Lord Rosebery is the possessor of a portrait of Robespierre, by Jean Baptiste Greuze. It is a direct, good portrait; very sound, and only perhaps a little nattering; the ‘sea-greenness’ of the revolutionary, having, it may be, been apparent but to the imagination of Carlyle. A second Greuze, highly and daintily finished, and so appropriately small in scale, is the ‘À Vous’ of Mr. Clementi Smith, an interior, with three friendly figures, and the glass genially passing. Thus, though in both cases Greuze is represented creditably, in neither is he represented by the kind of picture which in our own day is associated with his name--in neither is there the too seductive or too adroitly planned presentation of womanhood with its lines refined to the slenderness of the child, or the child with, too early upon her, and too consciously and evidently, the contours of the woman. Fragonard’s ‘Letter,’ belonging to Lady Wallace, is an engraved picture, small and of undoubted quality--the ‘Lettre d’Amour,’ it should be called, properly--that is indeed its name in the print--for the impulsiveness of the scribe, the earnestness of her glance, the fire of her action, are due to no urgency of everyday business, but to the ecstasy of love. Small as the thing is, in its touch and spirit we recognise the southern temperament of sunshine and storm, and remember that Provence was the land of Fragonard’s birth, and that of its half-Italian landscape he has been till now one of the most sympathetic of depictors. From the same gallery--from Lady Wallace’s--we might conceivably have had the loan of a more important Fragonard, ‘L’Escarpolette.’ To Baron Ferdinand de Rothschild belongs the life-size portrait of Madame de Pompadour, seen somewhat from below, lounging upon a sofa, and dressed in the colours whose particular combination Boucher so much affected--sky blue and rose. The picture has little restfulness, and not too much of character--the mistress rather than the dilettante, was it, perhaps, at the moment, the courtier’s business to paint. It is in a high key, yet not precisely garish; a clever _tour de force_, agreeable, gay. Two interesting, since somewhat unusual, examples of Prud’hon come from Hertford House; one of them, a little nude boy inadequately described as ‘Le Zéphyr,’ a work in which a master of tender sentiment, and graceful, even if somewhat monotonous, design, betrays some debt to Correggio; the other the singular allegory of ‘The Triumph of Bonaparte’--Napoleon surrounded by female figures and by Cupids in a triumphal car--a picture in which Prud’hon shows something, indeed, of himself, and much of his obligation to the Greeks. It is a work more characteristic than the first, and less ambitious than the second; but it is in his simple designs most of all that we can discern best the real Prud’hon, with just a touch of a Classicism never austere, and a world of tenderness never actually effeminate.