FRENCH BATTLE-PICTURES.
In an American work—Glances at Europe, by Mr H. Greeley—the following sound observations occur on the battle-pictures in the palace of Versailles: ’These battle-pieces have scarcely more historic than artistic value, since the names of at least half of them might be transposed, and the change be undetected by ninety-nine out of every hundred who see them. If all the French battles were thus displayed, it might be urged with plausibility that these galleries were historical in their character; but a full half of the story—that which tells of French disaster and discomfiture—is utterly suppressed. The battles of Ptolemais, of Ivry, of Fontenoy, of Rivoli, of Austerlitz, &c. are here as imposing as paint can make them; but never a whisper of Agincourt, Cressy, Poitiers, Blenheim, or Ramillies; nor yet of Salamanca, of Vittoria, of Leipsic, or Waterloo. Even the wretched succession of forays which the French have for the last twenty years been prosecuting in Algerine Africa, here shine resplendent; for Vernet has painted, by Louis-Philippe’s order, and at France’s cost, a succession of battle-pieces, wherein French numbers and science are seen prevailing over Arab barbarism and irregular valour, in combats whereof the very names have been wisely forgotten by mankind, though they occurred but yesterday. One of these is much the largest painting I ever saw, and is probably the largest in the world, and it seems to have been got up merely to exhibit one of Louis-Philippe’s sons in the thickest of the fray. Last of all, we have the Capture of Abd-el-Kader, as imposing as Vernet could make it, but no whisper of the persistent perfidy wherewith he has been retained for several years in bondage, in violation of the express agreement of his captors. The whole collection is, in its general effect, delusive and mischievous—the purpose being to exhibit war as always glorious, and France as uniformly triumphant. It is by means like these that the business of shattering knee-joints and multiplying orphans is kept in countenance.’