the palms for the Dumas statueIll, but his mind preoccupied about his work-Some Sundayvisitors-Doré much better on Sunday evening-Arrival ofColonel Doré-The third day's illness-Doré pronouncedout of danger-At dinner he asked for champagne-How heenjoyed it-Memories of old times-M. Kratz spends theevening with Doré-A quiet sick-room-Doré falls into areverie-Is long buried in thought-M. Kratz thinks he isdreaming Souvenir of Alsace-" I was thinking of my youthand myboyhood at Strasburg "-M. Kratz bids Doré " Goodnight."-A last farewell-Doré agrees to breakfast with hisfriend-Martin comes in to bid his master " Good- night "-A legend of Strasburg Cathedral-The angel that appearedto Sabine von Steinbach-The last writing on the scroll, the name of Gustave Doré • · 460CHAPTER XL.Doré's funeral-An imposing ceremony at the house-Tributes toDoré's memory- In the streets of Paris-Silent homage tothe illustrious dead- Arrival at the cemetery of Père la Chaise-The ceremony at the tomb- Funeral orations by M. Alexandre Dumas and Paul Dalloz-Touching eulogies of thegreat artist- M. Alexandre Dumas shines in a brilliant oratorical effort- Contrast between his remarks and those ofM. Dalloz-The latter remarkable for its pathos-The lastlook at Père la Chaise-The reading of Doré's will- Dorélargely favoured some special public charities-His remembrance of Françoise-A Poem to Gustave Doré-A visit toCONTENTS.the old house-A pen portrait of Françoise-The change in her appearance-A last look round-An artist's home afterhis death-Forgetting the Regent and St. Simon only toremember Gustave Doré-Two aristocracies-Talent greaterthan birth-A visit to Doré's workroom-Phantoms of thepast-Dead or alive?-Lost in reverie-Wandering on to thestudio-Voices from the spirit- land-The allegory ofthe vine-Finishing the statue of Dumas-A sudden awakeningReappearance of old Françoise -A public ceremony-Themass for Doré's soul said in the church- What Françoisedoes with her money-A last farewell .xxviiPAGE486

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.Gustave DoréA Boy who expects to be first in his ClassStrasbourgeoise .Early Sketches, 1839 .Early Sketches, 1839 .First Sketches•L'Inspiré. Strasburg CathedralEarly Sketches .First Letter illustrated by Doré, 1837Professor Vergnette, Gustave with his first Prize .Sketch from second Letter illustrated by Gustave DoréStrasbourgeoisEarly Sketches .Peasant's Head •Early Sketch, 1840Scene, Life of JupiterJupiter and the Goat .Jupiter and the EagleFrom an illustrated DanteLa CharitéScenes from Doré's " Voyage à l'EnferEarly SketchesEarly SketchesPAGEFrontispiece35369121417181921252731343537.• 383943444749XXX LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.PAGEThe Voyage of Mirliflor and Mistenflute • · 53Original Sketch .Fouilloux relates some of his Adventures to the Doré and BraunFamiliesMadame Alexandrine teaches Fouilloux to polka. He afterwardsbecomes " Un Polkeur enragé "5557• 58Doré, 1840Peasant's Head .Early Sketches .(659· 6165' Calypso ne pouvait se consoler du Départ d'UlysseCalypso Sketches, " C'est une Épreuve des Dieux "Calypso Sketches, " Telemach et Mentor "Calypso Sketches, " Telemach et Mentor causent ensembleCalypso Sketches, " Calypso sonne à la Porte"Calypso Sketches, " On arrive au Clos """707273757781Calypso Sketches, " J'aimerais mieux être le Roi ici "Calypso Sketches, " Quelle belle et aimable Société83" 86Calypso Sketches, " Respect à Madame " 89Early Drawings ."L'Union fait la Force "93• 95M. and Madame DoréA Student at Work100• 103Strasbourgeois •Spain ·Mistenflute and Mirliflor's VoyageFirst Sketch for one of " Three Artists, misunderstood, &c."From " Three Artists "Original Sketch, Philipon Collection .Typical Head •Friar John and PanurgeA Cripple of Palestine, " Contes Drôlatiques105· 107· III· 113• 116· 119129·· 135· 139Why it was called Pantagruelion, and the Virtues thereof"He did swim in deep Waters "• . 155157Drawing of Fan made for Madame Rossini, 1862" Him the Almighty power hurl'd headlong from the etherealsky," Milton161· 175LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.The Landlord of the " Three Barbels"Little PeggyDoré's "Spain "SpainSpainSouvenir ofthe TyrolScene in the TyrolxxxiPAGE· 182189199• 201• 203• 229237La Fontaine, Fables . • 240"This wise man would lie against a church wall, " ContesDrôlatiques •"Elle est morte ma tant bonne Femme, " Rabelais• 246· 246Don Quixote and Sancho PanzaThe Toilers ofthe SeaThe Toilers of the SeaLa Fontaine, Fables .Elijah nourished by an Angel• 248253• 255• 260• 263Souvenir of Italy, 1863 • 265Flower GirlLondon Slums .• • 275· 281Portrait of a Lady · 287Facsimile of private Letter sent to Rev. Frederick Harford in 1868 299The Monkey and the Dolphin, La FontaineLondon Slums •The Marseilles SailorOriginal Drawing for Statuary"Time" Decorative PlaqueHead of Christ .In Scotland· 300305· 311· 317· 340· 345"There both, I thought, the eagle and myselfdid burn " · 350· 35IDon Quixote • · 360London, 1871Flower GirlThe Escape of David from the WindowOriginal Sketch for Bible in Doré Gallery•366380380380Facsimile of Letter sent to the Rev. Frederick Harford in 1869 . 421Ancient Mariner, 1875 · • 424xxxii LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.Portrait of DoréMonumental VaseAlexandre DumasD'ArtagnanLast two Sketches by Doré, Jan. 19, 1883The RavenPAGE· 431• 438445· 446461, 467• 488Françoise . 490GUSTAVE DORÉ.55


Front matter

RAYONFr.Basing 13Jeive1886"Que de livres il faut illustrer pour s'illustrer soi-même."-G. DORE.GUSTAVE DORÉ.LYONFrontispiece."Ne soyez pas modeste dans vos entreprises, mais soyez-le toujours dans le succès."-G. DORÉ.Never be Modest in yourbut .alway be modestundertakingsThe dayofsuccess .14151LIFE AND REMINISCENCESOFGUSTAVEDORECOMPILED PROMMATERIAL SUPPLIED BY BORES RELATIONAND FRIENDSAND FROM PERSONAL LLECTIONITH MANY ORIGINAL UNPUBLISHEDFROM DORE'S BEST PUBLISHEDBLANCHE ROOSEVELT,THOR OF STAGE- STRELS, ETC. ETC , ETC.was amake him for all in all, I shall not look upon his like galaHAMLET -AShow , and a true philosophy will always show, thatruth, arises froet the seeBOREDGAR ALLAN PO MarieRogRonbon:MPSON LO MARSTON, SEARLE, & RIVINGTON,DINGS, 188, FLEET STREETAllrights reserved.]1885.


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