Gustave Dore drew pictures because he could do nothing else. He never had
a lesson in his life, never drew from a model, could not sketch from
Nature; accepted no one's advice; never retouched or considered his work
after it was done; never cudgeled his brains for a subject; could read a
book by turning the leaves; grasped all knowledge; knew all languages;
found an immediate market for his wares and often earned a thousand
dollars before breakfast; lived fifty years and produced over one hundred
thousand sketches--an average of six a day; made two million dollars by
the labor of his own hands; was knighted, flattered, proclaimed, adored,
lauded, scorned, scoffed, hooted, maligned, and died broken-hearted.

Surely you can not dispose of a man like this with a "bon mot"!

Comets may be good or ill, but wise men nevertheless make note of them,
and the fact that they once flashed their blinding light upon us must
live in the history of things that were.

* * * * *

An Alsatian by birth, and a Parisian by environment, Dore is spoken of as
of the French School, but if ever an artist belonged to no "school" it
was Gustave Dore.

His early years were spent in Strassburg, within the shadow of the
cathedral. His father was a civil engineer--methodical, calculating,
prosperous. The lad was the second of three sons: strong, bright,
intelligent boys.

In his travels up and down the Rhine the father often took little Gustave