How little did the artistic principles which he laid down in his letters accord with his own paintings! "I try," he wrote to a friend in 1819, "to follow Nature in everything. Nature is the only teacher who should be heard. She alone inspires and moves me, she alone appeals to me: it is Nature that I seek to fathom, and in her I ever hope to find the special impulse for work." She is a miracle to him, and one that is greater than any other, a book in which "the simple may read as well as the great." He could not understand "how painters could take the old masters as their model instead of Nature, who is the only great exemplar!" What is to be seen in his pictures is merely an awkward transference of David's manner of conception and representation to the painting of Italian peasants--a scrupulously careful adaptation of classical rules to romantic subjects. He looked at modern Italians solely through the medium of antique statuary, and conducts us to an Italy which can only be called Leopold Robert's Italy, since it never existed anywhere except in Robert's map. All his figures have the movement of some familiar work of antique sculpture, and that expression of cherished melancholy which went out of fashion after the time of Ary Scheffer. Never does one see in his pictures a casual and unhackneyed gesture in harmony with the situation. It seems as if he had dressed up antique statues or David's Horatii and his Sabine women in the costume of the Italian peasantry, and grouped them for a _tableau vivant_ in front of stage scenery, and in accordance with Parisian rules of composition. His peasants and fishers make beautiful, noble, and often magnificent groups. But one can always give the exact academic rules for any particular figure standing here and not there, or in one position and not in another. His pictures are much too official, and obtrusively affect the favourite pyramid form of composition. [Illustration: L. ROBERT. FISHERS OF THE ADRIATIC.]