“Gericault is criticised because in his picture _Epsom Races_ (_Course d’Epsom_), which is at the Louvre, he has painted his horses galloping, fully extended, _ventre à terre_, to use a familiar expression, throwing their fore feet forward and their hind feet backward at the same instant. It is said that the sensitive plate never gives the same effect. And, in fact, in instantaneous photography, when the forelegs of a horse are forward, the hind legs, having by their pause propelled the body onward, have already had time to gather themselves under the body in order to recommence the stride, so that for a moment the four legs are almost gathered together in the air, which gives the animal the appearance of jumping off the ground, and of being motionless in this position. [Illustration: EUROPA. Italian School of the Fifteenth Century ] [Illustration: EPSOM RACES By Gericault ] “Now I believe that it is Gericault who is right, and not the camera, for his horses _appear_ to run; this comes from the fact that the spectator from right to left sees first the hind legs accomplish the effort whence the general impetus results, then the body stretched out, then the forelegs which seek the ground ahead. This is false in reality, as the actions could not be simultaneous; but it is true when the parts are observed successively, and it is this truth alone that matters to us, because it is that which we see and which strikes us. “Note besides that painters and sculptors, when they unite different phases of an action in the same figure, do not act from reason or from artifice. They are naïvely expressing what they feel. Their minds and their hands are as if drawn in the direction of the movement, and they translate the development by instinct. Here, as everywhere in the domain of art, sincerity is the only rule.” I was silent for several instants, thinking over what he had said. “Haven’t I convinced you?” he asked. “Yes, indeed. But while admiring this miracle of painting and of sculpture which succeeds in condensing the action of several moments into a single figure, I now ask myself how far they can compete with literature, and especially with the theatre, in the notation of movement. To tell the truth, I am inclined to believe that this competition does not go very far, and that on this score the masters of the brush and chisel are necessarily inferior to those of language.” “Our disadvantage,” he exclaimed, “is not as great as you would think. If painting and sculpture can endow figures with motion, they are not forbidden to attempt even more. And at times they succeed in equalling dramatic art by presenting in the same picture or in the same sculptural group several successive scenes.” [Illustration: THE EMBARKATION FOR THE ISLAND OF CYTHERA By Watteau ]