La Mort glisse en son rêve, et tout bas: "Viens," dit elle, "L'Amour c'est l'éphémère, et je suis l'immortelle."
The great names--Meissonier, Gérôme, Munkacsy, Madrazo, Berne-Bellecour, Détaille, De Neuville, Rosa Bonheur, Flameng, etc.--are conspicuous this year by their absence from the catalogue of the Salon. It is whispered that the reason Munkacsy does not exhibit is because the administration of the Beaux-Arts saw fit to place the pictures by foreign artists separately in the Galérie des Étrangers. An "impressionist" artist-friend of mine--Miss Cassatt, the sister of Vice-President Cassatt of the Pennsylvania Railroad Company--says that the reason these distinguished artists do not exhibit any more is that they are disgusted with the way in which the Salon is conducted by Edmond Turquet, the present sous-secrétaire aux Beaux-Arts, and the very unfair acts committed in the awarding of medals, admission of pictures, etc.
M. Jean Jacques Henner's _La Fontaine_ is a true Correggio in delicacy and clearness of tone. His treatment of the flesh is peculiar, and much envied by many a Paris artist. In this picture the nymph, leaning over the fountain, is dressed in a very inexpensive costume--in fact, the same fashion that Mother Eve introduced into Eden. There in the placid water the beautiful creature contemplates the reflection of her face, and seems to breathe, with all her being, those charming lines of Lafenestre:
Heure silencieuse, où la nymphe se penche Sur la source des bois qui lui sert de miroir, Et rêve en regardant mourir sa forme blanche Dans l'eau pâle où descend le mystère du soir.
Gustave Jacquet's _Le Minuet_ is one of those pictures which fascinate and draw us back again and again. A rarely-beautiful girl is dancing the minuet, surrounded by a group of her friends, beautiful blonde girls and a fair-haired young man. The costumes are perfectly exquisite, yet there is not too much _chiffonnerie_ in the picture. There is a remarkable effect of depth in the painting of the figure of the dancing girl, especially at the feet and at the bottom of her skirt. Perhaps the only criticism that could fairly be passed upon M. Jacquet's picture is that there is too much of mere "prettiness" about his principal figures.