The Sun.
London, England, 1863-08-20 00:00:00

FUNERAL OF EUGENE DELACROIX.

The church of St. Germain des Pres, Paris, was
crowded on Monday last by artists and others who
had come to witness the funeral obsequies of this
distinguished painter; and the Rue Furstenberg, in
which the defunct artist resided, was filled by others
anxious to pay a last homage to the deceased.
At noon the funeral procession set out for the
church. The chief mourner was a cousin-german,
M. Delacroix, a military officer of high rank. The
corners of the pall were held by four members of
the Academy of Fine Arts, viz., Count de Nien-
werkerke, superintendent of Fine Arts; M. Jouf-
froy, president of the Academy ; and Messrs. Flau-
drin and de Gisors. The 2d battalion of National
Guard, under the orders of its commanding officer,
rendered that homage to M. Delacroix which he
was entitled to according to his grade as member of
the Legion of Honour.
Besides the crowd within the church, the space
in front %as occupied by a great number of persons
who could not obtain admission. A deputation of
the Academy of Fine Arts was present in the
church, and behind these gentlemen were many
members of other academies: Journalists, authors,
and playwrights were strongly represented, and,
besides the members of the Institute, there were re-
marked Messrs. Arsons Houssaye, Theophile Gau
tier, Paul de Saint-Victor, Louis Ukbach, Louis
Havin, Ch. Blanc, Burye, Millet, Bide, F. Des-
n oyers, Mouilleroo, &o. Nearly all the painters,
sculptors, engravers, and architects of Paris were
present, and manyladies helped to swell the number.
After the mass, the funeral procession wended its
way to the cemetery of Pe:e la Chaise, the road to
which was lined by large bodies of people, who
respectfully uncovered as the procession passed.
Two funeral 'speeches were made after the coffin
had been deposited in the tomb—one by M. Jouf-
f coy, in the name of the Institute, and one by M.
Paul Haet, a painter, in the name of the friends of
the deceased

M. Jouffroy said—" Gentlemen, art in Earope,
and the French school in particular, has experienced
a great loss, and one of a nature to excite universal
regret. The Academy of Fine Arts, which I repre-
sent here in the face of this coffin, bitterly deplores
the premature end, the sudden death of a superior
man, whom she had admitted into her midst as one
of the greatest celebrities of onr time. Few names,
in fact, have become better known than that of
Eugene Delacroix. His talent, full of boldness and
vigour, was of the number of those which gave rise
to the violent opposition, the lively discussions on
which posterity alone can pronounce with impar-
tiality and wisdom. It is now 41 years since the
eminent artist was revealed. It was a master-
piece, a powerful work, a work of a colourist. The
Bark of Dante' caused a profound sensation in the
world of art. Never had the sanguinary energy of
the middle ages been rendered with that strong and
terrible truth, and with such accent. Ah, gentle-
men, if Dante were restored to light, how he would
be satisfied with his painter ! He would recognise
in him one of his children. However, therein con-
sists the great feature of the talent of Eugene Dela-
croix. He is dramatic. The most lively, and some-
times the most refined, sentiment of poetry and his-
tory characterises it, for it must be said that the
painter was a distinguished literary man and a good
writer. Endowed with a marvellous originality,
Eugene Delacroix stamped what he touched with
a particular seal. He has followed a unique direc-
tion, and nothing has made him deviate from it.
Many productions of the highest order attest this,
and amongst others are always cited—' The Mas-
sacre of Scio," The Bishop of Liege,' Valentine'
(from Faust'), ' Marino Faliero,' Medea,' and,
above all, Don Juan.' Who can have forgotten
this admirable representation of a shipwreck, this
bark of cannibals lost in the midst of an im-
mense sea, the sight of which reminds us of in-
finitude and of death ? I pause, gentlemen, for
we are hero on the borders of a grave, and
thoughts higher than those which give birth to
human works agitate our breasts. I would sim-
ply, after having spoken to you of the great
artist, portray to you the man himself in the
simplicity of private life, unsurrounded by the rays
of celebrity. You know it, you who surround me,
you his friends, his companions, that all the graceful
and amiable qualities of the mind, all that was con•
ciliatory and charming, were united in Eugene
Delacroix. We loved to see with what respec ful
deference the impassioned and clever interpreter of
Byron,Goethe, and Shakepere, heard the painter of
the apotheosis of Homer,for his untrammelled mind,
far from confining itself within the barriers of
romanticism, admired classic beauty. Alas ! this
charming mind is no longer with us—a few days
since it became extinct amidst solitude and silence.
But the genius of Eugene Delacroix remains with
us, and animates certain pages, true treasures for
the French school and the eternal honour of his
name."

After this speech, M. Iluet expressed himself in
the following terms:—" Gentlemen, ' Death comes
quickly.' This saying of Goethe, which Delacroix
repeated in his early youth and on the tomb of
Gericault, his guide ana his friend, is unceasingly
and cruelly brought before us. What a void is
there around us ! Yesterday, David, &heifer, De-
laroche, Decamps, Ternet. To-day, he who was so
dear to us, Delacroix, is taken from us. With as
much modesty as g ory, he rests from Hs labours
with new works. For this indefatigable jouster
had never rested until before the sad day. Work
was for him his first happiness; art was his only
passion, a passion to which he sacrificed all, even
the pleasures of the world, where his cultivated
mind assured him easy and brilliant successes, and
even family joys, of which he had a lively sense.
Like Micuael Angelo, he wrangled with the hours
which it was necessary to steal from his jealous art.
Why cannot we recall him among us ? All who are
united here to render the last homage to this illus-
trious man feel how strong are the affections which
inspire genius. It' talent creates envy, genius makes
friends, and we all feel the immense void which
tila man, who during so many years has
Inspired in us such beautiful and lively
emotions, leaves after him. However, this man,
who from his first essay has left his footsteps on
the soil, and assured his glory by so fresh and
vigorous a manner, will be always with us, and will
live more than ever in our hearts. A profound
thinker, an admirable painter, who takes his place
near Paul Veronese and Rembrandt, by the side of
Goethe and Byron, Delacroix is of the small num-
ber of the artists who characterise and govern an
epoch. He will remain one of the glories of our
France. It is impossible to recount here the his-
tory of this life so completed, to study the works so
varied, which all bear the imprint of the master,
and which, by their numbers, reveal to us the
astonishing fecundity of the ancient masters. The
Just mind of Delacroix kept him aloof from the
petty quarrels of the school. He blotted out no
word in the dictionary, nor rejected imagination or
study, colour, character, or drawing. He did not
ask if he was spiritualist or realist ; he wished to
move and charm. He knew that the soul alone
meets soul, and that the truth was paramount.
Thence proceeds this number of impassioned can-
vasses, where colour is only one means the more of
arriving at expression ; thence proceeds this vigo-
rous, inventive, and original genius, which reveals
itself in the decorations of our monuments as well
as in works of smaller dimensions. The originality
of Delacroix is of the number of those which seem
quite natural, for it is one of the most salient
chase teristics of genius to manifest itself without
effort and without mannerism. I have not spoken.
of Liao writer, of the adrainistre4or. Everywhere