great artists such as himself he was entirely right. Palmistry assigns fine, tapering fingers to "artistic temperament," and rightly, for fine fingers are necessary for fine work. "The art of painting, properly so called, consists in laying on the least possible colour that will produce the required result; and this measurement, in all the ultimate that is to say the principal -operations of colouring, is so delicate that not one human hand in a million has the required lightness" (Two Paths, Appendix iv., where much interesting matter on this subject will be found).

1009.

THE OLD GRAY HUNTER.

Paul Potter (Dutch: 1625-1654). See also 849, p. 287.

969. A FROST SCENE.

Aart van der Neer (Dutch: 1619–1690).

972. A LANDSCAPE.

See under X. 152, p. 223.

Jan Wynants (Dutch: 1615-1679). See under 971, p. 301.

SCREEN I

821. A FAMILY GROUP.

Gonzales Coques (Flemish: 1614-1684).

A characteristic work of "the little Van Dyck" (see under X. 1011, p. 256). Notice the youngest child in the go-cart, which is being pushed by another of the children, whilst the oldest sister, as befits her years, is playing the guitar. And the little dogs, as befits them, are sporting in front. It is pretty of the painter or his sitters to include them in the family group.

844.

MATERNAL INSTRUCTION.

Netscher (Dutch: 1639-1684). See under 843, p. 294. Notice in the background, over a cupboard, hanging in a black frame, a small copy of Rubens's "Brazen Serpent," now in this collection (X. 59, p. 240).

845. A LADY AT A SPINNING WHEEL.

Netscher (Dutch: 1639-1684). See under 843, p. 294

840. A LADY FEEDING A PARROT,

Frans van Mieris (Dutch: 1635-1681).

This painter, the son of a goldsmith and the pupil of Gerard Dou, is known as "Old Franz," to distinguish him from his grandson of that name, who, like his son William (see 841, p. 291), was also a painter.

824. A RUINED CASTLE.

Cuyp (Dutch: 1605-1691). See under X. 53, p. 218

838. THE DUET.

Gabriel Metsu (Dutch: born 1630, died after 1667).
See under 839, p. 285.

SCREEN II

875. A LIGHT BREEZE.

W.Vandevelde (Dutch: 1633-1707). See under X. 150, p. 215.

Two doggers in the foreground; behind one of them, a Dutch frigate.

857, 858, 859, 860. SPRING, SUMMER, AUTUMN,

WINTER.

Teniers (Flemish: 1610-1694). See under X. 154, p. 212. Very interesting little pictures, as characteristic of the entire want of poetry in Teniers's art. Compare Mantegna's version of Summer and Autumn (VIII. 1125, p. 187), or recall Botticelli's lovely vision of Spring at Florence, and one sees in a moment the difference in art between poetical imagination and vulgarity. To Teniers, Spring-"the sweet spring, the year's pleasant king" is only a man carrying a flower-pot. Summer-"all the sweet season of summertide "-suggests nothing but a man holding a wheat-sheaf. Autumn-" season of mists and mellow fruitfulness "—brings him only a first glass of wine; and Winter-" white winter, rough nurse, that rocks the dead cold year "-only a second.

850. A MAN'S PORTRAIT.

Rembrandt (Dutch: 1607-1669). See under X. 672, p. 223. Notice the typical "Rembrandt collar."

874. A CALM AT SEA.

W.Vandevelde (Dutch: 1633-1707). See under X. 150, p. 215. A Dutch frigate and a small English cutter becalmed.

"THE sixteenth century closed, like a grave, over the great art of the world. There is no entirely sincere or great art in the seventeenth century" (RUSKIN: Modern Painters, vol. iii. pt. iv. ch. xviii. § 20).

"THE eclectic schools endeavoured to unite opposite partialities and weaknesses. They trained themselves under masters of exaggeration, and tried to unite opposite exaggerations. That was impossible. They did not see that the only possible eclecticism had been already accomplished ;-the eclecticism of temperance, which, by the restraint of force, gains higher force; and by the self-denial of delight, gains higher delight" (RUSKIN: Two Paths, § 59).

We now come to works representative of the decay of the various schools which we have already surveyed-exhibited not, as is the case in many continental galleries, side by side with works of the golden age of Italian art, but hung together in a room devoted to its decadence. It is interesting to notice that the lower repute in which these painters are now held is of comparatively recent date. Poussin, for instance, ranked Domenichino next to Raphael, and preferred the works of the Carracci to all others in Rome, except only Raphael's, and Sir Joshua Reynolds cited them as models of perfection. Why, then, is it that

modern criticism stamps the later Italian Schools as schools of the decadence? To examine the pictures themselves and to compare them with earlier works is the best way of finding out; but a few general remarks may be found of assistance. The painting of the schools now under consideration was "not spontaneous art. It was art mechanically revived during a period of critical hesitancy and declining enthusiasms." It was largely produced at Bologna by men not eminently gifted for the arts. When Ludovico Carracci, for instance, went to Venice, the veteran Tintoretto warned him that he had no vocation. Moreover "the painting which emerged there at the close of the sixteenth century embodied religion and culture, both of a base alloy. . . . Therefore, though the painters went on painting the old subjects, they painted all alike with frigid superficiality. If we examine the list of pictures turned out by them, we shall find a pretty equal quantity of saints and Susannahs, Jehovahs and Jupiters, . . . cherubs and cupids. . . . Nothing new or vital, fanciful or imaginative, has been breathed into antique mythology. What has been added to religious expression is repellent, . . . extravagantly ideal in ecstatic Magdalens and Maries, extravagantly realistic in martyrdoms and torments, extravagantly harsh in dogmatic mysteries, extravagantly soft in sentimental tenderness and tearful piety. If we turn from the ideas of the late Italian painters to their execution, we shall find similar reasons for its failure to delight or satisfy. Their ambition was to combine in one the salient qualities of several earlier masters. This ambition doomed their style to the sterility of hybrids" (Symonds, vii. 403). For it must be observed that "all these old eclectic theories were based not upon an endeavour to unite the various characters of nature (which it is possible to do), but the various narrownesses of taste, which it is impossible to do. . . . All these specialities have their own charm in their own way; and there are times when the particular humour of each man is refreshing to us from its very distinctness; but the effort to add any other qualities to this refreshing one instantly takes away the distinctiveness" (Two Paths, $58). It was not an attempt to unite the various characters of nature.

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