one that always attracts a crowd,
on the free-days and holidays when the general public finds admission.
This is the picture called simply, "Friedland: 1807," and representing
the soldiers of Napoleon saluting the emperor at the battle of
Friedland. It was painted by Jean Louis Meissonier for the late A. T.
Stewart, of New York, who paid for it what seemed a very large sum,
$60,000; but when Mr. Stewart died, and his pictures were sold at
auction, this painting brought the still larger sum of $66,000,
showing that a great many people admired the work, and were willing to
pay a good price for it. The picture was bought by Judge Hilton, of
New York, and was presented by him to the Metropolitan Museum as a
memorial of the long friendship that had existed between himself and
Mr. Stewart. No doubt the facts of the high price paid for the
picture, and that a gift of such value should be made to the Museum,
have caused a great many people to look at the painting with more
interest than they would, had the circumstances been less uncommon.
But a great many more people find this picture interesting for its own
sake; they are moved rather by the spirited way in which it tells its
story, and find their curiosity excited by the studious accuracy shown
by the artist in the painting of every detail.

The scene of the action is a field that has been planted with grain
which now lies trampled under the feet of men and horses. The
turning-point in the battle has been reached, and in the joy of coming
victory, the body-guard of the emperor, spurring their jaded horses to
the hillock where he sits on his white charger surrounded by his
mounted staff, salute him with loud cries as they rush madly by him.
Napoleon, calm and self-possessed, returns the salute, but it is plain
his thoughts are busier with the battle that is raging in the distance
than with these demonstrations of his body-guard's loyalty. This
picture was the favorite work of the artist; he calls it, "the life
and joy of my studio," and he is said to have worked on it at
intervals during fifteen years.

[Illustration: Meissonier's Atelier.]

Somebody has said that "genius" means nothing but "taking pains." In
that case, Meissonier must have been a man of genius, for, with
whatever he painted, were it small or great, he took infinite pains,
never content until he had done everything in his power to show things
exactly as they were. Thus, in the picture we have just been
d