Classified thus, The Duel after the Masquerade fully deserves its brilliant reputation. Reproduced, not only in lithographs and engravings, but even transferred to the theatre (given at the Gymnase, in 1881, by Mme. Fould), its subject has become a matter of general knowledge. It is winter in the Bois de Boulogne. A number of people in fancy costume are bending over a wounded Pierrot, while one of the witnesses of this improvised duel is leading away the murderer, the Harlequin.

One can see at once what a tremendous appeal a subject like this would have for the general public.

This singular drama, taking place in the snow, all this joyousness ending in bloodshed and perhaps death, is so fantastic that it leaves a lasting impression. It was, by the way, as M. Guillaumin has explained, suggested by an actual duel that took place between Deluns-Montaud, the Harlequin, and the Prefect of Police Bortelle, the Pierrot.

Undoubtedly there was, and still is, ground for criticism. Alexandre Dumas thought, not unreasonably, that serious-minded men of that age would not go out to fight each other in such a costume. Edmond About criticized the pose of Crispin supporting on his knee an entire group of spectators, along with the body of poor Pierrot. But Paul de Saint-Victor praised the "truthfulness of the postures, the etching-like precision of the heads, the wise planning of the whole composition."

In order to appreciate better the daring fantasy and the wise and invariably picturesque inventiveness of Gérôme, we have only to study further such works as the Frieze destined to be reproduced upon a vase commemorative of the Exposition of London (1853), Rembrandt Etching (exhibited in 1867, purchased by M. E. Fould), which has been admired for its golden half-shadows and freely compared to Gerard Dow, the Reception of the Siamese Ambassadors (1865), The First Kiss of the Sun (1886), the Poet, Thirst (1888), and fantasies, such as, The Amateur of Tulips, Whoever you are, here is your Master; anecdotal portraits throwing side lights on history, such as: They are Conspiring, or Not Convenient, Louis XI. visiting Cardinal Balue, Promenade of the Court in the Gardens of Versailles (1896); animals full of life and prowess, such as: The Lioness meeting a Jaguar and Ego nominor Leo, a lion rendered life size; lastly, his studio interiors, in which he has chosen to depict himself exactly as he was, that is to say, a sincere, clear-sighted, and indefatigable workman.

In the most recent of these studio pictures, he appears, wearing a sculptor's blouse and occupied in modelling a statuette of a woman. He astonished his friends and admirers, during his last years, by his earnest labours in sculpture. His two groups, The Gladiators and Anacreon, Bacchus and Cupid, claimed the attention of the public at the Exposition of 1878; and it was the same with his marble statue of Omphale (1887), his Tanagra, his Dancing Girl, his bronze Lion (1890, 1891), etc.

His efforts to revive the art of coloured or polychrome sculpture, the so-called chryselephantine sculpture, which invokes the aid of various precious elements, constitute one of the most curious and important artistic experiments of modern times, even though the result did not always come up to the expectation.

On February 2, 1892, in an unpublished letter addressed to M. Germain Bapst, who desired information concerning the artist's experiment, Gérôme wrote: "I have always been struck with a sense of the coldness of statues if, when the work is once finished, it is left in its natural state. I have already made some experiments and am continuing my efforts, for I am anxious to bring before the eyes of the public a few demonstrations that I hope will be conclusive. I know that there are a great many protests. The world always protests against anything which is, I will not merely say new, but even renewed; for it disturbs a good many people in their tranquillity and their routine." And after having first shown that ancient architecture was adorned with colours and that in chryselephantine sculpture the Greeks combined gold, tin, and ivory, that they painted the marble and united it with various metals, Gérôme added: "Shall I succeed? At least I shall have the honour of having made the attempt."

In the interesting study which M. Germain Bapst devoted to this question, after having, as we have seen, consulted the artist himself, he recalled the fact that both in chateaux and in churches the Mediæval statuary was coloured. In Greece, the Minerva Parthenos contained a weight of gold equivalent to more than 2,200,000 francs in the French currency of to-day. The statue of Jupiter at Olympus was partly of ivory and partly of gold.