propensities are noticeable in him. The countenance of the Greek lady is pale and weary; but a rest in bed seems the only thing she needs. It says much for the keenness of their Philhellenism that this picture could move the people of the period. Delacroix had, however, no intuition at all when he painted it; he only illustrated an unplastic, insipid phrase. His other paintings are mostly illustrations of a text. “Comedians and Buffoons” were unmistakably suggested by Victor Hugo. Confused ideas occur to him. Thus “The Good Samaritan” was not painted to the passage in the Gospel, but to a story of chivalry; for the gentle benefactor takes the sick man on his charger—he is a mounted Samaritan!—just as a knight takes the noble lady he is carrying off. Delacroix was a literary painter; we know that from his correspondence; but without that, his pictures would betray it. He read much more in books than in nature, and he supplied paintings that gave evidence of education and much reading, in which the art-hating, blind-souled Philistines of education delight royally. It may be that the confusion of his portrayal and the loudness of his palette was felt by his contemporaries as a deliverance from the coldness and precision of David’s school. I suspect, however, his earliest admirers valued him chiefly because he fed on the same books, plays, and newspapers as themselves. Ary Scheffer stands in the same spiritual plane as Delacroix, but lacks the keenly joyous colour and the theatricality of his stage-setting. Schubert’s songs and Schumann’s are music even without the lyric text, and what music! I cannot imagine what Ary Scheffer’s pictures from Shakespeare, Goethe, and Byron would be without the poets and their poems. His picture in the Century Exhibition, “The Dead ride fast,” is, if I exclude from my conception my remembrance of Bürger’s ballad, an almost touching example of tastelessness. Leonora’s dishevelled hair, blown by the wind into a stiff, horizontal position, is supposed, for instance, to illustrate the swiftness of the ride—a notion which may have seemed to Scheffer terrible, but is comic.