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The Atlantic Monthly, Volume 04, No. 23, September, 1859 by Various
page 5 of 285 (01%)
French Art had striven to emancipate itself from slavish dependence on
the Greek, it still clung to the Roman models, which are far less
inspiring. "The autocrat David, with his correct, but soulless
compositions, was more absolute than his master, the Emperor." Only in
the Saloon of 1819 did the Revolution, which had already affected every
other department of thought and life, reach the _ateliers_. It commenced
in that of Guérin. The very weakness of the master, who himself halted
between two opinions, left the pupils in freedom to pursue their own
course. Scheffer did not esteem this a fortunate circumstance for
himself. His own nature was too strong and living to be crushed by a
severe master or exact study, and he felt the want of that thorough
early training which would have saved him much struggle in after life.
He used to speak of Ingres as such a teacher as he would have chosen for
himself. From the pupil of David, the admirer of Michel Angelo, the
conservator of the sacred traditions of Art, the student might learn all
the treasured wisdom of antiquity,--while the influences around him, and
his own genius, would impel him towards prophesying the hope of the
future. His favorite companions of the _atelier_ at this time were
Eugène Delacroix and Géricault. Delacroix ranks among the greatest
living French artists; and if death early closed the brilliant career of
Géricault, it has not yet shrouded his name in oblivion. The trio made
their first appearance together in the Saloon of 1819. Géricault sent
his "Wreck of the Medusa," Delacroix "The Barque of Dante," and Ary
Scheffer "The Citizens of Calais."[1]

The works of these friends may be considered as the commencement of the
modern French school of Art, still so little known, and so ill
appreciated by us, but which is really an expression of the new ideas of
Art and Humanity which have agitated France to its centre for half a
century. Their hour of triumph has not yet come; but as the poet sings
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