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'^he ^Renaissance Edition 







1775- 1851 


(National Gallery) 
Painted in oil on canvas. 6 ft. 4 in. h. x 5 ft. 5 in. w. (I '931 x i 'esi). 











Her Grace 




H. M. 



I UNDERTOOK^ hi a veckless fnoment, to write this general survey of the 
History of Painting in a twelvemonth. On reaching this final volume 
I found the ground so vast that I had to fall back upon the generous good- 
will of my publishers and beg for every week that they could allow me 
until the printing-press opened its inky ma%v. Indeed, it would ill become 
me to let the last volume go to the printers' devil without acknowledginent 
of the generous support that I have received Jrom ?nyjriends and publishers, 
the firm of Jack of Edinburgh. I have strained their patience, their 
ge?ierosity, and their goodwill in every direction, and not least in the demand 
for space far beyond the limits of their original intention, the which must 
have been a heavy burden on their enterprise, and upon their dogged desire 
to place the History within reach of the ordinary man. To my friend 
Leman Hare my debt is also heavy. To the generous watchfulness and 
scholarly tnind of Mr. Archibald Constable, of the famous house of 
printers, I here acknowledge my gratitude for his sportsmanlike hunt of 
errors throughout the huge work. To Paul Konody my thanks Jor 
checking the dates in this volume. 

Modern Europe is become so cosmopolitan, distances and barriers between 
peoples have been so narrowed and broken down — every year sees them 
more narrowed — that life is becoming Europeanised ; for, when aW s said, 
the English-speaking American and Colonial are in essence European, just 
as they are also leading Europe to modernism. 

The achievement of the modern genius is so vast that within the limits 
of a single volume it has been but possible to give general movements and 
artistic intention ; I have therefore treated of the master spirits of the age, 
the dominant figures, rather than attempted an exhaustive list of every 
personality of high talent. 

My chief intention throughout has been to show the ordinary man, as 
well as the student, how Art has ever been developing a larger and wider 
orchestration of craftsmanship. This is not the same thing as affirming 
that genius ever increases in power. Art itself the utterance oj the sensed 
communion of life, is an affair of genius that any age or any school may 
bring forth in a great and vigorous personality. 

Critics, who are nearly always what is termed highly cultured men, 
often with a heavy academic training, have nearly always, by consequence 
VOL. VIII — b vii 


of that very training, the inclination towards scientijic utterance rather 
than the higher and far more difficult and complex and inborn habit of the 
employment of words artistically. Tet, whilst the gift of artistic utterance 
of words may not go with the sensing of the arts of colour or music or 
sculpture or the drama or the like, it follows nevertheless that if a man 
shall have been granted the faculty of sensing such arts deeply, he cannot 
express their significance until he himself shall have mastered the craft of 
words — the tnachinery of that art of literature which he must employ, and 
which aloije will enable him to give forth the impressions aroused in his 
senses by the art, say, of painting. I do not say that a critic must first be 
a painter — / say that he must be a literary artist. 

When we find criticism written by a man who has not mastered the 
emotional, that is to say the literary, use of words, we tnay take it as 
certain that he is concerned with Tradition and the Reason, not with Art. 
Let me put the difference between the logical intention of scientifckese or 
academese as against the artistic intention of literature in an example. 

For instance, to create the atmosphere of the sea and ships the artist 
wrote, " They that go down to the sea in ships and have their business on 
great waters, these see the works of the Lord and His wonders in the 
deep" ; the academese would be, '"'■Sailors exercise their calling at sea in 
ships, and since they conduct their operations upon the ocean, it naturally 

follows, as a postulate to the hypothesis, that the aforesaid perceive the 
works of the Lord and the wonders of the latter on the former." An 
artist does not employ such terms as '■'■former " or " latter " for they appeal 
to the Reason, not to the senses ; they compel an intellectual act oj 
reference, whereas the aim of the artist is direct and forceful appeal to the 


Now let us take Mr. Finberg on Impressionism — fnark you, not a 
casual scribbler Jor the press, but a man who has given precious years of 
life to try and discover Art. Impressionism is, says he, " the attempt to 
eliminate all those elements in art which are due to the reaction of 
the intelligent self upon the immediate data of sense-perception. 
The aim of Impressionism is to get rid of what one eminent 
psychologist has called the noetic fringe in a state of consciousness, 
to abstract from memory and see objects as simple visual elements. 
The Impressionist wishes to see objects as though he was looking at 
them for the first time, as though they had no meaning for him. 
The theoretic justification of this procedure is that, in stripping off 
the formative and organising action of intelligence, we isolate the 
pure element of objective reality ; that pictures painted upon this 
principle give the real truth of Nature and are free from all those 
errors and distortions which the action of thought is supposed to 


introduce into the irrefragably trustworthy elements of the given." 
Now I am not jesting. This is not the petition oj a Hindoo Baboo ivith a 
university education. This is serious academese. I say that the man who 
approaches works of art in such a spirit and endeavours to explain them 
in such a jargon^ fails to sound the deeps of the significance of Art. 

Criticism has created an elusive jargon about Art ; worse still, it has 
wholly misunderstood the significance of " Style" of " /Esthetic" of 
'■'■ Art" ; it has set up Beauty as so elastic a thing that it is made to cover 
almost anything, and ugliness in particular. Rather than part with the 
parrot-taught phrase that Art is Beauty, critics will say anything, believe 
anything, ignore everything, trample on sense and truth, attack all that !s 
vital in Art, rend the firmametit in twain and see blackness in whiteness. 
They mistake the sensing of things for sensuality ; they dread to confess the 
limits of mere intellect lest they appear vulgar — just as prurient men 
look upon the sublime fact of sex as something obscene. But it is in the 
senses, not on the frigid heights of the intellect, that all that is noblest and 
most godlike in man has its habitation ; it is the senses that impel him to 
the courage and the adventure of noble acts, where the intellect would but 
send him cowering into the ditch of fear, chilled by the mere promptings of 
Reason. That is why no intellectual impulse is of vital value until it is 
flung into the crucible of the senses and comes out a changed thing, a vital 
significance, transferred into the high realm of the emotions. That is why 
academese and scientifickese are but a language cold as death, and the 
thought behind such things f scant value until reborn in the simple 
emotional experience that is fashioned by the artist into what can be J e It in 
the senses, and thereby reaches into that supreme sensing of man that we 
call the Imagination. 

To mistake a work of art as the map of a fact is to miss its whole 

In this volume I treat of the Modern movements. With Crome and 
Constable and Bonington and Turner we enter upon a vast increase 
of artistic utterance which has affected the whole of painting wrought 
thereafter. And to attempt to understand Modern Art without Turner 
is to miss the whole basic intention of the achievement that has been so 
vital and profound across the face of 'Europe. The orchestration oj 
painting as developed by Turner was stupendous. 

The artist must be judged as artist by the height and width, the depth 
and reach, the range of his emotional utterance ; and just as Shakespeare 
in words is accounted the sublime genius of poetry in the measure oj his 
astounding rang", so in his eagle flight in the province of landscape- 
painting does Turiier stand forth as a very giant amongst men. 



As regards Crome and Cotman vo art-lover s shelves should be 
without Binyon's " Portfolio Monograph." The foundation of any life 
of Constable must he on his Jriend Leslie's writings ; but there are 
several good books upon his ivork by Sturge Henderson, by Lord 
Windsor, and others. The most complete account of his works is in the 
elaborate volume by C. J. Holmes, though this writer, like most scientific 
critics, must be discounted when he comes to estimate his art. On Girtin 
the best writer is Lawrence Binyon, who writes with charm. 

A constant source of confusion is the misuse of the words " water- 
colour drawing " and " water-colour painting " by critical writers. A 
" water-colour drawing " being the " staining " of a pen or line drawing;, 
and wholly different fro?n the employment of water-colour as painting, which 
is complete in itself 0/" Turner's Ife Thornbury held the key which 
fnight have unlocked to him the gates of immortality as a biographer ; he 
published instead a slovenly jumble of falsities ; Ruskin neglected the 
?naterial, burying it under a vast ?nass oj brilliant rhetoric ; Hamerton 
fnade the Jirst sincere effort towards a real life; but to Cosmo 
Monkhouse is due our heaviest debt of gratitude. The authority on 
Turner, Mr. Rawlinson, might give us the great biography — perhaps he 
will. Secretive as a monkey. Turner puts every diffculty in the way, but 
the unf inching devotion and scholarly research of Mr. Finberg have given 
us the Complete Inventory of the Drawings of the Turner Bequest, 
and he has written an interesting volume on Turner's Sketches and 
Drawings which should not be overlooked. In the Complete Inventory 
is the key to his artistic life. Two valuable books published on Turner 
are the Golden Visions of Turner and the Water-Colour Drawings of 
Turner in the National Gallery [Cassell), in that they are rich in repro- 
ductions of his works in colour, as are the several volumes published by 
The Studio. But I would warn the lover of art that whilst Mr. 
Finberg has proved himself as fine a scholar in his particular province 
as we have ainongst us, and whilst his Complete Inventory is of 
enormous value as to the career of Turner, his criticising ?nust at all 
times be treated with the greatest caution, for his sensing of art is not deep. 
When we read that "After 1815 . . . more conspicuously after 1825, 
his work is designed to startle the world into attention by its 
audacity and extravagance," and that Mr. Finberg can see in it nothing 
but that " it has dazzled and called up the admiration of the 
multitude, and the influence of his example has been as widespread 
as it has been vicious," it would indeed seetn that Turner has poured 
music into the ears of a deaf tnan. The great life o/" Turner is still to be 
written. But it will 7iot be done by such as see in the most splendid 
Utterance of his genius an aifn "to startle a rather stupid public." A 



careful work on the Norwich School of Painting is that by W. F. 
Dickes. On the life of Cox the chief authorities are Hall and Solly, 
whose information tnay be found in winnowed form in several modern 
works. To Caw's " Scottish Painting " / have had to ?nake constant 
reference for facts. 

There are several books now to be had in English upon the Im- 
pressionist movements. Lecomte's "Impressionist Art," published by the 
firm of Durand-Ruel, the most loyal patron of impressionism, I have not 
seen. Most of the literature on the subject^ even in France, is, I jancy, 
only to be found in magaxines. Even Mauclair's theories, his ideas of the 
significance of Art, and his acceptance oj Jalse traditions, must be taken 
with caution, and are strange in the t?iouth of a ?nan with appreciation of 
the craftsmanship of the movement he surveys. Mr. Wynford Dewhurst 
suffers from the same narrow vision, but has given us an interesting volutne 
on Impressionist Painting. As regards a sound general survey of 
Modern Art, I know none. There are many good articles scattered through 
magazines on various artists which are oj value — //; such fne fnagazines 
as The Studio ; but these require much research. There is, of course, 
the general survey of Meier-Graefe's " Modern Art," but we must 
wholly discount his opinions, since Jrom the very first page he authorita- 
tively gives forth fallacy after fallacy on which the two volumes are built ; 
and the very fact of a somewhat strident modern attitude being taken up 
is the more likely to mislead the student. Like tnost writers upon Art, the 
author has no deep sensing of the vital significance of Art, and only proceeds 
to set up a new code of criticism which is as blighting as the old academism. 
"Painting," saith he, "is the art of charming the eyes by colour 
and line." This is perhaps about as egregious a definition of painting 
us ever issued from a bookish man. Fancy tragedy or a tnartyrdom 
" charming " the eye ! to say nothing of sorrow and agony and horror and 
hate and tears I The f?ian who could affrm in surveying Modern Art 
that " Neither France nor England has an original art," when 
Turner created the whole modern intention, gives an idea of the incom^ 
petence of modern criticism. Meier-Graefe sheds jtiuch falsity, but he 
clings desperately to the falsities of " beauty," '■'■enjoyment,'* "■pleasure," 
and the like clap-trap, which are a danger to Art, since they exclude Art's 
most majestic and greatest fights into tragedy and pain and the agonies. 
But criticism always lags behind achievement. When Meier-Graefe 
approves " the coalition of art with science " as being " no less 
natural than that with poetry and music," he reveals the hopeless bog 
in which criticism fiounders. 

Haldane Macfall. 


Foreword ........ 



I. Of the Coming of the Dawn . . . . . 

II. Wherein we see the Dawn break in splendour over England 
out of a Barber's Shop ..... 

III. Wherein a Miller's Son finds Romance in the Reality of 
England's Landscapes, and paints his Impressions of the 
Home-Land ...... 

^'III. Wherein Romance steps out of England into France and sets 
the native Genius aflame ..... 




IV. Wherein we watch the splendour of the Dawn set aglow the 

ancient City of Norwich . . . . .51 

V. Wherein we see the Drawing-masters set up School to teach 

Art in So Many Lessons . . . .56 

VI. Of the early Sea-painters and Animal-painters of England . 65 

VII. Wherein, out of the Scottish Painting of the Home-Life of 

the early Eighteen-hundreds, emerges Colour Realism . 68 

I 8 -? o 


TX. Wherein, sid° by side with Romance, we see biting Satire walk 

the Land of France . . . . .80 

X. Wherein, alongside of Romance and Satire, we also see the 

Academic-classical walking in France . . .87 





XI. Wherein we walk awhile with the Frenchmen of Barbizon . 91 

XII. Wherein a Truculent Fellow turns the eyes of France to 

sombre Realities . . . . . .102 

XIII. Wherein the British Painters take the Figure into the open 

air, and Realism passes into the glamour of the Sunlight . 109 

XIV. Wherein we walk with two English Giants of the Victorian 

Years . . . . . . .125 

XV. Of the German Genius at the Mid-century . . .129 



XVI. Wherein we walk awhile with the i^sthetes . ' ^39 

XVII. Wherein we look upon the various Forms of Academism in 

the Mid-century of the Eighteen-hundreds in France . 143 

XVIII. Wherein we see French Realism seeking for the Sun in 

the East ...... 147 

XIX. Wherein we see Dark Realism in France sending forth 

Forerunners to Impressionism . . . .150 

XX. Wherein the great Revelation of Mass-Impressionism comes 

to France . . . . . .157 

XXI. Wherein we see Mass-Impressionism arise in England . 169 

XXII. Of the English Painters of the Pastoral, and the great 

Illustrators of the Home-Life of the Sixties . .180 

XXIII. Of the Mid-century Scotsmen . . , .182 





XXIV. Wherein we see the Revelation of English Turner burst upon 

France of the Seventies . . . .189 

XXV. Wherein is much talk, of Millet and Velazquez throughout 

Europe . . . . . . .198 

XXVI. Wherein we see Realism step into Germany and lead to 

Impressionism ...... 204 

XXVII. Of the Englishmen in the Seventies . . .210 




XXVIII. Wherein we see Impressionism triumphing in Colour- 
Orchestration . . . . . .215 

XXIX. Wherein several mistake Art for Science, and essay to create 

Art on the Mathematical Principle • . .229 

XXX. Wherein Primal-Academism is created by One who returns 

to the Life of Savages . . , . -233 



XXXI. Wherein Impressionism through Colour-Orchestration con- 
quers the Realm of the Imagination . . .241 

'.XXII. Wherein we see the ^Esthetes making the Styles of the Dead 

their God, and creating the New Academism . . 295 

XXXIII. Wherein we walk with those who would have us believe that 

to the Infancy of the World was granted the final Revelation 299 

XXXIV. Wherein we step on to the highway and part . . 302 
INDEX ........ 309 

vol. VIII C XV 


II. Turner — Crossing the Brook . 


I. Crome — The Windmill, on an undulating heath 
hold Heath, in the neighbourhood of Norwich 

III. Turner — Ulysses deriding Polyphemus 

IV. Turner — Hastings [about 1835) 
V. Constable — A Country Lane 

VI. Constable — Salisbury Cathedral 
VII. CoTMAN — Greta Bridge, Yorkshire 
VIII. David Cox — The Woodcutter . 
IX. De Wint — Harvest Scene 
X. Co ROT — UEtang . . 

XI. Corot — Souvenir d^ Italic . 
XII. Millet — The Sawyers 

XIII. Millet — The Gleaners , 

XIV. Holman Hunt — The Scapegoat 
XV. MiLLAis — Ophelia . 

XVI. Rossetti — Ecce Ancilla Domini 
XVII. Watts— Hope 
XVIII. Burne-Jones — Sidonia von Bork 

XIX. Leighton — The Bath of Psyche 


probably Mouse- 
















XVI 1 




Edouard Manet — Olympia . . . . 

I 60 


Whistler — Old Battersea Bridge . 

. 170 


Whistler — Thomas Carlyle ■ . . 



La Touche — Venice . . . • 

. 218 


Sargent — La Carmencita .... 



Sargent — Lord Ribblesdale . . • 



Brangwyn — The Well . . . . 

. 242 


Alfred East — By the Edge of the Lake 

. 246 


Clausen — Hoeing ..... 

. 248 


Pryde — La Demi-mondaine 

. 256 


Fergusson — Bemeval : The Lady in Pink , . 

. 260 



Abbey, Edwin, 290, 292, 

Adam, Denovan, 185. 

Adams, Dacres, 258. 

Adams, John Quincy, 283, 

Aiguier, Auguste, 152. 

Alciati, 286. 

Aldin, Cecil, 247. 

Alebardi, 286. 

Alexander, Edwin, 251. 

Alexander, J. W., 291. 

Alexander, Robert, 185. 

Allan, R. W., 185. 

Allan, Sir William, 70. 

Allen, 291. 

Alma Tadema, Lady, 141. 

Alma Tadema,Sir Lawrence, 
88, 140. 

Alt, Rudolf von, 205, 283, 

Aman-Jean, Edmond, 267. 

Andri, 284. 

Angeli, 283. 

Anglada y Camarasa, 275. 

Anquetin, Louis, 269. 

Antonio de la Gandara, 269. 

Arago, 82. 

Aranyossy, 285. 

Archer, James, 123, 182. 

Armfield, Maxwell, 292. 

Armour, Denholm, 251. 

Arosenius, 288. 

Artz, David Adolphe Con- 
stable, 199. 

Atkinson, 294. 

Aubert, Raymond, 152. 

Augrand, 230. 

Aumonier, 247. 

Baar, 283. 
Baertsoen, 286. 
Bail, Joseph, 268. 
Barker of Bath, 4, 6. 
Barratt, Reginald, 247. 

Bartels, Hans von, 278. 

Basch, Arpad, 297. 

BashkirtseiF, Marie, 201. 

Bastien-Lepage, 201. 

Batten, 142. 

Baudry, 87, 146. 

Bauer, 286, 293. 

Baum, Paul, 209. 

Bayes, Walter, 247. 

Beardsley, Aubrey, 261, 265. 

Beatty, 294. 

Beaux, Cecilia, 245. 

Becht, 286. 

Becker, Harry, 248. 

Beckwith, 290. 

Behmer, Marcus, 264. 

Bejot, 274. 

Bell, Anning, 142, 265. 

Bentley, Charles, 64. 

Berchere, 147. 

Berg, Gunner, 298. 

Bergh, 287. 

Bernard, Emile, 300. 

Bernard, Valere, 144. 

Bertin, Victor, 75. 

Berton, Armand, 267. 

Besnard, Albert Paul, 216, 

Bezzi, 286. 

Billotte, 215. 

Binet, 149, 215. 

Birgers, 287. 

Bjorck, 287. 

Blacklock, 250. 

Blake- Wirgman, 265. 

Blanche, Jacques Emile, 269. 

Biashfield, 290. 

Blommers, Bernardus Jo- 
hannes, 199. 

Blomstedt, 289. 

Blum, 291, 293. 

Boberg, Anna, 288, 

Boch, Anna, 232. 

Bocklin, 131. 

Boldini, 225. 

Bone, Muirhead, 251, 265. 

Bonheur, Rosa, 198. 

Bonington, Richard P., 49. 

Bonnard, Pierre, 299. 

Bonnat, Leon, 202. 

Bonvin, Francois, 154. 

Bonvin, Leon, 154. 

Borthwick, 251. 

Bosboom, Johannes, 152. 

Bosch, 286. 

Bouchod, 78. 

Boudin, Louis Eugene, 150. 

Bough, Samuel, 64, 183. 

Boughton, 291. 

Bouguereau, 145. 

Boulanger, Gustave, 147. 

Boulard, Auguste, 198. 

Bouquet, 82. 

Boutet de Monvel, 272, 274, 

Boyce, George Price, 64. 

Boyd Houghton, 181, 265. 

Brabazon, 247. 

Bracht, 209. 

Bracquemond, Marie, 168, 

Bradley, W. H., 264. 

Bramley, 249. 

Brangwyn, Frank, 241, 265. 

Breitner, 286. 

Breton, Emile, 198. 

Breton, Jules, 198. 

Brett, John, 123. 

Bricher, 290. 

Brickdale, Eleanor Fortes- 
cue, 123, 266. 

Bridgman, 291, 294. 

Bright, Henry, 55. 

Brock, 265. 

Brough, Robert, 245, 250. 

Brown, Arnesby, 248. 

Brown, A. K., 185. 

Brown, Hablot K., 265. 

Brown,T. Austen, 227, 251. 

Browne, 293. 

Brownell, 293, 294. 
I Bruce, Blair, 293. 



Brush, 290. 
Brymner, 293. 
Bunny, Rupert, 294. 
Burger, 132. 
Burgess, 67. 
Burnand, 289. 
Burne-Jones, 136. 
Burnet, 70. 
Burnitz, 132. 
Burns, 142. 
Burridge, 265. 
Burton, W. S., i22. 
Bussy, Simon, 144, 267. 

Cabanel, 145. 
Cadenhead, 226. 
Caillebotte, Gustave, 197. 
Caldecott, Randolph, 211, 

Calderon, Philip, 123. 
Calcott, Sir A. W., 50. 
Callow, William, 63. 
Cameron, D. Y., 226, 251, 

Cameron, Hugh, 123, 185. 
Cameron, Katharine, 123, 

Canon, Hans, 283, 284. 
Caputo, 287. 
Caro-Delvaille, 269. 
Carozzi, 286. 
Carriere, Eugene, 224. 
Carse, 70. 
Carter, 266. 

Casanova y Estorach, 276. 
Casas, 275. 
Casciaro, 286. 
Caspari, 282. 
Cassatt, Mary, 167, 168. 
Cassie, 185. 
Cassiers, 286. 
Cattermole, George, 79. 
Cayley Robinson, 124. 
Cazin, Jean Charles, 198. 
Cezanne, Paul, 233. 
Chahine, 275. 
Challoner, 294. 
Chalmers, 184. 
Chalon, 67. 
Cham, 82. 

Chambers, George, 66. 
Chariet, 80. 
Chase, 290, 291. 


Chasseriau, Theodore, 87, 

145, 147. 
Chenavard, 87. 
Cheret, Jules Charles, 218. 
Chessa, 287. 
Chevalier, Guillaume Sul- 

pice, 82. 
Chiesa, 286. 

Childe Hassam, 290, 291. 
Chintreuil, 95. 
Chowne, 250. 
Church, 291, 293. 
Ciamberlani, 285. 
Ciardi, 286. 
Clarkson Stanfield, George, 

Clarkson Stanfield, William, 

Claus, Emile, 220. 
Clausen, 247, 249. 
Clays, Paul Jean, 78. 
Coffin, 290. 
Cole, Vicat, 50. 
Collier, Thomas, 64. 
Collins, Charles Alliston, 

Collins, William, 70. 
CoUinson, 121. 
Conder, Charles, 252. 
Connard, 249. 
Constable, 40-49. 
Constant, Benjamin, 148. 
Cooke, Edward William, 65. 
Cooper, Sidney, 67. 
Corbould, Chantrey, 265. 
Cormon, 144. 
Cornelius, 1 1 1. 
Corot, 74. 
Cossmann, 285. 
Cotman, John Sell, 52. 
Cottet, 149, 216. 
Courbet, Gustave, 102. 
Couture, Thomas, 87. 
Cowper, Cadogan, 123. 
Cox, David, 57. 
Cox, Kenyon, 290. 
Crabb, 68. 
Craig, Edward Gordon, 

Craig, Frank, 123, 293. 
Crane, Walter, 138, 141, 

Crawhall, Joseph, 181,226, 


Crawhall, Joseph, the 

younger, 258. 
Creswick, Thomas, 64. 
Crome, John, 3. 
Crome, John Berney, 4. 
Cross, 230. 

Cruikshank, 265, 294. 
CuUen, 295. 
Czok, 283. 

D'Ache, Caran, 272. 
Dagnan-Bouveret, 215. 
Dall'oca-Bianca, 286. 
Daniells, 55. 
Dannat, William, 291. 
Daubigny, Charles Francois, 

Daubigny, Edme Francois, 

Daumier, Honore, 80. 
Daveneck, 290, 293. 
Davis, H. W. B., 123. 
Davis, William, 123. 
Dayes, Edward, 7. 
De Braekeleer, Henri, 286. 
Decamps, 78, 99, 147. 
Degas, 164. 

De Groux, Charles, 286. 
De Josselin de Jong, 289. 
Delacroix, 73. 
De Latenay, 274. 
Delaunay, Eiie, 87. 
Delaunois, 286. 
Delleani, 286. 
Delug, 284. 
De Maria, 287. 
De Monvel, Bernard, 274. 
De Morgan, Mrs., 141. 
De Nettis, 225. 
Denis, Maurice, 231. 
De Neuville, 143. 
Der Kindercn, 297. 
Despret, 82. 
Desvallieres, 144. 
Detaille, 143. 
De\erell, 121. 
Deveria, 82. 

Dewhurst, Wynford, 248. 
Dewing, 290. 
De Wint, Peter, 59. 
Diaz, Emile, 94. 
Diaz, Narcisse Virgilio, 93. 
Dicksec, F., 141. 
Didier-Pouget, 268. 


Diebold, 96. 
Dielman, 290. 
Diez, Julius, 280. 
Dijsselhof, 297. 
Dill, Ludwig, 278. 
Diriks, Edouard, 288. 
Discovolo, 286. 
Docharty, 183. 
Donnay, 286. 
Dore, Gustave, 80. 
Douglas, Sir William Fettes, 

123, 182. 
Douglas, Sholto, 251. 
Dow, Millie, 226. 
Drake, 293. 
Drolling, 146. 
Dubois-Piller, 230. 
Dufrenoy, Georges Leon, 

Duhem, 267. 
Du Maurier, George, 170, 

Duncan, 70. 
Dupont, 274. 
Dupre, Jules, 96. 
Duran, Carolus, 202. 
Duval, Amaury, 87. 
Dyce, William, 71, III. 
Dyonnet, 293. 
Dyson, 294. 

East, Sir Alfred, 246, 265. 
Eaton, 290, 293. 
Eck, 284. 
Eckmann, 298. 
Edelfelt, 289. 
Edwards, 290. 
Eeckhoudt, 286. 
Eichler, 281. 
Ellis, Tristram, 265. 
Ende, Hans Am, 282. 
Engelhart, 284-5. 
Engels, 281. 
Engleheart, J. D., 67. 
Ensor, 285. 
Erler, 281. 
Estoppey, 289. 
Ethofer, 285. 
Etty, William, 109. 
Eugene, Prince, 288. 
Evenepoel, Henri, 285. 
Eysen, 205. 

Fabres, 287, 

Faed, Thomas, 181. 
Fagerlin, 287. 
Fantin-Latour, 155. 
Farquharson, David, 185. 
Farquharson, Joseph, 185. 
Farrer, 290. 
Fattori, 287. 
Feldbauer, 281. 
Fenn, 290. 

Fergusson, J. D., 259. 
Ferraris, 284. 
Feuerbach, Anselm, 130. 
Fielding, Copley, 6 1. 
Fildes, Sir Luke, 210, 265. 
Filiger, 300. 
Finch, Francis Oliver, 64, 

Fischer, 282. 
Fisher, Mark, 247. 
Flageolet, 1 02. 
Flameng, Francois, 144. 
Flandrin, Hippolyte, 145. 
Fleury, Tony Robert, 80. 
Flint, 258. 
Flodin, 289. 
Footet, Fred, 248. 
Forain, Jean Louis, 167, 

Forbes, Mrs. Stanhope, 294. 
Forbes, Stanhope, 249. 
Fortuny, Mariano, 148, 276, 

Foster, Miles Birket, 180, 

Fowler, Robert, 250. 
Francia, 6. 
Eraser, 70, 183. 
Fraser, Lovat, 258. 
Frederic, Leon, 286. 
Freer, 290. 
Freidrich, 284. 
Frere, Edouard, 78. 
Frith, William Powell, 121. 
Fromentin, Eugene, 149. 
Frost, 293. 

Fuller of Boston, 290. 
FuUwood, 294. 
Furse, Charles Wellington, 




Gaillard, 286. 
Gallacher, 266. 
Gallen, 288, 289. 

Gaskin, 141, 142, 
Gaugain, 234. 
Gavarni, 82, 83. 
Gavin, 182. 
Gay, Walter, 291. 
Gebhard, 289. 
Geddes, 68. 
Georgi, 281. 
Gere, 142. 
Germala, 285. 
Germela, 284. 
Gerome, Jean Leon, 148. 
Giani, 286. 
Gibb, 185. 
Gibson, Dana, 293. 
Gibson, Hamilton, 290. 
Gifford, 290. 
Gignous, 286. 
Gilbert, Graham, 68. 
Gilbert, Sir John, 79, 265. 
Gilsoul, 286. 
Gioli, 287. 
Girtin, Thomas, 7. 
Gleichen-Russwurm, 209. 
Godin, 274. 
Goff, Colonel, 265. 
Gonzales, Eva, 168. 
Gotch, 142. 
Grabar, 289. 
Graf, 282, 284. 
Graham, Peter, 184. 
Graham, Tom, 184. 
Grandville, 82. 
Grasset, 275. 
Graziosi, 287. 
Green, Charles, 210, 265. 
Green, E. S., 293. 
Greenaway, Kate, 1 4 1. 
Gregory, E. J., 210. 
Greiffenhagen, 253, 266. 
Greiner, 282. 
Gresy, Prosper, 152. 
Grier, Wyly, 293. 
Griggs, 266. 
Grom-Rottmayer, 284. 
Grosso, 286. 
Guerard, Henri, 168. 
Guerin, Charles, 299. 
Guillaume, 272. 
Guillaumet, Gustave, 149. 
Guillaumin, Armand, 197. 
Guillion-Lethiere, 91. 
Guthrie, 226. 
Guthrie, J. J., 142. 



Guthrie, Sir James, 227. 
Guys, Constantin, 86. 

Hacker, 293. 

Haden, Seymour, 171, 265. 
Haider, Karl, 205. 
Haite, 247. 
Hall, Oliver, 247. 
Hall, Peter Adolf, 287. 
Hammershoj, 288. 
Hammond, Miss, 265. 
Hampel, Walter, 283. 
Hankey, Lee, 247. 
Hansen, Hans, 227, 289. 
Hardie, C Martin, 185. 
Harding, James D., 63. 
Hardy, Dudley, 254. 
Harpignies, 78. 
Harris, 293. 
Harrison, Miss F., 142. 
Harrison, Alexander, 267, 

Hartrick, 251, 266. 
Harvey, 70, 183. 
Hassall, 266. 
Haydon, 67. 
Hayter, Sir George, 67. 
Hebert, Ernest, 87, 146. 
Hegenbart, 282. 
Heine, 264, 280, 298. 
Hejda, 284. 
Helleu, 267, 274 
Hemy, Napier, 88. 
Henderson, Joseph, 123, 185. 
Henner, 105. 
Henry, George, 226, 228, 

Herdman, 182. 
Herkomer, Sir Hubert von, 

210, 265. 
Hill, Raven, 265. 
Hillestroms, 287. 
Hilton, William, R.A., 61. 
Hirth der Frenes, 205. 
Hitchcock, George, 291. 
Hockert, 287. 
Hofman, Ludwig von, 278, 

Hoffmann, 297. 
Hohenberger, 285. 
Hole, William, 185. 
Holiday, 142. 
Holl, Frank, 210. 
Holland, James, 63. 


Holman Hunt, William, 1 14, 

Holzcl, Adolf, 278. 
Homer, Winslow, 290. 
Hook, 66. 
Hope, 294. 
Hopwood, 247. 
Hermann, 283. 
Hornel, 226, 228, 250. 
Horovitz, 283. 
Horst-Schulze, 282. 
Houghton, Boyd, 181, 265. 
Housman, Lawrence, 141, 

Hovenden, 293. 
Huard, 274. 
Huoffer, Mrs., 1 1 4. 
Huet, Paul, 73, 74. 
Hughes, Arthur, 122. 
Humbert, Ferdinand, 144. 
Hunt, Alfred W., 64. 
Hunt, W. H., 61,62. 
Hunter, Colin, 185. 
Hutt, 293. 

Ibels, 271, 275. 
Image, Selwyn, 141. 
Ince, John Murray, 64. 
Inchbold, 123. 
Ingres, 87. 
Inness, George, 290. 
Innocenti, 287. 
Isabey, 73, 80. 
Israels, Joseph, 198. 

Jacque, Charles, 95. 

James, 250. 

Jamieson, 251. 

Jank, 281. 

Jansson, 288. 

Jarnefelt, 289. 

Jeanniot, 270. 

Jeffreys, 294. 

Jettel, 284. 

Jettmar, 285, 297, 298. 

Joannovits, 284. 

Johannot, Tony, 80. 

Johansen, 288. 

John, Augustus E., 250. 

Johnson, Eastman, 290. 

Jones, Garth, 266, 290. 

Jongkind, Johann B., 150. 

Josephson, 287. 

Julien, 82. 

Kalckreuth, 282. 

Kappes, 290. 

Kasparides, 284. 

Kaulbach, 207. 

Keene, Charles, 169, 265. 

Kemble, 293. 

Khnopff, 145, 232, 285, 

Kidd, 70. 
King, Jessie, 142, 
Kley, 282. 
Klimt, 297, 298. 
Klinger, Max, 277, 282. 
Knight, 291. 
Kobke, 288. 
Kollwitz, Kathe, 282. 
Koner, 207. 
Konopa, 285. 
Koppay, 284. 
Korovine, 289. 
Koster, 286. 
Kramer, 284. 
Krausz, 283. 
Kronberg, 287. 
Kroyer, 288, 289. 
Kriiger, 129. 
Kruis, 284. 
Kustodieff, Boris, 289. 

Lacoste, Charles, 268. 
Ladbrooke, Robert, 3, 54. 
Laermans, Eugene, 286. 
La Farge, 290, 298. 
Lafitte, 274. 

Lafrensen, Nikolaus, 287. 
Lambert, 294. 
Lance, George, 67. 
Landseer, Edwin, 66. 
Lang, Albert, 205. 
Lange, Olaf, 288. 
Langhammer, Arthur, 279. 
Langlois, 97. 
Laprade, Pierre, 299. 
Larssons, Carl, 287. 
Laszlo, Philip, 284. 
La Thangue, 248, 249. 
Lathrop, 290, 293. 
La Touche, Gaston, 217, 

Laurens, Jean Paul, 143. 
Laurent, Ernest, 230, 267, 
Laurenti, 286. 
Lautrec, 270. 
Lauzet, 230. 


Laval, 300. 

Lavery, 226, 228. 

Lavreince, 287. 

Lawless, Mathew James, 

Lawson, Cecil Gordon, 185. 
Leandre, 272. 
Lebourg, Albert, 197. 
Lefebvre, Jules, 145. 
Lefler, 284. 
Legrand, Louis, 270. 
Legros, Alphonse, 156, 265. 
Leheutre, 274. 
Leibl, Wilhelm, 204. 
Leighton, Frederick, Lord, 

139, 265. 
Leistikow, 282, 298. 
Lemmen, 232, 297. 
Lcnbach, Franz von, 206. 
Lenfesty, 247. 
Lenz, 284. 

Lepere, Auguste, 270, 274. 
Le Sidaner, Henri, 266. 
Leslie, Charles Robert, 79. 
Leslie, G. D., 123. 
Lewis, John Frederick, no. 
Leys, Jean Auguste Henri, 

L'Hermitte, 198. 
Liebenwein, 285. 
Liebermann, Max, 207, 282. 
Liljefors, 288. 
Lindner, Moffat, 247. 
Lindsay, Norman, 266, 294. 
Lindsay, Ruby, 294. 
Linnell, John, 62. 
Linton, Sir J. D., 123. 
Lionne, 286. 
Lippincott, 290. 
List, 284. 
Lista, 219. 
Little, 247. 
Livens, 247. 
Lloyd, 247. 
Lobre, Maurice, 267. 
Lockhart, 185. 
Lomont, Eugene, 267. 
Loos, 297. 
Lori, 286. 
Lorimer, 226. 
Loubon, Emile, 152. 
Loudan, Mouat, 246. 
Lound, 55. 
Low, 290, 291. 

VOL. VIII — d 

Lucas, David, 47. 
Luce, 230. 
Lundberg, 287. 

Macallum, Hamilton, 185. 
Macbeth, Robert W., 185. 
Macdougall, 142. 
MacGeorge, 250. 
Macgregor, W. Y., 226, 

Mackay, 185. 
Mackensen, Fritz, 282. 
Mackenzie, 68. 
Mackie, 226. 
Maclaughlan, Shaw, 293. 
Maclise, Daniel, 70. 
Macnee, 68. 
MacWhirter, 184. 
M'Bride, 251. 
M'CuUoch, Horatio, 69. 
M'Gillivray, 226. 
M'Gregor, Robert, 185. 
M'Lachlan, Hope, 185. 
M'Leay, 68. 
M'Nicol, Bessie, 251. 
M'Taggart, William, 123, 

Madox Brown, Ford, 112. 
Madrazo, 148. 
Maggi, 286. 
Mahoney, J., 210, 265. 
Maitland, 249. 
Majani, 286. 
Makart, Hans, 283. 
Maliavine, 289. 
Mancini, Antonio, 219, 287. 
Manet, Edouard, 159. 
Mann, Alexander, 226,251. 
Mann, Harrington, 226,251. 
Manson, 185. 
Manuel, 265. 
Mariani, 286. 
Marilhat, 78, 147. 
Maris, Jacobus, 200. 
Maris, Mathys, 200. 
Maris, Willem, 201. 
Marold, 282, 284. 
MaroUe, 97. 
Marshall, 247. 
Marstrand, 288. 
Martel, Eugene, 144. 
Martin, Henri, 268. 
Martineau, Robert, 123. 
Matisse, Henri, 301. 

Mason, George Heming, 180. 
Maufra, Maxime, 268. 
Mauve, Anton, 200. 
May, Phil, 264, 265. 
Mediz, 284. 
Mcdiz-Pelikan, 284. 
Mee, Mrs., 67. 
Mehoffer, Josef, 284. 
Mein, Will, 142. 
Meissonier, 143. 
Melchers, 291. 
Melville, Arthur, 227. 
Melville, Walter, 226. 
Menard, Rene, 267. 
Menzel, Adolph von, 129. 
Merson, Olivier, 143. 
Meryon, 105. 
Mesdag, Hendrick Willem, 

Metcalf, 2§0. 
Mettling, Louis, 203. 
Meulen, Frederick Picter 

Ter, 200. 
Meunier, 106, 201, 286. 
Michallon, 75. 
Michel, Georges, 74, 91. 
Michetti, 220. 
Michie, Coutts, 185. 
Michl, 274. 
Middeleer, 286. 
Migliaro, 287. 
Millais, John Everett, 115, 

Millar, 266. 
Millet, F. D., 290. 
Millet, Jean Francois, 97. 
Milne-Donald, 183. 
Minns, 294. 
Miss, 289. 

Mitchell, Campbell, 251. 
Miti-Zanetti, 287. 
Modersohn, Otto, 282. 
Moir, 68. 

Moira, Gerald, 142. 
Moll, Carl, 284. 
Monet, Claude, 190. 
Monnier, 82. 
Monsted, 289. 
Montalba, 247. 
Monticelli, Adolphe, 152. 
Moore, Albert, 141. 
Moore, Henry, 123. 
Moore Park, Carton, 266. 
Morans, The, 290. 



Moreau, Gustave, 144. 

Morel, 286. 

MorelU, 287. 

Moret, 300. 

Morisot, Berthe, 167. 

Morner, 287. 

Morot, Aime, 143. 

Morren, 285. 

Morrice, Wilson James, 

268, 293. 
Morris, Edmund, 293. 
Morris, William, 136. 
Moser, 297. 
Mosler, 29 1. 
Mostyn, Tom, 253. 
Mouchel, 97. 
Mouncey, 250 . 
Mowbray, 290. 
Muclcley, 142. 
Muirhead, David, 251. 
Miiller, Victor, 132. 
Miiller, William James, 50, 

Mulready, 61, 70. 
Munch, 288. 
Munkacsy, 205, 283. 
Munthe, Gerhard, 298. 
Munzer, 281. 
Murray, David, 185, 247. 
Murray, Fairfax, 141. 
Myrbach, 284. 

Nairn, 251. 

Nanteuil, Celestin, 80. 

Nasmyth, Alexander, 68. 

Nasmyth, Patrick, 68. 

Nelson, Townsend, 266. 

Neuhuys, Albert, 199. 

New, 266. 

Newell, 293. 

Newton, 67. 

Nicholson, P. Walker, 185. 

Nicholson, William, 68, 

Nicol, Erskine, 182. 
Nicol, J. Watson, 185. 
Nieuwenkamp, 286. 
Nisbet, R. B., 185. 
Niss, 289. 

Noble, Campbell, 185. 
Noble, Robert, 185, 226. 
Nocci, 287. 
Noire, 149, 269. 
Nomellini, 287. 


Norstcdt, 287. 

Oberlaendcr, 282. 
Ochtman, 291. 
Oldbrich, 297. 
Olgyai, 285. 
Olivier, Luc, 143. 
Opsomer, 285. 
Orchardson, Sir William O., 

184. "" 

Orlik, 285. 

Orpen, William, 246, 250. 
Orr, 258. 
Overbeck, 1 1 1, 282. 

Palmer, Samuel, 61, 290. 

Park, Stuart, 216. 

Parrish, M., 293. 

Parrish, Stephen, 293. 

Parsons, 265, 290. 

Partridge, Bernard, 265. 

Paterson, James, 226, 251. 

Paton, Sir Noel, 122, 182. 

Paton, Waller, 123. 

Patterson, 293. 

Pau de Saint-Martin, A., 91. 

Paul, Bruno, 282. 

Paulsen, 288. 

Pearce, 291. 

Peel, Paul, 293. 

Pegram, 266. 

Pennell, 293. 

Peploe, S. J., 250, 258. 

Peppercorn, 247. 

Perugini, C. E., 141. 

Peterssen, 288. 

Pettenkofen, 283. 

Pettie, 184. 

Phillip, John, 182. 

Philpot, 250. 

Picard, Louis, 267. 

Piccini, 220. 

Picknell, 291. 

Pietschmann, 286. 

Pigal, 82. 

Pilo, 287. 

Pinwell, George John, 181, 

Pirie, George, 216. 
Pissarro, Camille, 193, 230. 
Pitman, Miss, 266. 
Piatt, 293. 
Point, Armand, 144. 

Pointelin, Auguste Em- 
manuel, 225. 

Poupart, 95. 

Poynter, Sir Edward J., 

Preisler, 283. 

Prellar, 282. 

Preshun, 281. 

Priest, 55. 

Prikker, Joan Thorn, 297. 

Prinsep, Val, 123. 

Prout, Samuel, 56. 

Prvde, James, 227, 255. 

Pujol, Abel de, 78. 

Puttner, 281. 

Putz, 281. 

Puvis de Chavannes, 145. 

Pyle, Howard, 290, 292, 

Pyne, James Baker, 50. 

Quin, 294. 

Rackham, Arthur, 266. 
Raffaelli, Jean Francois, 196, 

275, 287. 
Raffet, 80, 82. 
Railton, 265. 
Ralston, W., 185. 
Ranft, 274. 
Ranken, 247. 
Rassenfosse, 285. 
Rauscher, 285. 
Redon, Odilon, 144. 
Reed, E. T., 266. 
Regnault, 149. 
Reicher, 286. 
Reid, John R., 185. 
Reid, Ogilvy, 185. 
Reid, Sir George, 185. 
Reinhart, 291, 293. 
Reisen, 281. 
Remington, 292. 
Remond, 91. 
Renoir, 194. 
Renouard, 167, 270. 
Ress, 283. 
Rethel, 144. 
Rever, 286. 
Reynolds, S. W., 47. 
Rhead, 142. 
Riabuskine, 289. 
Ribot, 105. 
Ricard, Gustave, 154. 


Rice, Miss Estelle, 261. 

Richmond, George, 141. 

Richmond, Sir William, 141. 

Riclcetts, Charles, 142. 

Rico, 287. 

Rieth, 281. 

Riocreux, 95. 

Riviere, 272. 

Robbe, 274. 

Roberts, David, 69. 

Roberts, Tom, 294. 

Robertson, Andrew, 68. 

Robertson, Graham, 227. 

Robertson, Tom, 251. 

Robinson, 246, 291. 

Robson, George Fennel, 64. 

Roche, 226, 228. 

Rochegrosse, 144. 

Roll, Alfred Philippe, 215. 

Roller, 297. 

Romako, 283. 

Romberg, 286, 

Rooke, 141. 

Rops, Felicien, 106, 232. 

Roqueplan, Camille, 95. 

Roslin, 287. 

Ross, R. T., 182. 

Ross, Sir W. C, 68. 

Rossetti, Christina, 121. 

Rossetti, Gabriel Charles 

Dante, 117, 265. 
Rossetti, Mrs. W. M., 114. 
Roth, 283. 

Rothenstein, William, 249. 
Rouault, 144. 
Rousseau, Theodore, 91. 
Roussel, 249, 299. 
Roux, 284. 

Roybet, Ferdinand, 202. 
Runge, 298. 
Rusinol, 275. 
Russell, 249, 294. 
Ryder, 291. 
Ryland, 142. 
Rysselberghe, Theo Van, 

231, 232. 

Sager-Nelson, 288. 

Salmson, 287. 

Salzmann, 281. 

Samberger, 278. 

Sambourne, Linley, 265. 

Sanders, 68. 

Sandys, Frederick, 138, 265. 

Sargent, John S., 218, 249, 

Sartoris, 146. 
Sattler, 144, 282, 298. 
Sauter, 246. 
Scattola, 286. 
Schari^', 284. 
Schattenstien, 284. 
SchefFer, Ary, 87. 
Schider, 205. 
Schirmer, 131. 
Schlittgen, 282. 
Schmid, 284. 
Schmoll, 284. 
Schmutzer, 285. 
Schuch, Karl, 205. 
Schwabe, Carlos, 144, 275. 
Schwaiger, 284. 
Scott, David, 71. 
Scott Lauder, 70. 
Scott, William Bell, 138, 

Seddon, 123. 
Segantini, Giuseppe, 220, 

284, 287. 
Seguin, 300. 
Selvatico, 286. 
Sem, 275. 
Setoff, 289. 
Serusier, Paul, 300. 
Seurat, 230. 

Shannon, C. Hazlewood, 142. 
Shannon, J. J., 292. 
Sharp, 5. 

Shaw, Byam, 123, 266. 
Shields, Frederick, 138, 265. 
Shirlaw, 290. 
Short, Frank, 265. 
Sickert, 249. 
Signac, 230. 
Signol, 87. 

Sime, Sidney H., 252, 266. 
Simon, Lucien, 216, 283. 
Simpson, Joseph, 257. 
Sisley, Alfred, 194. 
Small, William, 185, 265. 
Smedley, 293. 
Smith, Bellingham, 266. 
Smith, Colvin, 68. 
Smith, Hopkinson, 290. 
Smith, Jessie E., 293. 
Smythe, Montague, 247. 
Solomon, Simeon, 141. 
Somoff, Constantin, 252,289. 

Soroila, 276. 

Souchon, 93. 

Southall, 142. 

Spare, 266. 

Sparre, 289. 

Sperl, 205. 

Spiegel, 282. 

Stanhope, Spencer, 141. 

Stanton, Hughes, 247, 

Stark, James, 5, 55. 

Stauffer, 284. 

Steer, Wilson, 249. 

Steiner-Prag, Hugo, 282. 

Steinlen, 167, 272, 274, 275. 

Stephens, F. G., 121. 

Sterner, 293. 

Stetson, 293. 

Steuben, 102. 

Stevens, Alfred, 105, 127. 

Stevenson, Macaulay, 226, 

Stewart, 68, 292. 
Stillman, Mrs., 141. 
Stillwell, Sarah, 293. 
Stohr, 284, 285. 
Stoitzner, 284. 
Storey, 123. 
Stott, Edward, 248. 
Stott, William, 226. 
Strang, 251, 265. 
Strathmann, 298. 
Streeton, 294. 
Stremel, Max, 209. 
Stretti, 283. 
Strudwick, 141. 
Stuck, Franz, 277, 282, 298. 
Sullivan, E. J., 266. 
Sumner, Heywood, 142. 
Svabinsky, 283. 
Swan, John Macallan, 226. 
Syme, John, 68. 
Szekely, 285. 

Talaga, 284. 
Tannock, 68. 
Taquoy, Maurice, 274. 
Tarkhoff, 289. 
Tattegrain, 144. 
Tegner, Hans, 289. 
Temple, 284. 
Tenniel, 265. 
Thanlow, Fritz, 288. 
Thaulow, 267. 
Thayer, 290, 291. 



Thirtle, 55. 

Xhoma, Hans, 205, 282. 
Thompson, Elizabeth, 143. 
Thomson (of Duddingston), 

Thomson, Hugh, 265. 
Thomson, Leslie, 185. 
Thomson, W. J., 68. 
Thony, 279, 282. 
Thorburn, 67, 68. 
Thulstrup, 292. 
Tichy, 284, 285. 
Tidemand, 288. 
Tiffany, 298. 
Tissot, 88. 
Tito, 287. 
Tommasi, 287. 
Tonks, 249. 
Toorop, 286, 296. 
Toulouse-Lautrec, 167. 
Traquair, Mrs., 142. 
Travies, 82. 
Troili, 287. 
Troyon, Constant, 95. 
Trubetskoj, Prince Paul, 

Triibner, 205, 206. 
Tuke, 249. 
Turner, Joseph M. W,, 

Twachtman, 291. 

Ubbelohde, 282. 
linger, 285. 
Uprka, 284. 
Urban, 284. 

Vail, 267. 

Valloton, 300. 

Van de Velde, 232, 297. 

Van Gogh, Vincent, 221, 

Van Gravesande, 286. 
Van Houten, 286. 
Van Papendrecht, 286. 
Van Ryssel, 223. 
Varley, John, 56, 6 1. 

Vedder, Elihu, 291. 

Vegetti, 287. 

Verestschagin, 288. 

Verkade, 300. 

Vierge, Daniel, 270, 275. 

Vincelet, Victor, 105. 

Vincent, George, 5, 55. 

Vogel, 282. 

Vogeler, Heinrich, 282. 

VoUon, Antoine, 105. 

Von Breda, 287. 

Von Glehn, 249. 

Von Marees, Hans, 130. 

Von Rosen, 287. 

Von Uhde, Fritz, 209. 

Vuillard, Edouard, 267, 299. 

Wacik, 284. 
Wagemans, 285. 
Wahlberg, 287. 
Waldmiiller, 283. 
Walker, Frederick, 18 1, 

265, 294. 
Wallis, Henry, 123. 
Walls, William, 251. 
Walton, E. A., 226, 228. 
Ward, Edward Matthew, 

183, 291. 
Waterlow, Sir Ernest, 247. 
Watson, C. J., 247, 265. 
Watson, George, 68. 
Watson Gordon, Sir John, 

Watson, Homer, 293. 
Watson, J. D., 123. 
Watson, W. Smeliie, 68. 
Watt, Fiddes, 251. 
Watts, George Frederick, 

Wauters, 286. 
Webbe, W. J., 123. 
Webster, Thomas, 70. 
Weir, Harrison, 265, 290, 

Weisgerber, 282. 
Wenckebach, 286. 
Werenskiold, 288, 298. 

Wery, Emile, 2 16. 

Wethcrbee, 247. 

Whistler, 170, 265, 290, 

White, 185. 
Wieden, 2H4. 
Wierusz-Kowalski, 285. 
Wilhelmsoii, 288. 
Wilke, 282. 
Wilkie, David, 69. 
Willette, 272. 

Williams, 69. > 

Williamson, 293. 
Willumsen, 298. 
Wilson, Andrew, 69. 
Wilson, Edgar, 266. 
Wilson, George, 141. 
Wimperis, 247. 
Windus, William Lindsay, 

Wingate, 185. 
Winterhalter, 146. 
Wintour, John Crawford, 

Witsen, 286. 
Wolff, 282. 
Wood, 290. 
Woodville, Caton, 143. 
Woolner, 121. 
Wright, John Massey, 7. 
Wyant, 290. 
Wytsman, Juliette, 285. 
Wytsman, Randolph, 285. 

Young Hunter, Mrs., 123. 
Yule, 250. 

Zanetti-Zilla, 286. 

Zerlacher, 284. 

Ziem, Felix Francois G. P., 

Zoff, 285. 
Zogbaum, 292. 
Zorn, Anders, 288, 289. 
Ziigel, Heinrich von, 278. 
Zuloaga, Ignacio, 275. 
Zwart, 286. 


I 8 o o 






When 1800 struck, all that was most vital in painting was British. QF THE 
Hogarth had created a virile utterance of the life of the people of COMING OF 
the cities ; Rowlandson and Morland the life of the countryside ; THE DAWN 
and the landscape-painters were creating the pure impression of 
Nature in lyrical fashion. 

A vigorous national utterance was to be sounded throughout the 
land and was to resound across the face of Europe. 



In a small tavern in Norwich was born on December 22, 1768, 
John Crome, called "Old Crome," to a weaver of the old city who 
kept the little tavern in the Castle Meadow below the castle. The 
lad knew but scant education. It was a custom in Norwich for the 
youths and girls of the place who sought service to " go on the 
palace," the site of the old Ducal Palace, in the early morning for 
hire ; and the boy Crome, at twelve, went and was hired as errand- 
boy to Dr. Rigby, with whom he remained for a couple of years, 
running to surgery himself to the extent of near bleeding a patient 
to death. Rigby liked the lad, and helped him to go 'prentice in 
the August of 1783 for seven years to a painter of signs, coaches, 
and houses called Whisler (or Whister) of 41 Bethel Street. Here 
the eager boy learnt to grind colours, and was soon using them on 
coaches and signboards. 

As the young fellow reached to manhood and the 'prentice years 
ran out, he struck up a close friendship with a printer's 'prentice, 
Robert Ladbrooke, and the two youngsters hired a garret and set 
to work copying prints, Crome getting off into the fields and paint- 
ing trom Nature, so that at twenty-two he painted his first known 
work (1790). His apprenticeship over, he still worked for Whisler 
as a journeyman painter, and painted several signs, including The 



THE Sawyers, still at Norwich. Thomas Harvey of Catton became a 

DAWN OF most valuable patron, and lent him pictures, of which Crome 

MODERN copied the Cottage Door by Gainsborough, a Wilson, and a Hobbema. 

PAINTING Harvey introduced him to friends, Beechey amongst the number, 

to whom Crome always went in his now frequent visits to London. 

So Crome, founding on the Dutch style, but going direct to 

Nature, rapidly increased in power, using a dark warm grey ground, 

relying on it for his shadows, and building his lights upon it — 

sometimes the ground is almost untouched in his shadows. The 

lamous Windmill and Mousehold Heath are so wrought. 

Wilson had died in 1782, Gainsborough in 1788, De Louther- 
bourg reigned in landscape. Barker of Bath, a year younger than 
Crome, showed his first picture in 1791. But landscape had yet no 
vogue. Crome, by painting signs, could give himself up to his 
beloved landscapes — he was poor but content. We see him being 
paid a couple of guineas and a half for a sign as late as the May of 
1803. He married in 1792, being twenty-three, Phcebe Berney, 
whose sister, Mary Berney, was married to Ladbrooke the next 
year. Crome and his Phoebe had to marry in haste — their 
daughter was born the same month. Children followed in rapid 

them John Berney Crome in 1794, to be 



known as "Young Crome 

The struggle for bread became severe. 
Crome began to give lessons. To 1796 and 1798 belong two 
pictures, "compositions in the style of Richard Wilson." 

The Gurney family of Earlham seem to have been the first to 
employ Crome as teacher. In the summer of 1802 John Gurney 
took his family and Crome to the Lakes, by Matlock, and Crome's 
pencil was busy all the time making sketches. These journeys were 
so fruitful to Crome that he took several. 

In 1803 was founded the Norwich Society of Arts. Crome and 
Ladbrooke were the centre of the group ; two years thereafter they 
held their first display, and Crome sent twenty works, of which 
were the Carrow Abbey and the Scene in Cumberland. 

Crome made a visit to the Wye, when he painted Goodrich Castle, 
Chepstow, and Tintern Abbey ; and he next went to Weymouth. 
The Cow Tower on the Tare is of about this time. He still painted 
"compositions in the style of Wilson" and "of Gainsborough." 
In 1806 and in 1808 he showed at the Royal Academy. In 181 1 
his son showed with him at the early age of seventeen. 

It was about 18 12 that the oaks of Kimberley Park, which he 
passed on his rides to pupils, impelled him to try a fall with his idol, 
" his dear Hobbema." 







(National Gallery) 

Painted in oil on wood. 3 ft. 7 in. h. x 3 ft. w. (I -092 xo"9i4). 






Crome was now doing well ; his teaching brought him ease OF THE 
from money cares. He had a mania for picking up "bargains" COMING OF 
at auctions, and astonished his family once with a cartload of grave- THE DAWN 

In 18 1 1 there came as pupil to Crome James Stark (1794- 
1859), for three years, at seventeen; and about the same time 
came George Vincent, a couple of years younger than Stark. To 
his pupils he ever remained a close and kind friend, and they loved 

Etching, which had fallen away in the seventeen-hundreds, was 
taken up by Crome. His first etching was of 1809 — a soft ground 
that represents pencil-work. But he seems to have wearied of it 
about 1 813. 

In 1 8 14 Napoleon fell and was sent to Elba ; the artists flocked 
to Paris to see the superb art loot there collected. Crome made for 
Paris with a couple of Norwich friends, who told the story against 
him of his drawing an egg to show what he wanted and of the waiter 
bringing him a salt-cellar ! Coming home by way of Bruges, 
Crome now entered upon the full tide of his great career, his seven 
last years. Of i 8 1 5 was his Boulevard des Italiens. At once we see 
the impressionisin of the man's art, his style changing to suit his 
subject. It was five years later before he painted the Boulogne. Of 
1 8 1 5 was the Grove 7iear Marling ford. Then followed the Lane at 
Catton, and of 181 6 also was the famous Mousehold Heath, painted 
to express " air and space " (one of the treasures of the nation), which 
he could not sell ; after his death it fetched a pound sterling ! 

This year unfortunately there was war in Crome's beloved 
Society, and Ladbrooke led the rebels, who deserted for three years 
to the Shakespeare Tavern, but collapsed ; and the year of their last 
stand saw Crome paint his superb Poringland Oak with three of 
Crome's small sons bathing, painted in by Sharp. 

Of other masterpieces are the IVilloiv (now in America) ; 
the On the Tare at Thorpe ; the superb Yarmouth Beach of 1 8 1 9 ; 
and the fine Colman Grove, tribute to Hobbema, of 1820. 

It is a marvel to think of Crome's achievement being of his 
Sundays and holidays ; for he was riding round the country teaching 
regularly. At Norwich School is the tradition of Old Crome teach- 
ing and of the affection of the lads for him, often doing the young 
rogues' drawings for them, for, once started, he went on rapidly until 
the work was complete. 

That such a man should, in the last few years of his life, have 
been profoundly impressed by the rising genius of that colossal figure 



THE who was about to give a stupendous revelation to the whole art of 

DAWN OF the world, was inevitable. 

MODERN In the spring of 1821 he set a six-foot canvas on his easel for 

PAINTING the creation of his masterpiece of the Wroxham Water Frolic. He 
worked upon it for three days when death walked into his painting- 
room and struck the brush from his hands ; on the 22nd of April 
1 82 1 the skilful fingers were stilled for ever. 

Founding his art on the practice of Wilson and Gainsborough 
and the Dutchmen, chiefly Hobbema of the Dutchmen, Crome 
advanced landscape-painting to that sincere native utterance that 
was about to make the art of England an example to the world. 
Hobbema led him to the truth. He stands out in his best art as a 
great impressionist. He gave forth his aim in simple terms : 
" Trifles in Nature must be overlooked that we may have our feelings 
raised by seeing the whole picture at a glance, not knowing how or 
why we are so charmed." Breadth and dignity were his watch- 
words, and he kept his law. As he lay dying he turned to that 
eldest son, John Berney Crome, who was to follow in his footsteps 
as near as his powers would let him, and gave his famous command : 
"John, my boy, paint ; but paint for fame ; and if your subject is 
only a pigsty — dignify it"; and later, as the hand of death chilled 
his heart, he added : " Hobbema, my dear Hobbema, how I have 
loved you ! " 

At the National Gallery is his superb painting of oaks Near 
Hingham — a very masterpiece. 


1769 - 1847 

Thomas Barker was born near Pontypool, in Monmouthshire, to 
a painter who settled in Bath ; and there won as patron a coach- 
builder called Spackman, who sent the young fellow at twenty-one 
to Rome (1790). On coming back to England he developed a 
landscape art founded largely on the tradition of Gainsborough. 
He won to success and comfortable circumstance. His large fresco 
in his own home, Doric House, Sion Hill, Bath, of The Inroad of the 
Turks upon Sdo, April 1822, is well known. He worked at Bath, 
where are most of his paintings; and died there on the nth 
December 1847. 

Francia (1772-1839) was born at Calais, but the Frenchman 
came to London in youth and early won repute at the Academy 
and Water-Colour Society. Failing to get into the Academy, he 


returned to Calais in 1817, dying there in 1839. He painted coast OF THE 
scenes and shipping. COMING OF 

John Massey Wright (i 773-1 866) devoted himself chiefly to THE DAWN 




Born the same year as Turner, a year older than Constable, the 
eager vitality of Girtin was to be cut short at twenty-seven — " Had 
Girtin lived, I should have starved," said Turner. 

To a rope-maker of Southwark was born in 1775 the son 
Thomas Girtin who was to make the name famous. The father 
was a man in a large way of business. The lad early showed the 
artistic bent, and was apprenticed by his father to the brilliant but 
quarrelsome and difficult landscape-painter Edward Daves — 
" bilious Dayes," who once had his 'prentice sent to the Fleet 
Prison for insubordinate conduct. Dayes was not wholly sane, and 
ended by taking his own life. Girtin had as friend a lad called 
Turner. The two boys, of the same age, were both being employed 
in colouring prints, and they would go copying paintings and on 
sketching journeys together. In his seventeenth year, the Copper- 
Plate Magazine published an etching of Windsor by Girtin ; at 
nineteen the Academy hung his first water-colour drawing. 

Girtin's enthusiasm and genial heart won him friends wherever 
he went. " His house, like his heart, was open to all " ; a noble, 
generous, unselfish fellow, he flung himself at his art with a will. 

The young Girtin found that his water-colours at the Academy, 
in gold frames, had to stand the severe rivalry of the oil-paintings 
about them, and forthwith essayed to employ water-colour with a 
force that should make his paintings hold their place. The result 
on his exhibited work at the Academy was to force the craft of 
water-colour outside its limits ; but it revealed to the young fellow 
that water-colour heretofore had been but timidly subject to draw- 
ing, and he compelled it to seek a wider and deeper gamut of 
colour which was to become in the hands of Turner and others the 
means of superb artistic utterance. Girtin's innate genius led him 
to employ water-colour with a pure translucent witchery, in those 
vivid, ardent impressions of Nature that live in his best work, as in 
the Cay tie JVaterfall, the View on the Wharf\ Yorkshire^ the London 
series, the St, Anne^s Gate, Shrewsbury, all uttered through the 
luminous qualities of the floated water-colour. The series for his 
Panorama of London gives the Thames with rare skill. Girtin was 
always at his best when boldly working in the presence of Nature; 







and that bold intimacy with Nature fired the eager art of Turner to 
even higher adventure. 

Girtin's craftsmanship still built up the picture upon a modelled 
ground — in his case wrought in brownish greys — over which he 
swept the colour. He shirked no labour to perfect his hand in 
artistic statement. He copied the works of others until his hand 
was facile — -Wilson, Morland, Canaletto. 

In 1796 Girtin went to Scotland sketching. His only painting 
in oils was shown in 1 801, just before his health broke down. In 
the spring of 1802 he took advantage of the Peace of Amiens to 
go to Paris, busy with his pencil the while. On the 9th of 
November 1809 he died, but twenty-seven years of age. But his 
short lease of life had given to England largeness of vision. He rid 
the art of niggle and tameness and petty finish. For the men that 
came after him he opened the gates. He inspired Turner ; we 
have Constable's witness that he inspired Constable. 




When 1800 struck, the British genius had found its highest WHEREIN 
utterance in the realm of colour ; the giant of that realm was WE SEE 
Joseph Mallord William Turner. THE DAWN 


■775-"85i OVER 

* Do you not know that you ought to paint your impressions ?' — Turner. ENGLAND 


In Turner we reach the supreme artist in painting of our race ; BARBER'S 
in the realm of landscape the supreme artist of all time. In the SHOP 
poetic employment of colour, in the wide gamut of colour-music, in 
the prodigious power of the orchestration of the art of painting, he 
stands beyond all other achievement whatsoever, as in the art of 
literature Shakespeare stands above all other achievement. That 
Turner should have reached to this prodigious achievement in the 
realm of landscape is the more extraordinary, since other painters, 
as mere painters, have been greater craftsmen than he. Velazquez 
and Hals, Rembrandt and Titian, Watteau and Vermeer knew no 
such vast adventure in the realm of colour. One is more subtle, 
another more tender, another more absolute in his craftsmanship ; 
but their range in artistic utterance is small compared with the 
eagle-flight of Turner. 

Turner was given a long life, as though Destiny had fitted him 
for its chosen mouthpiece in his mighty adventure in the arts. His 
art went rapidly through the phases of the earlier developments of 
artistic utterance — burst into the supreme utterance of the art of 
his own age — and launched on the vast uncharted seas of the 
future orchestration of colour. 

'Tis a dingy grey thoroughfare that Maiden Lane which leads 

from the south-west corner of Covent Garden to the west — and, 

likely enough, was dingy even when Milton's secretary, " the 

incorruptible patriot," Andrew Marvell, dwelt therein, and later, 

VOL. VIII — B 9 


THE when Voltaire fretted and fumed away two years of his restless life 

DAWN OF at the sign of The White Perruke. 

MODERN In a mean shop, at 26 Maiden Lane, long since pulled down, 

PAINTING opposite the Cider Cellar, in the parish of St. Paul's, Covent Garden, 
there lived in good King George's days, and plied his calling of 
barber, one William Turner, a fellow from Devon — indeed, at South 
Molton still lived his father and mother. To this Devonshire 
barber and his wife Mary Marshall was born, 'tis said on St. George's 
Day of 1775 (April 23rd), a man-child whom they christened 
Joseph Mallord William Turner, destined to bring immortal 
fame to that Devonshire stock and to the England that bred him, 
the greatest poet in colour that the world has seen. The mother, 
a grim warrior of a woman, ended mad. Turner rightly called 
himself with pride a " Devonshire man " — he was a Cockney of 
Devon breed. From the tradesman father he is given by the wise 
his petty thrift, his mania of "economy," and it may be his 
industry. We draw the bow of heredity at a venture. He might 
have been all these things if the son of a drunken jailbird — but so 
they say, and so be it. From the mother he got the blue eyes, the 
aquiline nose, the falling underlip — she was a masculine sort of 
creature, " not to say fierce," who led the poor barber a devil of a 
life with her furious temper. From her, too, the lad inherited his 
shortness of stature. And, 'tis likely enough, the " economies " 
came from her as from the plagued barber. She is said to have 
been kin of the Marshalls of Shelford Manor House by Nottingham ; 
indeed, 'tis certain her sister was Mrs. Harpur, wife to the curate 
of Islington, whose grandson, Henry Harpur, was one of Turner's 
executors — moreover, the boy Turner was godson to Mrs. Turner's 
eldest brother, Joseph Mallord William Marshall, then living at 
Sunningwell, where the child visited him. Poor woman ! she 
lived a sorry life. But the lad's heritage of " parrot nose " and blue 
eyes would seem to have been as much from the barber as the 
mother, and the short stature likewise — a cheery, talkative little 
man he was, but stingy of money withal. In fact, " Dad's " only 
remembered praise of " William " that the lad could ever recall was 
for having saved a halfpenny ! 

So, in that dark house giving on to Maiden Lane through a low 
arch and iron gate, in a dark, ill-lit, squalid, unlovely home, flung 
back upon his own imagination, the small William grew up. Scant 
wonder that his art never uttered the mood of Home. Thither 
Stothard was wont to go through the archway, and turning sharp to 
the left to step into the door of the barber's shop for his regular shaving. 


At nine the boy Turner drew Margate Church, just before going to his WHEREIN 
uncle at New Brentford for change of air, and eventually to school WE SEE 
there, to draw cocks and hens and birds and flowers on wall and THE DAWN 
book. He was always drawing. He would copy engravings, BREAK IN 
colour them, and the thrifty father would hang them in his window SPLEN- 
for sale. The early intention of making the boy a barber soon DOUR 
gave way to encouragement of the arts. OVER 




1787 - 1792 SHOP 

The father refused to apprentice the lad to one architect for 
nothing, and paid the whole of a recent legacy for the bonds to 
another — the barber had his moments. Thus, having learnt to read 
from his father, having gone in 1785 to school at New Brentford, 
by 1787-8 being with "a floral drawing-master," one Palice, in 
Soho ; by 1788 at Coleman's school at Margate ; he was soon there- 
after with Malton, a draughtsman of perspective in Long Acre, who 
sent him away for incapacity to understand perspective ! Reynolds 
is said to have taken him up ; and in 1789 he was bound to the 
architect Hardwick, going also to the schools of the Royal Academy 
early in 1790, at fifteen, working for two years at the antique. He 
seems to have gone also to Paul Sandby's school in St. Martin's Lane. 
But the boy was not seeking the mysteries lazily. He was making 
drawings in that ill-lit home the while for sale ; he was colouring 
prints for John Raphael Smith ; he was out sketching with a lad of 
his own age called Girtin ; and the evening saw him drawing at 
the generous Dr. Monro's in the Adelphi, besides washing-in back- 
grounds for the architect Mr. Porden. What labour for a boy ! 
Scant wonder that scholarship had small part in his life. But at least 
he was learning to draw ; for that he was trained like a racehorse 
for the race. And he loved the life. People liked the boy ; asked 
him out much, greatly encouraged the light-hearted, merry young 
fellow. His one curse was secretiveness. It was to grow upon him. 

So he learnt to lay the flat water-colour wash, clearly and 
luminously, bringing light and quality to architectural effects. His 
sensitive hand was schooled to his will. And his secretive nature 
told him that what he did was good, that power was coming to him. 
With his boy companion Girtin, he was soon the finest " water- 
colour draughtsman " in the land, except perhaps Cozens. We 
know that at least one architect would call for the boy at his father's 
shop, and give him a guinea to work in backgrounds for his 



THE architectural drawings ; we also know that the lad would never let 

DAWN OF his patron see him at work, going and locking himself in his 
MODERN bedroom to do it ! Once when Britton called about some drawings 
PAINTING and went up to the lad's bedroom, young Turner covered the work 
hurriedly and flew at his employer. Newby Lowson, who went with 
him later on the Continent, was never once shown even a sketch. 

It was at Raphael Smith's that the boy met Girtin, the close 
friend of his youth ; and the generous Dr. Monro used to ask the 
lads to his house in the Adelphi, sending them to sketch in the 
country at Bushey and Harrow, buying their drawings and giving 
them supper. Turner is said to have met Gainsborough at Monro's; 
if so, he could only have been thirteen, and already being talked 
about. Girtin and the boy Turner worked together, helped each 
other, and, as much as could be, lived together. Of Girtin, doomed 
to an early death in 1802, Turner said, "Had Tom Girtin lived, I 
should have starved"; but epitaphs are generally generous to a fault. 
How or why Dr. Monro suddenly went out of Turner's life it is 
hard to say; he lived until 1833, yet after Turner's student days 
were done he seems to have come no more into the young fellow's 
life. The fact was that Turner's secretive nature early drove him to 
"keeping himself to himself"; he was early wholly living in his 
art — it was all in all to him. He was soon shunning all social 
intercourse, the very companionship even of his fellow-artists. 
Indeed, some of his early water-colour drawings in their exquisite 
harmonies of green and grey, painted at sixteen, are so astoundingly 
original and in advance of all landscape painted betore him that his 
craft must have been marvellous long before he came to manhood. 
His art and fame and wealth were his sole objects ; and he pursued 
them like a young giant of Will — he, like Shakespeare, was a very 
Will. He neglected every other culture of the mind and body and 
manners, of comradeship, of affection, for it. In isolation of the 
mind and of the body, in a rude ignorance, ruthlessly and without 
flinching, he paid the price of immortality. Dr. Monro taught him 
water-colour drawing, he as greedily learnt architecture from 
Hardwick, he picked up something of oil-painting from Sir Joshua 
Reynolds 'tis said during a short while with him ; but of education, 
as we mean the word, he had scarce any. His master was himself; 
and he obeyed him like a slave. Sir Joshua Reynolds laid down his 
brushes and palette in 1789, his sight gone — at Hardwick's urging 
Turner went thence to the Academy schools, a lad of fourteen. 
With feverish eagerness he studied and copied Claude and Van der 
Velde, Titian and Canaletto, Cuyp and Wilson. Above all, he went 


to Nature. Not a good quality in the water-colour painters did he WHEREIN 
pass by ; after a few efforts he outstripped every master. He took WE SEE 
delicacy from Hearne, strength from Sandby, architectural sense THE DAWN 
from Dayes and Daniell ; he caught the green and silvery wizardry BREAK IN 
of Cozens' poems of the earth ; he steeped in the sunlight of SPLEN- 
Girtin; and he outran them all. He would see a picture at DOUR 
exhibition, and go straight home and strive to outclass it. In very OVER 
youth he began that rivalry with the best that the world had given ENGLAND 
which was to be a marked feature of his whole career. All the OUT OF A 
water-colour men were making low-toned water-colours of castles, BARBER'S 
abbeys, the seats of the nobility and gentry, for " topographical SHOP 
works " — young Turner did them too, because every one else was 
doing them. He even thought of portrait-painting. He as yet 
made no effort to get out of the stream ; he must master the 
craft of the day first. Destiny seemed to float him to a great career. 
His wants simple, inured to hardship, strong and vigorous of body, 
he simply bent his will to excel in all that he did. He would paint 
on anything. He never waited for the mood. He was always at 
work. His sole condition was solitude ; he needed that. When he 
came to journey for subjects, he would carry all his baggage over 
his shoulder on a stick, jotting, noting, his sensitive brain alive to 
every vista. His prodigious memory could recall cloud-shapes. He 
found that minute methods were $low ; he promptly employed 
broad, swift handling. 

At fourteen, then, in 1789, he became a student at the Royal 
Academy ; at full fifteen, a year after, he showed his View of the 
Archbishops s Palace at Lambeth. In 1791 he spent a holiday at 
Sunningwell with his uncle Marshall, and at Bristol with his father's 
friends the Narraways. Each of the three following years 179 1-2-3, 
the Academy held water-colour drawings of places by him — so-called 
" topographical drawings," made in and around London, except for 
a drawing or so of Malmesbury, Canterbury, or Bristol, made on 
visits to friends at Margate and Bristol. His sketch-books of 1792 
and 1793 are of Oxford, Windsor, Hereford, Worcester, Wales and 
Monmouthshire. But in 1792 had come Walker with an order 
for a drawing for the Copper-Plate Magazine, the beginning of that 
engraving after works by Turner which was to add so greatly to his 
repute. He at once decided to get a painting-room of his own ; 
going to Hand Court, Maiden Lane, hard by his father. He was 
now seventeen. 






1793 - 1796 

The next year of 1793, Harrison ordered drawings for his 
Pocket Magazine. It meant, for Turner, journeying over England. 
He made for Wales on a pony lent by Mr. Narraway, his father's 
old friend at Bristol. The water-colour drawings of Wales began to 
appear in 1794 with the three drawings at the Academy and the 
Chepstow in the November number of Walkers Magazine. 

In 1794 he made a tour of the midland counties, and the 
engravings and pictures of 1795 show him at Nottingham, Bridg- 
north., Matlock., Birmingham, Cambridge, Lincoln, Wrexham, Peter- 
borough, and Shrewsbury ; in 1796 and 1797 he had clearly been to 
Chester, Neath, Tunbridge, Bath, Staines, Wallingford, Windsor, Ely, 
Flint, Hampton Court, Herefordshire, Salisbury, Wolverhampton, 
Llandilo, The Isle of Wight, Llandaff, Waltham, and Ewenny in Glamor- 
gan. So far he has been held by the magazines to the " topographical 
drawing," the mere picture of the place that people will easily 
recognise, even if he insist somewhat on bridges and anglers. 

He looks at the place from a distance, and is concerned with 
details of houses. Of 1797 was his first-known displayed oil- 
painting, the National Gallery Moonlight, Milbank. 

Already, at nineteen, in 1794 his art is treated as being of the 
first importance by critics. The Christchurch Gate, Canterbury, by 
W. Turner, is " amongst the best " in the exhibition ! He is warned 
against " contemporary imitations." 

The Interior of a Cottage at Ely (long called the Kitchen, and held 
to be a portrait of Turner's mother) is suspected to have been an 
Academy picture of 1796. 

About 1796 Turner appears to have been jilted by the sister of a 
friend at Margate ; it drove him still more closely to secretiveness 
and solitude. With marvellous energy and remarkable rapidity he 
moves about the country — his baggage in a handkerchief, and 
armed with his great " gamp " umbrella and a fishing-rod, he 
trudges it across the face ot the world, now taking the stage-coach, 
now astride of a pony, this eagle-nosed, clear-blue-eyed, " covetous- 
eyed," bandy-legged, big-headed, short, thick-set figure of a man of 
mighty poetic gifts and unflinching courage. 





Turner now steps into the Garden of Romance ; the Poet finds THE DAWN 
utterance, and creates water-colour painting. BREAK IN 

Now, the romantic movement was already agog in literature — SPLEN- 
during the last half of the eighteen-hundreds the tragic intensity DOUR 
of life, the mysterious and the picturesque, were appealing to the OVER 
race. Young's Night Thoughts stirred Blake. Gray's Elegy in a ENGLAND 
Country Churchyard had caused a profound sensation. Burke had OUT OF A 
given forth his essay On the Sublime and the Beautiful in 1756. BARBER'S 
Percy's Reliques were in wide vogue. Macpherson's Ossian came SHOP 
to a public eager for romance. And in the very midst of this 
romantic movement Turner was born. He grew up steeped in its 
atmosphere. His sketch-books teem with copied verses, and original 
attempts at verse. 

Turner was now, at manhood, to be led into the mighty realm of 
art by the sombre, tragic genius of Wilson. Turner still draws in 
pencil the exact details of the scene before him about which his 
senses are weaving the spell of its romance, and for the utterance of 
which in a masterpiece of poetry this careful drawing in pencil is 
made — as in the interior of Ripon Cathedral or the view of Conway 
Castle. When he comes to paint, the full orchestration of the 
romantic mood finds utterance. A poet has been born. He senses 
the lyric joy of peaceful scenes as consummately as the tragic gloom 
of awful and sublime vistas. 

Turner has done with his detested " map-making," as he called 
topographical drawings ; he is about to launch himself upon the 
wings of emotion. Not only is Turner's painting pure poetic 
expression of the moods of Nature called up in his sensing by the 
thing seen, but he reveals an intense love of verse. Until 1798 the 
Academy catalogues admitted no quotations. In 1798 Turner adds 
lines from the poets to his pictures. He was soon to be writing his 
own lines, inarticulate, but intense in their desire to be articulate. 

He now made for the north, for the famous "Yorkshire journey" 
that was to set his genius aflame. Yorkshire and Cumberland roused 
his innate romantic gifts. He left the cloak of the student behind 
him amongst the fells, and arrayed himself in the habit of the 
master. What took him north is not known. Whether Dr. 
Whitaker had already approached him as to illustrating his Parish 
oj IVhalley, or it were Girtin's journey the year before. Turner 
went. The next Academy shows the National Gallery Mor?iing on 




THE the Coniston Fells and Buttermere Lake. And Norham Castle cast its 

DAWN OF spell over him. A new vision had come to landscape ; a nev\r 

MODERN revelation was given to art. A poet was arisen who was not de- 

PAINTING pendent en ruins for glamour — one to whom light had revealed its 

mysteries, and colour its music. At South Kensington is the 

Warkworth Castle of the Academy of 1799. His tour brought him 

the friendship of Dr. Whitaker, the famous Yorkshire historian, of 

one of his staunchest friends, Mr. Fawkes of Farnley Hall by Leeds, 

of Lord Harewood, and of Sir John Leicester who became Lord de 

Tabley. Mr. Orrock's fine Heath Scene is of this year. 

The Academy elected Turner an Associate in 1799. He stood 
head and shoulders above all rivals at twenty-four. He at once 
moved to 64 Harley Street. The Dolbarden Castle of 1800 is at 
the Diploma Gallery. 

Henceforth his castles and abbeys are little concerned with 
"topographical drawing"; Carnarvon in 1800, St. Donates and 
Pembroke in 1801, Kilchurn in 1802, Petnbroke again in 1806, all 
reveal interest in Light. Light has been revealed to Turner. He 
always composes hereafter, as a musician makes music, concerting his 
poems as a whole. His every sketch is now made with rhythm and 
with lyric intention. Ruskin sees in his art a stern manner, re- 
serve, quiet, gravity of colour, tranquil mind fixed on mountain 
subject, on moral study, on mythology and the Law of the Old 
Testament ! As a matter of simple fact, just as Turner had pitted 
himself against the water-colourists and outclassed them, he now 
flung himself into rivalry against all the oil-painters, of his own 
day and of the dead past, who had concerned themselves with 

In 1799 with the Battle of the Nile, in 1800 with his Fifth 
Plague of Egypt, in 1802 with his Army of the Medes destroyed by a 
Whirlwind and the Tenth Plague, he boldly challenged the theatrical 
art of De Loutherbourg, then at the height of his repute — they owe 
scant tribute to the " Law of the Old Testament." Wilson, a 
mightier genius, he strove to outdistance for many a year, nor 
ceased until 1822; but he recognised in him "a powerful an- 
tagonist." " To succeed would perhaps form another epoch in the 
English school ; and if we fall, we fall by contending with giant 
strength." What a superb epitaph upon poor neglected Wilson ! 
A tranquil mind indeed ! fixed on moral study ! Now, be it noted. 
Turner did not seek the rivalry of other artists from vulgar aim of 
jealousy ; it was his standard whereby to measure his strength. He 
had none other. It was always with Turner a sign of homage. In 


1 80 1 he journeyed to Scotland, for 1802 saw him display the Kilchurn WHEREIN 

and the Scottish impressions. WE SEE 

In 1802 he was elected a Royal Academician. THE DAWN 

" A new artist has started up — one Turner." BREAK IN 

The water-colour painting of Stonehenge was of the year of SPLEN- 

Calais Pier. DOUR 

1802 OVER 


In I 802, at twenty-seven, Turner crossed the sea to France, and BARBER'S 
a new world was opened to his vision — two worlds ; the sea and SHOP 
France. He added the mystery of the sea to his ever-widening 
realm. Like the young Alexander he pined for worlds to conquer. 
And as he searched out always the greatest conquerors to try a fall 
with them — at once he set himself to outrival Van der Velde. 
Above all, we know by his written note on Poussin's Deluge that he 
has gone leagues beyond Blake in his concept of art — " the colour of 
this picture impresses the subject more than the incidents^ Turner has 
found the key. 

We have seen him move from Hand Court, Maiden Lane, to 
64 Harley Street. He seems to have bought the house ; he soon 
also bought the next house to it, and one in Queen Anne Street, all 
of which abutted at the back, the corner-house on the two streets 
separating them in front. Now, in the catalogues of the Academy, 
his address in 1801, and for two or three years afterwards, is given 
as 75 Norton Street, Portland Road, thereafter being given as 
Harley Street again. Why this secrecy ? Well, Turner began in 
1 80 1 to live with women of the servant class ; in that year there 
came to him a girl of sixteen, Hannah Danby ; she was soon his 
mistress. Whether he deliberately made a servant the companion 
of his life to be rid of acquaintances, or whether he repelled 
acquaintances and shirked hospitality in order not to have his 
weakness known, who shall tell ? But he was soon steeped in that 
secret life that gave him solitude at the heavy price of associa- 
tion with an uncultured woman that kept him an ignorant man, 
but perhaps made him walk thereby wholly in the realm of the 

The powder-tax of 1795 ruined the trade of barbers of the old 
school ; and Turner took his father with him to Harley Street when 
he moved thereto in 1800, where the old man would strain his 
canvases and varnish his pictures for him; as Turner jestingly put it, 
" Dad begins and finishes my pictures for me." 

VOL. VIII — c 17 


XHE In 1 80 1 he had shown the Bridgewater Dutch Boats in a Gale ; 

DAWN OF in 1802 Lord Iveagh's Fishermen upon a Lee Shore, a great work, and 

MODERN the superb Petworth Ships bearing up for Anchorage. In 1803 he 

PAINTING displayed at the Academy half-a-dozen pictures of this wayfaring 

over sea — the National Gallery has his Calais Pier, in which stands 

revealed the poet of the sea. It is a fit orchestration, employed to 

create the sombre impression of a stormy day ; and it achieves the 

impression with power. 

The Yarborough Macon, the Vintage Festival, the Bonneville in 
Savoy with Mont Blanc, the Chateaux de Michal at Bonneville, the 
St. Hugh, the Glacier and Source of the Arveron in the valley of 
Chamouni, announce his ranging ; but he had laid up large store 
of impressions, and six years afterwards gave forth his Fall of the 
Rhine at Schaffhausen (1806), and in 18 12 his Castle of St. Michael, 
Bonneville — otherwise the great studies of the Alps, Chamouni, 
Grenoble, the Grande Chartreuse, and many others, lay secreted in his 
portfolios. He waited awhile, and let them lie by, whilst he 
challenged the masters, dead and living, to find his strength. 

War broke out again with Bonaparte in 1803, and closed the 
gates of France to Turner for twelve years, until 1815. He made 
some roundabout journey to Switzerland in 1804; but otherwise he 
was driven back upon England — nor was he discontent — had he not 
the gods to overthrow ? And he had seen the sea — what he saw 
he must conquer. 

In his earlier wanderings over England he had reached the sea- 
coast at Margate, in Wales, and in the Isle of Wight and Kent — he 
had seen shipping on the Thames and at Bristol. 

The National Gallery has his famous Shipwreck, painted in 1805, 
whilst the superb Yarborough Wreck of the "Minotaur" (1810), the 
Stafford Fishing Boats in a Squall, show Turner riding upon the 
storm. He outclasses Van der Velde. He makes the winds grip 
the sails of shipping, he catches the complex movements of the 
angry waters ; over all is the sublime sense of Nature in anger. 

In 1806 he painted the majestic, tragic, and fittingly sombre 
Goddess of Discord choosing the Apple of Discord in the Garden oj the 
Hesperides, challenging the classic vision of Poussin, and repeats his 
triumph in the Venus and Adonis. In the Garden of the Hesperides 
we have a very masterpiece of statement. 

He was pouring forth great sea-pieces which he did not exhibit. 

To I 805 belongs the famous Shipwreck. Several of the sketches for 

this are in the national water-colour collection. Turner fills the 

canvas with the anger and spites of the seas, its brutal sweeping 



blows, its spitting spume. Sir John Leicester, not liking it, ex- WHEREIN 
changed it for the Sun rising through Vapour (1807). WE SEE 

It was from 1805 to 1810 that Turner wrought the twelve THE DAWN 
landscapes in oil which were found wrapped in brown paper in the BREAK IN 
National Gallery, and which, with forty-eight water-colours, are the SPLEN- 
second instalment of the rediscovered Turners now at the Tate. DOUR 

Turner is said to have spent much time upon the waters at the OVER 
mouth of the Thames from 1805 to 1809. Nothing was lost upon ENGLAND 
him. Sketch-book after sketch-book bears witness to it. Storm and OUT OF A 
calm, sunset peaceful or lowering, he realised them all. And with BARBER'S 
the sound of the tempest in his ears, the peace of great calms SHOP 
upon the still waters in his heart, he wrought masterpiece after 
masterpiece of the sea — the Wantage Sheerness, the Fawkes Pilot 
hailing a Whitstable Hoy, the Gould The Nore, the fine Meeting of the 
Thames and MeJway, the superb Spithead : Boat's Crew recovering an 
Anchor, thereby creating such epic of the sea as the world had never 
known ; they hold the sonorous and orchestral majesty of the great 
waters. T\\& Death of Nelson was of 1808. I have lately read a 
bookish theory that the " patriotic " pictures narrow Turner's genius; 
but why should not patriotism be a profound emotion ? And he 
who lowers the credit of the Boat' s Crew recovering an Anchor because 
it represents the return of Nelson's victorious fleet from Copenhagen 
is digging for formulas to convince himself that a sublime master- 
piece is not so sublime as something else, for it remains one of the 
supreme paintings of the sea wrought by human genius — I for my 
part did not know or care whether it was Nelson's fleet returning 
from Copenhagen ; to me it but uttered the sublime patriotism of 
the triumph and courage of sailors in the execution of their awesome 
calling upon the mighty waters. In fact. The Fighting Temeraire is 
just as " patriotic " and offensive to a Jingo Frenchman. He who 
is read in history knows that in the May of 1807 the Prince Regent 
of Portugal warned England that by the Treaty of Tilsit Napoleon 
was about to invade England with the Danish and Portuguese fleets; 
that Canning at once struck. Nelson seized the Danish fleet at 
Copenhagen on the 8th of September, and Turner going down to 
Portsmouth saw the victorious fleet and created the immortal Boats 
recovering an Anchor. Who but a bookish man would think it 
possible to utter all this in a painting even if he would ? The Boats 
recovering an Anchor he painted in 1809 from these impressions. 






Let us leave Turner awhile thrilled by the cheers and the 
triumph at sight of the victorious navy with the Danish fleet in tow 
riding on the sea at Spithead ; and before we take the journey back 
with him to town — a journey that is to have a vast significance for 
his art — let us turn over the leaves of his Li6er Studiorum. 

At Knockholt in Kent, in the October of 1806, the year before 
Copenhagen was fought, Mr. Wells suggested the scheme which 
Turner rapidly developed into his Liher Studiorum. Turner sat down 
and drew the first five designs for the book in sepia, beginning with 
the.. Bridge and Cows, the so-called F/int Castle being a scene on the 
French coast. 

Probably, guided by his rivalry of the classic landscapists in his 
Goddess of Discord and the like, in 1807 Turner challenged the 
accepted god of landscape, Claude, with his Liber Studiorum. It was 
the ultimate challenge to the great dead. He now put his own 
vision against the more limited vision of Claude. A direct challenge 
he made in his Woman Playing a Tambourine and Hindoo Ablution, his 
Bridge and Goats, his Lis, his Solitude, the superb Junction of the 
Severn and the Wye and Sun between Trees, and the so-called Pope^s 
Villa, Twickenham, which is The Alcove at Isleworth ; but his Hind- 
head Hill, his Mount St. Gothard, his Devil's Bridge, the Solway Moss, 
the Norham Castle, the Hedging and Ditching, the St. Catherine'' s Hill 
near Guildford, the River Wye, the Inverary Castle, the Gale, the Peat 
Bog, the Ben Arthur, the Bonneville, the Chamouni, the Morpeth, the 
Dunstanborough Castle, even the Okehampton and Raglan Castle, and 
Mill near the Grande Chartreuse, and the Dunblane Abbey, smashed the 
Claude tradition. Claude stood between painting and Nature as the 
Greeks stood between sculpture and lite. Hogarth had warred 
against the " black masters." Turner set them up as his standard of 
measurement ; he did so too much — but at least he did not seek to 
degrade them. 

For the Liber Studiorum he chose F. C. Lewis as his engraver, 
for his power in aquatint — Turner to etch and Lewis to aquatint 
the works. The Bridge and Goats was the first plate. Turner 
asked Lewis both to etch and aquatint the next, the which etching 
Lewis did, charging eight guineas instead of the original five. 
Turner refused to allow the plate to be aquatinted, and they parted. 
Turner next turned to Charles Turner the mezzotinter at eight 


guineas the plate — after making twenty, Charles Turner raised the WHEREIN 
price to ten guineas, which ended in a quarrel. In his money WE SEE 
dealings Turner was mean, often dishonest with the public, selling THE DAWN 
worn and retouched plates by Charles Turner as first plates. Turner BREAK IN 
never hesitated to cheat. Indeed, the whole scheme of the Liber SPLEN- 
Studiorum was a cheat — a cheat which, fortunately for us, was to DOUR 
create masterpieces. Claude had never intended his Liber Veritatis OVER 
for anything but notes of his pictures by which to identify them ; ENGLAND 
Turner's works were complete works of art, ninety designs, of which OUT OF A 
twenty were not published to the public. Here Turner stands out BARBER'S 
as master of a wide gamut. He can raise the mood of the pastoral, SHOP 
of the sea, of the mountains, of historic places, of mythology with 
equal skill. He challenges not only Claude, but Poussin and Van 
der Velde and Wilson. The frontispiece, a poor enough affair, is 
of 1812; the advertisement of the book of 18 16. He was now 
the supreme master of landscape of all time — and he was to go 
further still. The tree, its texture, its form, its significance, has 
yielded to him its secrets. The clouds have yielded their mysteries. 
The earth and the rocks have become his very own. The atmos- 
phere, the rainbow, moisture, drought, all are in his orchestration ; 
the romance and tragedy of ruins, the glamour of the dawn and the 

Of the hundred odd sepia drawings for the Liber, eighty-four 
are at the Tate. As a rule they are but guides to the engravers ; 
and he worked much upon them as they were being engraved. 

In 1808 Turner gives his address as 64 Harley Street and West 
End, Upper Mall, Hammersmith, and continues this until 181 1, 
when, odd to say, he drops Harley Street, though the house was 
undoubtedly his; and the next year of 18 12 sees him give Queen 
Anne Street West — that house which, as we have seen, was round 
the corner from his Harley Street residence, and which, presumably, 
he bought in this year. In 1808 he also uses P. P. after his name ; 
he had become Professor of Perspective at the Royal Academy, 
and was greatly proud of it. 

In 1809 Turner began those "one-man shows" of his work in 
his house in Harley Street, which soon became known as the 
"Turner Gallery." The caretaker and general factotum was 
Turner's father, who showed in visitors and was well capable of 
driving good bargains. The two eccentric men were deeply attached 
in their quaint way, and close allies. 

Let us return awhile to the year of 1807. 

As Turner came homewards from Portsmouth from the triumph 



THE and cheers of Spithead, his eyes were suddenly opened to the rural 

DAWN OF Hfe of England. At once he jotted notes and sketches for that 
MODERN lyrical utterance of " Simple Nature," wherein he gave us as superb 
PAINTING a series of poems of England as he had wrought of the sea and of 
her stately castles and abbeys and sublime vistas. 

This survey of pastoral life or Simple Nature brought forth such 
fine masterpieces as the National Gallery works of the Frosty 
Morning, the Windsor (1810), the Abingdon (18 10), the Kingston 
Bank, the Union of the Thames and Lis, and Sandbank with Gipsies ; 
the fine Trout Stream, the Wantage Walton Bridges, the Orrock Walton 
Bridges, the Cook Windmill and Lock, the rich glowing River 
Scene with Cattle (1809) at the Tate, and the famous Bligh Sand, 
which he refused to sell, yet later employed to fill the place of a 
broken window ! It first found utterance in the Liber Studiorum, 
where the Hedging and Ditching, the Hindhead, published in 181 1, 
but probably drawn in 1808, and the like reveal a new intention 
in art. 

But the dates of plates are no proof of the dates of the drawings 
from which they were made ; and Mr. Finberg's researches in the 
sketch-books make a significant biography of Turner's artistic 
living. Turner had discovered since that Yorkshire journey, ten 
years gone by, that art does not imitate, it utters the mood of the 
thing aroused in the senses of the artist. And here Turner, in the 
presence of simple everyday life in the fields and meadows of rural 
England, discovers as subtle a poetry lurking as in the romantic 
castles. Yorkshire drew him back again in 1809 to many triumphs, 
and to Yorkshire he returned again and again. 

Ot 1 8 10 were the Tate Mountain Stream, a glowing thing ; the 
peaceful Abingdon and Windsor, the stately Lowther Castle, and the 
Dewy Morning, Petworth. By 181 1 he was turning again to the 
test of his powers against the great dead ; he painted the Apollo 
killing the Python. He went this year to Devon, made his sketches 
for a masterpiece that he painted in i 8 1 5 — Crossing the Brook ; and in 
a sea-picnic, when others were near dead of sickness, he mounted 
an island rock and drew in the teeth of the gale, " seemed writing 
rather than drawing." In i 8 12 he wrought his Hannibal crossing the 
Alps, moved thereto by the sight of a snowstorm at Farnley. In 
this same year he began to work for the plates for his Southern 
Coast of England. 

Of 1 8 1 3 were the Deluge and the Frosty Morning. This Simple 
Nature or pastoral phase of Turner may be said to end with the 
Frosty Morning of 181 3. He turns again on the edge of forty 



to the challenge of Claude in the realm of the sublime, from which WHEREIN 
he is to emerge to make his highest flights. WE SEE 

I 8 I 4 SPLEN- 


That deep poetic craving to give forth the moods of Nature in OVER 
colour also urged Turner to break into song in words. ENGLAND 

When Turner first wrote the lines for his own pictures is not OUT OF A 
known. The earliest appear to have been the lines to his Apollo and BARBER'S 
the Python in 1 8 1 1 ; given to Callimachus, they are a tangle of the SHOP 
description of two dragons from Ovid — the Python and Cadmus's 
terrible worm. Turner's reading was clearly chiefly confined to 
the tags in Academy catalogues from Milton, Pope, Thomson's 
Seasons, Ovid, and the like. 'Tis said that Turner played the 
flute very sweetly ; we know that Coleridge, with exquisite ear for 
the melody of words, could not tell one note of music from the 
other ; so strange are the limits of the human ! But we must not 
judge even Turner's inarticulate words by Thornbury's crass and 
ignorant translation of them. It was to Ovid's Metatnorphoses, that 
strange book that has inspired so great genius, that Turner chiefly 
turned ; and what mythology he had was found in its pages. The 
first of his quotations from Fallacies of Hope, those jottings and 
stumblings in verse that came from his own skull, appears in 1 8 1 2, 
to his Snowstorm — Hannibal and his Army crossing the Alps. 

The high poetry in which Turner lived was in strange contrast 
with his daily surroundings. He was now rapidly becoming rich, 
and he was no spendthrift. In 1814 he bought a home at 
Twickenham — Solus Lodge, changing its name to Sandycombe 
Lodge the next year — where he lived a part of each year until 1826, 
his father going up to Harley Street every morning to open the 
Turner Gallery. The cost of this got upon the old man's mind, 
until he lighted on the brilliant economy of making friends with a 
market-gardener who, for a glass of gin, allowed the old man to 
come up in his cart on the top of the vegetables ! The old barber 
had the land-hunger too, and was for ever adding little bits to his 
son's property at Sandycombe by running out little earthworks 
into the roadway, and then fencing them round, until they looked 
like a number of fortifications, which drew the local wags to call 
them " Turner's Cribs," until the local powers came down on them 
and angrily swept them away. 

Whether Turner approved " Dad's " ridiculous little filchings of 



XHE pieces from the highway, or chuckled thereat, or helped in the 

DAWN OF darkness of the night, we know not ; but we do know that even as 
MODERN these preposterous things were being done, his hook-nosed, bandy- 
PAINTING legg^"^' fantastic figure of a son was dreaming vast dreams and 
essaying to conquer the wide realm of the imagination. 

Turner had won to romance, to conquest over the sea, to 
triumph in the lyrical utterance of the pastoral ; he now steps 
forward to a mightier conquest — he had challenged the achievement 
of man, he now flings himself at the conquest of the sun. The 
haunting atmosphere that light or the shadow of light has woven 
about castle and historic home and site of Britain he had conquered 
whilst scarce entered into manhood. The subtle and elusive 
mysteries of the sea he had conquered ; he now flings himself at 
the conquest of the imagination. For thirty years he was to create 
masterpieces of supreme power. 

So far, bookish men have approached the art of Turner fairly 
comfortably. Henceforth they reveal bafflings, they gasp and fret, 
they abuse the vulgarity of the public who stand in wonder before 
the wizardry of Turner's art. In the presence of the superb 
emotional orchestration of so overwhelming a work as the Ulysses 
deriding Polyphemus, so shallow is their sensing that they begin to 
pick holes in it — the ship could not be lighted, but must have 
been dark and in silhouette, if the sun were setting beyond it ; 
his " tones " are wrong ; the sails on the ship in the Burial of Wilkie 
at Sea are too black ! 

Well, let us put it bluntly. All Craft is a make-believe — if you 
like, a sham. The canvas and the paint upon it, the sculptured 
stone, the notes of music, the words employed in the poetry of verse 
and prose are a make-believe to trick the senses. Yes. And in the 
hands of the mediocre and the academic they are never anything 
else but sham. It is only in the hands of the artist, or, if you 
prefer the word, it is only in the hands of the poet, that these things 
lose their dross of falsity ; for the poet employs the make-believe, 
since by no other means may he so do it, that he may utter the 
truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth — for he seeks to 
utter the significance of things, not their husk. 

He who sits in the theatre before the drama of Shakespeare and 
can see but the painted pasteboard and canvas of the scenery, the 
paint on the faces of the players ; who can but think with solemn 
wisdom that these be not the kings and queens, the heroes and 
heroines, the soldiers and clowns and wits and wags, the prince and 
pauper, the children of high and low degree, but mere mummers 


playing for livelihood a sham thing, a mere pretence, is absolutely WHEREIN 
truthful, but a hopeless and unmitigated fool. WE SEE 

Let me give you an instance of Turner's later achievement in THE DAWN 
this increased realm of his art. Take the Burial of Wilkie at Sea. BREAK IN 
By the time that Turner painted this masterwork he had realised SPLEN- 
the stupendous fact that, master of the truth, of the mere facts of DOUR 
life, as he was, this mastery alone could not utter the supreme emotions OVER 
of life. That was Turner's mighty revelation to the art of painting. ENGLAND 
He had discovered that the emotions, the sensing of man, were OUT OF A 
above reason, beyond the intellect — the inmost sanctuary of the Holy BARBER'S 
of Holies, the nearest approach to the awful and sublime mystery of SHOP 
Life. Rembrandt, of all his forerunners, had pushed nearest to the 
mysteries ; Turner pushed his inquisition still closer. By the time 
he came to paint the Burial of Wilkie at Sea he had realised that the 
supreme province of the artist is to create emotional truth ; he 
employed colour to utter by its orchestration the solemn pomp of a 
funeral oration, of the stately and majestic pomp of death — and to 
that end he gave forth a solemn and sombre scheme of colour, 
wherein the night puts the sails and hull of a stately ship into 
mourning ; and we have that mighty suggestion of the passing of 
life as though its voyage upon the adventure of life were come to 
an end, as the cold clay is committed to the deep ! Yet, in the 
presence of so profound a masterpiece, 'tis said that even so fine an 
artist as Clarkson Stanfield could stand unmoved as a village idiot 
with his fool's comment that the sails were untrue ! The wonder 
is that he didn't complain against their not being made of canvas. 
Well might Turner growl, looking at Clarkson's unseeing eye with 
contempt, " Wish I had any colour to make 'em blacker." 

But we must go back to the beginning of this great phase : the 
year 1814 saw the publication of seven of the plates for the Southern 
Coast of England. At the same time he flings out the challenge to 
Claude with his Dido and Aeneas leaving Carthage, and the superb 
Apuleia in search of Apuleius, with its stately, wondrous horizontality 
of the long bridge and the mighty leagues of distance. This 
masterpiece was a fit forerunner of the immortal Crossing the Brook 
of the next year of 18 15 that also saw him paint the great Dido 
building Carthage which, with the Sun rising through Vapour, challenge 
the art of Claude ; both of which he left to the nation on condition 
that they should hang beside Claude's Isaac and Rebecca and 
Embarkation of the Queen of Sheba. Bookish men to-day are wont to 
write that Claude does not suffer from the challenge ! Yet the 
VOL. VIII — D 25 




Dido building Carthage completely outclasses even the noble genius of 
Claude. He was so great that he could find no measure but the 
triumphs of the greatest. We may sneer as we will at the littleness 
of such an aim ; I can imagine no greater test of strength, no more 
noble test than this high tribute. 

As yet he has not scaled the highest peaks ; but here he 
advances leagues beyond Claude. They tried hard to make him 
part with Dido ; but no. Chantrey lured him ; but the price ever 
rose, until Chantrey asking what in the world he was going to do 
with the picture. Turner growled : " Be buried in it, to be sure ! " 

This was the year in which he essayed a grim love-letter. 
Henry Scott Trimmer of Heston, the vicar, made Turner welcome, 
and he was soon at ease with the family. The young Trimmers 
would even invade Turner's town-house in Queen Anne Street, and 
were cheerfully received. Turner cramming their pockets with cakes. 
Turner made a feeble offer to the vicar for the hand of a kinswoman, 
but it does not seem to have been taken seriously, and he was already 
far more excited about a journey to the Continent. 

Of 1 8 1 6 are the two paintings of The Temple of Jupiter Panellenius ; 
but the sketch-books are full of studies of skies — he was much in 

In 1 8 17, the year he sold fifty water-colours to Mr. Fawkes of 
Farnley Hall, he had made a journey of three weeks along the 
Rhine, as the Goarhausen and Katz Castle, the Bonneville, Savoy, the 
Lake of Nemi, are of this year. And he began the great series for 
Whitaker's History of Richmondshire, published from 18 19 to \%1'2., 
and costing the publisher ten thousand pounds, for which he pro- 
duced the famous water-colours that include the Crook of the Lune, 
the Hornby Castle, the Richmond Castle, and the like. 

Of 1 8 1 8 is the not very happy Field of Waterloo. He went 
north to make the series for the Provincial Antiquities of Scotland 
which Scott volunteered to write ; Turner's works including the 
Edinburgh from the Calton Hill, which with the set were given by 
the publisher to Sir Walter Scott, and are known as the Abbotsford 

In 1 8 19 Turner at the urging of Lawrence, then in Rome, 
pushed on for the first time into Italy — Venice, Rimini, Ancona, 
Naples, Paestum, Pompeii, Sorrento ; he moved eagerly from place 
to place, Rome and the rest, his sketch-books incessantly busy. The 
colour, the atmosphere, made him drunk. But he left them to 
thrill in his memory. For the Academy he had painted the superb 
The Meuse : Orange Merchantmen going to pieces on the Bar, one of the 


greatest pictures ever painted ot the sea. He is done now with WHEREIN 
rivalries. He has reached beyond standards. His challenge is to WE SEE 
Nature alone — to himself to outclass himself. Then to Italy. THE DAWN 

Turner had painted probably before he went to Italy the two BREAK IN 
huge canvases of Richmond Hill on the Prince Regent's Birthday, that, SPLEN- 
with the huge Ro7ne from the Vatican, he showed in 1820. The fine DOUR 
Tate water-colour of the Church of SS. Giovanni e Paolo ( 1 8 1 9) OVER 
shows Turner not yet ranging on eagle wings into the wide blue of ENGLAND 
his greatest flights. But he has outclassed all his standards. He OUT OF A 
now takes breath for the enterprise on the uncharted seas of his great BARBER'S 
adventure, for there is now no light to guide, no compass by which SHOP 
to steer. He must go alone. He has achieved the Southern Coast 
and the Richmondshire series on the road beyond. He makes pause. 

Turner is now forty-five. 

In 1 82 1 Turner was absent from the Academy; in 1822 he 
sent his What You Will. It clearly baffled the critics. Standards 
there were clearly none. Turner went by sea to Scotland this year, 
the king visiting his northern people as George iv. But the 
National Gallery water-colour of Norham Castle of this year reveals 
an increase of power towards impressionism. He was bending his 
wits to the Bay of Baiae which was to startle the Academy of 1823. 
Henceforth the bookish critic wades in morass. Even whilst 
Turner steps into the mighty realm of a wide conquest, he is taken 
to task as painting merely for public acclai?n ! He is out of tradition! 
Even as he realises that the art of painting cannot utter its full music 
until the orchestration of colour is made to yield the mood of the 
thing seen ! Turner is about to create the emotional utterance of 
colour such as the world had not before dreamed of. Mr. Jones, 
R.A., looking to photographic truth, wrote in chalk across the frame 
— of course, in Latin — Splendide Me?idax ; and Turner laughed and 
left it there. "All poets are liars," quoth he — "but it is all there." 
And Jones, oh, where is he ? 

The National Gallery was founded in 1824; Griffiths was 
deputed by the Committee, which included Sir Robert Peel and 
Lord Harding, to buy Turner's Dido building Carthage and Decline 
of the Carthaginian Empire for the nation. Turner was deeply 
touched, burst into tears, but — refused the Dido ; turning to Griffiths, 
as he retired, he expressed his gratitude, but the Dido " may some day 
become the property of the nation." He went about for days, 
muttering, " A great triumph ! A great triumph ! " He showed 
no picture at the Academy. He was hard at work on his glorious 



THE Rivers of England, and The Harbours of England, now in the national 

DAWN OF collection. The Scarborough shows how he had advanced towards 
MODERN great orchestration of emotional utterance. And what an immortal 
PAINTING achievement it is with its stately shipping ! Portsmouth and Sheer- 
//t'ss, the Dover, and the Number prove him the master of the sea ; 
the beautiful Totnes, the splendour of Dartmouth and of Dartmouth 
Castle, the lordly OkehaiJipton Castle and spacious Arundel, the limpid 
More Park and superb Kirkstall Abbey, the tragic Brougham Castle 
and the dark blue Norham Castle against the daffodil sky, reveal the 
greatest colourist of all time, uttering with insight the spirit and 
significance of the place seen and its presiding genius. To the 
Academy of 1825 he sent only the Dieppe; but the Thames and 
Holland sketch-books show him busy with ideas. Fawkes died this 
year ; and Turner was so overwhelmed by it that he would never go 
to Farnley again, though he clung to the friendship with the son, 
Hawksworth Fawkes, to the end. 

Turner is now fifty. He is to pause awhile yet for a year or 
two — then to burst forth into fullest song. In 1826 he gave up the 
house at Twickenham which he had taken for " Dad," but where 
" Dad " was forever catching chills. Henceforth he draws still more 
into solitude in his London home. Money poured in — he had no use 
for it. The house becomes ever more squalid, ever more dingy. 
Turner has no eyes but for his art. His eternal squabbles with his 
publishers become ever more furious ; yet he shows at the Academy 
his brilliant Cologne. It is hung between two portraits by Lawrence ; 
puts them out — he covers his Cologne with water-colour lamp-black 
to give Lawrence's portraits honour. Then he makes across sea to 
the Meuse, the Moselle, and the Rhine. 

In 1827, his fifty-second year, Turner begins to pour forth his 
splendour. The serene Mortlake, Morning and Mortlake, F^vening, the 
Rembrandt's Daughter, in which he tries a fall with the great Dutch- 
man, are of this time. He takes to painting the sea in the open — 
he is at Cowes, and begins his superb yachting series with the vivid 
Tacht Racing in the Solent at the Tate ; the Shipping at Coives heralds 
the splendour of Turner's golden visions. He has challenged the 
Sun itself. It was the year in which he began the ill-fated work, 
the Picturesque Vieivs in England and Wales, which was to reveal 
every mood of the land — every mood of the day and night. He 
wrought over a hundred paintings for it from 1827 to 1838. Many 
are amongst the supreme masterpieces in all landscape. 

In 1828 Turner again made for Italy. The academic souls of 





(National Gallery) 

On the shore, in the left-hand corner of the picture, is seen the half- 
extinguished fire in which Ulysses heated the staff with which he put out 
the eye of Polyphemus, the one-eyed king of the Cyclops, who had devoured 
the companions of Ulysses. On the rock above, outlined against the skyline, 
is the agonised figure of the giant. The galley of Ulysses, with the King of 
Ithaca in command, is putting out to sea. 

Painted in oil on canvas. 4 ft. 3 in. h. x 6 ft. 7 in. w. (i '295 x 2 •006). 



the so-called artists forgathered in Rome could " make nothing " of WHEREIN 
his works. His sketch-books show him moving from Orleans to WE SEE 
Lyons, to Marseilles, to Genoa, to Florence, to Orvieto, to Rome. THE DAWN 
To the Academy he had sent Dido directing the Equipment of the Fleets BREAK IN 
the Regatta beating to IVindward {East Cowes Castle), the East Coives SPLEN- 
Cast/e (Regatta starting for their moorings), and the Boccaccio, which DOUR 
Constable declared "glorious and beautiful" — "golden visions." OVER 
But there was a mightier golden vision about to hang on these ENGLAND 
walls. OUT OF A 


In 1829 Turner sent the superb masterpiece of Ulysses deriding 

Polyphemus to the Royal Academy. At once Turner steps into 
the front rank of the poets of all time. Here, by pure orchestration 
of colour, he arouses in our senses such an impression ot the mood 
desired as it would be impossible to excel. The resultant whole is 
of epic power. Turner is master of a majestic orchestra, and the 
music crashes forth in a stupendous masterpiece. This was the year 
of the unfinished Chichester Canal, and probably the unfinished 
Rocky Bay with Figures and the Sunrise. 

In 1830, at fifty-five, the year that Lawrence died. Turner lost 
his father. The loss of his " Dad " was a serious blow to the man ; 
he was still more driven upon himself, and his habits grew utterly 
slovenly. At the same time the solitude still further keyed up the 
man's imagination and sent him soaring to higher visionary flights. 
He had dared into the superb realm of absolute Impressionism on a 
majestic scale in the Ulysses deriding Polyphemus. He has come into 
his kingdom. For close on twenty years he is to pour forth master- 
pieces in this realm. He is to widen the gamut. of artistic utterance 
in colour to an astounding range. He is to employ harmonies in 
almost endless arrangements, from the blithest light keys to the 
deepest and most profound blacks, as Beethoven employed music. 
Turner is the first to discover this prodigious significance of colour. 
Before his achievement the achievement of the past pales. 

To understand exactly what this marvellous revelation is, we 
must now attempt to grasp the meaning of the increase brought to 
Impressionism by Turner. So far, the men of Venice and Holland 
and Spain had brought values to Impressionism ; Turner was to bring 
colour orchestration. 

The word Impressionism has been debauched by critical writers 
to mean a narrow parish of a great realm. The critics, needing a 
word, dubbed the fine French endeavour of 1870 whereby broken 







colour is struck upon the canvas by dots or strokes or blobs, by the 
name of " Impressionism." So it is. But this is only a very small 
part of Impressionism ; and even at that it is derived wholly from a 
part of Turner's genius. 

It came to Turner that colour affects the senses exactly as 
music does ; if the colour be blithe and gay, it arouses blithe and 
gay emotions — if sombre and solemn, it arouses solemn and sombre 
emotions. And the day he discovered this vital fact, he thrust the 
art of painting beyond all previous achievement into the modern 

In 1830 Turner began those little vignettes for illustration of 
the poets, often forced and hard, to assist the engravers. The Rogers' 
Italy of 1830 begins them. 

Lord Egremont seems to have been a most sympathetic friend 
to Turner ; and to Petworth he went this year, and painted much 
there, including the oil impression of the Interior of Petworth^ which 
shows the eccentric lord to have allowed the drawing-room to 
become little better than a farmyard. To hang Impressionism to 
Turner's genius on this rapid fantasy is idiot's babble. It is simply 
a note, a sketch of an idea — and a marvellously suggestive one. 
Turner was also at Brighton and Arundel, and the peaceful Old 
Chain Pier at Brighton was one of the results. The sketch-books 
show him to be at Dieppe, Rouen, and Paris. He was probably 
plotting the Rivers of France. 

The Academy of 1831 saw six pictures by Turner, of which one 
was his return to the classic note — Caligula's Palace ; but he was now 
turning the classics into Impressionism. The Watteau Painting is 
again pure mood. The Soane Museum Admiral Van Tromp's Barge 
at the Entrance of the Texel is a golden scheme. South Kensington 
has the fine Lifeboat going off to a Stranded Vessel (Blue Lights of 
Distress). And the Cochem on the Moselle is a fine sketch. Turner 
went to Scotland to illustrate Scott's Poetical and Prose Works, being 
the guest of Scott whom he now first met — here he made the first 
draft of that v/ill that was to end in such heavy litigation. 

Of 1832 was his glowing golden Childe Harold's Pilgrimage and 
the grey Hehoetsluys (City of Utrecht, 64, Going to Sea). 

In 1833, at fifty-eight. Turner painted his first picture of Venice 
— Venice that he was to immortalise in masterpiece atter master- 
piece, and state in wondrous fashion, haunted by all the wizardry of 
her sea romance. He begins by challenging and overwhelming 
Canaletto ; soon he was to breathe Venice across the canvas, 





"HASTINGS" (about 1835) 
(Tate Gallery) 


,■ ■ 







— 1 







aerial as splendid dreams. He set Canaletto into his first master- WHEREIN 
piece. From 1833 to 1835 were published The Rivers of France for WE SEE 
which he made his sixty water-colours. The Pont de fArche, the THE DAWN 
sunlit airy Post Road from Vernon to Mantes, the purple Mantes, the BREAK IN 
lovely Bridge of Meulan, the stately Troyes, haunt the imagination SPLEN- 
with their melody of France. If a man in his decline could paint DOUR 
such masterwork, then for heaven's sake let us pray for decline. OVER 

This year his old friend Dr. Monro died, and Turner bought in ENGLAND 
his own works — odd to say, the forgers were already at work; several OUT OF A 
of the works given to him were not by him. BARBER'S 

In 1834, his fifty-ninth year. Turner's sketch-books are of the SHOP 
Meuse, the Moselle, the Rhine, Oxford, and Bruges ; South Kensing- 
ton has the St. MicSae/'s Mount, and the Fire at Sea, and a Venice. 
Gillott, the Birmingham pen-maker, pushed his way into Turner's 
home this year and secured five thousand pounds' worth of paintings 
from him. It was during this and the next four years — to 1838 — 
that Turner painted the fine unfinished oils that long lay rolled up 
and hidden away at the National Gallery, and are now part of the 
glory of the Tate. 

In 1835 Turner, be it marked well, was sixty. Many an artist, 
tied to a narrow gamut, has exhausted his genius upon that 
gamut before thirty, and is in decline. Turner, of wiry frame, 
amazing virility, and nerve like steel, is to pour forth work fron: 
sixty which has the blithe jocund feeling and freshness of youth. 
How bookish men can find decay in his work at this period it beats 
the wit of artist to comprehend. His powers enormously increase ; 
he adds territory after territory to the realm of art — vast territories 
such as aforetime had never even been explored. 

Look at that Sunrise, with a Boat between Headlands at the Tate. 
Here is the fresh dewy dawn uttered in a melody of pure colour 
which is absolutely fragrant of the coming of day. Look at the 
" unfinished " Hastings. And remember that for the last eleven 
years of his creative life — from sixty to seventy-one — Turner poured 
forth a blithe art, exquisite and melodious as the music of viols and 
flute and lute, giving us at seventy-one the fresh and joyous Queen 
Mab's Grotto that is jocund as the hearts of young lovers meeting. 

Now it requires far greater artistic powers to call such subtle 
emotion from the deep than to set down the mere facts of Nature. 
But it is evident that to judge such achievement by rule and 
plummet is hopeless. So far from decay, Turner's powers are at 
their full, his sense of colour at its subtlest, his wizardry of genius 



THE fresh as youth. He has long left human rivalries behind — he 

DAWN OF conquers the light, the sun, the translucent atmosphere, the dewy 
MODERN morning, the mystic twilight, the hauntingness of the evening, the 
PAINTING glamour of the night. 

Look, now upon his last vision of Norham Castle, that Norham 
that, when first painted, kept him thereafter " busy with as much 
work as he could attend to " — that Norham now held in the 
diaphanous atmosphere like a thing of magic weaving, haunting 
the senses, subtle as music of a shepherd's pipe in the sweet dawn 
of a new-born day. Look at that superb Bridge and Tower, with 
its foreground tree, consummately placed, and bathed in aerial 
luminosity, telling its majestic note of dark splendour, with the 
distant bridge and the leagues beyond. 

This, his sixtieth year, he showed at the Academy his Line- 
Fishing off Hastings, his Venice from the Porch of Madonna del la Salute, 
his night-piece of the Burning of the Houses of Parliament^ of which 
another version was shown at the British Institution. 

It is interesting to note that the Press now began to attack 
Turner. Biackivood opened the ball by assailing the Venice. The 
following year, 1836, this attack became more general over the 
Juliet and her Nurse and the Mercury and Argus. Ruskin at 
seventeen took up the championship of Turner, which the old 
man grimly let go by him with his " I never move in these 
matters." Turner had visited Italy with Monro, who was dis- 
appointed in Turner's verbal lack of enthusiasm in the presence of 
Nature. The attack increased in 1837 on his Snowstorm and 
Departure of Regulus. This year his ILngland and Wales venture 
collapsed, and he bought out the whole stock when put up to 
auction for three thousand pounds. The Dresden sketch-book is of 
this time. Henceforth Turner, in his sixties, spends a great part 
of his life abroad. His vigour of body must have been astounding, 
for we must consider the " Diogenes way " in which he skimped 
himself and the difficulties of travel. His mere bodily adventures 
were enough to exhaust a young man. Yet this was the decade in 
which he put his artistic powers to their full stretch in masterpiece 
after masterpiece of superb water-colour. Venice and the Righi, 
how he watched their every change of line ! His sketch-books are 
full of Venice and the Lake of Lucerne. To the Academy of 1838 
he sent Ancient Italy and Modern Italy. The Tate holds his 
delightful unfinished water-colour of The Salute. 

To 1839 belong the immortal Fighting Timer aire tugged to her 
Last Berth — a wondrous utterance of pathos — and the fine Agrippina 


landing with the Ashes of Germanicus. The Tate has the water-colour WHEREIN 
sketch of a Venetian Fishing-Boat. -^j? 5££ 

Of 1840 were the Slave Ship — lauded by Ruskin as his supreme THE DAWN 
work, but, judging by reproductions, a poor affair with brilliant bits BREAK IN 
— the New Moon ; the fine South Kensington Venice ; the superb SPLEN- 
masterpiece of Rockets and Blue Lights now in America, a work DOUR 
in which the mood of the tempest is recorded as no man but Turner OVER 
ever had the power to utter it ; the rich and glowing Arch of ENGLAND 
Constantine at the Tate ; the Tivoli ; and the glorious Burning of the OUT OF A 
Ships. And when we remember that Tate water-colours, such as BARBER'S 
the Lake of Lucerne from Fluelen, the large Lake with Distant SHOP 
Headlands and Palaces and the Rawlinson Vale d'Aosta are of this 
time, one wonders where to look for Turner's decay or decline. Of 
1842 were a Venice and the Depositing of Bellini's pictures in the 
Church of the Redentore, Venice, a pageant of sunlight. The sketch- 
books show him at work at Lucerne, on the Rhine, at Thun, Zug, 
Goldau, Fluelen, Bellinzona, Como, Spliigen, Grenoble. And his 
art floats upon the paper those aerial visions which clearly were 
wrought whilst the colours were flowing and were caught and kept 
in place by the calculated wizardry of his hand's skill. 

In 1842, at sixty-seven. Turner painted several of the masterpieces 
of his great career. The magnificent work known as the Snowstorm, 
in which a paddle-steamer thrashes its way through the turmoil 
of seas and heaven, is a masterly statement of mist and light, of the 
movement of the sea and of the vessel upon the sea, of the thrash 
of the storm, and the glint of light and darkness upon the sweeping 
waters such as places him beyond the reach of all previous achieve- 
ment in art whatsoever. "The critics of all kinds were furious." 
Yes ; they would be. It is so unlike Michelangelo, and holds scant 
hint of Raphael. They called this wondrous thing, this, one of the 
masterpieces of the ages, they called it "soapsuds and whitewash." 
Turner had Been lashed to a mast on a vessel off Harwich in a 
hurricane to see that vision ; he had made the sailors take him out 
to see it — a man of sixty-seven, "in his decline" ! The War : the 
Exile and the Rock Limpet missed its intention, but the Burial of 
Wilkie at Sea was of this year, a masterly impression of the solemnity 
of Death. And of this year also were many of the superb water- 
colours and the five water-colour sketches made in Switzerland, 
chiefly about Lucerne. The Rawlinson Spietz on the Lake of Thun 
is of them, also the Coblentz, the Constance, the Spliigen, the Bay 
of Uri, the Zurich. 

Munro of Novar offered him ^25,000 for all he had at the 
VOL. VIII — E 33 


THE Queen Anne Street Gallery, but Turner answered with his " No ! I 

DAWN OF won't — I can't . . . besides, I can't be bothered. Good evening ! " 

MODERN Of 1843 were the immortal Approach to Venice and The "Sun of 

PAINTING Venice " going to Sea. Turner, mark you, was sixty-eight the day he 

painted the Approach to Venice ; he was an old man the day he gave 

forth this jocund exquisite impression. His piercing old eyes could 

see that he had thrust the art of painting vast realms beyond the 

power, to say nothing of the achievement, of the greatest masters of 

the past. Here he utters a song of the dawn in purest poetry such 

as had aforetime been impossible. Gaze on the whole range of that 

majestic past that may be seen in such splendid fashion at the 

National Gallery, and then come to this ; and you shall realise how 

dull and drab it all is by comparison. Colour takes voice, becomes 

music — there are harps in the air. The dewy day is fragrant of the 

fresh breath of morning. 

Of this year also were The Evening oj the Deluge, The Morning after 
the Deluge, and the Walhalla, that Turner sent as gift to the King of 
Bavaria, and that gentlemanly person returned, saying he could not 
understand it. Turner was also fretted by the publication of the 
first volume of Ruskin's Modern Painters ! Of the wonderful 
water-colours are the Rawlinson The Seelisberg — Moonlight, and the 
South Kensington Lake of Brienz. Decline .? Little the old man 
who shuffled about his dirty, squalid, ill-kept house, and who would 
sit on the Margate boat amidst the squall and tossing waters, eating 
shrimps out of a red handkerchief, watching and noting impressions 
of the sea, knew of decline. A quaint kind of decline that, in the 
next year of 1844, the last year of his sixties, saw him give forth his 
Rain, Steam, and Speed in which he utters the impression of a 
railway train ; a quaint sort of decay that sends a man, on the edge 
of seventy, roaming to Lucerne, Thun, Interlaken, Lauterbrunnen, 
Grindelwald, Meiringen, Rheinfelden, Heidelberg, sketching hun- 
dreds of sketches ! But he confesses that " the rigours of winter 
beijin to tell on me " ! at seventy ! because he is twice driven back 
from tramping across the Alps. Well might he jot down with 
pride on the edge of seventy " No matter what befell Hannibal, W. B. 
and y. M. W. T. passed the Alps from Fombey, Sept. 3, 1844." 
The death of his friend Callcott was a heavy blow to him. The 
Tennant Approach to Venice and the National Gallery Fishing Boats 
bringing in a Disabled Ship are of this year. But at last the vigorous 
body begins to yield to the weight of the years. He becomes very 
bent. In 1845 he was seventy. We have Ruskin's witness that 
his health began to fail, yet the little black figure squats down by 



Thames mud for over half-an-hour, to watch how the water ripples WHEREIN 
to the shore ! He painted the Sunrise, with a Sea Monster — he was WE SEE 
interested in whales this year — and showed Whalers in this year and THE DAWN 
the next. The whalers' sketch-book, has drawings of whaling BREAK IN 
subjects, whether made on a voyage or from gossip amongst the shore SPLEN- 
folk at Wapping is unknown. Thackeray blemished his repute for DOUR 
art by childish attacks on Turner in Punch, which display his own OVER 
ignorance, whilst deeply wounding the old artist. The sketch-books ENGLAND 
of 1845 and 1846 show Turner at Folkestone, Hythe, Walmer, OUT OF A 
Ambleteuse, Wimereux, Boulogne, Eu, Treport, Dieppe, then back BARBER'S 
at Folkestone. In the Rawlinson TelPs Chapel, his last water-colour SHOP 
of Switzerland, there is no slightest sign of hesitation or decline ; 
nor in his seventy-first year, 1846, in which the old singer utters his 
last great song. Yet what a song, and what a significance ! Think 
of it. At seventy-one he utters that sweet aerial fancy of Queen 
MaFs Grotto, blithe as a young man's first love-lyric, exquisite as a 
great soprano's fullest song — a very swan-song. 

Other pictures he painted, a Whaler, Undine, The Angel standing 
in the Sun, two whalers — Hurrah and Boiling Blubber — Venice^ 
Morning : Returning from the Ball, and Going to the Ball, wherein the 
hand begins to falter ; but — he painted the Queen MaFs Grotto his 
swan-song of splendour ! 

This year, also, he shuts up his last sketch-book — it is the 
"Kent, 1845-46." 


The next year of 1 847, his seventy-second year, he shuns his old 
haunts, disappears from his house. His doors at Queen Anne Street 
are locked and barred. He rarely creeps into his dingy old home. 
His old housekeeper, the faithful Hannah Danby, knows not where 
he goes. He suddenly turns up at a council-meeting of the 
Academy or on Varnishing Day — speaks little to any one — avoids 
old friends, then vanishes again. He sends old pictures to the 
Academy displays. He turns up at Mayall the photographer's, in 
Regent Street — says he is a Master in Chancery, for he is deeply 
interested in this thing called photography — he goes again and 
again. He goes to dine with the Bicknells at Heme Hill, is merry : 
his portrait is made there secretly by Landseer and Count D'Orsay, 
the portrait attributed to Linnell ; then suddenly, in 1850, appear 





four paintings by Turner at the Academy — they are called his 
" failures " ; well the nation possesses Aeneas relating his Story to 
Dido, his Mercury sent to admonish Aeneas, the Departure of the Trojan 
Fleet, and the Visit to the Tomb. At a dinner at Roberts's house he 
made merry, was seen into a cab, evaded the giving of the address to 
the cabman with a wink, saying " Tell him to drive to Oxford Street, 
and then I'll direct him where to go," and so rattled back, into the 
mysteries. On the death of Shee, Turner fretted at not being made 
President of the Academy. 

At the private view of the Academy of 1851 Turner appeared 
— a shaky, broken, feeble man : Roberts, in the name of his fellows, 
offered to visit him, promising not to disclose his hiding-place ; but 
Turner, touched as he was, replied that he would come and see 
Roberts whenever in town. 

Hannah Danby, turning over his clothes one day, found a letter 
which gave her a hint ; with another old woman she made for 
Chelsea, and found that Turner was living at Cremorne Cottage in 
Cheyne Walk as Mr. Booth. She went straight to Mr. Harpur, a 
trustee of Turner's, who arrived only to find the old artist sinking. 
He had been living in the old cottage with Mrs. Booth, who spoke 
of him as her husband. Having been wheeled to the window to 
look upon the winter sunset, he died in her arms on the 19th of 
December 1851. 

The urchins of Chelsea had called the eccentric old man 
Admiral Booth — or Puggy Booth. It was said that he would go to 
Wapping and hobnob with the rough river folk. He was buried in 
St. Paul's Cathedral, hard by Sir Joshua Reynolds. He left both 
Hannah Danby and Mrs. Booth comfortably off. He left his vast 
treasure of art to the nation. But the huge sum that he willed for 
a home for Poor and Decayed Artists of lawful English birth was 
fought over in Chancery, and went to his kin. So the 19,331 items 
of his art came into the nation's keeping, many of them ruined, 
most in a filthy state, but all, thanks to the care and research of 
lovers of his art, now emerging into the splendid display of his 
genius in the national collections, and handsomely housed, thanks to 
the generous gift of a fine home for them at the Tate by Sir Joseph 

Turner's great discovery was this, that each and every thing 
seen needs a style created for itself, apart from all other subjects, 


before it can be created by the artist into its supreme emotional WHEREIN 
utterance. He could not have told you so in words ; he was not a WE SEE 
man of reason, of bright intellect, he did the thing, moved thereto THE DAWN 
by unerring instinct — just as Shakespeare did it. BREAK IN 

Mallarme, gazing upon Rain^ Steam, and Speed, said, "Turner is SPLEN- 
the greatest painter that has ever lived"; and he was nothing less. DOUR 
All that is vital in modern art was born out of the revelation of OVER 
Turner. ENGLAND 

Turner, with infinite labour, mastered tradition, entered into rivalry OUT OF A 
with it, challenged it, conquered it ; and, having made it his own, and BARBER'S 
thus equipped, embarked on the wider adventure of the conquest of a SHOP 
new world. He discovered that painting was an immense instrument 
—hundreds of instruments — and he discovered thereby the orchestra- 
tion of colour. Velazquez played upon realistic subtilities — he 
created a narrow art thereby, even though he did so in supreme 
fashion. And so with the others. Turner flung mere triumphs of 
handling into the waste-paper basket. He saw that the colour- 
scheme to create a blithe, light, jocund emotion could never be 
fitted to create a deep, solemn emotion of awe ; that the pomp of 
death must be uttered in colour-harmonies of a solemn and majestic 
cadence far different from the blithe mood of a bridal, with merry 
bells a-ringing and roses, roses all the way. And he bent the Light 
to his will so that the blithe harmonies should utter blithe emotions, 
sombre harmonies the solemn emotions. So that the Dawn at 
Venice appears clad in pale aerial vesture floating upon the mirrored ' 

waters, turning gondola and shipping and edifice and cupola into the 
fabric of a dream such as the dawn compels into our eyes and weaves 
into our sensing. 

Turner's range is prodigious — an eagle's flight. He rides upon 
the storm, and the long, sweeping buffets and staggering blows of 
the raging waters fling their anger across his canvas, the spiteful 
waves spit their venom of spume, the thunder and the roar of 
the tempestuous heavens join their din to the frantic tumult of the 
great waters. At a stroke of his wizardry he brings forth the awful 
silence of a great calm in which mountain and city lie mirrored in 
the reflecting waters that lie still as glass under the leagues of the 
glorious heavens. The tragic sense of great barren mountains, the 
sweet fragrance of meadows that lie by pleasant streams, the city's 
multitudinous haunt of men, the lap of waters against the clumsy 
float of great ships, the sunrise, the sun's setting, the twilight, the 
moonlight, all were granted to him to utter in unforgettable fashion ; 
and he triumphed — the supreme poet that colour has yet given to the 





world. " All the torches that have shed a flood of new light on 
Art, that of Delacroix in 1825, those of the Impressionists in 1870, 
have in turn been lit at his flame," says French De la Sizeranne, 
and utters but the scant truth. Constable, returning from the dis- 
play of 1828, might well write, "Turner has some golden visions, 
glorious and beautiful. They are only visions, but still they are art, 
and one could live and die with such pictures." What indeed is 
life but a vision ? with what has the art of painting to do but with 
the vision ? and Turner was lord of it all. Of Turner Constable 
said, " I believe it would be difficult to say that there is a bit of land- 
scape now done that does not emanate from that source." Small 
wonder that this lonely man, faced with the artist's eternal agony of 
having to part with his works, was wont to say when he screwed 
his courage to the sale of a picture, " I 've lost one of my children." 
Fortunately for the nation the bulk of his fortune was made out of 
his engravings, not out of the sale of his pictures. He clung to his 
" children." 

Mean of money, he was artistically generous. A young fellow 
called Bird has his picture crowded out — Turner takes down one of 
his own and sets up Bird's instead. He covers his luminous Cologne 
with lampblack to give Lawrence's pictures honour — " it will all 
wash off after the exhibition." 

So the little, bow-legged, snuffy, big-headed man, with the small 
hands and feet, who, when sitting perched on a high place, well-plied 
with Academy sherry, could paint masterpiece after masterpiece in 
the four days allowed for varnishing at the annual displays, who 
gave his life to the conquest of light and colour, lives immortal ; 
indeed, did not Constable affirm that the painting of Turner was the 
most complete work of genius known to him ? 

Turner, as at the stroke of a magician's wand, raises out of the 
void the vision and the dream in such consummate fashion that he 
conquers the mind. It is but the dullard pedant who, untouched 
by the wizardry of it all, peers at the painted canvas and picks holes 
in details. 

Turner exults in the glory of the world ; as his body becomes 
bent with age, he shouts his song of exultation as though youth 
were in his blood ; the music of his exultation is as the voice of 
some great seer uttering his visions to the ages. We stand before 
the vast achievement of his genius as though we were in a great 
cathedral the aisles and majestic deeps of which reverberate with the 
sounds of his mighty utterance. Dullards ask for sobriety of mood 
from one drunk with the wine of life. He found at last the splen- 


dour of colour and the vast orchestra that would pour forth art WHEREIN 
that fits each mood, sublime or dainty, epic or lyrical, dramatic WE SEE 
or homely pastoral, the splendour that his eyes had seen, the THE DAWN 
significance that his senses had known. BREAK IN 

And little dullard men, with pen and ink, walk about his feet SPLEN- 
and blame him for it ! DOUR 








There were born, within a year of each other. Constable and 
Turner, who were, with Crome, to lead into the promised land of 
Modern Painting and take possession. 


1776 - 1837 

It is usual to begin a survey of Constable's genius by asserting 
that the impetus given to English landscape by Wilson and Gains- 
borough had died out in a barren formula — the formula of " the 
brown tree," of landscape made to plan, of grass that must not be 
green, when Constable arose and cracked the farce asunder. Such 
was far from ^he case. Morland was alive ; Crome, in some ways 
as great as Constable, was creating master-work. Turner, a far 
vaster genius than he, was beginning his great career beside him. 

A Constable, of the patrician Yorkshire family of that name, 
had come to Suffolk as a farmer ; and his grandson, Golding 
Constable, who had built himself a fine house, was owner of 
water-mills at Flatford and Dedham and two wind-mills at East 
Bergholt. To Golding Constable and his wife Ann Watts was born 
at East Bergholt, in Suffolk, on the iith of June 1776, his second 
son, John Constable. The delicate child grew to healthy boyhood, 
and at seven was sent to a boarding-school, thence to another, and 
thence to the Grammar School at Dedham, where he stayed until 
seventeen. By sixteen he was playing with paints, and neglecting 
the latinities for them. His leisure time at East Bergholt he spent 
with a plumber and glazier called Dunthorne, who was given to 
landscape-painting. But the father had the Church in his mind for 
the youth, whereon the young fellow, from dread of it, went to the 
mills for a year, when the father, realising the bent of his son, got 

1776 - 1837 


(National Gallery) 



him an introduction to the generous Sir George Beaumont on one WHEREIN 
of his visits to his mother, the Dowager-Lady Beaumont, who A MILLER'S 
lived at Dedham, in the house where Constable now saw his first SON FINDS 
Claude (the National Gallery i/^/g-^r), and some thirty water-colours ROMANCE 
by Girtin. IN THE RE- 

In 1795 Constable went to London armed with a letter to ALITY OF 
Wilson's pupil, Farringdon, and so became known to John Thomas ENGLAND'S 
Smith, the engraver, from whom he learnt to etch. For a couple LAND- 
of years Constable divided his time between London and Suffolk, SCAPES, 
sketching at Bergholt, reading artists' lives, and working at anatomy AND 
and etching; pen drawings of 1796 by him being at South PAINTS 
Kensington. To 1797 belong oil-paintings of A Chymist and An HIS IM- 
Alchymist. He returned to his father's business. But the man PRESSIONS 
fretted ; and in 1799 he took to art again, never to withdraw from OF THE 
it, entering the schools of the Royal Academy on the 4th of HOME- 
February, lodging in Cecil Street, Strand, and starting copying LAND 
Ruysdael on his own account ; by the end of the year he had copied 
two Wilsons, a Carracci, a Ruysdael, and Claude's Hagar. The 
summer of 1800 saw him back amongst his beloved scenes, where 
were " every stile and stump, and every lane in the village " that he 
knew so well. In i 801 he went to Derbyshire, and made sketches in 
water-colour, of which twelve are at South Kensington. On his 
return to London he withdrew to 50 Rathbone Place to be more by 
himself, being already disgusted with the "cold trumpery stuff" of 
his academic fellows. The Academy of i 802 saw his first picture 
— a small landscape. West seems greatly to have encouraged him, 
and did him the far-reaching good service of making him refuse a 
post as drawing-master which Dr. Fisher (afterwards Bishop of 
Salisbury), with the best intention, had secured for him. 

Constable now saw that to " seek the truth at second hand " from 
pictures instead of from Nature meant death to art. And it was in 
this year that he wrote to Dunthorne : There is room enough for a 
natural painter. South Kensington holds the small and exquisite 
Dedham Vale of the September of this year — the Windmill, in black 
chalk and wash, reveals the coming of the master. In 1803 he 
sent to the Academy, but not in 1804, the year of his altarpiece, 
Christ Blessing Little Children, for Brantham Church. 

Of 1805 was a Moonlit Landscape ; but in 1806 he was north in 
the Lake Country, of which he made during two months many 
sketches in water-colour and some in oil, of which South Kensington 
holds some twenty-two in water-colour and Indian ink ; they ex- 
hausted his utterance of the mountains. He could only feel the 
VOL. VIII — F 41 


THE homely landscapes in which men dwell. Still, 1 807 saw him show 

DAWN OF Keswick Lake, A View in Westmorland, and Bow Fell; and in 1808 
MODERN the Borrowdale, the Scene in Cumberland, and Windermere Lake. All 
PAINTING 1807 he was making copies of family portraits, chiefly by Reynolds, 
for the Earl and Countess of Dysart. This training led his hand to 
decision. The Nayland Church altarpiece of Christ Blessing the 
Bread and Wine is a marked advance, if still not a masterpiece. He 
goes through a stage of painting in monochrome and then glazing 
in colours after Reynolds, then of proceeding to paint in strong 
colours and softening by glazing. The man was trying to find a 
way out. He was very slow of brain and hand. He was plodding 
at it. But he was rapidly coming into a forceful direct style of 
setting down values at once, as at a stroke, of objects bathed in their 
distance of atmosphere; and if it be correct that the superbly wrought 
Dedham Vale at the National Gallery, the Golding Constable''s House 
and the fine South Kensington On the Stour near Dedham are of this 
time, 1 8 1 o, then Constable had arrived. On the Stour near Dedham 
shows him complete master of a craftsmanship that at once answers 
the brain's impression. For him now to conquer. 

But his prospects were scarcely bright ; he had for some years 
been in love with the young daughter of Charles Bicknell, Solicitor 
to the Admiralty, and granddaughter of Dr. Rhudde, the rector of 
Bergholt ; this mutual love was hotly opposed by all the relations. 
The old rector was greatly rich, and there was bad blood between 
him and Golding Constable. All this misery was doing the man 
little good. Then his own family kept taunting him with waste of 
time on landscape, and urged him to portraiture. However, to the 
Academy of 18 12 went his Flatford Mill and View of Salisbury. In 
the spring, being unwell, he made for his beloved Suffolk. Though 
sixteen years younger than Constable, Fisher, son of the Master of 
Charterhouse, and then chaplain to his uncle the Bishop of Salisbury, 
a man of rare culture, grew into loyal intimacy with Constable, to 
whom his decision of character was to be of value. Fisher became 
Archdeacon in 18 17, and often entertained Constable. 

For Constable, the Fishers secured some portraits to paint ; he 
worked much for Lady Louisa Manners ; but the simple fellow, to 
whom Cowper's poems and letters were the supreme literature, 
yearned for Bergholt. By the June of 1813 he had painted so 
many portraits that he was at last in funds as he entered London 
town. It was to the Academy of 181 3 that he sent the two land- 
scapes Morning and Afternoon, which drew Fisher's praise and 
waggery : " I only liked one better, and that is a picture of pictures, 


the Frost, by Turner. But, then, you need not repine at this WHEREIN 
decision of mine ; you are a great man, and, like Buonaparte, are A MILLER'S 
only to be beaten by a frost." In 1814 he sold his first displayed SON FINDS 
works, one to Mr. Allnutt and the other to Mr. Carpenter, The Lock. ROMANCE 
And he painted much about Flatford, of which the Boat-building IN THE RE- 
(18 1 5) and the sketch of Cart and Horses are at South Kensington, ALITY OF 
where also is the Dedham Vale of this time, with the figure of the ENGLAND'S 
cow in the foreground. LAND- 

In the February of 18 15, Dr. Rhudde seems to have given his SCAPES, 
"sweet permission" for the young lovers to meet under his roof. AND 
These two quaint, respectable lovers seem to have met pretty PAINTS 
often, and to have deemed it wise not to tell the worthy grand- HIS IM- 
father that they were making good his "sweetness," until, discover- PRESSIONS 
ing it just a year after, he flew into a theological fury, and told the OF THE 
girl's father that she was "no longer his grand-daughter." The HOME- 
careful Maria was in consternation. Constable's mother had died LAND 
in the May of 1815 ; Maria's mother a few days after. In De- 
cember his father was seized with sickness, and Constable remained 
the winter with him. Then came the discovery and fury. That 
fury drove the languid blood of Constable to action. 

The death of Golding Constable called back his famous son to 
Bergholt in the May of 18 16. He came into _^4000, which gave 
him a small certainty. Fisher, in the August of 18 16, wrote and 
told him that if they wanted it, he would marry them in London. 
Maria hedged and changed, but on October 2, 18 16, she and 
Constable were married at St. Martin's-in-the-Fields by the 
Reverend John Fisher, and they spent their honeymoon with the 
Fishers at Osmington. Constable and his wife settled in a small 
house in Keppell Street, Russell Square, and there the two eldest 
children, John and Maria, were born. Of this time is the National 
Gallery Flatford Mill; and to the Academy of 18 17 he sent, 
amongst others, the famous sunlit Cottage in a Cornfield at South 
Kensington, in which he makes lyrical the noontide heat ot a 
summer's day. Of 1819 was his largest canvas yet shown, the 
Pierpont Morgan On the River Stour, better known as The White 
Horse ; on the six-foot canvas he put the price of a hundred guineas 
without the frame, that startled the art world ; and Fisher bought it. 

Late in 18 19 Constable was elected A.R.A. ; and in the same 
year his wife received a legacy of ^(^4000 from her fierce old grand- 
father Dr. Rhudde. The Academy of 1820 had his Harwich Light- 
house, now at the Tate, and the large Stratford Mill called also The 
Young Waltonians from the boys fishing in the foreground, a work 



THE which Fisher bought and gave to his solicitor Tinney. Being with 

DAWN OF Fisher at Salisbury in the summer, he painted the exquisite South 

MODERN Kensington Water Meadows near Salisbury, which, having been put 

PAINTING by mistake amongst the works of outsiders at the selection, was 

rejected by the Hanging Committee, on which Constable himself 

grimly sat ; but the carpenter, as he set the cross of rejection on it, 

noticed the name ; however, amidst the judges' apologies and 

excuses Constable remained relentless — it had been refused, so out 

it must go. Constable took his family awhile to rooms at Hamp- 

stead and painted the famous view called The Salt Box at the Tate. 

The next year (1821) he took a small house at Hampstead in Lower 

Terrace and often painted there from this time. 

To the Academy of 1821 he sent four landscapes, of which one 
was the large Landscape, Noon, to become world-famous as The 
Haywain — it to-day hangs at the National Gallery, the far finer oil- 
sketch for it being at South Kensington. 

Now the Haywain went to the Academy and made small stir 
enough. The first of the year saw Constable wander over Berkshire 
with Fisher, and South Kensington is the richer by some ten 
drawings of Reading, Newbury, and Abingdon, and the British 
Museum with sketches at Oxford. In the November he went 
to Salisbury as Fisher's guest, and made many sketches of the 

To the Academy of 1822 he sent the large River Stour near 
Dedham, a Hampstead Heath, Malvern Hall, the Terrace at Hampstead, 
and a study of Trees. He was now asked by a Frenchman to sell 
his Haywain for display in Paris. He took a larger house at 35 
Charlotte Street. But the winter of 1822-23 "i^^rit heavy sickness 
in his house. Then he got to work upon his Salisbury Cathedral 
from the Bishop's Garden, now at South Kensington — the Cathedral 
seen amongst the trees — and in this picture we see the beginning of 
that effort to give the glitter of sunlight that vibrates amongst his 
coming masterwork, known to the foolish as "Constable's snow." 

In the October of 1823 he was staying with Sir George 
Beaumont at Coleorton Hall in Leicestershire ; and enjoyed the 
fine Claudes, Wilsons and Poussins there gathered together. 

In the meanwhile, in the April of 1824, Constable had sold the 
Haywain, a Yarmouth, and another picture to the Frenchman — or 
rather to Arrowsmith, the English dealer in Paris, who clearly 
looked upon himself as a Frenchman, since he spoke of the French 
as his " countrymen " — he who had approached him before. To the 
Academy he sent the Boat passing a hock. Constable's Haywain and 



the two other landscapes had been hung at the Salon at the Louvre, WHEREIN 
and their effect was astounding. Delacroix was so deeply stirred A MILLER'S 
by the freshness and truth of Constable's art, that he completely SON FINDS 
repainted his canvas of the Massacre of Scio during the four days ROMANCE 
before the Salon of 1824 threw open its gates to the public. The IN THE RE- 
pictures were well hung from the first, but so great was the stir ALITY OF 
they made that they were moved into a more prominent place in the ENGLAND'S 
chief room. The following year Constable received a gold medal. LAND- 

During 1824 and 1825, Constable had had to take his family SCAPES, 
much to Brighton, which place he detested. By the January of AND 
1825 he had set to work on the six-foot canvas of the famous PAINTS 
Diploma Gallery masterpiece oi Dedham Lock, better known as the HIS IM- 
The Leaping Horse, in which all his great powers are revealed, whilst PRESSIONS 
South Kensington has the superb large oil-sketch of the same. OF THE 

The eldest boy's ill-health gave Constable and his wife grave HOME- 
anxiety all through this great year ; and Fisher proved a loyal and LAND 
generous friend. This summer Constable was hard at work upon 
his Opening of Waterloo Bridge, but it beat him ; and was not again 
taken up for seven years. It was rather a pity that Constable's 
touchiness at this time lost him the valuable support of Arrowsmith 
in Paris. 

Constable was now fifty ; and with the years the Poet in him 
came forth to full power. To the Academy of 1826 he sent the 
large The Cornfield, now in the National Gallery. The health of 
his family improved ; and all began to smile for Constable. 

To the Academy of 1827 he sent The Marine and Chain Pier at 
Brighton, the IVater-fnill at Gillingham, and Hampstead Heath ; whilst 
he showed elsewhere The Glebe Farm, now in the National Gallery. 
In the summer he found his permanent home at Hampstead in a 
little house in Well Walk, and let his house in Charlotte Street, 
except the parlours, painting-room, and such part as he could use 
for work there. He glories in the view. On the 2nd of the 
January of 1828, his fourth son was born ; thereafter his wife began 
to sink. Then her father died, leaving Constable ^20,000, and 
Constable could write to Fisher that he could now settle that sum 
on his wife and children and " stand before a six-foot canvas with a 
mind at ease, thank God " ! Alas ! he was to know sorrow deeper 
than the poverty that was past ; his wife died of consumption on 
the 23rd of November; her death left a scar on the man's soul, and 
his self-distrust and nervousness regained a grip upon him. He 
went back to the house in Charlotte Street with his seven children ; 
and looked henceforth on Hampstead as but a place to visit. 



THE To the Academy of this fateful year of 1828 he had sent a 

DAWN OF Hampstead Heathy and a Dedham Vale, but finer than these is the 

MODERN National Gallery oil-sketch of A Summer Afternoon after a Shower, 

PAINTING seen near Redhill, a masterpiece of impression ; and to judge by 

their lyrical power, the National Gallery The Gleaners, and that 

other great oil-sketch, the South Kensington A Mill near Brighton, 

must be of the same great time. 

On February loth, 1829, Constable was elected R.A. Turner 
came to hail him. But Turner's generosity was not equalled by 
the egregious Lawrence, on whom Constable had to call as Presi- 
dent, and who frankly expressed his surprise at the election of a 
landscape-painter ! Before sending his Hadleigh Castle to the 
Academy, Constable asks Leslie's advice on it, two months later, 
"as I am still smarting under my election." The delightful story is 
told of it that, on varnishing day, Chantrey, saying the foreground 
was too cold, took Constable's palette and brushed a broad glaze of 
asphaltum across it — " There goes my dew," cried Constable, and 
promptly took it all off again. 

Depressed and down at heart. Constable began this year that 
famous series of his English Landscape to be engraved in mezzotint 
by David Lucas — a work which engaged his chief energies for the 
remaining decade of his life. 

As newly elected R.A. he was on the Hanging Committee of 
1830, to which display he sent A Dell in Helmingham Park, and the 
South Kensington Hampstead Heath with the carter's team in the 

In I 8:; I he became visitor to the Life Schools, the year of the 
superb large oil-sketch in the National Gallery of Salisbury, which 
created the nearly as great completed Ashton canvas of Salisbury 
from the Meadows with the Rainbow, which was to have been 
bought for the nation, but gave way to the inferior Cornfield. The 
great canvas with the rainbow is a masterpiece ; but the nation is 
more fortunate in possessing the oil-sketch of Salisbury, which is mar- 
vellously well reproduced in this volume, and for glitter and values, 
for virile force and lyrical utterance is amongst the supreme works 
of this great artist's achievement. Of the same year was the Tar- 
mouth Pier. The painter was so ill at this time that he was clearly 
contemplating death. 

In 1832 he was seriously crippled with rheumatics. This year 

he tackled the large Opening of Waterloo Bridge again. As it glitters 

upon Sir Charles Tennant's walls to-day, there is no sign of that 

heavy coat of blacking and mastic varnish that was spread over it 




1776 - 1H37 



(National Gallery) 

Fainted in oil on canvas. 1 ft. 2 in. h. x i ft. 8 in, w. (0-356 x o"5o8). 


after Constable's death, to bring it into good taste ! This year he WHEREIN 
lost his old friend. Archdeacon Fisher, and young Dunthorne died. A MILLER'S 

In the June of 1833 he gave his first lecture, afterwards given SON FINDS 
to the Royal Institution as The History of Landscape-Painting. He ROMANCE 
fretted at the loss of his two sons, whom he had to send to school IN THE RE- 
at Folkestone. Fortunately the friendship of George Constable of ALITY OF 
Arundel had now come into his life. In the February of 1834, ENGLAND'S 
Constable had a severe attack of rheumatic fever, from which he LAND- 
probably never wholly recovered. To the Academy he could only SCAPES, 
send water-colours — Old Sarum, the fine Stoke Pogis Church and AND 
Interior of a Churchy which, with the drawing of a Study of Trees^ PAINTS 
are all at South Kensington. He visited George Constable at HIS IM- 
Arundel ; and later stayed at Petworth with Lord Egremont. PRESSIONS 

To the Academy of 1835 he sent The Valley Farm, now at the OF THE 
National Gallery, of which he himself said, " I have kept my HOME- 
brightness without my spottiness, and I have preserved God LAND 
Almighty's daylight, which is enjoyed by all mankind, excepting 
only the lovers of old dirty canvas, perished pictures at a thousand 
guineas each." In the June he gave his second lecture at Hamp- 
^ stead ; and in July he was with George Constable at Arundel again, 
I sketching the British Museum Stormy Effect, Littlehampton, and 
drawing Arundel Mill and Castle. In the August he started his 
second boy on a sea-faring career. The autumn saw him at 
Worcester, and sketches of Worcester ensued. 

In the early part of 1836 he was giving all his strength to the 
four lectures on landscape art to be delivered before the British 
Institution ; but he began his unfinished Arundel Mill and Castle, 
which he set aside for The Cenotaph now at the National Gallery — 
the picture of that monument to Reynolds which Sir George 
Beaumont had raised in his grounds at Coleorton. In the February 
of 1837 he was back at work upon Arundel Mill. On the 31st of 
March, he worked on the Arundel Mill and Castle ; went on an 
errand for the Artists' Benevolent Fund ; supped and went to bed 
at eleven. The servant took away the candle by which he had 
been reading, and left him asleep ; his son John coming in from a 
theatre found his father in great pain ; and an hour thereafter he 
was dead. 

They buried Constable by his wife in Hampstead churchyard. 

Constable was singularly fortunate in his mezzotint engraver, 
David Lucas, the pupil of S. W. Reynolds. The first edition of 
twenty-two plates appeared in 1833. Lucas was dilatory and un- 



THE methodical ; Constable ill ; the venture did not pay ; yet, spite of 

DAWN OF much trial of patience, the two men grew greatly into each other's 
MODERN affection. Under Constable's close guidance Lucas wrought the 
PAINTING broad bold sketches with great power ; he largely failed in repro- 
ducing the completed pictures ; and with other men's work he was 
far from masterly. 

Constable saw that painting from other men's pictures could not 
create art, and he early discovered that "paintingiswith me but another 
word for feeling " — in that moment he plumbed the mystery of art. 

Asked to give the money-value of a Cuyp he made answer, " I 
am no judge ; I only know good things from bad in art." Excursions 
" into the vacant fields of idealism " roused the scorn contained in 
that phrase ; but he had no love of mere vulgar realism. " / shall 
conclude ivith a brief allusion to a certain set of painters, who, having 
substituted falsehood for truth, and formed a style mean and mechanical, 
are termed mannerists. Much of the confusion of opinions in art arising 
from false taste is caused by works of this stamp, for if the mannerists had 
never existed, paintings would always have been easily understood. The 
education of the professed connoisseur being chiefly formed in the picture 
gallery and the auction room, seldom enables him to perceive the vast 
difference between a mannerist and the genuine painter. To do this requires 
long and close study, and a constant comparison of the art with nature. 
So few among the buyers and sellers of pictures possess any knowledge so 
derived, that the works oj the mannerists often bear as large a price in the 
market as those of the genuine painters. The difference is not understood 
by picture-dealers, and thus, in a mercantile way, has a kind of art been 
propagated and supported from age to age, deserving only to be classed with 
the showy and expensive articles of drawing-room furfiiture. . . . They 
are the productions of men who have lost sight of nature, and strayed into 
the vacant f elds of idealism.'''' 

Much of what is attributed to the mouth of Constable must be 
read with extreme caution ; for his addresses were published from 
reports by men who completely fuddled his statements and did not 
understand his ideas. It is only when his own notes exist that we 
are safe in considering his statements — for he did not write the 
complete lectures, speaking from notes. 

Constable saw that it was but mere picture-making to " study 
pictures only." For him no critic's problem of "where to place 
your brown tree " — he left it out. Watching Sir George Beaumont 
trying to paint a landscape like a Poussin instead of from nature, he 
reminds him that Poussin's greens were not brown when he painted 


them. To Beaumont's theory that Nature should be painted in the WHEREIN 
tone of an old Cremona fiddle, Constable flings the fiddle on the A MILLER'S 
green lawn. " I look on pictures as things to be avoided\ connoisseurs SON FINDS 
look on them as things to be imitated." ROMANCE 

Constable had a quick tongue, and considerable humour : " The IN THE RE- 
price of the drawing was ' a guinea and a half to a gentleman^ and a ALITY OF 
guinea only to an artist ' ; but I insisted on his taking the larger ENGLAND'S 
sum, as he had clearly proved to me that I was no artist." And LAND- 
this description is delicious : " More overbearing meekness I never SCAPES 
met with in any one man." He was the perpetrator of the message AND 
to the milkman : " In future we shall feel obliged if you will send PAINTS 
us the milk and the water in separate cans." To Blake's admiring HIS IM- 
exclamation on seeing a sketch in one of Constable's note-books : PRESSIONS 
" Why, this is not drawing, but inspiration 1" Constable replies : " I OF THE 
meant it for drawing." HOME- 


1801 - 1828 

Dead at twenty-seven, the genius of Richard Parkes Bonington 
achieved remarkable power in so short a life. His romantic figure- 
subjects seem commonplace enough to-day, and were in fact largely 
imitative of Delacroix, to whom he brought, with Constable, the 
new revelation in landscape. Born at Arnold near Nottingham on 
October 25, 1801, to an artist who moved to Calais when Bonington 
was young, the lad worked awhile under Francia (i 772-1 839) who 
was settled there, and had sat at the feet of Girtin. At fifteen 
Bonington went with his father to Paris, where he met another 
student, Delacroix. Water-colour was so little known in France 
that Bonington became quite a vogue. Then the lad copied at the 
Louvre, entered the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, and became pupil to 
Baron Gros. But he took the far finer lessons of English landscape 
with him. His landscape and buildings were painted with such 
power of brushing and colour, that he became one of the chief 
inspirers of the Romantic movement in France. Going to Italy in 
1822 he worked awhile in Venice, and thereby became known in 
England, where he died of consumption on the 23rd of September 
1828 in Tottenham Street, London. The Wallace Collection is rich 
in him. Bonington's breadth of handling, his subtle tones, his 
brilliant colour, create a remarkable, personal, and masterly art ; on 
his first appearance at the Salon in the famous display of 1824 he 
came to high honour. In 1825 Delacroix came with Bonington 
VOL. viii — G 49 


TPJE to England ; and on their return to Paris they took a studio 

DAWN OF together. 

MODERN James Baker Pyne (1800-1870), born at Bristol, left the law 

PAINTING for art, and painted landscapes at home and abroad. 



William James Muller was born at Bristol on the 28th of 
June 18 1 2 to a Prussian who was Curator of the Museum there. 
Showing early gifts in art, he became pupil to the landscape-painter 
J. B. Pyne of Bristol. Developing with astonishing rapidity, he 
found a handsome patron in Mr. Acraman of his town. Miiller 
went straight to Nature ; and was soon one of the most remarkable of 
the landscape-painters of his great period. In 1H33 he went abroad, 
and in 1838 was in Egypt. In 1839 he settled in London. In 
1843 he went with Sir Charles Fellows to Lycia. He was early 
showing at the Academy. But his finest landscapes were of his own 
land ; and such masterpieces as Eel-pots at Goring and the Dredging 
on the Medivay attest his high gifts. The nation is fortunately rich 
in his works. He died at Bristol on the 8th of September 1845, ^^ 

Sir Augustus Wall Callcott (1779- 1844), born at Kensing- 
ton and brother of the famous composer, sang as chorister in 
Westminster Abbey. Pupil to Hoppner, he made a mark in 1799 
with a portrait of Mrs. Roberts. He became A.R.A in 1806, 
R.A. in 1 810, and was knighted at the coronation of Queen 
Victoria. His fame rests upon his inhabited landscapes. 

Of the mid-century was a painter of landscape closely akin to 
this pure English movement, Vicat Cole (i 833-1 893). Born at 
Portsmouth to an artist father, Vicat Cole showed his first landscape 
at sixteen. Made A.R.A. in 1870, he became R.A. in 1880. 





That was a fortunate day for landscape-painting in England when, WHEREIN 
in the mid-seventeen-hundreds, a son was born to old John WE WATCH 
Crome, landlord of the " King and Miller " tavern in Norwich ; a THE 
more fortunate day when the ignorant and uncouth but genial lad, SPLEN- 
grown to be errand-boy to a doctor, was dismissed his job for the DOUR OF 
awkward frolic of changing the labels on the medicine bottles, and THE 
so came, with the kindly doctor's help, to apprentice himself to the DAWN SET 
sign-painter Whisler ; it was still more fortunate that just when the AGLOW 
youth had been thoroughly grounded in making colours and varnishes THE 
to resist wind and rain, the vogue for swinging signs passed away, ANCIENT 
driving him back for means of livelihood to landscape, though his CITY OF 
poverty was so hard that he had to use his mother's castaway dish- NORWICH 
clouts for canvases, and the hairs out of the cat's tail for paint- 
brushes. Indeed, it was probably the very aloofness of Norwich 
from London and the old Italian masters that sent the Norwich 
men straight to Nature as they saw and felt it. 

We see a group of men, now making a mark, now despondent 
with debt and difficulty and neglect. Nature their studio ; the 
ale-house their club — we see them sitting in the tavern after their 
day's work is done, the genial Crome, fond of his glass, flinging 
down his last shilling with jest and free hand, whilst the thrifty 
Ladbrooke is content to drink his copper's worth of excitement. 
We see the kindly old man, well liked by the King Edward the 
Sixth School lads — Norvicensians — teaching the gentle art of 
staining paper in the old painting-room of the school to Rajah 
Brooke of Sarawak and to " Lavengro " Borrow, and to botanist 
Lindley and stout, dogged General Eyre that is to be, finishing the 
drawings for them, in over-eagerness to have the thing well done, 
with the aphorism that his rambling brain repeated on his death- 
bed — " If your subject is only a pig-sty — dignify it." 







John Sell Cotman, one of the greatest glories of British 
painting, was to know a harsh wayfaring. 

To a well-to-do silk-mercer of Cockey Lane, Norwich — the 
streets of Norwich hold quaint names — was born his eldest son, 
John Sell Cotman, on the i6th of May 1782. Educated at the 
famous Grammar School, he would go into the country sketching. 
There is a wash drawing of Old Houses by the lad, made when he 
was twelve (1794), in which his breadth of handling is already 
promised. Irked by his father's business to which he went on 
leaving school, the advice of Opie was asked, who gave the well- 
known bitter reply, " Let him rather black boots than follow the 
profession of artist." But artist the young fellow would be ; and 
to London he went about 1797, but found the print-sellers inclined 
to sneer at his drawings. Dr. Monro, however, early recognised 
the young fellow's genius. At Monro's house at Adelphi Terrace 
Cotman came under the glamour of Girtin's broadly washed land- 
scapes. He joined Girtin's sketching club ; and of the group, 
Girtin, Francia, Porter, Underwood, Samuel, Worthington, Denham, 
Callcott, and Murray, Cotman was youngest. By 1800 he had 
sketched in Wales and Surrey, since in that year he showed at the 
Academy paintings of places near Dorking, Guildford, and Leather- 
head, and one of Harlech Castle. In 1801 and 1802 he was again 
in Wales. He also ran down to Norwich and gave lessons from 
Nature. The monochrome Centaur is of about 1803. He was now 
roaming Wales, Shropshire, Somersetshire, Lincolnshire, and spending 
much time in Yorkshire, where Mr. Francis Cholmeley of Brandsby 
became his close friend, whose children he taught. The handsome 
charming fellow was welcome everywhere. Dawson Turner also 
became his warm friend. 

Whilst in Lincolnshire in 1806, he suddenly decided to go back 
to Norwich and settle there, and he now began to work in oils. 
He opened a school of drawing, and his Durham Cathedral and 
Croyland Abbey, so often painted by him, show the rubbing and 
handling due to being used for copying by pupils. The famous 
Greta Bridge shows him a great master. In the fine Duncombe Park 
we have the purity of his direct unteased colour, the translucency of 
his paint. In his portrait of Crome we find him interested also in 
portraiture. In 1808 he showed sixty-seven works, of which were 
tlie blithe, breezy, sunlit Twickenham, Mid-day. 






(Water Colour at British Museum) 
By kind permission of The Studio 



In 1809 he married Ann Mills, a farmer's daughter. WHEREIN 

Cotman, forming a lending collection of sketches, was giving WE WATCH 
lessons ; the numbers on his water-colours show this. He was also THE 
etching. In painting he begins to use the warm yellows that he SPLEN- 
grew to love. The famous Trentham Church Interior^ the stately DOUR OF 
Draining-Mill, Lincolnshire^ and the Mousehold Heath are of 1 8 1 o. THE 

His superb drawings of Breaking the Clod and the Mare and Foal DAWN SET 
are of 1 8 16. AGLOW 

The lovely monochromes, the Dewy Eve, with the two boys THE 
fishing, the Shadowed Stream, and the Postwick Grove, with the rich ANCIENT 
Cader Idris, followed. CITY OF 

Cotman, to be near Dawson Turner, went to live at Yarmouth, NORWICH 
and thereafter spent his time between the two towns. The famous 
Waterfall in oils is of this time, as also is the fine seascape of Fishing- 
boats off Tartnouth. The sea entered henceforth into his art, and he 
mastered shipping with rare genius. 

In 1 8 17 Cotman went with the Dawson Turners to Normandy ; 
again in 1818 ; and by himself in 1820. He made a hundred 
rather hard etchings of the buildings. But Normandy had a 
profound effect on his art. His colour faculty showed enormous 
increase. Henceforth he painted in a high key. 

In 1824, with a family of six children, he made again for 
Norwich, and settled in St. Martin's Palace Plain. He had sent to 
the Norwich Society, the year before, several Normandy subjects, 
including the Entrance to Falaise, daring and powerful in colour. 
He was now using the reed pen for outlines in his water-colours. 
Of this time are the superb so-called Chateau in Normandy, the 
Dieppe, the Blue Afternoon. Of 1824 were the oil-landscapes View 
from Yarmouth Bridge, the Old House at St. Albans. And he was at 
work on \\\?, Liber Studiorum etchings, his finest work in this medium. 

In 1825 Cotman joined the Old Water Colour Society, and 
showed regularly in London. He also made a number of water- 
colours, from sketches by Harriott, of places he had never seen. But 
his work was selling badly ; he had to rely on teaching ; his means 
were scant ; his house was large ; and he fell into gloom. It was 
on June 26, 1829, that he wrote of his "eldest son, who is follow- 
ing the same miserable profession with myself" One of his children, 
looking up, said pathetically, "Why, Papa smiled!" Of 1832 is his 
rich golden Gate of the Abbey Aumale, and of about this time the 
rich autumnal Landscape Composition in the Reeves Collection. 

In the January of 1834, to his great joy, Cotman, thanks to Lady 
Palgrave and to the great painter, J. M. W. Turner, was appointed 



THE Professor of Drawing at King's College. Both men, from their 

DAWN OF youth at Dr. Monro's, had hotly admired each other. Indeed, 

MODERN Turner bought a copy of one of his own water-colours for the 

PAINTING Rivers of France by Cotman, and gave it away as the original ! In 

order to move to London Cotman had to sell his beloved belongings 

at his Norwich home. His own drawings and water-colours he 

kept for teaching ; but his oils he sold, his fine Mishap going for 

the highest price of five guineas ! the National Gallery Wherries on 

Breydon for eighteen shillings ! afterwards sold as a Crome. The 

oils after the Normandy visit were painted on a yellow ground, and 

. are richer in colour, such as The Mishap (1828) and The Baggage 

Waggon (1828), which fetched five pounds ! 

To King's College was to come as Professor of Italian one 
Rossetti, whose son, Dante Gabriel Rossetti, was Cotman's pupil 
there. For a while Cotman was happy ; he had many artists for 
friends. But with painting he could not earn his bread. The 
Liber Stiuliorum, soft-ground etchings most of them, was published 
in 1838 as the fifth part to his etchings. His duties sadly cut 
down his creative work. Each year he spent his holidays in his 
beloved Norwich, and Norfolk fired him to utterance of his great 
genius. Of the autumn of 1841 were his Below Hardley Cross, and 
Below Langley, or The Wold Afloat. He sketched his father's house 
at Thorpe, which he laid in with black and white on a yellow 
ground to paint. But the July of 1842 found Cotman broken by 
care ; he was worn out. He died of weariness — one of the supreme 
painters in water-colour that the world has known, unable to earn 
bread by his supreme art. 

Cotman knew moments of joy, and in them he wrought master- 
pieces — at least that was granted to him. In 1836 his great Greta 
Bridge water-colour sold at Christie's for eight shillings ! Ruskin 
scarce mentioned him. Had it not been for Mr. Reeve of Norwich, 
a large part of Cotman's achievement had been wholly lost ; 
fortunately the nation now possesses the larger part of his great 
collection. From the first we see Cotman selecting and reducing 
all objects to decorative flats with astounding skill, as witness his 
Backwater in a Park, painted at sixteen. 

The history of Ladbrooke and of Crome's sons is less interest- 
ing. Ladbrooke, the companion of Crome's youth, shared his 
garret-studio, and together with him spent his evenings after the 
day's work was done in hard training to become an artist. Lad- 
brooke's brilliant son, J. E. Ladbrooke, has not yet come into his 



kingdom. James Stark (1794-1859), the brilliant pupil of Crome, WHEREIN 
and Thirtle (1777-1839), were members of this group. The poor, WE WATCH 
drunken, debt-pursued Vincent (1796-1831.?) suddenly and strangely THE 
vanished, no one knows how or where. But there are three SPLEN- 
painters of the Norwich School who deserve to be widely known — DOUR OF 
two remarkable amateurs, Daniell (1804- 1842) and Lound (1803- THE 
1 861), and the brilliant genius. Bright, to say nothing of the poor DAWN SET 
doomed etcher. Priest (18 10-1850). AGLOW 


1 8 10 - 1873 ANCIENT 

Born at Saxmundham in 18 10, Henry Bright was apprenticed NORWICH 
as a child to a chemist, and it was only in early manhood that he 
could take up the artistic career for which he pined, and for which, 
in all his spare moments, he had been preparing himself by painting 
direct from Nature. He early came to the front, both in water- 
colours and oils ; indeed his handling of both is extraordinarily 
modern, especially in his grip of fugitive^ atmospheric effects and 
lighting. He died at Ipswich in 1873. His superb Shrimper is his 

Daniell's Ruined Aqueduct forestalls much of the modern im- 
pressionistic interest in light and mass and colour. 





V A R L E Y 

1778 - 1842 

THE Now there had been born a couple of years after Constable one 

DAWN OF John Varley, who was to begin in England the systematising of 
MODERN the methods of English water-colour painters, and so establishing a 
PAINTING sort of "way to do the trick." Born at Hackney on 17th of 
August 1778, to a Lincolnshire man, he was through his mother a 
descendant of Cromwell's son-in-law. General Fleetwood. 'Prenticed 
to a silversmith, he in 1791 was allowed to follow the calling of 
artist. He became one of the group at Dr. Monro's in the Adelphi ; 
and thereafter a teacher, and was soon making tours in Wales, 
Yorkshire, Northumberland, Devonshire, and elsewhere. He 
became the principal teacher of his day, made a large income which 
his careless, generous ways easily squandered ; and his mania for the 
language of the stars, and his prodigious strength, seem to have taken 
up as much of his attention as his art. Twice married, he had two 
sons who followed in his career. He died in London on 17th 
of November 1 842. 

P R O U T 

1783 - 1852 

Samuel Prout, vaunted by Ruskin as the greatest painter of 
architecture, was of a truth a mediocre fellow. Born at Plymouth 
on the 17th of September 1783, brought up at the Grammar School, 
he suffered sunstroke in childhood, and was an ailing man by con- 
sequence. Learning drawing in his town, he was employed by 
Britton in Cornwall for material for his Beauties of England and fValer 
in I 80 1 ; in 1802 he came to Clerkenwell for two years to live with 
Britton, showing at the Academy of 1804. But ill-health drove 
him back to Cornwall. In 181 1 he again made for London ; became 


a member of the Old Water-Colour Society in 1819 ; crossed to the WHEREIN 
Continent in 18 19, beginning his well-known paintings of Norman WE SEE 
cathedrals, churches, town-halls, market-places, and street-scenes. THE 
By 1824 he was in Venice, Italy, and Germany. Painter in DRAWING- 
water-colours to George iv and Queen Victoria, he died at Den- MASTERS 
mark Hill in the February of 1852. " Bits for Beginners " readily SET UP 
expresses his superficial survey of the significance of art. SCHOOL 


^783 - 1859 SO MANY 

Like Cotman, Cox went direct to Nature ; and to him Nature LESSONS 
by consequence yielded exquisite tender lyrical notes. He was a 
pure impressionist. 

Of humble stock, David Cox was born on the 29th of April 
1783 to a blacksmith of Heath Lane, Deritend, Birmingham; and 
the child was early at work in the father's forge. The work was too 
hard for the boy. Having broken his leg, he was given a paint-box 
to amuse his convalescence ; it made him a painter. Sent to learn 
drawing at a school hard by, by fifteen or sixteen he was 'prenticed 
to a manufacturer of fancy goods, one of the " toy trades," in which 
his master. Fielder, soon found the lad useful for the miniature- 
painting on the knick-knacks. But the suicide of his master threw 
the lad out of his apprenticeship after eighteen months, and he deter- 
mined to be an artist. He went as scene-painter's labourer to the 
elder Macready at the Birmingham theatre. Special scenery was 
required ; De Maria, the scene-painter at the Italian Opera House in 
London, was called to Birmingham, and, struck by young Cox's in- 
telligence, let him do the work with him. Cox was soon promoted 
scene-painter to the theatre. This four years' engagement done, he 
went in 1804 at twenty-one to London to the theatres there. Here 
he became interested in water-colours ; was introduced to Varley and 
met other artists ; and in 1805 he was painting landscape in North 
Wales. A display of his work at Palser's, the picture-dealer, brought 
him a patron. Colonel Windsor, afterwards Earl of Plymouth ; and 
he was soon being employed as teacher, so that he left scene-painting 
behind him. In 1808 he married his landlady's daughter, Mary 
Ragg, took a cottage at Dulwich, and at twenty-six was a father. 
He had now to produce a vast number of drawings to be sold in 
batches of a dozen for use by teachers. However, by tramping it 
from pupil to pupil, and by hard work, Cox made bread. 

From the first Cox was an artist. Mere topographical drawings 
were no concern of his. He was concerned with atmosphere, and 
VOL. VIII — H ^y 


THE the moods of Nature at different times of the day and of the year. He 

DAWN OF was deeply interested in Velazquez, Ruisdael, Poussin, and other 
MODERN masters ; but he saw Nature with his own eyes, if at first with somc- 
PAINTING what slovenly eyes. 

In 1813 he was elected to the Old Water-Colour Society. A 
vacancy occurring, he applied for and was made drawing-master 
at the Military College at Farnham ; but he only kept it for a year 
as he was compelled to live in the College and be separated from 
his family, whilst the work irked him. He returned to find his 
pupils flown ; but seeing an advertisement for a drawing-master at 
j^ioo a year, with right to pupils outside his school hours, at a girls' 
school at Hereford, he applied for and secured the office. So at the 
end of 1 8 14, borrowing ^40, miserably poor, he settled in a little 
cottage at Hereford, to his great glee ; and at Hereford he worked 
for thirteen years, soon getting other schools and many pupils. He 
wisely never lost touch with London. In 1826 he went abroad to 
Holland and Belgium for a holiday. But his Hereford holidays 
were mostly spent on the Wye or in Wales. An ardent Liberal in 
politics. Cox was greatly interested in public affairs. He had 
written a book on painting in 1814; he wrote another in 1825. 
Living simply and keeping his name before the public, he slowly 
gathered a little money together — even bought a piece of land and 
built a cottage thereon, which he sold a couple of years afterwards 
for a thousand pounds. 

Going back to London, he settled at Foxley Road, Kennington, 
and not only got many pupils, but found his work freely bought ; 
and he could now put by money. So in London he worked hard 
until 1841, doing his share of the illustrations for the book Wander- 
ings in North and South Wales in 1852, and taking a trip to France, 
but chiefly spending his holidays in England and Wales, in York- 
shire, Derbyshire, Hastings, Lancaster. He besides became inter- 
ested in oils, going as pupil to the gifted' young Miiller who was then 
exciting the town. He was now on the edge of sixty ; he determined 
to risk the desire of his heart; he left London in 1841, made for the 
neighbourhood of Birmingham, and gave himself wholly to painting, 
settling at Harborne, whilst his son took over his London pupils. 

Here he knew the happiest years of his life, painting the land- 
scapes that were his delight, and selling them freely. So he poured 
forth his famous aerial masterpieces so personal and blithe and 
colourful. From Harborne he could wander to the little Welsh 
village of Bettws-y-coed, that his art has immortalised in master- 
works ; thither he went in 1844, and there he returned again 



1783 - 1859 


By kind permission of James Orrock, Esq., R.I., and The Studio 


saasmafiasaii, «. 


and again, summer after summer. During the winter of 1845 he WHEREIN 
suffered the first bitter blow of his career ; his wife died at seventy- WE SEE 
four, and Cox knew terrible grief. But he was soon again pouring THE 
forth work in oils and water-colours. He was acknowledged master DRAWING- 
amongst the great of his land, when, in the June of 1853, he was MASTERS 
stricken with apoplexy, which left his sight and memory enfeebled, SET UP 
and broke his vigour and energy. In the June of 1859 he said SCHOOL, 
" Good-bye, pictures ! " and took to his bed, sleeping peacefully away TO TEACH 
on the seventh of the month. ART IN 


1784 - 1849 

Peter De Wint, or De Windt, came of Dutch merchant stock, 
some of whom had gone to the American Colonies. One Henry De 
Wint as a young fellow recrossed the Atlantic, making for Leyden, 
where he graduated in medicine, thence to St. Thomas's Hospital in 
London. In 1773, at London, he married a Scottish girl, a Miss 
Watson, whose family had become impoverished through loyalty to 
the Stuart. On its becoming known, the poor fellow was disowned 
and disinherited. He settled in 1781 at Stone in Staffordshire in a 
modest practice. Of his children, the fourth was born on January 21, 
1784, and called Peter — destined to make the name famous. 

Peter De Wint was a dreamy boy, who wandered alone about 
the country-side ; and at school was for ever drawing. He 
patiently suffered his father to start him on a medical career, biding 
his time. He tactfully won his father to interest in his artistic 
bent ; took lessons in drawing from Mr. Rogers at Stafford, and, 
on the ist of April 1802, set out to seek his fortune in London 
to become apprentice to the rollicking mezzotint-engraver John 
Raphael Smith, who, though a dissipated dog, was a kind and 
generous master, and De Wint's strong character stood small risks 
from contact with the less reputable side of the man. De Wint 
went to live with the family in King Street, Covent Garden, and 
here for four years he was busy upon pastel heads and engraving, 
thoroughly happy, as he had for friend a fellow 'prentice, William 
Hilton, afterwards an Academician, then a shy sensitive lad of six- 
teen. The men were close and lifelong friends. It was owing to 
the wilful Hilton running away and breaking apprenticeship that 
Smith, on De Wint's refusal to tell him where Hilton had gone, 
sent the dogged honourable young fellow to prison until Hilton, 
hearing of it, surrendered. The two young fellows joined the 
volunteers during the Napoleon Invasion panic. 




THE In 1806 De Wint cancelled his apprenticeship with John R. 

DAWN OF Smith, on condition of painting him eighteen landscapes in oil, nine 
MODERN a year. De Wint solemnly kept his pledge. Thus De Wint began 
PAINTING his career as a painter in oils. But he soon found water-colours sold 
more easily. However, in the May of 1806, the two young fellows 
left Smith. De Wint going to Lincoln on a visit with Hilton, fell 
in love with Hilton's sister Harriet, then fifteen. Thence De Wint 
tramped it to Stone, sketching on the way. Hilton joined him at 
Stone,where both secured several portraits to paint. Settling in London 
in Broad Street, Golden Square, near Varley, who gave De Wint 
lessons in water-colour, the young fellow was soon at Dr. Monro's, 
the friend of Turner and Girtin and Cox. Here it was that De 
Wint came under the glamour of Girtin's art, which held him his 
life long. His fellow-lodger Hilton, meanwhile, was getting work 
due to the friendly J. Raphael Smith, at the same time entering the 
Academy schools, which De Wint also joined later, in the March of 
1809. Meantime De Wint's father had died in the May of 1807, 
and De Wint took on himself the burden of the family that his 
elder brother shamefully repudiated. In this year De Wint showed his 
first picture at the Academy. 

His mother came to live with him until De Wint's younger 
brother, then at the medical schools, got a practice at Ancaster. 
However, with hard work, De Wint's water-colours were selling — 
if at small prices — so that he risked marriage with Harriet Hilton 
on June 16, 18 10, and thereby won a happy comradeship. After 
an autumn in Yorkshire, the De Wints and Hilton settled in Percy 
Street, where a daughter was born to the De Wints, and where 
they lived happily for seventeen years ; in 1827, Hilton being made 
Keeper of the Royal Academy, the Dc Wints went to 40 (now 1 13) 
Upper Gower Street, their home for the rest of their lives. In the 
year of his marriage he was elected to the Old Water-Colour Society. 
His Cricketers at South Kensington was found, long years afterwards, 
under another water-colour, which he had stretched over it to save 
a new stretcher. All his subjects are British except those made in 
Normandy, whither he went with his wife in 1825. He soon had 
powerful friends and patrons, at whose houses in the country he 
went and painted in the summer — Lord Lonsdale, Lord Powis, Lord 
Ailesbury, the Clives of Oakley Park, the Heathcotes of Connington 
Castle, Mr. Fawkes of Farneley, Mr. Cheney of Badger, and Mr. 
Ellison of Sudbrooke Holme. He made six illustrations for Cooke's 
Southern Coast of England, and a dozen for The Thames. 

Doggedly working to secure independence, he wrought at his 


1784- 1849 

By kind permission of J. L. Roget, Esq., and The Studio 


art without ceasing. Hilton's death in the December of 1839 was WHEREIN 
a cruel loss to De Wint. He became morose, and his greed of WE SEE 
money increased. He was a pressing salesman at all times of his THE 
own works, which he showed in his drawing-room. This money- DRAWING- 
lust went with a dour religious sense that approached mania. The MASTERS 
story is told of a rich man who came to his private views, and SET UP 
always swore that the sold pictures were the ones he had wished. SCHOOL 
But De Wint got his money out of him. At the next display TO TEACH 
he labelled two pictures as sold ; the rich " patron " rushed to them, ART IN 
swore he would have bought them, " what a pity 'twas that they SO MANY 
were sold ! " De Wint slapping him on the shoulder, told him he LESSONS 
had reserved them for him. 

In 1843, whilst at work in the New Forest, De Wint nearly 
died of bronchitis, being brought home to London with difficulty ; 
the disease recurred again and again, until it killed him on the 30th 
of June 1849. 

His widow kept most of his best works, and left them to her 
daughter, Mrs. Tatlock, who offered The Cornfield and the Woody 
Landscape to the National Gallery, only to have them spurned ! 
Fortunately, South Kensington now has them. 

As De Wint rarely signed or dated his works, their order is 
difficult to follow ; but his earlier work is markedly affected by 
Girtin. He rapidly evolved a style of his own. His employment of 
flat washes gives fine luminous colour to his design. He was not 
a great master of the heavens ; it is with the earth that he is con- 
cerned and its fruitfulness and richness. His vision was not various, 
but stately and serene withal. 

William Hilton, R.A. (1786-1839), became Keeper at the 
Royal Academy, a gentle and amiable personality, much loved by the 
students. His portrait of his brother-in-law De Wint's Wife and 
Child is best known of his works. He married De Wint's sister in 


1787 - 1855 

Of the creators of the drawing " tips " and " dodges," the in- 
vention of the quick short-cut to drawing and painting innate in the 
schoolmaster, Anthony Vandyke Copley Fielding is the type. 
Copley Fielding, like Linnell, Samuel Palmer (i 805-1 881), 
W. H. Hunt (" Bird's-Nest Hunt"), and Mulready, had been 
pupil to old John Varley (1779- 1842), the kindly, generous, 
careless old drawing-master. Copley Fielding just caught those 



THE pretty habits that won him to a wide popularity; and being a man 

DAWN OF who cultivated manners, he was soon the most fashionable drawing- 

MODERN master of his age. He became President of the Old Water-Colour 

PAINTING Society. Son to a portrait-painter from near Halifax in Yorkshire, 

he was one of the young group who went to Dr. Monro's at the 

Adelphi, He shared with Constable and Bonington the chief 

honours of the famous Paris Salon of 1824. He married old John 

Varley's sister-in-law, Miss Gisborne,and came to considerablefortune. 

Retiring to Brighton, he died at Worthing on March 3, 1855. 


1790 - 1864 

William Henry Hunt, or " Bird's-Nest Hunt," was born to 
a tinplate-worker at 8 Old Belton Street, Long Acre, now called 
Endell Street ; a sickly child, he early took to drawing, and being 
apprenticed to John Varley became one of Dr. Monro's set at the 
Adelphi. In 1807, the year he first showed a painting at the 
Academy, he entered the Academy schools. Elected to the Old 
Water-Colour Society in 1824, he sent regularly about thirty works 
a year to the displays. The deformed and sickly child grew up 
into an uncultured youth, his ill-health shutting Nature largely out 
of his life except so far as Nature could be torn out by the roots and 
dragged into his painting-room, such as a nest with eggs, and 
primroses and grass, fruit, plums and the like ; and he painted 
them with rare truth of detail, and prodigious stipple. And he sold 
freely, especially as he painted humorous or sentimental figure- 
subjects, such as the famous pair of the boy with the large pie, the 
Attack and Defeat, and the negro boy in A Brown Study. His Self- 
Portrait and the Boy with the Puppy are amongst his finest works. 
Bird's-Nest Hunt was fortunate in his time in the powerful approval 
of Ruskin. Students were advised to " take William Hunt for 
their only master," as Hunt's painting shows "what real painting is, 
as such"! 



John Linnell was born in Bloomsbury to a picture-dealer and 
woodcarver ; joined the Academy schools in 1805; studied under 
John Varley ; and in 1807 showed two landscapes at the Royal 
Academy. He and Mulready became close friends, and lived 
together. Linnell, besides giving drawing-lessons, painted miniatures, 
but it was in landscape that he made his chief successes. In 181 8 


he came to know Blake, a year after his own marriage in 1817. WHEREIN 
He lived at Hampstead and at Bayswater, but in 1852 he left WE SEE 
London for Redhill, where he built himself the house in which he THE 
died on January 20, 1882. DRAWING- 


1797- 1863 SCHOOL, 

The son of a drawing-master, James Duffield Harding was ^^ TEACH 
one of the best of the typical drawing-masters in art who evolved a ART IN 
system of drawing Nature founded on Turner and the other masters ; SO MANY 
and managed it in a series of lithographs that became important LESSONS 
drawing-copybooks in the years after. Trained by Prout, after his 
father had done with him, Harding was so slow that he was sent 
awhile to an engraver ; but came back to drawing, and deliberately 
developed for himself a convention with the pencil which was to 
make him one of the most fashionable teachers of his age. Litho- 
graphy, newly discovered, came to his service ; and he employed 
the " lithotint " whereby a drawing was made to lie on wash which 
shows touches of white for the high lights. 


1800 - 1870 

James Holland was born at Burslem in Staffordshire to the 
family who made black pottery so much beloved by the American 
colonies. Holland began by painting flowers on pottery at the 
works of James Davenport. In 18 19 he was in London teaching, 
and painting flowers. In 1831 he went to Paris, and blossomed 
into a painter of street-views — he was in Venice, Milan, Geneva 
and Paris in 1835 ; in Portugal in 1837; in Paris in 1841 ; in 
Rotterdam in 1845 ; in Normandy and North Wales in 1850; in 
Geneva in 1851; in Venice and the Tyrol in 1857. And he 
poured forth the results of his visits in fine water-colours. In both 
oils and water-colours he shows brilliant powers. 


1 8 12-1908 

William Callow, born at Greenwich on the 28th of July 18 12, 
was apprenticed at eleven to the brothers of Copley Fielding for six 
years ; thence went to Newton Fielding in Paris for a year, returned 
to England on the outbreak of the Revolution in 1830, went back 
to Paris, made a hit at the Salon with his Richmond, became drawing- 



THE master to the family of Louis-Philippe. He was elected to the Old 

DAWN OF Water-Colour Society in 1838, In 1841 he returned to England. 

MODERN Travelling much in France, Holland, Belgium, Germany, Switzer- 

PAINTING land, and Italy, he painted fine street-scenes. 

George Fennel Robson (1790-1833) was a Durham man fond 
of mountain scenery. Francis Oliver Finch (i 802-1 862) became 
pupil to Varley in 1 8 14, and ran rather to classical ideas in landscape ; 
Charles Bentley (i 805-1 854) was fond of coast-scenes ; John 
Murray Inge (1806-1859) was pupil to Cox, as was George Price 
Boyce (1826-1896). 

Thomas Creswick, R.A. (181 1-1869), born at Sheffield on the 
5th February 181 1, studied under John Vincent Barker; came to 
London in 1828, and showed two landscapes of Wales at the Royal 
Academy. Becoming A. R.A. in 1842, full R.A. in 1851, he 
died at Bayswater on the 28th December 1869. 

Samuel Bough (1822-1878), born at Carlisle, taught himself 
painting, lived with the gypsies, painted scenery, went to Edinburgh 
in 1855, and became A.R.S.A. in 1856. 

Alfred William Hunt, "Landscape Hunt" (i 830-1 896), 
though by date of a somewhat later generation, belongs by vision to 
the landscape school of Turner. Born at Liverpool in 1830, and 
discouraged from an art career by his artist father, Andrew Hunt, 
the young Hunt went to Corpus Christi, Oxford, distinguished him- 
self in letters, won a fellowship in 1858, but was meanwhile paint- 
ing, showing his first landscape at the Academy in 1854. 

Thomas Collier (i 840-1 891), of an even later generation, 
wrought in the vision of this earlier age. 






1793 - 1867 

William Clarkson Stan field, born at Sunderland, was ap- OF THE 
prenticed to an heraldic painter at Edinburgh, but went to sea in EARLY SEA- 
1808. Being pressed into the Navy in 18 12, he passed into the PAINTERS 
East India service, retiring in 181 8, at twenty-five, to become AND 
scene-painter to the sailors' theatre in the East End of London — the ANIMAL- 
Royalty in Wellclose Square; whence he went in 1821 to Edin- PAINTERS 
burgh, whereat he met David Roberts (1796- 1864) then working at OF 
the Theatre Royal, and Alexander Nasmyth. In 1822 he came to ENGLAND 
Drury Lane, having exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1820 and 
1821 ; rapidly came to a vogue for sea-pieces and views of Venice ; 
was made A.R.A. in 1832, and R.A. in 1835, having painted ten 
Venetian views for the banqueting-room at Bo wood in 1830, and 
ten for Trentham Hall in 1834. He had given up scene-painting 
in 1834. Of 1836 was his Battle of Trafalgar for the Senior United 
Service Club. Twice married, of his nine sons and three daughters 
his son George Clarkson Stanfield followed in his father's foot- 
steps. Clarkson Stanfield died at Hampstead on the i8th of March 
1867. His finest works are his seascapes, of which one of the 
masterpieces is the famous The Provision Boat. Few men caught 
better the action of the waters and the whip of the gale. He could 
set the breezes on his canvas. 



Edward William Cooke, R.A., was born at Pentonville on 
March 28, 181 1, to George Cooke, the engraver employed by 
Turner, being of Dutch descent. Taught by his father, Cooke began 
on dry-as-dust scientific works ; then studying architecture under ^ ^ 

Pugin, Cooke made twelve large engravings of Old and New London 
Bridge, then a series of Shipping and Craft. In 1835 he sent paint- 
voL. VIII — I 65 


THE ings of shipping to the Royal Academy. His first visit to Holland in 

DAWN OF 1838 produced a host of pictures which became typical of his art. He 

MODERN went to Holland sixteen times. From 1845 to 1854 he was paint- 

PAINTING ing along the shores of the Mediterranean, also views of Florence 

and Rome. He became A.R.A. in 1851. Then he went to 

Scandinavia, then to Venice, where he painted much. By 1861 he 

was in Spain ; then he appears in Egypt. He was made R.A. in 

1864. Cooke died at his home near Groombridge on the 4th of 

January 1880. 

George Chambers (i 803-1 840) began life as a sailor, being 
born at Whitby to a seaman. He early showed artistic bent, 
sketching sea and shipping. After becoming a house-painter he 
came to London as scene-painter, and was soon making a mark 
with pictures, becoming a member of the Old Water-Colour Society 
in 1834, dying six years later. 

The sea later called Hook (18 19-1907), and other artists who by 
vision belong to the earlier group of landscape-painters and sea- 


1802 - 1873 

There was born to an engraver at 83 Queen Anne Street East in 
London (now called Foley Street), on March 7, 1802, his third son, 
who was to become world-famous as Sir Edwin Landseer. Edwin 
Henry Landseer, trained by his father, became a student at the 
Academy, and won a prize for the drawing of a mastiff at thirteen. 
It was in 1820 that he sounded the first anecdotal note with his 
Alpine Mastiff's succouring a Distressed Traveller ; and following it 
with the Larder Invaded, he caught the favour ot a wide public, who 
eagerly bought the engravings from his works made by his brother 
Thomas Landseer, by S. Cousins and others, during his long career. 
In 1824 he went to Scotland with Leslie, stayed with Sir Walter 
Scott, and was busy with portraits and animals. In 1826 he became 
A.R.A., and in 1831 full R.A. His visit to Belgium in 1849 for his 
Dialogue at Waterloo of 1850, was followed by knighthood in 1850. 
He refused the Presidency of the Academy on the death of 
Eastlake in 1865. His five lions in Trafalgar Square were unveiled 
in 1869. Landseer painted for homely people, bringing on to the 
canvas the four-footed friends of man in their relation to man. That 
he ran to mawkishness of sentimentality in the doing only too often 


is not to be denied. He died at St. John's Wood on the ist of OF THE 

October 1873, and was given a public funeral at St. Paul's EARLY SEA- 
Cathedral. PAINTERS 


1803 - 1902 ANIMAL- 

r , , , , ^ , ^, ..• , ^ PAINTERS 

corn or humble stock at Canterbury, Thomas Sidney Cooper Qp 

was sketching at an early age ; was apprenticed to a coach-painter rmglAND 

at twelve; at seventeen was scene-painting; came to London in 

1823 to enter the Academy schools; and was soon painting 

portraits at Canterbury and teaching drawing. In 1827 he went 

with Burgess to Brussels, where the two young fellows settled, 

painting signboards for shops and taverns, and blossoming thereafter 

into portraiture. At Brussels Cooper married Charlotte Pearson ; 

became a drawing-master ; and coming under the glamour of Ver- 

boeckhoven, entered upon his career of pastoral painting. The 

Belgian Revolution of 1830 sent him packing to London. In 

1845 ^^ became A.R.A., and R.A. in 1867. In 1863 he married 

a second time; in 1901 he was made C.V.O. 


With the early nineteen-hundreds, the art of the miniature 
passed more into an art of the small portrait, as practised with skill 
by Chalon (1781-1860) and the group of men so much engraved 
in the Keepsakes of the day. Sir George Hayter, J. D. Engle- 
HEART, Mrs. Mee (1770 .?-i85i), Newton (1785-1869), and 
Thorburn (1818-18 8 5), all belong to a newer endeavour and age. 
Photography was to ruin the art. 

Of the fruit and flower painters of this time was George Lance 
(1802-1864), the son of a cavalry officer. The academic school was 
still essaying the grand manner, but was in sorry straits. Poor 
Haydon (1786- 1 846), whose lofty ideas and vast ambition set him 
foul of the Academy, thought that the Westminster Competitions 
at last would give his ambition scope ; but his rejection overwhelmed 
him, and he put an end to his life. 




THE The year 1800 opened with bright promise for Scotland. Com- 

DAWN OF merce was coming into the land. Shipping increased. When 

MODERN Watt retired from business in 1800 the steam-engine was being used 

PAINTING everywhere; in 18 12 steam was applied to shipping. To the 

merchants as well as the upper class began to come a marked 

refinement. The year of 1832 was to see the rise of the Middle Class. 

Scott on the reactionary side brought Romance into the land. 

In portraiture, Raeburn was followed by George Watson 
(1767-1837), by Sir John Watson Gordon (1788-1864), by Geddes 
(1783-1844), by Graham Gilbert (1794-1866), and Macnee 
(1806- 1 88 2), all fine craftsmen. 

Of the portrait-painters Sir John Watson Gordon was a 
remarkably fine painter, who, like Geddes, when at his best steps to 
a place beside Raeburn ; his silvery key and vigorous style being 
very powerful. Of lesser portrait-painters were Colvin Smith 
(1795-1875) ; Samuel Mackenzie (1785-1847) ; John Syme (1791- 
1861) ; William Nicholson (1784-1844); Tannock (1784-1863) ; 
W. Smellie Watson ( i 796-1 874) ; Moir (1775 ?- 1857) ; Crabb 
(1811-1856 ?), the strong painter of small portraits ; the miniaturists 
Andrew Robertson (1777 ?-i845) ; Sir William Charles Ross 
(1794- 1 860) ; Sanders (1774- 1846) ; Anthony Stewart (1773- 
1846) ; R. Thorburn (1818-1885) ; W. J, Thomson (1771-1845) ; 
and the water-colour portraitists, Douglas (1780-1832), and 
M'Leay (1802-1878). 



1787 - 1831 

Patrick Nasmyth, born at Edinburgh in 1787, was the son 
and pupil of Alexander Nasmyth (1758- 1840), the landscape- 
painter, whose style he closely followed. About twenty he came 


south to London, where he settled. Injuring his right hand in WHEREIN, 
youth, he painted with his left. He died in South Lambeth on the OUT OF 
17th of August 1 83 1. THE 

Others trained by Alexander Nasmyth soon developed a romantic SCOTTISH 
vision. Thomson of Duddingston (1778-1840), and more par- PAINTING 
ticularly Horatio M'Culloch (1805- 1867), led the way in the OF THE 
utterance of the glamour of Scotland, whilst David Roberts, HOME 
Andrew Wilson (1780-1848), and Williams (1773-1829) ranged LIFE 
abroad. OF THE 

David Roberts, R.A. (1796- 1864), the son of a poor cobbler EARLY 
of Edinburgh, was apprenticed to a house-painter, but was early at EIGH FEEN- 
work scene-painting in theatres, where he met Clarkson Stanfield HUN- 
(1793-1867), afterwards coming to wide fame as a painter of DREDS, 
architectural scenes — he first showed at the Academy in 1826 his EMERCiES 
Rouen Cathedral; in 1823 he went to Spain, the beginning of his COLOUR 
many European journeys, thence to the East. Leitch (1804-1883) REALISM 
also began in the theatre. Orrock (1829- ) was a pupil of 

Leitch. William Simson (1800- 1847) was pupil to Wilson. 


1785 - 1841 

Born in a manse at Cults, in Fifeshire, on i8th November 1785, 
the third son to a minister, David Wilkie, after passing through 
the Trustees' Academy in Edinburgh, came to London in 1805 
to the Academy schools, and in 1806 created a sensation at the 
Royal Academy with his Village Politicians ; at once leaping into 
fame, which his Blind Fiddler, the Card Players, the famous Rent 
Day, the Jew^s Harp, the Cut Finger, the Village Festival, and the 
like works every year increased. Made A, R.A. in 1809 at twenty- 
four, he became R.A. in 181 1, his Blind Mans Buff, the Letter of 
Introduction, the Duncan Gray, the famous Distraining for Rent, the 
popular Rabbit on the Wall, the Penny Wedding, the Whisky Still, and 
the Reading of the Will, still further increasing his repute. For the 
Duke of Wellington he painted the Chelsea Pensioners. 

In 1825 he suddenly went abroad for three years, coming back 
as an historical painter, founding a broader style on Correggio, 
Rembrandt, Murillo, and Velazquez, of which is his John Knox 
Preaching of 1832. On the death of Lawrence in 1830 Wilkie 
had become Painter in Ordinary to the King. He was knighted in 
1836. In 1840 he went to Constantinople, thence to the Holy 



THE Land and Egypt ; but fell ill at Alexandria, and died on board the 

DAWN OF Or/Vw/^/ off Gibraltar on June i, 1841, his body being committed to 
MODERN the deep, in that funeral immortalised by Turner. His study of 
PAINTING Rembrandt and Ostade drew him to revive etching in England. 

Of Scottish painters influenced by Wilkie were Eraser (1786- 

1865), Burnet (1784-1868), Carse and Kidd (1796-1863), amongst 


William Mulready, R.A. (1786- 1863), son to a leather- 
breeches maker of Ennis, County Clare, Ireland, tame to London in 
1 800, entered the Academy schools ; in i 803 he married the sister of 
John Varley ; in 1804 showed landscapes at the Academy ; by 1809 
was painting Returning from the Alehouse, and the like homely 
subjects. Made A. R.A. in 1815, he became R.A. in 18 16. His 
Idle Boys (18 15) and The Fight Interrupted (18 16) had won favour. 

Of a group of painters who were interested in the home life of 
the people was William Collins, R.A. (1788-1847), son of an 
Irish picture-dealer in London. Collins was a friend of Morland, 
whom he used to watch whilst painting. He painted several pictures 
of boy-life which had a wide vogue — such as the Boys with a Bird's 
Nest. His Cromer Sands and Prawn Catchers belong to the nation. 

Thomas Webster, R.A. (i 800-1 886), born in Pimlico to a 
father then in the household of George iii, showed early gifts in 
music, joined the choir of the Chapel Royal, St. James's ; thereafter 
entered the Academy schools, was exhibiting in youth, and entered 
upon that portrayal of boyhood of which his Truant and Dame's 
School were popular examples. 


The historical painter Sir William Allan (i 827-1 850), was 
surpassed by his pupils Robert Scott Lauder (i 803-1 869), by 
George Harvey ( 1 806-1 876), and Thomas Duncan (1807-1845). 
Throughout all the intention was Realism, of a theatrical kind. 
All subject was illustration. 



A young Scotsman, born at Cork, the young Daniel Maclise 
in 1828 became a student at the Royal Academy schools, won a gold 
medal for composition in 1831, having already shown a painting of 
Malvolio in 1829. He was an industrious painter of History and of 
Home Life. Made A. R.A. in 1835, and R.A. in 1848, his later 


years were largely spent on the two large decorations tor the Houses WHEREIN, 
of Parliament, the Wellington meefmg Blucher and the Death of Nelson, OUT OF 
his masterpieces. His Charles Dickens in ^839 is at the National THE 
Portrait Gallery. SCOTTISH 

There also arose two painters who were to initiate in the north PAINTING 
a movement of detailed and jewel-like colour which was to forestall OF THE 
the Pre-Raphaelite School in England, David Scott (i 806-1 849) HOME 
and William Dyce (i 806-1 864). These men, in their very LIFE 
separate arts, led the way to the brilliant colour-harmonies, the OF THE 
detail, and the realism of the English Pre-Raphaelites. Lack of EARLY 
space prevents the elaboration of their careers, of which the EIGHTEEN- 
significance will be followed out in the aims and achievement of HUN- 
the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. It was as though they had DREDS, 
brought the glitter and luminosity of the old painted glass of EMERGES 
church windows on to the canvas. COLOUR 









OF 1830 

THE Let us recall the doings in Paris in the early days of the eighteen- 

DAWN OF hundreds. In 181 9 Gericault, heading the reaction against frigid 
MODERN classicalism in French painting, came to England. In 1822 
PAINTING Bonington's Lillebon?je and his Havre, and works by Copley Fielding, 
Varley, and Robinson were at the Salon — the year of Delacroix's 
Barque of Dante. In 1824 Constable showed the famous Hay Wain 
and other works, and won the gold medal — at the same Salon hung 
works by Bonington, Copley Fielding, Harding, Prout and Varley. 
Delacroix repainted his Massacre of Scio ; the following year of 
1825 he journeyed to London to study Constable, and fell enamoured 
of Turner and Wilkie and Lawrence as well. He noted that 
Constable painted with touches of colour set side by side to create the 
effects of light in mass ; which on being focussed gave great brilliancy. 
In 1827 Constable showed in Paris for the last time ; and between 
his canvas and one by Bonington hung a picture that bore into the 
Salon for the first time the name of Corot. 

Constable, Bonington, and Turner sent the Frenchmen out of 
the studio into the open air. 

The eighteen-hundreds opened lyrically, impelled by the romantic 
feeling aroused by the birth of Democracy in the American and 
French Revolutions. The poets in prose and verse burst into song. 
The gigantic figures of Washington and Napoleon stood out, the 
heroes of the new revelation. Scott and Byron fired the French 
poets ; Turner and Constable and Bonington the French painters. 
Romance was everywhere. Men thought awhile as though castles 
were on every hill, and rapiers on every hip, and women became 
love-lorn damsels, sighing for dangerous adventure. David, in 
exile at Brussels, was tyrant still — he could write to Gros and 
sneer at his romanticism, and send him back to the reading of 
Plutarch and the painting of the classic nude — and so potent was 


the voice of the old master of the frigidities, that Gros wrecked his WHEREIN 
career, went back to obedience, and — in the June of 1835, drowned ROMANCE 
himself in the Seine. We have seen Gericault, with his Tiaft of the STEPS OUT 
'"'■ Medusa" lead forward the romantic intent of Gxo'i% Pestifere de OF ENG- 
Jaffa. Delacroix followed with his Dante and Virgil. Gericault LAND INTO 
had been in England, and was overwhelmed by the romantic land- FRANCE 
scape of Turner — but death took him at thirty-three. His genius AND SETS 
had done its work nevertheless. Delacroix took up his mantle ; THE 
and Bonington and Decamps and Delaroche and Isabey were at NATIVE 
hand. The academics hailed him as deifying the Ugly. He has found GENIUS 
the key — he seeks not Beauty but Emotion. AFLAME 

At the Salon of 1836 the academics struck; they rejected 
Delacroix and Huet. 


1798 - 1863 

To Charles Constant Delacroix of Champagne (1740- 1805) who 
had been diplomat under Napoleon, and to his wife Victoire Oeben, 
daughter of the famous designer of furniture, who had been pupil 
to Boulle, there were born four children. The eldest died a general 
and a baron ; the second David was to paint as Madame de Verninac 
Saint-Maur, her husband an ambassador ; the third, Henri, was 
killed at Friedland ; the youngest, Ferdinand Victor EuciiNE 
Delacroix, at eight or nine was covering his books at the Louis-le- 
Grand Lycee in Paris with drawings. His uncle Riesener (1767- 
1828) the miniaturist and portrait-painter (son to the famous 
furniture designer), taught the lad. In 181 5, an orphan and without 
means, he went to the studio of Guerin (1774-1833), and mastered 
the antique and the figure with his wonted fiery energy ; and it was 
at Guerin's, while still a student, that in 1822 he won to fame with 
his Dante and Virgil; but he did not confine his training to Guerin, 
going to Gericault and Bonington and Paul Huet (i 804-1 869) — 
working at the Louvre from Rubens — and amongst the wild beasts 
with the sculptor Barye (1795-1875). Then came the revelation of 
Constable, and he repainted the Massacre de Scio ; and in 1825 he 
made for London, with Bonington and Isabey, to meet Lawrence 
and Wilkie, and fell under the glamour of Shakespeare. He made 
the famous lithographs for Goethe's Faust. In 1828 he showed his 
Mort de Sardanapale, his Christ in the Garden of Olives, and the Marino 
Faliero ; in 1830 the Le Vingt-Huit Juillet. Two years thereafter 
he was in Morocco and Algiers, painting on his return the Femme 
d* Alger, the Convulsionnaires de Tanger, the Noce Juive and the like. 
VOL. VIII — K 73 


THE The Salon of 1833 proved him a master, and he became head and 

DAWN OF front of romantic painting, with Hugo in verse and Dumas in the 

MODERN theatre. He poured forth works: the Battle of Taillebourg, the Barque 

PAINTING de Don Juafi, the Battle of Nancy, the Combat of the Giaour and the 

Pasha, the Boissy d^Anglas, the Ovid, the Justice of Trajan, the Medee, 

the Muly Abd-el-Rahman, the Entree des Croises a Constantinople ; the 

decorations of the Palais Bourbon, of the Louvre, of the Hotel de 

Ville ; the Heliodore, the Saint-Sulpice Lutte de Jacob. In 1838 he 

was in Belgium awhile. He had now won the younger painters to 

him ; Ingres and the classicals were bitterly hostile. In 1B36 his 

Hamlet was rejected by the jury. But by 1855 Delacroix was fully 

recognised. In 1859 he was elected a Member of the Institute and 

showed for the last time ; four years thereafter he was dead. 

Nervous, fiery, elegant of manner, without pose and detesting 
notoriety, the refined soul of Delacroix was housed in a feverish 
body. He rid art of the frigidities, and realised that passion and 
feeling are its very breath. 

Meantime the now forgotten Georges Michel in rugged fashion 
essayed to utter landscape as he saw it. Paul Huet (i 804-1 868) 
sees Nature through the eyes of romance. Then emerges Corot. 

C O R O T 

1796- 1875 

In Jean Baptiste Camille Corot the Romantic movement 
brought forth its greatest lyrical poet, in Millet its greatest tragic 

A year older than Delacroix, Corot was born on the 20th July 
1796 to the son of a wigmaker of the Rue du Bac in Paris, who was 
cashier in his father's shop, and to a milliner of Swiss origin for 
mother, whom the painter ever adored. The wigmaker father was 
a commonplace tradesman who looked with eyes of wonder at his 
son's desire to become an artist, and even when at fifty the painter 
sold a picture, the father frankly showed surprise at the gullibility of 
art patrons, and was astonished to find the decoration of the Legion of 
Honour bestowed upon the painter instead of himself However, 
the worthy man, having set the dutiful lad to quill-driving as a 
clerk, at last handed over to him the money he had saved to set 
him up in business, besides giving him a small allowance for the 
degrading business. The lad was a good son, and showed no desire 
to sow wild oats, even in the vile place called a studio. His robust 



" L'ETANG " 


" Beauty in art is truth bathed ' in the impression, the emotion that is 
received from nature. . . . Seek truth and exactitude, but with the envelope 
of sentiment which you felt at first. If you have been sincere in your emotion 
you will be able to pass it on to others." — Carol. 



body was the lamp to an exquisite flame of soul that knew a child- WHEREIN 
like faith, a deep but unvaunting religion, and the purity of a maiden. ROMANCE 
Brought up in a happy home, he lived and died a happy, generous, STEPS OUT 
kindly man, whose wayfaring was like a gentle breath from heaven OF ENG- 
wheresoever he went. His religion was of the simple kind that LAND INTO 
looked on future bliss as being a place where " Well, at any rate, FRANCE 
I hope we shall go on painting up there." He loved his fellows ; AND SETS 
and never missed a gathering of his kin or friends, whether a baptism, THE 
a wedding, or a merry-making. As in religion, so in politics, he NATIVE 
was wholly conservative — for him no revolutions, who was to GENIUS 
revolutionise French painting I Nevertheless, in painting, whilst AFLAME 
Courbet greatly appealed to him, he would have none of Manet ; 
and, until he was a very old man, he disliked the art of Delacroix. 

Corot left school at Rouen at eighteen to become a clerk for 
eight long years, until 1822 ; then at twenty-six he went to learn 
the mysteries from the classical Michallon (1796-1822), but he 
dying in 1822, Corot passed to Victor Bertin, the academic. But 
he went to Nature, intent only on rendering her moods as aroused in 
his sensing. Bonington and Huet had guided him chiefly ; and 
Constable was to open the gates still wider to his wayfaring. 

At thirty Corot was at Rome under Aligny (1798- 1 871), but 
he saw Rome as a suburb of Paris. During his two years' stay in 
Rome he never once went to the Sistine Chapel ; and visiting Rome 
fifteen years thereafter, Michelangelo made no appeal to him. He 
detested line for its rigidity ; he painted in tones, in pure values, 
thus winning to pulsing, moving, unrigid sense of lyrical move- 
ment as of song. His etchings even show this — the painter-like 
scratches never set into line, the landscape moves and looms and 
sings. Millet was to be deeply impressed by his art. 

Of this, his Roman or first period, the art is tentative — he is 
searching his way. 

Corot came back to France in 1838 with a large mass of work, 
and forthwith began his wanderings over his beloved land ; Ville 
d'Avray, Fontainebleau, Dieppe, Honfleur, Rouen, all knew him. 
He also painted portraits of his family, which they dubbed cari- 
catures I In 1834 he made for northern Italy, visiting Pisa, Florence, 
and Venice. In 1835 he sent his Hagar in the Wilderness to the 
Salon. He had been in Italy when the men of the Thirties broke 
new ground. So far he had not joined the rebels. He had not 
come under Dutch realism in landscape. He now came under the 
glamour of Poussin and Claude awhile. So in 1837 he painted his 
St. Jerome, in 1839-40 his Flight into Egypt and the Monk. Of 1836 



THE was his Diana bathing ; in 1838 his nymphs dance for the first time 

DAWN OF in the glades in his Silenus ; at forty he arrives, and the nymphs 
MODERN lead him into his kingdom. Of 1840 were the four scenes of the 
PAINTING Passion for Rosny church, and the large Flight into Egypt ; whilst 
his four landscape panels for Decamps' house at Fontainebleau, 
afterwards in Lord Leighton's house, were of this time. 

In 1843 Corot was in Rome again ; Ingres was directing the 
French Academy thereat, and Corot sent an Odalisque to the Salon. 
Corot had grown to love Giorgione and Correggio. The Concert 
Champetre was not lost upon him ; but Giorgione's glowing colour 
did not rouse him as did Correggio's subtler tones. 

It was now, about the time of his second visit to Rome, that 
Corot created in pure terms of tone his first great landscapes. The 
Genzano and the Gardens at the Villa d'Este at Tivoli reveal him 
conqueror. Henceforth he pours out masterpieces of landscape. 
The famous Louvre Matinee of 1850 with its dancing nymphs 
shows him coming into his own. And if he over-repeat his personal 
vision, at least it is personal vision. If his realm be not wide, at least 
it is a complete conquest and wholly his own. In the Souvenir d^Italie 
at Glasgow he reaches the heights in his great achievement. As he 
advances in years he slowly comes to a broader handling of the paint. 
In 1847 Delacroix came to see Corot. They had admirations 
in common. Delacroix set Correggio beside Michelangelo. In 
the early forties, Corot, going to visit Robert at Mantes, found the 
house-painters at work, on the bathroom ; and begging his " worthy 
colleagues " to let him take their place, he painted six panels with 
Souvenirs d' Italie from memory. In this year of i 847 he painted in 
the little kiosque of his garden at Ville d'Avray, for his mother's 
birthday, several panels. At the church he painted four frescoes. 
Now, be it noted that the young Millet was at this time painting 
his nudes and early works ; it was not until 1848 that Millet broke 
into the uncharted sea of his great adventure with The Winnowers — 
Corot's fifty-second year. 

In 1854 Corot went to Holland. The critics' talk about 
Rembrandt's Anatomy Lesson meant nothing to Corot — he did not 
like it. But Rembrandt was a revelation to him, as were Vermeer 
and De Hooch and the painters of the home-life. He painted soon 
thereafter the Kitchen at Martes and the Interior at Mas-Bilier, his 
first interiors. 

About 1857 he painted his St. Sebastian in which Delacroix 
seems to come into his ken, as also in 1859, the year not only of the 
Toilet of a girl before a pool in a wood, but also of his Dante and 







Virgil and Macbeth, now at the Wallace, at which Corot, eight WHEREIN 
years later, himself so greatly scoffed. ROMANCE 

In 1 86 1 Corot came to England. STEPS OUT 

In the 'sixties his friend Daubigny having settled in a house at OF ENG- 
Auvers, Corot painted for him several superb decorations on the LAND INTO 
walls, of which the largest was a pendant to Daumier's Don Quixote. FRANCE 
He increases his dreamy, idyllic, vaporous vision. In 1865, the AND SETS 
year of Manet's Olympia, Corot showed his Nymph reclining on a THE 
Tiger-skin, and Nymph lying on the Sea-shore. NATIVE 

Corot now returned to the painting of interiors and wrought GENIUS 
exquisite work — those single figures of women in a room that he AFLAME 
painted with broader handling and stronger light and shadow and 
increase of colour — the Neapolitan woman seated on the ground, 
her arm on a jar, the whole painted with fuller palette ; the six 
portraits of a woman before an easel painted from 1865 to the 
woman in the black velvet dress of 1870, in which he reveals his 
ever-deepening interest in the art of Rembrandt. In his heads of 
girls Corot shows kinship with Vermeer. 

As Corot aged, his powers but increased, his colour in range, his 
handling in tone. He gave forth the superb Lady in Blue and the 
Monk playing the 'Cello in 1874, on the edge of eighty. 

Beginning in the tradition of Claude and Poussin with paintings 
of the Roman Campagna, Corot slowly emerged into the purest 
lyrical utterance of the fascination of France in her exquisite twi- 
light moods. He wrought his art without encouragement, in 
poverty ; his kindly, sensitive, and gentle soul and his genial humour 
content with creation. The simple fellow captured the subtlest 
tendernesses of the atmosphere in wizard landscapes, which he was 
so surprised at any man coming to buy, that he threw in others for 
the paltry sum to make good weight in the bargain ! His early 
commercial training was utterly lost upon him. Nothing could make 
him a tradesman. He was hopelessly, unmitigatedly, irretrievably 
a poet. With pearly greys, tender greens, as tender blues, and a 
little umber, he could create a wide gamut of art that is amazing 
in its depth of feeling. His smallest canvases are compact of the 
infinite. Mystery yielded to this gentle soul her key. In his utter- 
ance the tree and lake and foreground, the still waters, the fairy 
backgrounds, the leagues of heaven, are all bathed in a translucent 
atmosphere. In presence of his art we forget all tricks of hand- 
ling — craftsmanship is conquered — the sheer art of it compels 

So Corot walked his wayfaring, a child to the end. One laughs 



THE the laugh of sheer affection, not without a catch at the throat, over 

DAWN OF the simple fellow's trouble, when some fellow who has bought one 

MODERN of his pictures, bringing it to him to find out whether it be his or 

PAINTING not, Corot on discovering a forgery, rather than see disappointment 

written on the buyer's face, paints a new picture over the scandal. 

He never really became a part of the Barbizon movement ; he 

stood alone. 

1819 - 

Born at Valenciennes, Harpignies was to become one of the 
most lyrical poet-painters of France. The exquisite luminous atmos- 
phere of the south was to be uttered with a vision somewhat akin to 
that of Corot. Whether in water-colours or oils, his art is a book of 
poems of the peace of Nature. 

1803 — i860 

Alexandre Gabriel Decamps, born in Paris, lived his childhood 
in Picardy amidst the children of the peasants, and coming back to 
Paris in youth he went to learn the mysteries of painting from 
BoucHOD (1800-1842), thence to Abel de Pujol (1785-1861), and 
elected to paint the life of the people and animals. Then suddenly 
he went a wandering over Switzerland and Italy and down the 
Levant, and thereby came to that brilliant colour wherein the East 
did as much for him as Morocco had done for Delacroix. His 
Turkish Patrol was of 1827 ; the Corps de Garde of 1834, the 
^cole Turque of 1837, the Defaite des Cimbres was of 1834; after 
which he rarely displayed his work in public, unfortunately wasting 
his powers on the heroic. He died of a fall from his horse. 

Marilhat (1811-1847) was also a lover of the East, but died 

Edouard Frere (18 1 9- 1 886), born in Paris, became pupil 
to Delaroche, and whilst still at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts showed 
work in 1 842. To win bread he drew on wood for illustration ; and 
only in 1848 did he begin to make a mark with his Petit Saltimbanque, 
Plagiaire, and Poule aux CEufs d'Or. Selling himself for twenty 
years to a dealer in Brussels, he painted the popular picture. Find- 
\ , ing the pathetic to pay, he played the sentimentalist. 

In BELGIUM the Romantic movement had a disciple in Paul 
Jean Clays (18 19-1900), born at Bruges, pupil to Gudin (1802- 
1880), the friend of Delacroix and Isabey ; and his art is akin to 
that of the French Romantics in his marines and river-scenes. 



In ENGLAND George Cattermole (i 800-1 868), a prominent WHEREIN 
member of the Old Water-Colour Society, was chiefly interested in ROMANCE 
romantic subjects, into which he brought wide antiquarian lore. STEPS OUT 
The son of a man of means, Cattermole lived in the whirl of society, OF ENG- 
belonging to D'Orsay's circle. He refused knighthood in 1839. LAND INTO 


1817 - 1897 THE 

Born at Blackheath, July 21, 1817, to George Felix Gilbert of 
a Derbyshire family, the child Gilbert showed delight in drawing. 
Sent in youth to the office of an estate agent, the young fellow was 
at last allowed to take up art, being taught by the fruit-painter 
George Lance. Gilbert was early showing pictures from History 
and Romance, painted in the flowing lines and rich colour of the 
Romantic movement, of which he was a lifelong leader. Made 
A.R.A. in 1872, R.A in 1876, he was elected President of the Old 
Water-Colour Society in 1 871, and knighted. His facile art poured 
forth illustrations by the thousands for books and journals. He died 
on the 6th October 1897. 

William Est all (i 857-1 897), though of a much later genera- 
tion, caught the Romantic spirit of the French School of Barbizon, 
and settling in a remote Sussex village, wrought his art away from 
cities, brooding on the pastoral life. 

Charles Robert Leslie, R.A. (1794-1859), came of American 
stock ; he painted historic subjects and historic anecdotes ; his 
Uncle Toby and Widow Wadman in the Sentry Box being well 





THE Of the Romantics, Delaroche (1797-1856) had taken to the 

DAWN OF painting of historical romance ; Tony Robert Fleury also ; 
MODERN IsABEY was more concerned with the play of light on historical 
PAINTING draperies. But of a more vigorous breed were the Napoleonic 
illustrators Charlet (1792-1845) and Raffet. 

Raffet (1804- 1 860) became, in 1824, pupil to Charlet, from 
whom he went to the Beaux-Arts, and thereafter became the 
historian in lithography of the great Napoleon. 

The Romantic movement had produced other illustrators — Tony 
JoHANNOT, Celestin Nanteuil, and the rest, with Gustave Dore 
(who also gave much time to painting and sculpture). 

The Revolution had made free men. The artist no longer 
depended on the noble patron. The citizen became the buyer — 
but he paid low. The artist found the middle class a dull patron, 
became the ally of the people, their prophet, their standard-bearer. 
Daumier and Gavarni were born. The burgess being in power tried 
to seize the offices and power of the old aristocracy — the artists 
became revolutionaries. 


1808- 1879 

In the creation of modern art in France Honore Daumier 

stands side by side with Delacroix at the great initiation. He was 

not shackled with Delacroix's "culture." Daumier created French 

realism. Millet was born out of him. Courbet owed heavy debt 

to him. The power of the man is seen in that marvellous wood- 

• / engraving by Marx after Daumier 's bold design of The Two Lawyers. 

His caricature statuette of Napoleon iii as Ratapoil shows his power 

' , in modelling. His Don Quixote proved him a painter of the first 

rank. His relief plaster of The Fugitives foretells the great sculpture 



of the coming reality. Daumier stands out a giant at the gates of WHEREIN 
modern art. SIDE BY 

HoNORE Daumier was one of the draughtsmen of his century. SIDE WITH 
A bitter and ruthless satirist of the life of his time, wielding a tragic ROMANCE 
art, a political lampooner who was dreaded by the government, his WE SEE 
mastery as a painter was overlooked in his adventurous career, his BITING 
remarkable personality, and his illustrations. His chief means of SATIRE 
utterance was the lithograph. But his paintings, tragic, sombre, WALK THE 
and dramatic, are amongst the masterpieces of his skill. His LAND OF 
indictment of the law and of the " respectability " of the middle FRANCE 
class is an imperishable document. Their effect and his art are over 
all French painting and illustration to-day. He greatly influenced 
Manet and Degas as well as Millet ; he also influenced sculpture. 
His output was enormous ; but his art can be judged from a few 
masterpieces. I read of late an effusive monograph on Daumier 
which speaks of his art " attracting and delighting us " ! Daumier 
had scant concern with attractions and delights. 

Born at Marseilles on the 26th of February 1808 to a mother of 
Marseilles and a poetaster father from Beziers, the child's early 
passion for drawing had to evade the constant dislike of the poetaster 
father. In Paris the boy secretly sketched and studied the old 
masters at the Louvre. Put with an usher of the law-courts, the 
young Daumier came to know the inwardness of the lawyer's life 
that he was to attack with such galling satire. Meantime the lad 
steeped himself in the antique and then in the Dutch and Flemish 
genius at the Louvre. The father then sent the lad to a bookseller's, 
but with as poor success. At last the family allowed the youngster 
to become an artist under the direction of the archaeologist Lenoir. 
Lenoir was disturbed by the youngster's lack of interest in the 
antique, and his love of nature. The youth saw the possibilities 
of lithography, and set himself to master it ; his young friend 
Ramelet taught him the mysteries. Daumier soon found that he 
could make a livelihood out of it. He went awhile to Boudin's 
academy, worked from nature, studied the nude, and was soon master 
of the human figure. From 1829 he was working for the publishers, 
galled with uninteresting subjects only too often, but making litho- 
graphs also in Charlet's style of Napoleonic subjects. 

With Louis-Philippe came wide satire of politics and of 
bourgeois life from the studios ; Charles Philipon gathered about 
his newspaper a group of artists of talent who were moved by revolt 
against the king. Philipon was soon shaking the throne with his 
laughter, and all young France leaped to his support to strike for 

VOL. VIII — L 81 


THE Liberty. Gran dville, Raffet, Bouquet, Despret, Julien, Ar ago, 

DAWN OF Deveria, Monnier, Travies, and Pigal, gathered about Philipon. 
MODERN Young Daumier's satires upon Louis-Philippe led the nation towards 
PAINTING the Revolution of 1848. His Masques de 1831 in La Caricature 
further increased his fame. His Gargantua got him a dose of six 
months' imprisonment at Ste.-Pelagie and thereby made his reputa- 
tion, besides giving him the fame of martyr in the public esteem. 
He came out of prison in the February of 1833 to create some 
of his finest work, passionate and virile ; his sense of light and shade 
in lithography rapidly increased, set down with power, rejecting all 
detail. He would often first model his subject from memory in 
clay, then draw it in rapid forms in line. His portraits were always 
from memory. With hot indignation he bitterly caricatured the 
statesmen, the burgesses, and the judges of the day. The public 
scandals of 1844 lashed him to fury. 

The laws of September, that struck at the liberty of the Press, 
sent Daumier from political caricature to his great satires upon the 
life and manners of the time instead, with Monnier, Cham, and 
Gavarni for comrades. Monnier had invented " M. Prudhomme," 
the worthy, dull, respectable burgess, and had already created the 
social satirical picture ; Daumier created " Robert Macaire," show- 
ing himself as brutal and unflinching in his social satire as in his 
political ; attacking, above all, the stockjobbers. Daumier did not 
invent the titles and tags for his drawings ; these were done by his 
editors. His art lashed the swindler and the rogue. 

Daumier had declared war on the sham antique. He was 
revered by Corot and Delacroix and Daubigny and Dupre and 
the sculptor Barye. Delacroix spent hours in copying drawings 
by Daumier. All hated sham classicalism. Loving the antique as 
the antique, Daumier would have no sham antique. 

The Revolution of 1848 took Daumier back to political 
caricature, but he was in fact now more concerned with painting, to 
which, on leaving Charivari in i860, he gave himself wholly. 
Naturally his public was not so wide for his paintings as for his 
lithography. But from the first he was a master. A sense of 
grandeur and of enormous forcefulness are over all he wrought. He 
was always a realist ; his effect on the French genius was stupendous. 
The street, the shop, the factory, the pulsing life of the day, all found 
their profound interpreter in Daumier. Ruthless, frank, seeking the 
truth always, his art is a compelling sincerity. He sees the pity of 
it all — the broken heart of the Mountebank and the street-hawker 
and the poor. His Parade of the Mountebanks^ his Wandering 


Musicians^ his Clowns, his Third Class Railway Carriage, his Print- WHEREIN 
Collectors, his Shop Window, his Waiting for the Train, how Daumier SIDE BY 
carves a sHce out of life, rid of all superfluous detail ! And even SIDE WITH 
when he paints a Christ Mocked or a Good Samaritan, what a gulf ROMANCE, 
separates him from the formal thing ! The poets gave him many a WE SEE 
fine subject — the Miller, his Son and the Ass ; the Thieves and the Ass, BITING 
the several wonderful paintings of Don Quixote. Yet his paintings SATIRE 
had no vogue! His painting period was from 1850 to 1866 ; in WALK THE 
i860 he left Le Charivari in order to paint ; in 1864 he had to go LAND OF 
back to Le Charivari ! FRANCE 

Then came the horrors of the war of 1870. He attacked the 
Empire that had been guilty of defeat. But the Commune sobered 
him. It is sad to think of Daumier in destitute old age. He was 
saved from want by Corot, who tactfully gave him a cottage at 
Valmondois, to live his last years there, at least free of want, as the 
old eyes lost their keenness. Here he was surrounded by comrades, 
who reverenced and honoured him. He became blind. In his 
cottage he died on the iith of February 1879 — the man who 
wrought that marvellous water-colour of Les Buveurs. 



Gavarni was the gay and humorous observer of all classes in his 
age, employing a fascinating draughtsmanship and a black of velvet 
richness in the doing. He had the racy native inquisition into the 
battle of the sexes. Than Daumier, Gavarni made of the litho- 
graph a more artistic whole ; his pictures of society, high and low, 
were more complete, less concerned with the figure alone than in 
Daumier's art. 

To Sulpice Chevalier, once member of the revolutionary com- 
mittee of the Bondy section of Paris, a man of modest fortune and 
a high reputation for integrity, and to his wife Marie Monique 
Thiemet, sister to the painter-actor Thicmet, there was born on the 
13th of January 1804, in Paris, the son whom they wrote down 
upon the register as Guillaume Sulpice Chevalier, but who was 
to become immortal as Gavarni. 

Gavarni is generally set down as a caricaturist ; he had nothing 
of the caricaturist in him — I say this in spite of his famous 
invention of Vireloqiie — he was no more a caricaturist than was 
Charles Keene. Satirist and wit he was. A dandified fellow, 
Gavarni dominates French illustration from 1830 to 1866. 



THE As a child, Gavarni was drawing before he could write. At ten 

DAWN OF he was sent to the old architect Dutillard ; at thirteen he went to 
MODERN Jecker the scientific instrument-maker ; in 1818, at fourteen, he was 
PAINTING working at the integral calculus, and soon thereafter he was at an 
academy for training students in the designing of machinery. Here 
he began to try and make profit from his art, whilst mathematics 
also remained a lifelong interest to him. Obliged to make a living, 
and fretted by the lack of liberty at the atelier Le Blanc, he left the 
machinery-designing to become an etcher with Jean Adam, who 
sent him to engrave the harbour of Bordeaux, in the October of 
1824. Wretchedly paid by an unjust and ill-conditioned master, 
Gavarni here at twenty found comfort by sharing his poverty with a 
girl Heloise, whom he deserted for another called Angelique, that 
Heloise to whom he addressed a cynical letter confessing his 
incapacity to love. His love-affairs seem to have come to an un- 
pleasant climax. Drawing what money he could from his manager 
he set off on foot upon the adventure of life. Arriving at Tarbes 
without a sou, utterly weary, he searched out an inspector-geome- 
trician called Leleu, an old friend of his uncle Thiemet, who was 
kind to him, and kept him vaguely employed for three years visiting 
the Pyrenees ; three years in which the young fellow was making 
indifferent drawing after drawing of landscapes and costumes and 
people, and at the same time writing his impressions. But he had 
determined to be a painter. His affairs with girls continued. It 
was about this time that La Mesangere, seeing some plates by 
Gavarni — then signing as " H. Chevallier " — asked him to do a 
series of a hundred southern costumes at thirty-five francs apiece, 
which Gavarni made in pen-drawings, washed with Chinese ink in 
flat tints ; but not meeting with approval, he stopped after the thirty- 
sixth. In June 1828, Gavarni returned to Paris. In June 1829, at 
twenty-five, he signs his name Gavarni for the first time — he was 
living in a garret, and a comrade who shared the garret led him to a 
printseller and dealer, who ordered a series of Costumes of the Pyrenees, 
for which Gavarni invented the signature that was to make him 
famous. Several years saw him designing fashion-plates in which a 
certain charm of artistry appears. Gavarni meanwhile was going to 
nature, working without ceasing at the types of life in Paris, and 
steadily he developed. His efforts in political caricature were few. 
His own words show his attitude — "The street cad and the dandy 
are animals : equally far from man ; but one stinks and the other 
smells nice, so I like the other best, though I don't care much about 
him." His drawings of the people of Paris began to win him a 


public. He joined the staff of Charivari. He became a WHEREIN, 
vogue. He poured forth work. He was foul of his creditors, SIDE BY 
dunned by bailiffs; in 1834 he knew imprisonment for debt at SIDE WITH 
Clichy jail, and for once in his life knew genuine love for a ROMANCE, 
woman, a humble girl of the streets called Arsene. The anguish he WE SEE 
suffered from parting with this girl, and his troubles of life, BITING 
increased his art ; and the human comedy of manners emerged, his SATIRE 
fame leaping forward by leaps and bounds from 1839. WALK THE 

On the 2ist of November 1847 he set out for London, welcomed LAND OF 
by the writers and artists and aristocracy, determined to paint the FRANCE 
splendour of London society ; but the street scenes and low life 
seized his fancy, and to them instead he gave all his powers. The 
human herd enthralled him ; and for four years held him in England, 
with a visit to Scotland. The longer he stayed the more he was 
fascinated by the tragic and mysterious misery of the scum of the 
people. And yet, whilst he haunted the London slums, he con- 
tinued his deep researches into mathematics ! 

English society, deeply disappointed, became angry when 
Gavarni, having made an appointment to paint the Queen's portrait, 
even sending his water-colours to the palace, failed to keep the 
appointment. This ill-bred discourtesy was rightly censured by the 
press ; and Gavarni himself later reproached himself for it. 

Back in Paris in 1851. His pretty daughters of pleasure grow 
old, turn into hags ; he seeks his types in the wreckage at hospitals; 
his once dainty jocund vision grows dark ; disenchantment is over 
all. His voice becomes morose and bitter. This contempt is 
personified in Thomas Vireloque. 

To Gavarni one must go for the life of his time. In his superb 
lithographs, his engravings, his fine pencil drawings, and his 
water-colours, he showed rare and consummate gifts of artistry. 
In England his powers in water-colour rapidly came to fulfilment. 
He developed that floating of gouache or body-colour into the coats 
of paint which brought him the brilliant luminous quality so ■ 

remarkable in his art. No man was more shamelessly forged in 
his day. 

Gavarni was besides an exquisite writer of prose ; and it may be 
that one day when his researches are properly worked out, he will 
be found to have been a genius in mathematics. To his craftsman- 
ship Gavarni ever gave enormous study and pains. Small wonder 
that he won the homage of Delacroix, of Daumier, of Charlet. 

Gavarni designed men's fashions and created them for his age. 
He enormously influenced and largely designed the dress of women. 



THE f^^ drew the life of the high and the low of that age ; played with 

DAWN OF its follies, joyed in its grace. He is said to have created over eight 
MODERN thousand works. His view of life was far broader, wider, and more 
PAINTING justly balanced than was that of Daumier. A dandy, despising the 
bourgeois, the " grocer," he was not above a pose, even to rings on 
his gloves. He was ever a light lover of women ; yet he was 
devoted to father and mother, and in 1844 he married Jeanne 
Leonie Martin de Bonabry, whose two children by him he ever 
adored. A genial, kindly comrade ; a hot ally ; a friend who, when 
he failed to prevent the condemnation of Balzac, procured his 
pardon from the king ; unjealous, he knew no ill-will for the success 
of others. Always in money difficulties, he laughed away distress 
and difficulty, and lived out his disordered life like a dandy. When 
money came, after his English visit, he bought a house at Auteuil, 
and squandered money in laying out the park about it. Gradually 
he lost interest in art for mathematics. The destruction of his 
property by the circular railway was a heavy blow to him. He 
was already ill. He bought a huge property in 1865 ; fell into 
consumption, and in a black brooding state of mind he passed away 
on the 24th of November 1866. 

Const ANTiN Guys, in exquisite water-colours, made the women 
of Paris his subject, and portrayed them, and flipped their short- 
comings as well, in frank fashion. Born in 1805, Guys died in 




When a critic speaks of " academic " he always means art founded WHEREIN, 
upon classical ideals. This is but a small part of academism. For ALONGSIDE 
art, academism is death. Academism is the painting in the manner OF 
of some one else, whether that other be Greek or Florentine, ROMANCE 
Hottentot or Egyptian, Dutch or Scandinavian, medieval glass- AND 
stainer or Spanish portrait-painter. SATIRE, 

The century opened in France with the godlike strut of Ingres, "WE AI>SO 
in the Greek vein. A man of genius, he attacked character and set SEE THE 
up beauty upon the altar. Yet he made fine portraits by instinct, ACADEMIC- 
for logic here failed him. He was besides a good schoolmaster for CLASSICAL 
the coming men ; he taught them discipline — Manet, and Degas, WALKING 
and the rest. What can be taught, he taught well. To him Rubens IN FRANCE 
was " the genius of evil," and " Rembrandt and the others " an 
insult to " the divine Raphael " and the great Florentines. His 
frigid art was created by a man of great power ; but he had not the 
passion or fire for the heroic, nor the broad grasp of life to create 
vital things. 

The French Academics Ary Scheffer, Signol, Amaury Duval, 
and Chenavard sang like the ghouls. Baudry at least could draw, 
and painted excellent portraits. Elie Delaunay could paint a fine 
portrait. Ernest Hebert could paint a religious picture in antique 

1815 - 1879 

Thomas Couture, pupil to Gros and Delaroche, was markedly 
affected by the realistic tendencies of his time and came under them. 
His hittle Confectioner is strongly influenced by Millet and the other 
realists ; and he painted fine portraits. He should not be judged by 
his large Romans of the Decadence, which the State bought. 

1819 - 1856 

Theodore Chasseriau as a boy of ten clamoured to be sent to 



THE the studio of Ingres, whose favourite pupil he became ; but he was 

DAWN OF still young when Ingres went to Rome to take over the Academy 
MODERN there. The youngster turned to Delacroix. Then in 1846 he 
PAINTING went to the East. He was to die ten years thereafter ; and of those 
ten years is his Combat of Arab Horsemen. 

At nineteen, Chasseriau brought forth his Venus Anadyomene, of 
which he also made a fine lithograph. He was born in the' East, 
and his art caught the sensuousness of the East. His Self Portrait 
of 1838 shows him Eastern. Of 1842 was his Toilet of Esther ; of 
1 843 his Two Sisters ; of 1 846 the Apollo and Daphne. For the 
Palais de la Cour des Comptes he painted the panels of Peace and 
War that the Commune destroyed after the Prussian War — or rather 
the elements for thirty years slowly destroyed after the Com- 
mune burnt the place. Part of the fresco of Peace has been trans- 
ferred to canvas and may be seen near the Botticelli frescoes at the 
Louvre. But Chasseriau, young as he was, had shot his bolt. His 
later decorations at the chapel of St. Roch and the like show lesser 
powers. He had shown in Primitive-academism his best gifts. 
He was to inspire Puvis de Chavannes, who as a youth was a friend 
of the older man who opened the gates to him. 

Of the Netherlanders, the most eminent academic painter of 
these days was Leys. 



Jean Auguste Henri Leys was trained by De Braekleer 
(i 792-1 883). Giving himself to historical painting, he subordinated 
his innate gift of colour to draughtsmanship and narrative accuracy ; 
passion and romance by consequence were shy of him. Leys was 
showing his work as early as 1833, and his patriotic subjects soon 
brought him to repute. A barony was granted to him in 1862. 
The head and front of the Academy, he was given the decoration 
of the Hotel de Ville. In 1847 he won the ribbon of the Legion 
of Honour. Whether in his earlier, broader manner or his later 
detailed " pre-Raphaelite " style founded in imitation of the Van 
Eycks, Leys was never a great creative artist, bending his powers to 
archa^ological intention. He trained Alma Tadema, Napier 
Hemy, and Tissot amongst other famous pupils. 


I 8 5 o 








In speaking of the Men of Barbizon, a Frenchman who was one of "WHEREIN 
the first to paint the Forest of Fontainebleau must not be passed by. WE WALK 
Michel came much to England ; saw much of Constable's art ; and AWHILE 
was largely concerned on the diffusion of his art amongst the men WITH THE 
of Barbizon. Born in 1763, Georges Michel died in 1843. FRENCH- 



1812 - 1867 

Landscape in France was treated to a code of chilly laws. 
Then Theodore Rousseau appears. He essays to carry on 
landscape from Poussin and the Dutchmen, with the decorative 
sense of Claude. Hobbema looms large to him. Then he settles in 
the Forest of Fontainebleau, greatly interested in trees ; and he 
draws Daubigny, Diaz, and Millet to him. Rousseau was a rebel, 
an original, and he went straight to Nature, though his heavy train- 
ing still held him even whilst he rebelled. 

Born in Paris on the 15th of April 1812, to Claude Rousseau, a 
merchant-tailor of Salines in the Jura, and to his Parisian wife, 
Louise Colombet, of artist stock, their only son Pierre Etienne 
Theodore Rousseau was early playing with art. Going to the 
studio of his mother's cousin, Alexandre Pau de Saint-Martin 
who had been pupil to Carle Vernet, the youngster was soon at 
work with colour. By fifteen, Rousseau had been much in the 
forests of Franche-Comte. The father intended the youth for the 
calling of engineer ; but Rousseau bought colours and brushes, went 
to Montmartre, made a sketch from Nature, delighted his parents 
with it. Pau de Saint-Martin took him sketching, and advised his 
training under the classic Remond (1795-1 875), thereby fretting the 
young fellow, who boldly made for nature. The fine days saw him 
sketching at Sevres, Meudon, Compiegne, Cernay, Saint-Cloud ; 
the rain drove him to copying Claude and du Jardin at the Louvre, 
or drawing from the nude under Guillion-Lethiere (1760-1832). 



REALISM But Rousseau, breaking away from Remond in 1830, betook him to 
AND PRE- the wild Auvergne to work out the mysteries by himself. Return- 
RAPHAEL- ing to Paris to find art abla2e with Romanticism, he was well- 
ITE received by the rebels ; and Ary Scheffer, of all men, became his 

ACADEM- powerful friend. Rousseau sent work to the Salon of 183 1, again 
ISM in 1833 ; in 1834 he won a medal, the Duke of Orleans buying his 

Lisiere de Bois. In 1836 the luck turned against him. The jury 
rejected his Descente des Vaches ; there was to be war against the 
romantics, for Marilhat, Champmartin, Huet, Barye and Delacroix 
were all refused. The Salon knew him no more until, in 1848, the 
revolution opened the doors to him again. These twelve years 
Rousseau, never a happy man by temperament, suffered much dis- 
tress, though Decamps, George Sand, Daumier, Delacroix, Diaz, 
Scheffer, and Dupre stood by him. But the Second Revolution saw 
the art elections carried by the suffrage of the artists, and Rousseau 
found himself one of the jury of 1848. He was given a commission 
by the state ; and declining marriage with a lady to whom he was 
deeply devoted and who loved him, he withdrew to Barbizon with 
a girl who had thrown herself on his protection. Thenceforth he 
made his home in Barbizon. He showed at the Salon of 1849, the 
first time for thirteen years, won a First Class Medal, but finding his 
faithful ally Dupre given the ribbon of the Legion of Honour he 
there and then broke with him. Rousseau had an ugly side. At 
the Salon of 1851 he had six pictures; but Diaz winning to the 
Legion of Honour, Rousseau fell foul of the authorities, and swore 
he would send no more ; yet in 1852 he sent the Tiffet de Givre and 
Paysage apres la Pluie, and was admitted to the Legion of Honour. 
His affairs and his temper and manners thenceforth improved. The 
Universal Exhibition of 1855 was a triumph for him. Behind the 
sham of a rich American he now bought, generously, the needy 
Millet's Greffeur for 4000 francs. In 1861 he sold twenty-five 
paintings and studies at the Hotel Drouot for 37,000 francs ; in 
1863 another fifteen for 15,000 francs. Three years thereafter he 
painted a couple of pictures at 10,000 francs apiece, for Prince 
Demidoff"; and the dealers kept him busy to the tune of 140,000 
francs. At the Universal Exhibition of 1867, he was awarded one 
of the four medals, but had expected promotion as Officer of the 
Legion of Honour ; the bitter disappointment crushed him. 
Paralysis struck him down. He was promoted Officer of the Legion, 
but died in agony after six months' suffering in the December of 
the year. " Madame Rousseau," long hopelessly insane, danced and 
sang about the death-chamber. 


In Paris, in Normandy, in the Auvergne, in the Jura, at Brogh'e WHEREIN 
painting the castle, in Brittany, in the tie de France, in Berry, in WE WALK 
Gascony, and the forest of Fontainebleau, Rousseau came to grips AWHILE 
with varied aspects of Nature. But it was at Fontainebleau, to WITH THE 
which he first went in 1833, lodging year after year at Ganne's FRENCH- 
tavern or with some peasant, until in 1 848 he settled in Barbizon MEN OF 
and made his home there, where Diaz became his pupil, and Jacque BARBIZON 
and Millet soon became his neighbours, that he wrought his fullest 
art, uttering the spirit of the forest, its mystery and its vastness, 
as his supreme song. A slow and laborious painter, he created his 
unequal works, rising at his best to powerful impressiveness and 
largeness of utterance. He would keep his pictures by him, and 
touch and retouch them, often to their disadvantage. 


i8c9 - 1876 

Narcisse Virgilio Diaz de la Pena, the son of Tomas Diaz 
and Maria Velasco, Spaniards driven out of Salamanca into exile in 
France through a plot against Joseph Bonaparte, was born at Bor- 
deaux on 2ist August 1809. The father, exiled from France as 
well as Spain, made for London, where he died. The destitute 
mother came friendless to Paris, thence made for Sevres, where she 
gave lessons in Spanish and Italian to win bread. In the boy's 
tenth year, his mother died ; the Protestant pastor of Bellevue 
adopted him until he was grown enough to make for Paris to seek 
fortune. At fifteen he was stung in the foot by a poison-fly, or by 
a viper, and had twice to have parts amputated. Beginning with 
piinting china, he was early at work in oils, working under Souchon 
(1787-1857) ; and the Salon of 1831 saw his first picture. He 
painted for some time strongly under the influence of Correggio 
and Delacroix — any subject that was saleable, battles, naked women, 
flowers, portraits, for as little as five francs apiece. He gave no 
sign of that amazing sense of colour that lay latent in him. About 
1836, at the edge of thirty, he came under the spell of Rousseau. 
In 1844 his Bas Breau, his Orientale and the Bohemiens won him a 
Third Class Medal ; two years thereafter his Delaissees, Magicienne^ 
Jardin des Amour Sy Interior of a Forest^ and Leda won him a Second 
Class ; and two years thereafter, in 1848, at forty, his Diane partant 
pour la Chasse, the Meute dans la Foret de Fontainebleau, and Venus 
and Adonis brought him a First Class. A Portrait, the Baigneuse, and 
the Love Disarmed got him into the Legion of Honour. The Salon 





of 1850 that brought so many decorations to artists saw Rousseau 
passed over. Diaz was furious. At the dinner given to the new 
officers of the Legion of Honour, he arose, and in a loud voice 
toasted " Theodore Rousseau — our forgotten master ! " Life was 
now a bright affair for him ; he moved forward with his Rwales, 
his Nymphe tourmentee par r Amour, the Fin d'un Beau Jour. His 
last displayed work was at the Salon of 1859 ; but he wrought his 
art to the day he died. The loss of his painter son, Emile Diaz, 
like him a pupil to Rousseau, was a bitter affliction to him in i860. 
He outlived Millet and Corot but a year. At the height of his 
vogue and prosperity he caught a chill, and was hurried off to 
Mentone, but arrived to find Mentone in the grip of a hard frost. 
He died in his wife's arms in the December of 1876. 

Diaz has been termed the Correggio of the Barbizon school. 
The influence of Delacroix and Correggio, of Millet and Rousseau 
and Prud'hon all left their mark upon his sensitive art. His brush 
was dipped in magic; and the allure of his art is difficult to describe. 
He loved bosky groves, with gleam of lights breaking through : 
and the white stems of birches haunt his dark groves. 


1817 - 1878 

Charles pRANqiois Daubigny was the son of a painter Edme 
Franc;ois Daubigny, who had been trained by Bertin ; and his 
own son continued the tradition as Karl Daubigny. 

Born in Paris, Daubigny had early to get to breadwinning, 
decorating clock-cases and box-lids. Going to Italy at eighteen, 
he worked hard from Nature at Rome, Florence, and Naples for a 
year ; on his return to Paris he entered the studios of Granet 
(1775-1849), and Delaroche (1797-1856), at twenty-one displaying 
at the Salon of 1838 his Notre Dame and Isle of St. Louis. He 
etched, and drew on wood for illustration. In 1848 he won a 
Second Class Medal with his Environs de Chdteau-Chinon and Bords 
de Cornin. In 1853 he carried off a First Class Medal with his 
Etang de Gylien. He was now one of the great group of landscape 
painters with Corot, Rousseau, Dupre, and Courbet, pouring forth 
work that was eagerly bought, reaching at times to high achieve- 
ment, but very unequal in his quality. Loving the river, and 
painting the running waters by preference, he was ever happy in 
his house-boat, le Bottin. A good colourist, he painted the river 
with intimate regard and seeing eyes ; and he loved the paths 



through fields of corn, the blossoming fruit-trees, and spring in the WHEREIN 
meadows. He was the poet of Normandy. WE WALK 

Chintreuil also loved to paint vast stretches of the land and AWHILE 
green nooks in Nature. WITH THE 


1810 - 1865 


Constant Troyon, born at Sevres to a worker in the Imperial 
Factory, was trained under Riocreux and Poupart, and therefore in 
youth wore the spectacles of David. But sketching one fine day at 
Saint-Cloud, he met one of the lesser Romantics, Camille Roque- 
plan (1802-1855), who made him meet some friends, of whom 
were Rousseau, Flers (i 802-1 868), Diaz, and Dupre. Troyon at 
once went over to the Romantics ; he became the friend of Dupre. 

The Salon of 1832 saw his first work; in 1835 he won the 
Third, in i 840 the Second Class, and in 1846 the First Class Medal. 
The Legion of Honour took him into its fold in 1849. The 
Louvre Bceufs allant au Labour was of 1855. Painting landscape, 
he ranged far afield, from Sevres and Saint-Cloud to Fontainebleau 
and Brittany and the Limousin and Normandy. From 1833 to 
1846, they spoke of the "truculent energy of his brush-work," of 
his violent colour, his excesses in paint. It was in Holland that the 
Dutchmen Paul Potter and Rembrandt now led him to the conquest 
of his art. In 1848 he "found himself," and began his career as 
the cattle-painter of his age. His training in landscape taught him 
to set his animals in their fulness of atmosphere. 



Charles Jacque, or Jacques, born in Paris, was to pass his youth 
in the office of a lawyer, where he got to copying lithographs. 
Then, getting restless, he went for a soldier, serving in the ranks 
for five years, selling drawings the while at a franc. In 1836 he 
passed over into England, working for the wood-engravers upon a 
Shakespeare^ a Dance of Death, and other books for a couple of years. 
Going back to Paris, he helped to illustrate the famous Paul et 
Virginie, Be'ranger, Perrau/t, and Bretagne Illustree. Meanwhile he 
was etching also. It was about 1845, in his thirty-second year, 
that he began to use oils, and was soon leading the way to the life 
of the peasant and the pastoral. His paintings of sheep-folds and 
hen-houses made him famous ; he painted them with power, solid 



REALISM handling of the colour, play of light and shade, and vigour of draughts- 

AND PRE- manship. The neighbour of Millet at Barbizon, he with Millet 

RAPHAEL- arid Rousseau may be said to have founded the Barbizon school. 

jXE Winning to the Legion of Honour in 1867, Jacque knew wide fame. 

ACADEM- The forgeries of his works are widespread. Jacque shares with 

ISM Troyon the chief honours of animal painting in France. His 
etchings also are very fine. 



At Nantes was born in 181 1 to a potter a son JtrLES DvPRi, 
who was early at work in Paris painting china. Going to the 
studio of DiEBOLD t6e younger, he made a mark in 1831, at 
twenty, with five landscapes, and at once came to the front. The 
Marquis, who bought the works of Dupre from an old clothes- 
shop, brought fame to a true poet the day he climbed to a sixth- 
floor garret at five of the morning and brought good luck to the 
penurious young man who lay abed ; the strange man straightway 
bought every sketch on the young artist's walls and commissioned 
him to paint others. What was more, he brought other clients. 
In 1832 began the close friendship with Rousseau which was to 
benefit both men. In 1833 he won a Second Class Medal with his 
Interieur de Ferme, but became disgusted with popular success. To 
the Great Exhibition of 1867 he sent a dozen pictures, but only 
appeared in public again at the Salon of 1883. Caring nothing for 
money or fame, he wrought only what he desired to utter. The 
friend of Rousseau, like him he has ranged over a wide gamut of 
landscape, from the serene pastures and the gloom of the forests, along 
the lonely plains to the vastness of the seas, with rare sincerity. 
Rousseau seems to have fretted at Dupre's success and his own 
failure ; and his suspicious behaviour deeply wounded Dupre. In 
1849, the Legion of Honour took Dupre into the fold, and 
Rousseau was mortified. For three years thereafter Dupre painted 
no more. When he took to painting again his whole style changed. 
The early brilliant colour departed ; the precise handling giving 
way to a thick impasto ; and he grew to love the golden phases 
of foliage. 


1814 - 1875 

Born in the weather-beaten little hamlet of Gruchy by the 
sea-shore, hard by Cherbourg, to a peasant who had refined tastes 




(South Kensington Museum) 


and a gift of music, the boy, Jean Fran(;ois Millet, was largely WHEREIN 

brought up by his grandmother, a pious woman, whilst the father WE WALK 

and mother were at work on their little farm ; and he came under AWHILE 

the care of a great-uncle, the Abbe Millet, who lived with the WITH THE 

family and fired in the lad his love of literature. The mother, FRENCH- 

Louise Jumelin, came of a higher class. It was a happy household, MEN OF 

and the boy loved his home. He was early drawing the life and BARBIZON 

land about him. On the edge of twenty-one his father decided to 

send the youth to Cherbourg to learn painting — the brothers and 

sisters were springing up and could take the eldest son's place in the 

fields. To MoucHEL he went to learn the mysteries ; but a year 

thereafter, in the November of 1835, Millet had to hurry home — 

his father lay dying. There was nothing for it but to take up the 

work of the farm. But his grandmother and mother insisted on his 

returning to his art, so to Cherbourg he went again, this time under 

Langlois, the pupil of Gros. Langlois, a noble-hearted man, 

wrought upon the town council to send him to Paris ; and to Paris 

he was sent, feeling the wrench from his home, and bafiled on his 

arrival by the whirl of a great city. He found his way to the 

Louvre with difficulty — ashamed to ask the way. Michelangelo 

cast his glamour over him. Millet chose Delaroche as his master. 

Whilst with Delaroche, Millet fell under the glamour of Giorgione's 

Concert Champetre, and his art ever owed much to Giorgione, 

Poussin, and Correggio. To the students he was " the Wild Man of 

the Woods," this big serious fellow so deeply interested in the 

suffisring of man. Suddenly he left Delaroche ; and a fellow-student, 

Marolle, left with him, befriended him, and sold his works for the 

shy country fellow to the dealers. 

In 1840 Millet showed at the Salon, and in the summer made 
home again for Cherbourg to be near his kin, fretted by the fact 
that he was not supporting them. But sell his pictures he could 
not, and was glad to paint signboards. Then he made portraits 
of the young folk of the town ; and for Dr. Asselin, the Saint Barbara 
Carried up to Heaven. In the November of 184 1 he married a young 
dressmaker, Virginia Ono, a delicate girl, whose constant ill-health 
was a drag upon the young fellow's resources. In 1842 he took his 
young wife to Paris, and thence, to her death in 1844, the man knew 
the very blackness of hardship and distress — he failed to get his 
pictures into the Salon until two pastels got into the display of 
1 844. 

Millet was now thirty. Since 1841 he had rapidly discarded 
the dark painting of Delaroche's school, and had learnt from 
VOL. VIII — N 97 


REALISM Correggio and Michelangelo. He painted the nude much, hove 
AND PRE- the Conqueror was of 1844. On the death of his wife, Millet went 
RAPHAEL- back to Gruchy, to paint and work amongst the fields of his old 
ITE home. He had left Cherbourg in disgrace over his ill-fated portrait 

ACADEM- of ^ dead mayor ; he now knew success awhile. He next married 
ISM Catherine Lemaire, a peasant girl of eighteen. Staying awhile at 

Havre from the November of 1845 to paint portraits, the sea- 
captains ordered subject pictures — the Offering to Pan, Daphnis and 
Chloe, Sacrifice to Friapus, and the Flute-lesson amongst them ! 
Strange folk, sea-captains ! godlike fellows on occasion. 

To Paris he went in 1845, and took three rooms near his 
friends, Charles Jacque and Diaz. The Salon refused his Temptation 
of St. Anthojiy, so he painted over it the famous Oedipus taken from a 
Tree, and thenceforth for a while poured forth glowing colour- 
schemes of nudes, nymphs, fauns, infants. The spring of 1848 saw 
him at death's door and in terrible penury ; but he recovered to 
paint the first success of his career, and to show at the Salon the 
Winnower, The State bought it. Commissions followed. Un- 
fortunately, the Revolution of June disturbed the arts. 

Compelled to shoulder a musket in the days of the ugly 
bloodshed, he fretted to be done with cities. Taking his State com- 
mission, Hagar and Ishmael, he painted over it his Haymakers Resting 
in the Shadow of a Haystack — he had heard two men denote him as 
" Millet, who paints nothing but nude women." Having sold his 
Haymakers a year thereafter. Millet, in the June of 1849, turned 
his back on Paris, and, with his friend, Jacque, made for " a little 
village ending in -zon," somewhere in the Forest of Fontainebleau. 
Fontainebleau, with its cost, alarmed the wife of Millet ; they drove 
to Chailly, and on foot they sought the " village that ends in -zon," 
Millet entering it carrying his two little girls, whilst trudged beside 
him his wife with the baby boy, and made for Pere Ganne's inn, 
where Barye, Corot, Diaz, Rousseau, and Franfois were wont to 
go ; there they were welcomed by Diaz and Rousseau. Millet and 
Jacque rented two peasant cottages, and in his barn Millet made his 
studio. Working in his garden until midday, he went to his studio 
and painted until sunset. His art burst into song of the life of the 
peasant folk. In 1850 he showed his immortal masterpiece of 
The Sower, so often treated again in pastel. The critics attacked it 
as socialistic ! Then followed the masterpiece Going to Work. 

In 1 85 I sorrow struck at Millet, his beloved grandmother died ; 
his ailing mother called for her son, but the state of penury he was 
in forbad any journey. His mother died, without seeing him, a 


I 8 14- 1875 


V!fimmi'. VBt^< 


. ■ <'^iT>?^?'^''' C 


couple of years thereafter. Millet suffered bitter sorrow. But to WHEREIN 
win money he wrought hard upon the Man spreading Manure, \y£ WALK 
and the Toung Women Sowing. In 1853 he won a medal with his AWHILE 
Repast of the Harvesters. The. U Attente or 7o(^/> followed. In 1854 WITH THE 
Rousseau sent Latrone to buy works by Millet, of which was FRENCH- 
the JVoman Feeding Chickens. To his old home the whole family now MEN OF 
went for a few months, busy months of painting for Millet. BARBIZON 

On his return to Barbizon, he painted The Grafter. He worked 
much from himself in a mirror, and from his wife, who often had 
to wear her shirt for weeks in order that it might shape to the body. 
No one bought the picture, and penury threatened again, when, one 
fine day, an American buyer came. After awhile the American ' 
myth vanished and Rousseau stood revealed. The needy fellow had 
raised the catalogued price for it somehow. For awhile Millet was 
gay and blithe. Then, in 1856, he was in difficulties again. But 
he was now turning to the life of the shepherd — the moonlit 
Shepherd in the Sheep/old and the like were created, in which, with 
astounding skill, he suggests the sound of the pattering footfall of 
the sheep, the cry of the shepherd, the bark of the dog, and the stilly 
silence of the night. Of 1857 was his immortal Gleaners. The 
critics saw in it a " threat to the social order " ! Thereafter Millet 
was in dire want. He even dreamed of suicide — and brought forth 
the world-famed Ange/us ! It was sent to the Salon of 1859 with 
the powerful Death and the Woodcutter, which was rejected. It was 
at this time that the Pope mysteriously ordered and paid for an 
Immaculate Conception by Millet for his private railway carriage 
(1858), which has vanished. For the State he painted the Woman 
Leading a Cow (1859). The headaches which so afflicted him his 
life long now set in with plaguing regularity, for which at last, 
against all advice, he found relief in black coffee. Meanwhile 
Millet suffered much fret at the constant neglect by the State of his 
old friend, Rousseau. There now came to his studio, but never into 
his house, the strange, mysterious visitor. Decamps, the old cavalry 
officer, who left his horse outside the village and crept in by back- 
ways to learn from Millet.. 

On the 14th of March i860. Millet signed the famous contract 
with Stevens and Blanc, whereby for all he did he was to receive a 
thousand francs a month for three years. Of these pictures the best 
known is that of a woman shearing a sheep which is held by a man. 
Of 1862 were his Woolcarders, a Shepherdess, the Birth of the Calf, 
the Winter, and the Man Leaning on a Hoe, the attack on which by 
the critics probably sent him for a while to pastels and drawings. 



REALISM In 1864 he found a shepherdess who inspired him to paint a 

AND PRE- Joan of Arc. In 1865 he painted the four decorative panels for 

RAPHAEL- M. Thomas for his house in the Boulevard Haussmann — Spring, 

ITE Summer, Autumn, and Winter ; and he met M. Gavet who ordered 

ACADEM- many drawings. In 1866 his eldest sister died, to Millet's deep 

ISM sorrow. His wife's serious illness added to his gloom. He took 

her to Vichy, where he was inspired to fresh endeavour by the 

more primitive shepherdesses, who spun with distaft" as they watched 

their flocks. His display at the International Exhibition of 1867 

saw Millet acclaimed a master ; and, to Millet's joy, Rousseau was 

made president of the jury — but honours came late for the doomed 

Rousseau. In 1868 Millet entered the Legion of Honour. Of 

1869 was the Knitting Lesson ; of 1870 the Woman Churning and the 

landscape November. His difficulties were over and done. He was 

famous. His pictures were fetching high prices. He painted the 

Louvre Spring, and several exquisite works of women with babes. 

Pastel had brought back his early colour sense which he had put 

from him in his first Barbizon days. Yet of this year was his 

gruesome Pig-killers. Then came the War ; Millet, with his 

family, made for Cherbourg, where he painted his coast-scenes ; at 

Greville he painted the Village Church now at the Louvre ; in the 

November of 1871 he was back at Barbizon. The dealers were 

now scrambling for him. It should be said that Millet worked 

from memory, helped by notes. 

His working days were now near numbered. By 1873 a cough 
racked his body. The great order to decorate the Pantheon with 
the legend ot Saint Genevieve came too late. By the summer of 
1874 he was a doomed man. He lingered over Christmas and the 
New Year. In mid-January he was bitterly grieved by a hunted 
stag that had taken refuge in his garden being butchered there by 
the sportsmen. At six of the morning of the 20th of January 1875 
the great spirit of Millet left his body. 

It was Daumier who brought the revelation of his great art to 
Millet. His whole style and vision suddenly changed. He came 
to grips with life. The superb woodcut after Millet's drawing of 
the Man on the Horse by the Seashore is easily taken for a Daumier. 
A tragic intensity and realism suddenly took possession of the man. 
Bookish men aie wont to speak of Millet's primitivism. No man 
was nearer the life of his age than Millet. In Millet the great demo- 
cracy spake its pure tongue. Daumier and Millet brought French 
art back to grips with Life. It was only when Millet went to 
Barbizon and found himself, that his art burst into song and he 


thereby stepped amongst the immortals as the great epic painter of WHEREIN 
the life of the fields. It was at Barbizon, beginning with his great WE WALK 
masterpiece of The Sower of 1850, and creating the Gleaners, the AWHILE 
Bucheron et la Mort, the Man with the Hoe, the Meules, the Berger au WITH THE 
Pare, the Vigneron au Repos, and his other majestic utterance of the FRENCH- 
heroic employment of the labourers on the land that he won to MEN OF 
immortal fame. He saw life grey, and he employed grey to utter BARBIZON 
it. The right and fit colour to utter the mood of the epic things 
that he saw, he employed with consummate tact and power. Millet 
was of the heroic essence. His emotional vision is awe-filled. His 
heart is like a god's. Whether peasant girls work at the churn, or old 
women wearily gather faggots for the winter's warming, whether 
peasant mothers nurse their little ones, or weary toilers return from 
the heavy day's work in the fields. Millet creates a majestic state- 
ment of their significance once and for all time. In his figures are 
the eternal types of the field. 

I have seen it written for praise that Millet's Killing a Hog is 
beautiful. It is wholly unbeautiful. Had Millet made it beautiful, 
he had uttered the stupidest of lies. Indeed, Millet's aim in art, a 
large part of his significance in art, is a protest against the pettiness 
of mere beauty. He took the earth, this great-soul'd man, and he 
wrought with a master statement the pathos and the tragedy, and 
the might and the majesty of the earth, and of them that toil upon 
the earth. The Man with the Hoe is far more than " beautiful " — 
it holds the vast emotions of man's destiny to labour, and of man's 
acceptance of that destiny ; it utters the ugliness as loudly as it 
states the beauty of the earth and of toil ; and it most rightly utters 
these things, so that they take equal rank, and thereby add to our 
knowledge of the emotions of life through the master's power, and 
the wondrous craftsmanship whereby he so solemnly uttered the 





REALISM The Barbizon men found an ally in a forthright violent peasant of 
AND PRE- a fellow called Courbet. Courbet rose against the Romantic 
RAPHAEL- Delacroix as hotly as against classic Ingres ; yet, whilst he painted 
ITE what he saw, he invented and developed no new craftsmanship 

ACADEM- whereby to utter it, but fell back on the orchestration of strong 
ISM light and shadow of the Tenebrosi. By consequence he painted 

darker than nature even whilst he clamoured for realism and Realism 



1819 - 1877 

Born at Ornans, Gustave Courbet was the son of a peasant 
of the Doubs, who would have made the lad a lawyer, but from the 
time he left Ornans for Paris in 1839 he gave himself wholly to 
painting. He had already at the Seminary at Besan9on learnt paint- 
ing from a pupil of David, called Flageolet ; and in Paris he went 
to Steuben (1788-1856) and Hesse (i 806-1 879); but the Flemish 
masterpieces ot the Louvre were his real trainers. He went straight 
to Nature. The romantic movement was beginning to slacken, and 
Courbet headed straight for the new Realism ; and an innate 
insolence and conceit made him a fierce partisan. 

He detested the orientalism into which the romantic movement 
was passing. With a contempt for the Classics and Romantics, 
Courbet painted what he saw ; his only aim to paint well. He 
would have none of the dead symbols ; none of the past. He was 
a born rebel, and leader of rebels. As a republican he bluntly 
refused the cross of the Legion of Honour from the Emperor ; and 
he fought for the Commune. With the landscape men of the 
" thirties," who were outcasts, he threw in his sympathies. They 
were rebels. His famous portrait of himself as The Man with the 
Leather Belt announced a new movement in France of great power. 
In his hatred of " the pretty " of the academics he brought in the 


painting of gross female nudes. He set character above beauty. WHEREIN 
He prepared the way for a greater — Manet. j\^ TRLJCU» 

Henley, I think it was, who neatly put it that "in Millet there LENT 
were none of the bad qualities of the peasant ; there were few of the FELLOW 
good ones in Courbet." It was a harsh judgment, but Courbet was TURNS 
a vulgar fellow, a braggart, and an egoist whose conceit drove him THE EYES 
to any kind of notoriety, and to lord it amongst low fellows, and to OF FRANCE 
rough company. But he had the hand and eye and brain of the TO SOMBRE 
born painter ; even whilst he laughed loud at imagination and REALITIES 
scorned poetry. He would scoff at the folly of painting angels. 
" Painting," said he, holding up his ten fingers, " is that " ; but he 
forgot that the impression on the senses and the brain that guided 
the fingers were even more " that " ; his instinct made no such 

Courbet had seen Delacroix and Corot and Millet passed by ; 
he was determined that he at least should be noticed. He shouted 
his way to notoriety. He was no mere artist, but hot politician and 
hard talker ; he loved to hear himself shout down all opposition. 
And be it said, in all fairness, he did for Realism what the great 
artists of his age could not do — he made it a power, a thing to be 

He rid painting of the literary danger of Delacroix. He had to 
be, if the French genius were to be saved. 'Tis true he set up the 
false formula of Art for Art's sake — that is to say, for mere power of 
craftsmanship ; but he killed the Beauty folly. The critics took the 
vapourings and theories of the drunken dog as seriously as they 
always do. 

Courbet was an illiterate boor ; saw only the crudities of life ; 
and painted but material things. But what he could see he could 
paint. The mere realism of Hals and Zurbaran and Ribera and 
Velazquez appealed to him as the whole end of art. He discovered 
that if a thing were to be painted with vitality it must be done 
rapidly, as at a stroke. 

Yet Courbet began by copying Van Dyck, and was influenced 
by Delacroix. He slowly rejected the softer style for a more 
vigorous brush. His famous Self-Portrait, the Man in the Leather 
Belt, was of 1849. In 1850 he entered upon his great middle 
period, beginning with the powerful Enterretnent (funeral at Ornans). 
Taking Hals, the great Spaniards, and Rembrandt as his masters, 
Courbet the great Tenebrosist opened the gates to France. 

The Dresden Stone-Breakers was of 1850, the year of Millet's 
Sower — Millet had only broken with his past in 1848 with his 



REALISM Winnower. The two men thus developed side by side, though 

AND PRE- probably the JVinnoiver had made its mark on Courbet. Both men 

RAPHAEL- were deeply indebted to Daumier. But mightier as was Millet in 

IXE his realm Courbet worked in a wider realm and had a far wider 

ACADEM- effect on the development of painting. Millet was the greater 

ISM designer, the greater artist ; Courbet a far greater painter. But 

Courbet had relied on dark shadows ; as a school arose that filled its 

shadows with colour, Courbet essayed to paint colour into his 

shadows, and found his limitations. 

Of 1853 was his Bathers^ the Lutteurs, and the Fileuse ; of 1854 
his Cribleuses de Ble \ of 1855 was his famous one-man show in 
protest against the official display, which took Paris by storm with 
his realistic huge Atelier, in which he pays homage to Velazquez, 
a powerful work; to Velazquez he looked again in 1855 in his 
Rencontre, to the realistic Velazquez, not the impressionist ; and in 
1856 in his Ladies on the Bank oj the Seine, and the portrait group of 
the Proudhon Family. 

Then came his woodland scenes during the sixties. The Curee 
and the huge Halali were of the fifties; then in 1861 he painted 
the huge Combat of Stags and the rocky landscape of the Roche 
Oragnan, and thereafter he poured forth great pieces — the Puits 
Noir, the Siesta (1869), and the rest. But Courbet was not greatly 
concerned with atmosphere. He dwells, even in his nudes, upon 
the contrast of flesh with other substances. He was concerned with 
shadows more than with light. 

In the mid-sixties begin his Trouville Seapieces. The nude 
Woman in the Wave was of 1868. The Louvre Wave is of 1870. 
Then came the War ; thereafter the Commune, into which he was 
swept. Whether he took part in the Fall of the Vendome Column 
or not, he went to prison for it for six months. At the prison of 
Ste.-Pelagie he painted some fine Still Life of remarkable power, and 
portraits. But prison broke him. His hard life, his harder 
drinking, perhaps a sense of dishonour in the affair which made him 
an outlaw, saw him rapidly break up ; and he died at fifty-seven on 
the last day of 1877 in the Swiss village of La Tour. His repute 
suffered in the wrangle over his disorderly life and boorish ways ; 
but to-day the genius of Courbet is being realised. He remains this 
great example to the age that, instead of going back to dead art, he 
took up art where the greatest had laid it down, and essayed to 
carry its utterance forward. Courbet must not be judged by much 
of the landscape of his last years, in which he employed 



1828 - 1906 A TRUCU- 

Courbet's friend, the Belgian Stevens, born at Brussels in 1828, LENT 
and dying in Paris in 1906, was one of the most exquisite masters of FELLOW 
the age. His subtle sense of colour, and his style, make him one of TURNS 
the greatest limners of the age of the crinoline. THE EYES 


1833 -1900 REALITIES 

Antoine Vollon, born at Lyons, " le Chardin de nos jours," is a 
superb painter of still-life. Self-taught in the mysteries, he learnt 
engraving in the Ecole des Beaux-Arts of his tov^^n ; he was early 
painting, and he made for Paris when the down came to his lip. 
The Salon of 1864 saw two pictures by him. Art et Gourmandise 
and Interior of a Kitchen, which last was bought by the city of 
Nantes. Thenceforth he knew success. A medal came to him in 
1865 ; the city of Lyons bought his Singe a F Accordeon from the 
Salon of 1866, and the Luxembourg his Curiosites. In 1870 he won 
the ribbon of the Legion of Honour with his famous Poissons de 
Mer, and thereafter came success after success. Vollon is also a fine 
painter in water-colours. Vollon trained Victor Vincelet, who 
committed suicide in 1871 whilst still young and at the height of a 
rare promise. 

R I B O T 

1823- 1891 
A most powerful artist, painting the nude with the strong 
lighting and dark shadows of the Tenebrosi, and carrying on the 
revelation of Ribera in an art akin to that of Courbet, Ribot 
stands out as one of the greatest of the men belonging to the Realist 
movement. In his kitchen-scenes and still-life he takes rank hard 
by Chardin. 


Henner bathes his nudes of beautiful women in a rich warm 
colour, and treats them in an atmosphere of twilight that gives his 
work a character all his own, and makes his art kin with that dark 
movement towards impressionism that preceded Manet. Henner has 
painted fine portraits. 



A word must be said of Meryon, who etched several fine plates 
VOL. VIII — o 105 




of somewhat hard realism, amongst others the haunting masterpiece 
of the Morgue. 

Meanwhile, to Belgium — to Brussels — had gone the glamour of 
Millet — her peasants and miners roused artistic utterance. Millet 
and Courbet appealed to such a people with power and sympathy. 
The movement was to bring forth two artists of genius — the 
sculptor Meunier and the painter-etcher Rops. 

1831 - 1905 

Although Meunier, as sculptor, is outside the range of this 
History, his influence has been profound. He began by essaying 
painting as well as sculpture. Sculpture he rid of tradition, as 
Millet had rid painting — particularly of Italian spectacles. He 
applied sculpture to life, and wrought it as an impression. Under 
Millet and Courbet he became a realist. In his sculpture he 
created the sensed thing ; he uttered the miner and the peasant with 
great power. He became in clay the poet of Labour. He gave 
forth its dignity and its tragic significance. There is epic grandeur 
in all his art. 



The Belgian Felicien Rops, beginning under the glamour of 
Millet, alongside Meunier, soon found in the satire of sex a more 
congenial field of utterance for his biting line. As Guys concerns 
himself with the femininity of the Second Empire, so Rops may be 
said to have continued the inquisition. Pleasure was the aim of 
Paris ; but it was now pleasure by night. Rops satirises the lure of 
woman that seemed the dominating pursuit of the France of his age 
in his eyes. He has something of the medijeval idea of woman 
being the temptation of Satan ; and he draws her with great power, 
generally in this pose or the pose of the Sphinx, which was 
dominating the whole poetry of the age, from Baudelaire to La- 
forgue. Not only was Rops one of the greatest mezzotinters and 
engravers of his age, but he drew the nude with power ; even 
though he gave forth his art in erotics. The sense of wizardry and 
occultism that his work exhales is difficult to put into words. 

Born on the 6th of July 1833, at Namur, to a rich manufacturer 
half Walloon, half Hungarian, Felicien Rops went through the 
1 06 


university as a gay student, given to pleasure, the hunt, and frail WHEREIN 
women. At twenty-three this man of the world was drawing for a TRUCU- 
the satirical papers, and at once made a mark, with drawings akin in LENT 
style to the genius of Gavarni and of Daumier, but with a strong FELLOW 
erotic note from the start, and with a pronounced revelation of his TURNS 
interest in sombre and dark grounds and largeness of design. By THE EYES 
1 86 1 he was married and his repute established. His earlier satires OF FRANCE 
on the classics and on the romantic schools were chiefly in litho- TO SOMBRE 
graphy. With his famous attack on the scandals of the monasteries REALITIES 
in Les Trappistes, he turned from lithography to the etching acid and 
entered upon his great series of etchings and engravings. His 
strength was always in mass ; and the line etchings are weak com- 
pared with his mass work. Restless and energetic, Rops seemed 
unable to settle anywhere. From Thoze, his wife's chateau, he made 
for Brussels; from Brussels he made for Paris, held by perpetual 
discontent and disquietude. At Paris he met Daumier. Rops was a 
student all his life, ever bent on learning and on increasing his powers. 
From 1869 to 1874 he poured forth some of his finest plates. In 
1875 he founded in Belgium the "International Society of 
Engravers." Living between Paris and Belgium, he made a journey 
to the Tyrol, returning to the Ardennes. By the end of 1878 he 
had created a large mass of studies of the nude. He now took a 
house at Marlotte by Paris, where he gave forth the famous Woman 
with the Hog, a large plate in colours. 

About 1880 he made for Seville and Granada. He steadily 
increased his craftsmanship to the end, coming to high achievement 
in aquatint. It is no easy matter to describe Rops' plates, as he 
invented with Rossenfosse a method of " Vernis-Mou" to produce 
the effect of pencil ; and his essays in dry-point, eau-forte, and aqua- 
tint are affairs of technique that require the craftsman's skill to 
define ; and as he employed on his plates water-colours, crayon, 
pastel, ink, and body-colour (gouache) his range is most intricate. 
Of his famous " Cent Croquis " he himself engraved but one, the 
Fair of the Loves ; the rest were engraved after his death. In 1 891-92 
Rops began to suffer that paralysis of the brain that was to destroy 
him. The first attack passed, he went to Provence. His sight was 
attacked. The madness that fell on his friend Maupassant caused 
him severe suffering. He wrought a few fine plates in 1893 and 
1894. Passing his winters in Provence, his summers at Corbeil 
outside Paris, death took him on the 24th of August 1897. He 
lived to see France supreme in art. His Scandal, the Satan Solving 
Tares, the Absinthe-drinker, the Woman Crucified, the Coup de la 



REALISM JarretPere, the Sunday, the Head of an Old Flemish Woman, the Sphinx^ 

AND PRE- the Dame au Pantin ; the fine nude of the Masques Parisiens in which 

RAPHAEL- the flesh is wrought with miraculous power, a plate wrecked, as so 

jY£ often by Rops, with tedious, puerile, and distracting details ; as is 

ACADEM- the fine Ulmpuissance d^ Aimer, the powerful V Attrapade, women 

jSM quarrelling on the stairs ; the lyrical etching of La Grande Lyre in 

which the strings of the lyre ascend into the heavens ; the brutal 

but powerful Le Gandin Ivre ; the fine Gleaners ; and the largely 

designed Woman with the Hog, show the wide range of the man 

who gave all his gifts to the utterance of the call of sex. 






That most foreign writers should be utterly baffled by the English WHEREIN 
Pre-Raphaelite movement, and mistake its significance, its intention, THE 
and its results, is not difficult to understand when it is seen how BRITISH 
vaguely the whole movement is understood by our own writers. PAINTERS 
The confusion is due to the complication that from the very begin- TAKE THE 
ning it was a vague effort involving two absolutely different inten- FIGURE 
tions, which inevitably burst asunder in a very few years. INTO THE 





1787-1849 ^^^^ ™^ 

' ' ^^ _ GLAMOUR 

A colourist of high rank, one of the great painters of the nude qF THE 
in his century, Etty's modest character and sincerity and simplicity SUNLIGHT 
are of the heroic essence. His masterly gifts have been all too long 
neglected. Think of the position that would be given to Etty if 
he had been a Frenchman ! 

Born to a miller of York on the loth of March 1787, the boy 
William Etty, in 1798, at eleven, was 'prenticed to a painter of 
Hull for seven weary years. In 1806, at nineteen, he went to 
London to his uncle in Lombard Street, to work for the Academy 
schools, studying the plaster-casts at Gianelli's shop. Etty and 
Collins entered the Academy schools together in 1807. Etty's 
uncle now paid the fees to apprentice Etty to Lawrence, who 
shockingly neglected his pupils, and Etty went through the deeps 
of despondency. His year with Lawrence over, he went straight to 
Nature, and copied Old Masters the while for schooling ; and to the 
end of his days he sat as a simple student at the Academy life-school. 



REALISM He missed all the prizes of art — he would, naturally. His pictures 
AND PRE- were rejected year after year. 

RAPHAEL- At last, in 1820, the Coral-Finders, and in 1821 his Cleopatra^ 

ITE made his reputation. So in 1822 he made for Italy, Venice in 

ACADEM- particular casting its glamour over him. In 1824 he was back in 

ISM London ; showed his Pandora crowned by the Seasons ; was made 

A.R.A., and in 1828 R.A. In the summer of 1849 a collection 

of his works in London surprised the public with his great gifts of 

colour ; but he died in his native York on the 13th of November 

of the same year, a bachelor of retired and simple ways, who 

had won to considerable wealth. The National Gallery has his 


To understand the Pre-Raphaelite movement it is necessary to 
grasp fully the fact that Pre-Raphaelite academism was but a small 
part of a movement which had for its far greater aim the intention 
of realism and colour under full open daylight. 

It was from Etty that the young Millais learnt colour — and 
Madox Brown owned his indebtedness. They all strove to follow 
Etty's flesh-painting. They struggled to acquire the subtlety of his 
touch and his astounding range of colour from his three or four 
paints. Frith also, but Millais above all, was his worshipper and 
disciple. Etty it was who drew Millais to his gospel of early man- 
hood " to go direct to Nature." 


1805 - 1876 

John Frederick Lewis, R.A., known in his early days as 
" Spanish Lewis," went thereafter to the East, always interested in 
the sunlight, and painting with minute care. He forestalled the 
detailed painting of the Pre-Raphaelites, their realism, and their 
gem-like colour. 


Meanwhile, the domestic anecdote or pretentious historical 
canvas was being produced by Augustus Egg, by Poole, by 
MuLREADY, by Cope, Maclise, and their like. 

Now, since so-called Pre-Raphaelism contains two great move- 
ments — the vital stream of Realism, and the reactionary stream of 
Primitive-academism — we had better first glance at the Primitive- 
academic intention which was setting in all over Europe, since it is 
the most serious threat to art to-day. 
1 10 


A pseudo-Gothic ideal had set in about the end of the seventeen- WHEREIN 
hundreds, led by Horace Walpole. Then the Houses of Parliament THE 
were built in the Gothic ideal. Primitive-academism was in the BRITISH 
air. In France Poussin had called Raphael an ass, and even PAINTERS 
Raphael-worshipping Ingres had cast back his hard eyes. By TAKE THE 
1820 Berlin was buying Primitives. FIGURE 

The group of German artists at Rome, called " Nazarenes," INTO THE 
sought the foundations of art in mimicry of the Primitives. Of OPEN AIR 
these " Nazarenes," Overbeck, Veit, Schnorr, Cornelius, and Pfiihler, AND 
the leaders were Cornelius (1783-1867) and Overbeck (1789- REALISM 
1869). Scriptural subjects of a somewhat frigid kind resulted ; PASSES 
they were devout Catholics who worked in cells like Fra Angelico, INTO THE 
hoping thereby to snare his genius. There were vigils, fastings, GLAMOUR 
and flagellations. They had little concern with Nature ; and OF THE 
abhorred the nude model as a sin. Sir Francis Palgrave seems to SUNLIGHT 
have been smitten with the affectation, for he published in 1840 
the doctrines of the reaction, which Ruskin afterwards made the 
basis of his Modern Painters, and clamoured for the " arts and crafts " 
that afterwards became the gospel of Morris and Burne-Jones. 

Now, the term Pre-Raphaelite has been so widely used both by this 
school itself and for other schools, that I here intend to use it in its 
only significant sense — as being a deliberate intention to paint in the 
manner of the Italians before Raphael. We shall see that this was 
a definite part of the intention of the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, 
but not its Jirst intention, nor long persisted in by the whole three 
original members. 

William Dyce, R.A. (i 806-1 864), born at Aberdeen, 19th 
September 1806, to a physician of that town, studied art secretly 
whilst at the Marischal College, saved enough to take him to 
London with a letter to Lawrence ; and thereafter went to the 
Academy schools. In 1825 he was in Rome, went back to 
Aberdeen in 1826, then back to Rome the next year, where he met 
the German "Nazarenes." Back again in 1828, Dyce won to 
wide success in portraiture at Edinburgh, In Italy again in 1832, 
he became A.R.S.A. in 1835 ; he wrote on art education, and on the 
creation of the national Schools of Design he was made the head. 
He competed for the Westminster decorations ; and painted the 
Baptism of Ethelbert in the Lords (1846), and the series of Arthur 
frescoes in the Queen's Robing Room. He did a large mass of 
decoration. He became A. R.A. in 1844, R.A. in 1848 ; and 
refused the presidency on the death of Shee. Dyce was an ardent 
High Churchman, a learned man, a fine musician. 

1 1 1 


REALISM But a far greater than Dyce, Madox Brown, it was who 

AND PRE- really gave its vital impetus in Realism to the coming school. 
RAPHAEL- A group of young men drew together vaguely as the Pre- 

ITE Raphaelite Brotherhood, weary of the banalities of classic-academism, 

ACADEM- and sought to bring back English art to relation with life. Yet so 
ISM steeped was painting in the Old Masters, spite of all Hogarth's 

thunders and Constable's warnings, that these very men — a galaxy 
of genius whose intention was modern — sought to utter it in 
an academic craftsmanship older than the academism they despised. 
The Pre-Raphaelite artists, with a sincere intention to be Realistic, 
could not create a new form to utter it — even though Turner was 
before them as a stupendous creator of the new orchestra whereby 
to utter the new art. They therefore sought for a certain freshness 
of manner in the style before the classical, which had become a bore- 
dom ; they naturally went to the century before Raphael — that was 
the most obvious path to unobviousness. 

The Englishmen went back and steeped themselves in the 
scattered unrelated details of the earlier Italians. The first blight 
that fell upon them, almost of necessity, was symbolism — the mis- 
taking of sensing in Art for intellectual appeal. At once they 
stepped outside the limits of painting into the art of literature. 
Their own age receded, and they tried to see it in terms of 
Renaissance Florence. 




There was born at Calais on the i6th of April 1821 to Ford 
Brown, a purser who had retired from the British Navy, a child. 
Ford Madox Brown, perhaps the genius of the whole movement. 
Now he went as a youth to Bruges to the Academy there, to learn 
the mysteries ; thence to Ghent ; thence to the Antwerp Academy 
under Baron Wappers — and whilst under Wappers he painted in 
1837 his Job and his Friends. In 1841 he sent the Giaour s Confession 
to the Royal Academy, and was painting his Execution of Mary 
Queen of Scots. About 1842 he went to Paris for three years' study 
at the Louvre, and came under the glamour of Delacroix. Of i 844 
was his Bringing the Body of Harold to the Conqueror for the West- 
minster Hall competition, and other works, with Justice in 1845. 
From Paris he made for Italy for the benefit of his wife's health, 
she dying in Paris on his way to London in 1845. -^^ desired to 
get back to Nature, but the Nazarenes in Rome despised Nature. 
He could find no master to lead him to Nature, so he set to work to 


discover her for himself. He went first of all to the white canvas WHEREIN 
instead of the brown as ground for painting. At twenty-five, in THE 
1846, Madox Brown came to settle in London, with designs for BRITISH 
his Wickliffe and Chancer^ and set to work on his Our LatJye of' PAINTERS 
Saturday Night. It was in 1 847 that he painted his oil-sketch for TAKE THE 
the Wickliffe, which, on being shown, drew a letter of warm enthusi- FIGURE 
asm from a young Italian in London called Rossetti, who begged INTO THE 
him to teach him colour for six months. Madox Brown, then OPEN AIR 
unknown, and suspecting irony from some flippant youth, sallied AND 
out with a stout stick to his address to chasten him, found a wild REALISM 
enthusiast instead, and refusing all fees, he undertook to train him — PASSES 
so to Madox Brown in the March of 1848 Rossetti went. INTO THE 

That year of 1848 there gathered together the youths Rossetti, GLAMOUR 
Holman Hunt, and Millais, and banded themselves into the " Pre- OF THE 
Raphaelite Brotherhood." Madox Brown was its father, though SUNLIGHT 
never a member. 

Madox Brown was now to reject all forerunners and create open- 
air painting of great power. 

The enthusiasm of the youngsters caught the inspirer of the 
school. In 1 85 1 he painted the Pretty Baa Lambs in open-air 
effects, and the unfinished Take Tour Son, Sir. The fine Washing of 
Peter s Feet \n2l% of 1852, in which year he begun to paint his famous 
Work wherein a new art arises in England, which Work he finished 
eleven years later, and his great and powerful The Last of England, 
painted from himself, his wife, and infant child, in the open air, 
regardless of all precedent, and suggested by seeing Woolner off to 
Australia — a haunting, powerful impression in which the stern resolve 
and pathosof the emigrant is rendered with immortal phrasing — this he 
finished three years afterwards — in both masterpieces he comes to grips 
with Reality, and paints poems of Life, hampered only by an antique 
instrument for the utterance of it. Though painting literary 
romance the while, he, in 1878, began his famous twelve historical 
paintings for the Town Hall of Manchester which he worked upon 
until the year of his death in London on the 6th of October 1893. 

Madox Brown by 1 840 was making the play of light during the 
different parts of the day utter the colour-moods fitting to those times of 
the day. But be it remembered that whilst he encouraged the 
youngsters he sternly refused to join any clique as being against the 
essential quality of a man's artistic utterance — the development of 
personality. He could not carry on, had not then the power to 
carry on, the development of the gamut of art where the greatest 
had laid it down ; and his sole salvation was to go back to earlier 
VOL. VIII — p 1 13 




realism — to get in touch with life at such a point on the backward 
road as he could reach. He then rapidly added the colour-har- 
monics of Turner, essaying to put his figure in the open air, and to 
utter the colour resulting therefrom in brilliant and broken form. 

Madox Brown worked on with heroic dignity, unrecognised, 
passed over by Ruskin and the vogue that hailed with enthusiasm 
all that was reactionary and bad in the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. 
In him England brought forth one of her greatest masters, who 
wrought colour like flashing jewels, and snared the sun to his canvas. 
His greatly gifted son Oliver died at nineteen ; but his daughters 
Mrs. Hueffer and Mrs. W. M. Rossetti inherited also something 
of their great father's genius. 



1827 - 1910 

William Holman Hunt was born in the April of 1827 to 
a warehouseman of London in Wood Street, Cheapside. He had 
to struggle in youth against his father's desire to make a clerk 
ot him. Leaving school at twelve or so, he went as clerk 
to an auctioneer, who by good luck was interested in art and en- 
couraged the lad. At sixteen he went as assistant to the London 
agent of a Manchester calico-printer called Cobden, who was to 
become immortal as the champion of Free Trade, where a brother- 
clerk and he indulged in drawing flies on the frosted glass 
to trick their overlord into brushing them off. Much against 
the desire of his family he now spent his salary on painting- 
lessons from a portraitist. The loss of money by his father in a 
lawsuit looked like wrecking the eager young fellow's hopes ; 
but by doggedly painting portraits after office-hours he paid his 
way and worked at the British Museum. Twice rejected for the 
Academy schools, he at last won through in the July of 1844. 
Here the youth of seventeen met the boy Millais, then fifteen, and 
Rossetti. Then in 1 848 came the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, 
and with the generous money aid of Millais he painted one of his 
finest pictures, The Hireling Shepherd, the year that Millais painted 
his Ophelia. It is remarkable that, whilst he never mastered a certain 
hardness, Holman Hunt in this open-air picture, in his effort to 
utter sunlight and out-of-door lighting, employs and masters the 
broken colour which was later to create an astounding movement 
in France. The Hireling Shepherd marks an epoch in the develop- 


1827 - 1910 


(Sir Cuthbert Quilter's Collection) 

" The Apostles regarded it (the Scapegoat) as a symbol of the Christian 
Church, teaching both them and their followers submission and patience under 
affliction. . . . One important part of the ceremony was the binding a scarlet 
fillet round the head of this second goat when he was conducted away from 
the Temple, hooted at with execration, and stoned until he was lost to sight 
in the wilderness. The High Priest kept a portion of this scarlet fillet in the 
Temple, with the belief that it would become white if the corresponding fillet 
on the fugitive goat had done so, as a signal that the Almighty had forgiven 
their iniquities. . . . The whole image is a perfect one of the persecution and 
trials borne by the Apostolic Church, and perhaps by the Churcli, as subtly 
understood, to this day." 

The picture was originally called "Azazel": it was painted near Oosdoom 
by the Dead Sea. " Every minute the mountains became more gorgeous and 
solemn, the whole scene more unlike anything ever portrayed. Afar all 
seemed of the brilliancy and preciousness of jewels, while near, it proved to 
be only salt and burnt lime, with decayed trees and broken branches brought 
down by the rivers feeding the lake. Skeletons of animals, which had 
perished for the most part in crossing the Jordan and the Jabbok, had been 
swept here, and lay salt-covered, so that birds and beasts of prey left them 
untouched. It was a most appropriate scene for my subject, and each minute 
I rejoiced more in my work." 

W. H. H 


ment of painting which has never received its right recognition. WHEREIN 
Up to this time the critics had been assaihng the youngsters ; THE 
Hunt's father heard nothing but sneers about his son's art, and the BRITISH 
young fellow had serious thoughts of emigrating to the colonies. PAINTERS 
The Hireling Shepherd was hung upon the line. TAKE THE 

The Valentine and Sylvia saw him return to illustration from FIGURE 
which the Hireling Shepherd had freed him. The merchant-princes INTO THE 
of Lancashire now and for years became noble patrons of art. OPEN AIR 
The making of gem-like colours into pictures in the sordid AND 
purlieus of Fitzroy Square was at an end. Then came the friend- REALISM 
ship of the Combes at Oxford, who were also to become loyal patrons PASSES 
to him. Thereafter came The Strayed Sheep, the Canon Jenkins, and INTO THE 
the Claudia and Isabella, which freed him of his debt to Millais and GLAMOUR 
the debt to his landlady, which had been an agony to him. OF THE 
Then he painted the world-famous Light of the World, bought SUNLIGHT 
by Mr. Combe, and given to Keble College at Oxford. The 
Awakened Conscience of 1854 followed, and Hunt made for the East 
to paint sacred subjects " on the spot," returning after two years in 
the February of 1856 with his Scapegoat. He came home to find 
himself wellnigh forgot ; he could not sell the picture ; and then 
his father died. By the help of Mr. Combe he painted the Finding 
of Christ in the Temple, for which he received a large price. So he 
made for the Holy Land again for several years. In 1867 he 
was exhibiting, and painted the Isabella and the Pot of Basil. From 
1869 until 1874 he was at work on his Shadow of the Cross. He 
was still to paint his Triumph of the Innocents. In black and white 
he made one of the supreme designs of this great age of illustration 
in his Lady of Shalott. 

Both Millais and Holman Hunt, as well as Madox Brown, rid 
painting of low tones, and increased its orchestration ; but they 
could not realise colour as a whole impression as Turner had done. 
Holman Hunt added to his artistic intention a further source of 
danger, the didactic aim, and, most dangerous of all, symbolism ; 
thus he brought the Reason into play where it has little power of 
utterance. It is exactly in the degree that his pictures require a 
" book o' the words " that he fails. 


1829 - 1896 
Born at Southampton on the 8th of June 1829, to a father and 
mother from Jersey in the Channel Islands, John Everett Millais 
passed his first six years of childhood in that island, going with his 



REALISM family to Dinan, in Brittany, thereafter (1835). He early displayed 

AND PRE- artistic gifts. The child was but eight when his family settled in 

RAPHAEL- London at Gower Street, and the boy was sent at the advice of Sir 

ITE Martin Shee to Sass's art school, winning at nine the silver medal of 

ACADEM- the Society of Arts, surprising the audience and the Duke of Sussex 

ISM who was presenting the prizes, when a child in a pinafore stepped 

forward on the call of "Mr. Millais." At eleven he went to the 

Academy schools. At seventeen he painted the Pizarro seizing the 

Inca of Peru (1846), and at eighteen won the gold medal, the year 

in which he also painted The Widow's Mite for the Westminster Hall 

competition. The young fellow now realised that he was on the 

wrong road to mastery. The following year of i 848 he was one of 

the three leaders of the seven artists who became the Pre-Raphaelite 

Brotherhood, with Nature as their aim, and the intensity and 

simplicity of the early Italians as their scheme of craftsmanship. 

In 1850 the Brotherhood began the issue of the short-lived 
Germ, in which they gave forth their views on art. Millais* 
Ferdinand and Isabella had been received with tolerance ; but his 
Carpenter's Shop (1849) was bitterly assailed. Then in 1851 came 
the exquisite Bridesmaid (or All Hallows' E'en). Mariana in the 
Moated Grange and the Woodman's Daughter, in spite of their literary 
aim, announced the coming power of the man. Literary he remained 
throughout his great period, but the Huguenot and exquisite Ophelia 
of 1852, his twenty-third year, reveal a living art. The Ophelia^ 
painted from Miss Siddall, afterwards wife to Rossetti, is a superb 
masterpiece of colour, glittering like gems ; and revealing an intense 
Realism of high poetic power — the Realism that must go before 
Impressionism is born. In his Ophelia Millais, and in his Last of 
England Madox Brown, and in his Hireling Shepherd Holman Hunt 
created a forceful and realistic art without parallel in Europe — a 
modern Realism. 

Realism indeed paid a full price for Ophelia. Millais painted 
Miss Siddall as she lay in a bath ; and Millais, on the last day of the 
sitting, forgetting to fill the lamps that kept the water warm. Miss 
Siddall received the chill that set up the rheumatic attack which at 
last brought about the suffering from which she sought relief in an 
overdose of the drug that ended her life. Millais gave forth the 
Order of Release and Proscribed Royalist in 1853, in which he reveals 
more breadth. The Academy had with rare courage elected the 
brilliant young Millais, but the election had been quashed owing to 
his age. In 1853 he was again elected A.R.A. In 1855 Mrs. 
Ruskin had her marriage with Ruskin annulled, and Millais married 



(Tate Gallery) 


her. The Autumn Leaves and the immortal Blind Girl v^cvt of 1856. WHEREIN 
Millais was now famous. The Fale of Rest, Black Brunsivicker, First THE 
Sermon, and St, Agnes' Eve followed amidst growing enthusiasm ; BRITISH 
and in 1863, at thirty-four, he was elected R.A., entering upon a PAINTERS 
wide popularity and success that brought him fortune. The TAKE THE 
haunting Sir Iswnhras at the Fonl, the Ruskin (1854), the Vale of Rest FIGURE 
(1858), mark the end of his so-called Pre-Raphaelite effort. In INTO THE 
1867 he was painting realistic detail; suddenly in 1868 he burst OPEN AIR 
forth as an impressionist with his fine Souvenir oj Velazquez. AND 

In 1 87 1 he essayed to paint landscape in his Chili October, m REALISM 
which his limitations appear. But he was now rapidly advancing PASSES 
as a portrait-painter, of which was one of his masterpieces, Mrs. INTO THE 
Bischoffsheim of 1873. In 1874 he painted his virile The North-lVest GLAMOUR 
Passage, in 1876 the Teoman oj the Guard, and the Princes in the qF THE 
Tower in 1878. Fortune came to him, and wide popularity; and SUNLIGHT 
the frank, kindly, and downright man slowly lost his fine qualities in 
a somewhat commonplace style. Made an officer of the Legion of 
Honour in 1878, a baronet in 1885, and honoured by almost everv 
nation in Europe, he became President of the Royal Academy in 
1896, on the death of Leighton ; but even as he stepped into the 
office he was a dying man, he knew that cancer had fallen upon 
him, and he died on the 13th of August 1896. 

In the last of Millais that was buried in St. Paul's beside his 
dead friend Leighton, there was laid to rest the body of a noble- 
hearted and forceful personality. He rapidly rejected Primitive- 
academism, and from detailed Realism advanced towards a broader and 
more impressionistic vision, which, whilst he never reached in it to 
as great heights as he had done in his earlier manner, at least 
yielded the Souvenir of Velazquez, The Convalescent, and The North- 
IVest Passage, in which Trelawny, the friend of Byron and Shelley, 
appears. But Millais had shot his bolt. 


1828 - 1882 
There was born to an Italian poet and refugee, Gabriele Rossetti 
and his wife Frances Polidori, in London on the 12th of May 1828, 
a son Gabriel Charles Dante Rossetti, a precocious child, who 
by sheer genius and personal force was to be chiefly instrumental in 
setting back the genius of British art. Leaving King's College 
School, where his father was professor of Italian, the young fellow 
in 1 841-2 went to Cary's studio in Bloomsbury and the Academy 
schools in 1846. Whilst there he was more interested in the work of 
Gavarni than the teaching ; and there he met two young students, 





Millais and Holman Hunt. Rossetti having taken lessons fronn 
Madox Brown, the three young fellows banded themselves together 
in primitive-academic intention as the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood 
in 1848, with its secret signs and all the other paraphernalia of a 
secret society that Rossetti's Italian blood and fancy made a part 
of the compact. Four lesser men were of the group. The aim 
was Realism. The German Pre-Raphaelism of the " Nazarenes " 
being their sampler to a certain degree. 

Rossetti shared a studio with Holman Hunt Under Holman 
Hunt's guidance the young Rossetti painted his first picture, The 
Girlhood of Mary Virgin^ in 1849 — of 1849-50 being the fine 'Ecce 
Ancilla Domini (Annunciation). The critics, including Dickens, 
bitterly assailed this work. Rossetti and Holman Hunt paid a visit 
to Belgium and Paris ; then came the publication of The Germ. 
Rossetti came back to England to find himself frantically abused. 
He was miserably poor. He had as yet sold but one picture, and 
that to the rich patron to whom his aunt was governess. He now 
seriously thought of becoming a telegraphic clerk, but found the 
instrument difficult to learn. He called the unsaleable Annunciation 
his "blessed white eyesore"; turned his back on religious subjects, 
and opened his Keats, Dante, and other poets. In the November of 

1852 he took rooms at Chatham Place, Blackfriars. Help was at hand. 
Rossetti was essentially an illustrator of ballads and legends. Of 

1853 was his only effort in Realism in relation to life, the well- 
known Found. 

In 1853 the Brotherhood was broken up. Holman Hunt went 
to Palestine ; Millais was elected to the Academy ; Woolner had 
gone to Australia ; Madox Brown alone remained to Rossetti. 
Ruskin now came into his life to save him ; he became his patron 
as well as friend in 1854 — and Swinburne and the Morris family 
increased the number of his circle. 

In i860 Rossetti married a milliner. Miss Siddall, his model, 
whose haunting face did much for his type of womanhood ; she 
took on the loth of February 1862 an overdose of laudanum and 
died the next morning, but had sat to him for five years before his 
marriage. He was pouring forth poems that are as much rich 
painting as his paintings are rich verse — the haunting The 
Blessed Damozel, and Sister Helen, and his writings for The Germ 
(1850). In bitter sorrow he buried his first volume of manu- 
script poems with his dead wife. In 1854 Rossetti started the 
public interest in Malory's Morte d* Arthur. 

A glowing colourist, Rossetti created a resonant use of colour- 




1828 - 1882 

(Tate Gallery) 
From the oil painting (28i in. x 17 in.) painted in 1850. 
Slightly retouched in 1873 for the then owner, Mr Graham. 


music all his own, if founded on old Italian art, with little relation WHEREIN 
to his age, redolent of a sweet, sad fragrance of the years that are THE 
gone ; an alien art in an alien land, haunted by the longings of an BRITISH 
exile for a make-believe land of which he dreamed all his years. PAINTERS 
Without the sense of the limitations of any artistic utterance, he TAKE THE 
painted literature and wrote colour ; painted oils like water-colours FIGURE 
and water-colours like oils. INTO THE 

In the Christmas of 1855 an Oxford youth called Burne-Jones qpen aIR 
came to London and met Rossetti, whom he and a fellow-student at AND 
Oxford, William Morris, had began to worship. The fellowship of REALISM 
the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood now bore fruit in creating at Exeter PASSES 
College, Oxford, a still more powerful fraternity, whose "crusade INTO THE 
and holy warfare against the age" was to have a wide effect undreamed GLAMOUR 
of by the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood. Ruskin had already interested op THE 
Rossetti in his East-End enterprise of taking art amongst the workmen. SUNLIGHT 
The Arthurian legend was the symbol of their cause. Rossetti flung 
himself into the new movement. In 1857 Morris took him to 
Oxford; and he entered into the project of the decorations of the 
debating hall of the Union Society which so rapidly perished. It was 
at Oxford that he met Miss Burden, who afterwards married Morris, 
and who sat for several of Rossetti's heroines. Of 1858 was his 
fine Magdalene at the Door of Simon the Pharisee. Of 1859 is the 
Bocca Baciata, in which the face of Miss Fanny Cornforth first 
appears, whom he painted again and again, bringing her to eternal 
fame in his Lilith. Of i860 was his Dr. Johnson at the Mitre \ of 
1861 his delightful lovers kissing, called Roman de la Rose, and his 
two fiine designs for his sister's Goblin Market, the frontispiece being 
Morris's first effort at a woodcut. It should be remembered that 
Morris and Company were now bringing Rossetti much work ; 
Ruskin had practically given up all patronage of him long ago. 

The tragic death of his wife on the iith of February 1862 
made Rossetti seek another home, and he at last found 16 Cheyne 
Walk, called Queen's House, where he went with Swinburne and 
George Meredith. Meredith soon left ; but Swinburne there wrote 
" Atalanta in Calydon," and other poems. It was in the garden of 
this house that Rossetti gathered the " Zoo " which has been the 
source of much anecdote. 

Rossetti was now being sought by collectors ; became freed 
from the Morris movement ; and could develop along his own 
lines. He filled his home with a mixture of many styles of furnish- 
ments, and with Whistler " discovered " Japanese art and china. 

Here, with his heart-hunger for his dead wife, he painted his 





Beata Beatrix in her memory in 1863. Thereafter came a series of 
single figures, of which Adam's first wife, the Lady Lilith, combing 
her hair is the supreme achievement, painted in 1864. Of 1866 
was the famous The Beloved. Joli Coeur and the superbly designed 
Mona Rosa followed, then the Loving Cup in 1867. Of 1868, the 
year that his health broke and his eyesight was threatened, was the 
portrait of Mrs. William Morris. In 1869 he was attacked with 
sleeplessness. In the October his book of poems was taken from 
his wife's grave and published in 1870. Buchanan's attack upon 
the poems in "The Fleshly School of Poetry," drove the ailing man 
to believe that there was a conspiracy against him. His habit of 
taking chloral for sleeplessness had now become a vice. Buchanan's 
hint of unmentionable vices set the drugged man brooding. He is 
said to have attempted suicide. He saw a hostile crowd in every 
gathering ; spies lurked behind every wall. 

In 1 872 he went to the old Elizabethan manor-house of 
Kelmscott in Gloucestershire to his friend Morris, and got to work 
again ; in 1874 he came back to London. Mrs. Morris from 1870 
figures much as his heroine, in the Mariana and the like. His 
Pandora was of 1 871, as was his famous Daniels Dream, his largest 
work. Mrs. Morris sat for the Proserpine. . 

On Rossetti's return to London in 1874, the firm of Morris, 
Marshall, Faulkner and Co. was broken up, and became William 
Morris only, leading to estrangement with Madox Brown ; 
Rossetti also drifted away from Morris. Rossetti wandered hither 
and thither. In 1877 he had a severe illness, went to Heme Bay, 
recovered, and returned to London, but shut himself up in his 
house in Cheyne Walk, where a few close friends alone visited him, 
including Theodore Watts, Whistler, Legros, Shields, and Sandys. 
Of I 876 was the Blessed Damozel ; of i 877 the Astarte Syriaca and 
the Sea-Spell. 

In the September of 1881, Rossetti with the faithful Hall 
Caine went to Cumberland for a change ; hurriedly returned ; but, 
broken by drugs, was taken in the February of 1882 to Birchington- 
on-Sea, where he died on the loth of April. 

Rossetti had genius ; and his power of uttering emotion raised 
his art to mastery, but it was rather the emotions roused by the art 
of literature than by life. He saw life always through the art of 
others. With the vast orchestra of modern art he had nothing to 
do, and was incapable of employing it. He was a master of old- 
world instruments, dragged out of museums, and restrung for his 
thrumming, out of which he drew the ghosts of the dead Past that 


haunted them. The son of an Itahan, he went to Sass's in youth, WHEREIN 
where Cary, the son of the translator of Dante, held sway, and he THE 
left his school to conquer English culture with the book of Dante BRITISH 
under his arm, and wellnigh destroyed the native vision with PAINTERS 
Renaissance Italian spectacles. He was the one true Pre-Raphaelite TAKE THE 
of the lot ; and he was and never became anything else but a FIGURE 
primitive-academic. It is significant that under Madox Brown he INTO THE 
delighted in the copying of pictures, but fretted at painting still- OPEN AIR 
life. Yet it was a part of the strange paradox of his genius that he AND 
could and did people his art with ghosts from a bygone day ; that REALISM 
he could make song out of the twilight of the past ; that his power PASSES 
of imagination was so great that he could give us the fragrance of a INTO THE 
dead day ; and still more wonderful that, with all his hesitations in GLAMOUR 
the craft of painting, he did deliberately and by instinct move OF THE 
towards the modern effort to break up colour, and to compel colour SUNLIGHT 
to rouse the eye, as the ear is stirred by concord of sweet sounds. 

Of the lesser members of the P.R.B. whom Rossetti beat up 
as recruits, F. G. Stephens gave up indifferent painting for in- 
different criticism ; Woolner the sculptor was a poet to the firm ; 
Rossetti's brother seems to have been biographer and general 
secretary ; and the sluggish Collinson, after suffering much 
dragging out of bed to see the moon shine, " got religion," and 
retired to Stonyhurst, when Deverell was elected in his place, but 
died young. An almost part of the brotherhood was Rossetti's 
greatly gifted sister Christina Rossetti. 

Of the detailed Realists, wholly untouched by Primitive- 
academism, was Frith. 


i8 19-1909 

William Powell Frith, C.V.O., R.A., was born to a man- 
servant in the house of Mrs. Lawrence of Studley Royal in the 
village of Aldfield in West Yorkshire on January 9, 18 19, the 
father later, in 1826, becoming landlord of The Dragon Inn at 
Harrogate. When a boy at school at Knaresborough, the small 
Frith at seven showed signs of an artistic gift, and his father 
requested that all his other schooling should give way to drawing. 
At school at Dover later, the boy was copying prints. The father 
was set on the lad becoming an artist, checked his desire to become 
an auctioneer, brought him to London in 1835, where, after two 
vol. viii — Q 121 




years under Sass, he joined the Academy schools, was early making 
portraits, tried his hand at subjects from literature, won Dickens's 
approval with his Dolly Varden in 1842, having shown in 1840 his 
first picture, Maholio, at the Royal Academy. His first hit was 
made in 1 843 with the Vicar of Wakefield. In 1 845 he was elected 
to the Academy, of which he became R.A. in 1852. Two years 
thereafter he painted Ramsgate Sands, which was bought by the 
Queen; and in 1858 he knew a wide sensation with his famous 
Derby Day, and four years thereafter painted his Railway Station. 
The Road to Ruin in 1878 revealed loss of power. In passages, 
such as the central lady in the Derby Day, he not only proves 
himself a colourist, but an excellent painter of life. 

It is to be noted that the Pre-Raphaelites were Realists first ; 
and only after they had gathered together was it that, on looking 
at some prints of the frescoes at the Campo Santo in Pisa, did they 
become Pre-Raphaelites in aim. Even whilst, in intention, they 
only took artistic utterance as far as Hogarth had taken it, they in 
reality, coming to grips with life in order to create the illusion of 
life under full sunlight, vastly increased the gamut of painting. 
Their failure lay in dissipating Impressionism by breaking the 
impression upon warring details. Why Holman Hunt and Millais 
should have " gone to Nature " before Raphael, considering that the 
men before Raphael did not come within leagues as close to Nature as 
the masters after Raphael — Hals and Velazquez and Rembrandt and 
Constable and Turner — heaven alone knows, since by their very 
lack of the gamut of painting they could not possibly so go ! The 
young fellows condemned Rembrandt, adored — Ary Scheffer ! 
made Delaroche a god, and in general reorganised and kicked the 
world about for a few short years, rearranged the universe, and drew 
up a list of the only immortals — headed by Jesus Christ and ending 
with Tennyson ! 

Of the disciples of detailed Realism were several good artists. 

Arthur Hughes (1830- ) who was a mere lad when the 
P.R.B. took shape, wrought an art closely akin to that of Millais. 
His April Love is famous. 

Sir Noel Paton (1821-1908), the friend of Millais, gave him- 
self up to religious and fairy subjects. Born at Dunfermline, he 
came to the Academy schools in 1842. He was knighted in 1866. 
Charles Allston Collins, son of William Collins, R.A., and 
brother to Wilkie Collins, painted in the manner of Millais Convent 
Thoughts and the like works, but died early. W. S. Burton, best 
known by his Wounded Cavalier and his haunting face of the Christ 


behind prison bars in The World's Gratitude^ was to suffer neglect, WHEREIN 
ill-health, and ill-fortune ; beginning with winning the gold medal THE 
at the Academy schools, he has been dogged by sorrow and BRITISH 
bad luck. PAINTERS 

The art of William Lindsay Windus of Liverpool was TAKE THE 
silenced for many years by a great sorrow, atter a brilliant beginning. FIGURE 
Mathew James Lawless, born in Dublin in 1837, learnt the INTO THE 
mysteries in London, and, though afflicted with deafness and ill- OPEN AIR, 
health, and destined to an early death, made a mark in illustration. AND 
Consumption took him in 1864. Holman Hunt strongly influenced REALISM 
W. J. Webbe ; also Robert Martineau, who was doomed to an PASSES 
early death. INTO THE 

Others began their careers under the Pre-Raphaelite influence, and GLAMOUR 
afterwards drifted from it : Henry Wallis, best known for his OF THE 
dead Chatterton \ John Brett, A.R.A. (1830-1902), who first made SUNLIGHT 
his mark with his fine Stonebreaker before he became a sea-painter 
(he was the son of an officer in the 12th Lancers) ; Henry Moore 
(i 831-1895), another sea-painter; Inchbold ; Seddon ; William 
Davis ; Waller Paton, R.S.A. ; G. D. Leslie ; Val Prinsep ; 
Storey ; J. D. Watson, best known for his masterly drawing of 
Ash Wednesday ; H. W. B. Davis, R.A. ; Philip Calderon, R.A. ; 
whilst the Scotsmen, Sir William Fettes Douglas ; Hugh 
Cameron, R.S.A. ; James Archer ; Joseph Henderson ; and the 
powerful broad work of a great Scottish painter, William 
M'Taggart, R.S.A., began in the Pre-Raphaelite tradition with 
such fine canvases as The Thorn in the Foot. 

Sir J. D. Linton is of this school. 


Of the Detail-Realists, in Millais' vein, are Byam Shaw, 
Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale, and Katherine Cameron ; 
whilst Mrs. Young Hunter is one of its most exquisite disciples, 
as is her husband J. Young Hunter ; nor is the slowly produced 
and gem-like work of Cadogan Cowper readily passed by. The 
whole group of these painters is remarkable for brilliant colour, 
for mastery of daylight, and for poetic sense. Frank Craig is 
one of the most gifted with imagination and craftsmanship of the 
group, combining something of the Sargentesque side of Abbey's 
art with his realism. 








A man of pure genius is Cayley Robinson who, whilst he 
employs an antique style, breathes a modern utterance, and his art 
is at close grips with life. He gives voice to a haunting poetry 
that is a part of modern Detail-Realism ; and his original and 
powerful art raises him to a high place in the art of our age. He 
combines mass with detail, and is in some ways quite an artist apart. 
His art gives forth a powerful emotional intensity difficult to 
describe ; and the spirit of it is so remarkably modern that it 
perhaps pronounces the somewhat archaic form wherein he utters 
it. Its appeal is as forceful as its form is rhythmic. And its 
intensity of lyrical and at times tragic power seems to be enhanced 
by its restraint. 







1 8 1 7 - 1 904 

Born in London on the 23rd of February 18 17 to a piano-tuner, WHEREIN 
George Watts of Hereford, was the child George Frederick WE WALK 
Watts, who, beginning in boyhood by painting small pictures WITH TWO 
from Sir Walter Scott, and pastorals, and Cavaliers and Roundheads, ENGLISH 
and battle-pieces after Salvator Rosa, went for a month to the GIANTS 
Academy schools in 1835, watched the sculptor Behnes at work, OF THE 
and came under the glamour of the Elgin marbles, but was destined VICTORIAN 
to create a personal and powerful art that stands alone throughout YEARS 
a century vexed by wars and battle-cries of the studios through 
which he took his solitary way aloof and untouched, his eyes on Titian 
and his heart moved by the majesty of life. He was early painting 
portraits: the poetic Self-Portrait at seventeen, painted in 1834, 
reveals great personal beauty ; and in 1837, at twenty, he sent to 
the Academy two portraits and a Wounded Heron. Thereafter came 
Cavaliers and Roundheads ; in 1841 an Isabella Jinding the Corpse of 
her Wounded Lover ; and in 1842 a Scene from Cymbeline. He about 
this time painted his first portrait of the lonides family who were to 
be such lifelong patrons — the Mrs. Constantine lonides. His Aurora 
pronounces his debt to Etty, who had a marked influence on his art. 
The new Houses of Parliament were now to be decorated, and Watts 
suddenly leaped into fame thereby ; he an unknown man. His 
Caractacus of 1843 won the prize in the Westminster Hall competi- 
tion, which gave him his desire to go to Italy where he lived for 
four years, the friend of Lord Holland, the British Minister, and 
there painted portraits. His Alfred for Westminster Hall in 1 847 
won him another prize — was bought by the State, and hangs in the 



REALISM House of Lords. His proposal to decorate the large hall of Euston 
AND PRE- Station was rejected ; hut the Benchers of Lincoln's Inn accepted 
RAPHAEL- his Justice. In 1 849 was shown his first allegory, Lifers Illusions. 
ITE About 1850 Watts went to live with his friends the Prinseps, 

ACADEM- who had rented a house on Lord Holland's estate. 
ISM Watts's The People that sit in Darkness was of 1850, as was The 

Good Smnaritan. In 1856 he went to Paris to stay with Lord 
Holland and painted several famous Frenchmen, including Thiers, 
beginning also the superb series of portraits of the great men of his 
age, which he afterwards gave to the nation. He went to Asia 
Minor in 1857. Fine paintings of these years are the Bianca and 
Sir Galahad o^ 1862, and the Ariadne in Naxos of 1863. In 1864 
Watts was persuaded by busybody friends into the marriage with 
Miss Ellen Terry which proved a meeting of Autumn and Spring, 
and was soon dissolved. Watts was elected A.R.A. in 1867, and 
soon afterwards full R.A. He worked in considerable privacy in his 
studio in Melbury Road, setting himself the painting of that cycle 
of human life that has made his name immortal, and which he 
presented to the nation, besides the Esau and Jacob (1868), the 
Death of Cain (1886), the Paolo and Francesco, Endymion, and Fata 
Morgana of 1 870 ; landscapes of poetic power ; sculpture of remark- 
able achievement such as his Clytie (1868), his great bronze 
equestrian Hugo Lupus (1884) ; and the colossal Physical Energy 
(1904), set up on the Matoppo Hills to the memory of Cecil 
Rhodes, and replica'd for Kensington Gardens. Marrying at sixty- 
nine Miss Mary Fraser-Tytler, Watts had made a country home 
at Limnerslease, in Surrey. Raised to the Order of Merit in 1902, 
having declined a baronetcy, the old artist wrought on to the end 
which came on the first of July 1904. 

Watts was a poet of great power. Founding his craft on that 
of the Greeks and the great Venetians, he uttered the significance of 
life as he felt it in broad majestic fashion. His Hope, and Love and 
Life, his Eve Tempted, and Eve Repentant, his Love and Death, his 
Love Triumphant, his Time, Death, and Judgment, his Sic Transit Gloria 
Mundi, his Minotaur, the haunting For he had Great Possessions, his 
superb nude Psyche and the like masterpieces, show him employing 
his art to utter the mood aroused in colour-schemes of astounding 
power. And he is interesting as employing broken colour freely. 
He deliberately sought to mirror his age ; he made the problem 
difficult for himself by employing the speech of dead days. The 
century took itself seriously ; it was a century of nobly-striving 
- men ; it was a century that realised that if ancient faiths were 





" HOPE " 

(Tate Gallery) 

The heavens are illuminated by a solitary star, and Hope bends her ear to 
catch the music from the last remaining string of her almost shattered lyre. 
Painted in 1SS5 and given to the nation in 1897. A duplicate is in the 
possession of Mrs Rushton. 


blown away, there was something more spiritual than mere arid WHEREIN 
materialism to take its place. He felt the desolation of catchpennies WE WALK 
that paraded under great words and empty battle-cries. He ielt life WITH TWO 
as a great and dignified adventure ; and his age being a didactic age, ENGLISH 
he preached ruthlessly. Essentially a Mass-Impressionist, Watts GIANTS 
hampered his great gifts only by looking at old symbols wherein OF THE 
to clothe that Impressionism. His robust and powerful art loves VICTORIAN 
power and force in Nature. He is without a touch of the medizeval YEARS 
spirit of the Pre-Raphaelite school ; he has nothing in common with 
the classical school of Leighton and Alma Tadema. Unable to 
copy, he learnt his craftsmanship by simply gazing on the master- 
pieces of the great dead. He could never illustrate another man's 
idea. He saw art as a national need ; he worked always with 
public aim. He gave freely of his masterpieces to the nation. He 
twice refused a baronetcy. Watts, I have said, employed the danger 
to art called symbolism ; but he used symbolism as only an artist 
should — as an emotional attribute that any man in the street may at 
once recognise. In his portraiture Watts stands out a giant — a 
poet — a mystic — for he reveals insight into the soul of man. 

By nature a stoic, he looked on art as the utterer of moralities ; 
but he was an artist by instinct, and his paintings are, as he himself 
called them, " anthems." Seeing that worldly rewards pass away 
he fixed his eyes on eternal realities, and sought to find them in the 
nobler emotions. So, on the curtain in the Sic Transit, when Death 
has robbed man of crown and fame and strength and power and 
riches. Watts wrote : " What I spent, I had ; what I saved, I lost ; 
what I gave, I have." For Watts Death had no terrors, but was a 
calm majestic giver of peace. 

Hotly opposed to the vapid ideals of all academies all his life, he 
never realised that the very basis of academies was Academism — - 
art founded on the art of the dead instead of personal vision ot life. 
His superb IVife of Pygmalion reveals academic ancestry ; and his 
carved bust of Clytie is wholly antique. 


1818 - 1875 

Within a year of Watts was born England's greatest sculptor, 
Alfred Stevens. Stevens is one of the tragedies of English art. 
That his art should have been chiefly given to designing iron fire- 
backs, superb as these are, is tragic. His two female nudes for the 
famous fireplace at Dorchester House, and his Wellington Memorial 



REALISM 3re immortal works in sculpture. His portrait of Mrs. Collmann 
AND PRE- (1854), at the Tate, proves his high artistry as painter. 
RAPHAEL- Born at Blandford, Dorset, to a painter of signs and heraldry, George 

IXE Stevens, on the 30th December 1 818, the child knew^ school-life 

ACADEM- only until ten, when he passed into his father's workshop. The lad, 
ISM befriended by the Honourable and Reverend Samuel Best, the rector, 

was sent to study art in Italy, whither he went in i 833. His instinct 
chose Andrea del Sarto as master, and he became deeply interested in 
the school of Giotto. He drifted to Florence, where he copied for 
the dealers for some years. In 1839 he was in Milan, thence made 
for Venice to copy Titian and the Venetians. Going back to Rome 
in 1840 by way of Bologna, his poverty drove him to become a 
clerk-of-works to a builder. His portrait of Morris Moore at the 
Tate shows his fine gifts in painting at this time. In 1841-42 he 
was assistant to the sculptor Thorwaldsen, whom he vowed to be 
his only master. By 1842 he was back in England. In 1844 he 
was in London, failed in the competitions for Westminster, and 
in 1845 became Master to the New School of Design at Somerset 
House, resigning in 1847, when he decorated Deysbrook, near 
Liverpool. In 1854 he was at work on St. George's Hall, Liver- 
pool. In 1850, for the firm of Hoole of Sheffield, he designed 
stoves, fenders, and the like, winning for them great exhibition 
honours. In 1852 he was in London again, designing the lions on 
the railings of the British Museum amongst other things. Of 1855 
were his series of decorative paintings after Spenser for the Murietta's 
house in Kensington. Then came medals, a ceiling for a music- 
room, and the like. In 1856 he began the Wellington Monument 
which took up the remaining seventeen years of his life, shackled 
by lack of money, and the Philistinism of officialdom, the Dean 
damaging the great design by objecting to the equestrian statue for 
the crown of the masterpiece. The four mosaics in St, Paul's (1862), 
of which the cartoon for the Isaiah is at the Tate, were of these 
days, and his masterwork is at Dorchester House. He died on the 
May-Day of 1875, worn out by the anxieties of his great monument, 
unrecognised and broken. 





We have seen German art essaying a primitive-academism of Pre- OF THE 
Raphaelism. The German people forgot their native utterance, except GERMAN 
that a certain morbid romanticism was latent. Kruger (1797-1857) GENIUS 
showed the German middle-class with a certain smug middle-class AT THE 
truthfulness. Then came Menzel in the years of the French realism MID- 
at Barbizon, and brought Realism with him, CENTURY 

1815 - 1905 

Born at Breslau on the 8th of December 181 5, Adolph von 
Menzel came rapidly to fame as a great draughtsman. His illus- 
trations to the History of Frederick the Great are famous ; they were 
of 1839 to 1842. His painting so far was feeble stuff. Suddenly, 
about 1845, he went to a display of paintings by Constable in 
Berlin. He left that display a painter ; something had awakened in 
him. Thenceforth he painted little pictures that are redolent of the 
land that bred him — luminous, masterly, compelling. That very 
year of 1845 ^^ painted the Berlin National Gallery 7»/mor with 
the sunlit window-curtain. Here a sense of impressionism kept 
him from the minute detail that he loved. Those years of the 
forties and fifties were the years of the simple, strong, German 
citizen ; and Menzel was of the fine breed, and uttered him. He 
has something of the German lack of fire, 'tis true ; he is a little 
cold — except in those little masterpieces. His senses were stirred 
by material facts ; he rarely felt the thrill of life as a great mystery. 
But his Garden of the Tuileries, his Boys Bathing (1865), his Morning 
in Paris (1869), his Elephant (1869), his Peacock and Turkeys of 
1883, and the like, show Menzel a greatly gifted man. 


In the middle of the eighteen-hundreds two men of genius 
arose, spectacled in the vision of Italy, 'tis true, but of virile force — 
Feuerbach and Von Marees. 

VOL. VIII R 129 





1829 - 1880 

Anselm Feuerbach went to Paris, to the studio of Couture in 
1851, a year after Manet began his six or seven years of studentship 
thereat, and Puvis de Chavannes was student there. Feuerbach left 
in 1854, Couture was in the ascendant, and Feuerbach mistook 
him for French art. Feuerbach was saved from Couture by the 
glowing colour of the Venetians as seen in his Death of Aretino 
(1854), and in his Mother and Children, founded on Titian's Sacred 
and Profane Love (1866) ; but even Paolo Veronese could not give 
him modern vision ; he founded on Poussin, and he was of the 
classic mould. He steeped himself in Italy, and may be said to 
represent in German art what Chasseriau created in French painting. 
Yet in his classicism was a certain fine feeling. Of light he knew 
little ; of arrangement much. He lived in a dead city. He mis- 
took the Past for culture. He was to know bitter neglect. His 
masterpieces, the Medea and the Battle with the Amazons, display 
his best and his weaknesses. His Italian Funeral, the hooded burial 
party of the Misericordia, is a noble work ; and his portrait of Lucia 
Brunacci very sound. 


1837 - 1887 

Hans von Marees came of French-Huguenot stock that had 
settled in Germany. His art was founded on the Dutchmen, par- 
ticularly Rembrandt, judging by the fine portrait of Hildebrand and 
Grant. About the mid-seventies Marees developed a new style. 
He essayed great decorative painting ; his intention is akin to that 
of Puvis de Chavannes, who had the fortune to work alongside of 
the mass-impressionists of France. He employed coat upon coat 
charged with varnish that has wrecked his work. His triptych 
of the Hesperides at Schleissheim is his masterpiece of this period, 
where also is his last fine work The Wooing. From his Golden Age 
to the Wooing, primitive-academism lies, a heavy burden, upon a fine 
nature. At work in Rome, with his pupil Volkmann, a carbuncle 
appeared on his neck ; neglect of it brought death on June 5, 
1888. In him died genius unfulfilled. 


Romanticism in Germany was to be of native growth ; the 
influence of Delacroix seems to have been wholly unfelt. 



OF TflF 

1827-1901 GENIUS 

Schack had been awhile the patron of Feuerbach and of AT THE 
Marees ; but neither the classic intention of Feuerbach nor the MID- 
heroic intention of Marees had satisfied his desire for painted idylls. CENTURY 
Bocklin's more quaint invention and essentially idyllic art ap- 
pealed to him, and he rejected patronage over the others wholly 
for Bocklin. And, of a truth, Bocklin was essentially more German 
in imagination, even though he brought Pan and the Centaurs and 
the sea-gods of southern fable into the land. He is in this sense 
classical ; but he set his classics into a German wonderland of 
gloomy or romantic landscape, painted with a primitive sense much 
akin to that of the English Pre-Raphaelites. He brought an austere 
and haunting power into landscape, which landscape, I take it, is 
in a manner suggestive of a certain part of Germany — feudal and 
romantic. Taught by Schirmer, his earlier work of the sixties has 
much of that smooth painter's emptiness, into which, however, 
Bocklin weaves a haunting poetry that cannot be denied even 
whilst its handling repels. The influence of Feuerbach is next 
seen in his Shepherdess and his Murderer pursued by the Furies (1870). 
Both men had a style founded on that of Poussin. Bocklin has at 
least painted mythic folk with a remarkable conviction of realism, 
though the intense realism at times tears the myth to pieces. This 
is the inevitable result of the very success of his attempt to show 
unrealities as real. We judge them as realities. Bocklin does so 
create these sensations. In his Rocky Glen by Moonlight (1848-9) he 
rouses the haunting sense of such a time, so in his Pan amongst the 
Reeds (1857), ^^^ ^^^ Triton and Nereid (1873), does he rouse in 
our senses something of the spirit of the hour amongst the reeds or 
by the sea, which every one of us feels as the twilight falls ; so in 
his Nymph and Pan (1874) our senses, urged by remote echoes from 
some ancestor, make us see haunting shapes in the thicket or the 
grove; so in his War of the Centaurs (1878) we hear the tramp 
and fury of the gale that drives across the moors ; or when the seas 
swing over the great rocks at set of sun we hear the Family of the 
Tritons (1880) at play, or the Mermaid with the Seafowl and the Sea- 
idyll of 1887 ; or in the great majestic glades of the forest, as in the 
Sacred Grove (1882), we almost see the procession of priests and 
priestesses emerge to make sacrifice at some high altar ; just as his 
terminal god of the Frog-King might have emerged from the weedy 
pool. So also his gloomy tragic landscapes, founded on Nature, are 


REALISM of the imagination, and rightly and fitly create a world of the 
AND PRE- imagination. That he failed badly at times cannot be denied. 
RAPHAEL- The short-lived Victor Muller, the friend of Feuerbach, was 

j-X"£ the connecting link between the German romantics and the realists. 

ACADEM- Fellow-pupil of Feuerbach at Antwerp, he was with him also under 
ISM Couture in Paris. His portrait of a Girl with Terrier and his self- 

portrait show that Courbet had impressed him. He was to have a 
great influence on Liebl and to turn his eyes to the French realists. 

BuRNiTz, the landscapist, and Burger, who became the head of a 
school at Cronberg, were of Miiller's school. 

Backward as was German painting, it was a remarkable sign 
that out of such an art as that of Schwind (i 804-1 871), of Runge 
(1777-1810), of Wasmann (1805-1886) and of Oldbach (1804- 
1830)5 so wide an art as that of Menzel should suddenly emerge. 


6 o 






We have seen how, at the Christmas of 1855, the Oxford youth WHEREIN 
Burne-Jones, then studying to become a cleric, came to London WE WALK 
and met Rossetti, whom he and his fellow-student William Morris AWHILE 
worshipped. At the end of 1856 Burne-Jones and William Morris WITH THE 
left Oxford, settled in Rossetti's old rooms at 17 Red Lion Square, ESTHETES 
and, hanging the place with old Church brasses and drawings by 
Durer, set to work to make furniture of medieval style. Then 
antique pictures were painted on the walls and cupboards and doors. 
Morris was now dreaming of a " palace of art " at the Red House 
at Upton, by Bexley Heath. In 186 1-2 was started the firm of 
Morris, Marshall, Faulkner and Co., whereby Morris, Rossetti, 
Burnes-Jone, Madox Brown and others were to reform the " arts " of 
decoration and furniture, by which they meant the crafts. The 
Anglo-Catholic movement had begun, and kept them busy. Glass- 
painting, tapestries, wall-papers, carpets, all were to know a great 

Mark, it was the true primitive-academic, not the two realists of the 
brotherhood, to whom this Oxford group paid homage. So Rossetti 
created at Exeter College, Oxford, the still more powerful Brother- 
hood of the iiEsthetes, whose " crusade and holy war against the 
age" was to have a wide effect. In 1857 Morris took Rossetti to 
Oxford, and he entered into the scheme of decorating the debating 
hall of the Union — decorations which rapidly perished. 

The Arts and Crafts movement, born out of the brains of the 
^Esthetes, had for its head and front the vigorous personality of 
William Morris, who brought an academic and precious kind of 
Socialism into the affair, whereby enormously expensive tapestries 
and mosaics and mediaeval crafts were to be wrought for the beauti- 
fying of the home. 





1834 - 1896 

Born at Walthamstow of a well-to-do family on the 24th of 
March 1834, William Morris grew to manhood a remarkable 
personality. William Morris first essayed architecture but wearied 
of it. With a deep love of the mediaeval life, he gave himself up to 
the revival of the arts and crafts. He went back to mimicry — 
splendid mimicry though it be. By consequence the whole modern 
movement has been eclectic — borrowing — not a natural development, 
and consequently incongruous and out of keeping with modern life. 
Its initial blunder was in the curse it laid upon machine-made work, 
the which, instead of despising,it ought to have madesubject to it. We 
have had by further consequence most expensive arts and crafts, beyond 
the reach of the ordinary man, whilst manufactured things, though 
better in design, have not advanced to the degree they should have 
done. Morris brought back to the pure printed page the distracting 
ornament of the early printers ; elaborate bindings added to the cost, 
and made these books the mere museum treasure of rich collectors. 
These things had no relation to the vital quality of a work of litera- 
ture — that it should be read by the millions. Morris's Defence of 
Guinevere, with its archaic form and spirit, published in 1858, of 
course drew the unqualified praise of the academic esthete Walter 
Pater, who was equally trying to write English like a dead language. 
But Morris brought pure colour to design, and pure materials. To 
his service he called five architects : De Morgan designed tiles ; 
Crane, Voysey, Heywood Sumner, Lewis Day, wrought for him ; 
as did Benson, Rathbone, Ashbee, Wilson, Alexander Fisher, and a 
swarm of other fine craftsmen. 

It was out of the brain of Morris that the vigorous movement 
of the " Arts and Crafts " was proposed, which we shall see spreading 
across the face of Europe, and creating the widespread primitive- 
academism of our time. And in order to understand the two great 
movements of Impressionism and Primitive-Academism, that are the 
serious rivals in art to-day — the one the forward impetus, the other 
the reactionary — we must grasp the significance of Morris and 
his i^i^sthetes in the England of the sixties, and the great Impres- 
sionistic revelation of France to which we are about to come. 

1833 - 1898 
There was born in Birmingham to a Welsh father on August 
28, 1833, a son whose birth cost his mother her life — he was to 


1833 - 1898 


(In the Possession of W. Graham Robertson, Esq.) 

" Sidonia von Bork " was one of the characters in a romance called 
"Sidonia the Sorceress," written by a Swiss clergyman — a favourite book 
of Rossetti's. 


become famous as Sir Edward Burne-Jones. Edward Colf.y WHEREIN 
BuKNE-JoNES showed no artistic gifts until, going to Exeter College, WE WALK 
Oxford, in 1852 to study for the Church, he met another student, AWHILE 
also intended for the Church, also a Welshman, to become famous WITH THE 
as William Morris. Both keenly interested in literature, developed i^iSTHETES 
interest in art ; and a woodcut by Rossetti set art aflame in both 
men. Both men, like Rossetti, mistook Romance for something 
dead; and were unable to see living romance. Sincerity was ever 
on their lips, yet both men, like Rossetti, were mimics of dead 

In 1854 Burne-Jones and Morris heard of Rossetti and the 
Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood ; saw Millais' Return of the Dove. Burne- 
Jones was already drawing. In 1855 '■^^ '•^^ friends went to France, 
and decided to be artists. Then came Malory's Morte d' Arthur 
into their lives ; the Oxford and Cambridge Magazine was founded ; 
and in the winter of 1855-6 the young Burne-Jones came to London, 
and his drawings won the approval of Rossetti, who urged him to 
make art his career, and Burne-Jones became his greatest disciple. 

In 1857 Burne-Jones, thanks to Rossetti, was commissioned to 
paint two pictures of the Blessed Damozel, was designing for stained 
glass, and with Morris, Rossetti, and others, decorated the Union 
Hall at Oxford. Swinburne was to enter the circle. The year 
1859 saw Burne-Jones in Italy ; and marrying Georgina Macdonald 
in i860, he thereafter painted his Sidonia von Bork and Clara von 
Bark which are very Rossetti, as is the Backgatnmon Players. The 
Merciful Knight of the following year shows personality emerging. 
He was soon pouring forth from his studio works in oils, in tempera, 
in water-colours, cartoons for stained glass, mosaics. Swinburne 
cast his glamour over the enthusiastic group round Morris and Burne- 
Jones. For five or six years Burne-Jones was enamoured of water- 
colours — of which were the Laus Veneris of 1861, the Backgammon 
Players of 1862, the Merciful Knight and Wine of Circe of 1863, the 
Chaunt d' Amour oi \%b^. He had joined the R.W.S. in 1864. Stained 
glass and tapestry designs were being made the while. Burne-Jones 
was one of the leaders at the founding of the Grosvenor Gallery in 
1877, sending The Days of Creation, the famous Mirror of Venus, and 
other works. The gallery greatly spread his fame. The large Laus 
Veneris was of 1878, the famous Golden Stairs of 1880, the Fortune 
of 1883, the King Cophetua of 1884. He next set to work on the 
series oi Perseus and the Briar Rose. In 1885 he was elected to the 
Royal Academy, sent The Depths of the Sea thereto in 1886, retiring 
in 1893; being made a baronet in 1894. To the New Gallery, 
VOL. VIII — s 137 


XHE founded in 1888, he was a tower of strength, until his Love the 

CONFLICT Pilgrim ended his career. He died suddenly on June 17, 1898. 
OF MASS- Burne-Jones's decorations, like those of Morris and the whole 

IMPRES- school, were but enlarged book-illustrations. With little relation 

SIONISM to life whatever, indeed despising modern life, he created for 

WITH THE himself a beautiful pallid wonderland wherein he sought to escape 
MEDIAEVAL from life. He is melancholy, wistful, hungry of soul. He stands 
ACADEM- oiit the supreme master of this " i^sthetic School " of Pre-Raphaelite 
ISM OF academism — its chief poet, its finest imagination. But like all 

XHE academics — and the irony of his life was that he detested academism 

ilZSTHETES when it was classical — like all the Esthetes he mistook Style as the 

foundation of art, mistook art for Beauty instead of realising that it 

is the impression of life, and strove to create art by looking at the 

works of art of the Past. 

Of the brilliant group of ^^sthetes who arose about Morris and 

Burne-Jones were several men of rare gifts. 

Frederick Shields (1833-1911), though he painted pictures, 

did much decorative work of considerable distinction as a religious 

designer in private chapels, such as the famous chapel in the 

Bayswater Road. 



Born in Liverpool in 1845 t° ^ miniature-painter, Walter 
Crane early showed artistic giits. He was exhibiting at the 
Academy by 1862, after schooling at Heatherley's in Newman 
Street, and apprenticeship to the wood-engraver W. S. Linton. The 
amount of his decorative work is enormous, from wall-papers to 
designs in damask. Pottery, fabrics, books, metal-work, and his 
wide industry in other crafts, are outside our survey. Crane has 
been one of the most original and influential of all his group. 

William Bell Scott (1811-1890), born at Edinburgh, painted 
mural decorations. 

Akin to the Pre-Raphaelite and ^Esthetes in intention was a 
remarkable school of classical-academics. 


1832 -1904 

Frederick Sandys was a man of genius interested in the tragedy 
of the antique heroes and heroines. Sandys was not only a fine 
painter but one of the greatest masters of black and white. Born at 
Norwich in 1832, he became pupil to his father, and came under 


the glamour of Madox Brown. The friend of Rossetti, he was WHEREIN 

strongly influenced by him. His drawing of The Old Chartist is a WE WALK 

masterpiece. Tragic and intense, his glowing sense of colour was AWHILE 

employed with rare force ; and he showed malice and hatred in a WITH THE 

beautiful face with gifts that were beyond the reach of Rossetti. ^^STHETES 
He was one of the greatest draughtsmen of the century, as he was one 
of the most poetic artists. His portraiture was very fine. 


1830 - 1896 

Frederic, Lord Leighton, was born at Scarborough on Dec- 
ember 3, 1830, to a physician, a man of culture, who trained the 
child in classic lore from the first; and often the boy was taken 
abroad by his ailing mother to Italy, France, and Germany, where 
he met the most eminent men in art and society from tender years. 
At ten he was drawing under Meli at Rome. His father consulted 
the American sculptor, Hiram Powers, who replied that the lad was 
an artist already ! So to Florence the youngster went to art-masters. 
In 1849 he was at Paris, copying Titian and Correggio in the Louvre 
and working from the life. Then he went to Steinle, one of the 
" Nazarenes," at Frankfort for a year. From Frankfort he went to 
Brussels, thence to Ingres and Ary Schefter in Paris, where he 
painted his first picture, Cimabue finding Giotto in the Fields of Florence, 
revealing that Italy had won him from the beginning. Going back 
to Steinle at Frankfort in 1850 for two years, Leighton then made 
for Rome. Thackeray, meeting him at Rome, wrote his famous 
prophecy to the young Millais: " Here is a versatile young dog who 
will run you close for the Presidentship one of these days." In 
1855 he brought from Rome the Cimabue' s Madonna carried in Pro- 
cession through the Streets of Florence, which was bought by the Queen 
at the Royal Academy and created a sensation. His home in the 
Rue Pigalle in Paris he changed to London in i860, and made his 
superb drawings for Dalziei's Bible and his less successful Romola draw- 
ings. Made A.R.A. in 1864, he became a full member four years 
thereafter ; in 1866 he painted the Wise and Foolish Virgins in spirit- 
fresco on the wall of Lyndhurst Church, in which year his famous 
house at No. 2 Holland Park Road was finished. 

Ancient Greece and the Italian Renaissance were his life, and 
created his vision. With Life he had no relation. 

In 1867 he was in Egypt, which often afterwards called him 
back. With independent means, he was able to cultivate the love 
of society that was so large a part of his handsome life. 





Leighton was now thoroughly set in the classic mould. He 
painted picture after picture with Beauty for his sole aim. The 
teaching of Ingres had done its deadly work, and he smoothed out 
his fine designs until their vigour was lost. Yet he caught the 
moods of antique days in the Summer Moon, the Daphnephoria, the 
Nausicaa, and the glowing Eastern Slinger. Of mural decorations 
were the famous IFar and Peace at South Kensington. 

But it was in portraiture and sculpture that Leighton was to 
reach the highest achievement of his art. His Captain Burton is 
one of the portraits of the age. 

In I 877 Leighton with his fine Athlete struggling with a Python 
proved himself a sculptor before a painter, even though the Greek 
vision was upon him. The following year, elected President of the 
Academy, he was knighted ; and his high social gifts made him an 
ideal President. He stood out, a handsome romantic figure, and he 
gave himself unsparingly to his office. From his Garden of the 
Hesperides to the Captive Andromache, from the Elijah to the Greek 
Girls playing Ball, from the Bath of Psyche to The Sea gave up the 
Dead, from the Phryne to the thought-filled Fatidica, the Greek 
intention of the beauty of the human figure is the sole aim of 
Leighton's art. The sculptured Sluggard v/zs of 1886. 

He never developed ; as he found himself, so he went to the end. 
His Clytie of 1896 showed such rapid decline in power, that it was 
no surprise to hear that his peerage had come almost too late — he 
died on the 25th of January 1896. His art lacked passion; but his 
exquisite sense of draughtsmanship brought forth an eloquent 
rhythmic line and held subtlety of form. 


Sir Lawrence Alma Tadema was born Laurens Alma 
Tadema, at Dronryp in Holland, on the 8th of January 1836, to a 
lawyer with a taste for music, who died in Tadema's childhood. 
The boy was early revealing the artistic bent. By 1851 he showed 
a portrait of his sister. He went to Antwerp, where David was 
living in exile, heading the classicals ; and Tadema declared for the 
opposition, the Belgian Realists, led by Wappers ! From Wappers 
he went to Van Leys, the historical painter, whom he assisted in his 
frescoes at the Town Hall. This roused his interest in the early 
history of the Low Countries. Married in 1865, his wife died in 
1 869, leaving him two girls, Laurence and Anna. Meantime he had 
been to Italy. Then the French dealer Gambart came into his life and 



1830 - 1896 


(Tate Gallery) 

Painted six years before his death. Exhibited in the Royal Academy ir. 
1890. Purchased by the Chantrey Trustees in 1S90. 



set him hard at work to fulfil commissions by the dozen, and treated WHEREIN 
him most generously. In 1870 Tadema came to London, where WE WALK 
he was at once a success, and settled, marrying a year thereafter his AWHILE 
second wife, Miss Epps, better known as the painter Mrs. Alma WITH THE 
Tadema, now Lady Tadema. Entering the Academy in 1876, he ^ESTHETES 
became R.A. in 1879, being knighted in 1899. His reconstruc- 
tions of Roman life under the Empire are well known ; and it is a 
common jest that he paints marble well : At the Shrine of Venus, the 
yf^r, Ccesar ! lo Saturnalia! and the Earthly Paradise, are amongst his 
most famous works. 

Sir Edward J. Poynter, P.R.A., is another excellent recon- 
structor of the life of antiquity, his Catapult being one of his best 
works. Others of the school were George Richmond, R.A. (1809- 
1896), Sir William Blake Richmond (1843- ), C. E. Perugini, 
F. DiCKSEE (1853- ). 

Albert Moore (i 841-1893), the son of an artist and the brother 
of artists, began in sacred subjects on academic lines, then suddenly 
in I 86 1 he invented the series of ideal classic figures in a decorative 
style that are so personal to his achievement, being harmonies in 
colour schemes of women with Pomegranates, Apricots, and the like. 

Simeon Solomon wears a part of the cloak of Rossetti. Born in 
1 84 1, Simeon Solomon also came of artist stock. Largely self- 
taught, he reached such heights as his Amor Sacramentum. He died 
in 1905. 

George Wilson (1848- 1890), born near Cullen in Banff, came 
to London at eighteen, passed from Heatherley's school to the 
Academy schools, thence to the Slade. Struggling against ill-health 
and lack of recognition, a shy, silent man, he set himself to paint 
idylls from Nature in sincere fashion, wherein he calls the dryads out 
into the valleys. Loving his Shelley and his Keats, he lived in the 
rarefied atmosphere of a dream-world peopled by nymphs and fauns. 

Spencer Stanhope (1835-1908), friend to Rossetti and Burne- 
Jones, and taught also by Watts, painted religious and allegorical and 
romantic themes, and decorated churches. Fairfax Murray was of 
the group. Strudwick, the assistant of Stanhope and Burne-Jones, 
was born in 1849, learnt his craft at South Kensington and the 
Academy schools. Rooke was the assistant of Burne-Jones. Mrs. 
Stillman and Mrs. de Morgan, who founds largely on Botticelli, are 
two lady-artists of remarkable distinction in the ^Esthetic movement. 
The movement also found a group of artists in book-illustration : 
Walter Crane, Kate Greenaway, Selwyn Image, Gaskin, 
Lawrence Housman. 





Anning Bell, born in 1863, is one of the finest artists brought 
forth by the iEsthetic movement. He has a purity of line and a 
richness of colour wedded to a severe sense of design. 

C. Hazlewood Shannon and Charles Ricketts are prominent 
and brilliant men. Hazlewood Shannon, a fine colourist, and a 
painter of rare and consummate gifts, who has brought a poetic 
vision to all he does, has largely looked at life through the spectacles 
of the great dead instead of with the modern vision. Batten, 
Holiday, Heywood Sumner, the brothers Rhead, and other lights 
of the Arts and Crafts are well known ; as well as Southall, Gere, 
Muckley, Gaskin, and others of the Birmingham men ; and 
Gerald Moira, Ryland, and Gotch. Miss Florence Harrison 
has shown herself a perfect illustrator in colour of Christina Rossetti's 
poems. Of the Scottish artists of our day under this influence are 
Burns, Mrs. Traquair, Katherine Cameron, Jessie King, all 
touched by the Pre-Raphaelite flare, as also have been Macdougall, 
J. J. Guthrie, and Will Mfin. 

Of the classical aim are two men of imagination — Solomon 
J. Solomon and Hacker ; of the mediaeval aim, more closely akin to 
the original iEsthetes, was the art of Waterhouse (1849- ). 





Historical painting in France took to extreme accuracy of in- WHEREIN 
cident and costume. WE LOOK 


1815 - 1891 VARIOUS 


Jean Louis Ernest Meissonier, born at Lyons in 18 15, went to ACADEM- 
Paris at a tender age, poor, and with his Hvehhood to earn. First isM IN 
trained under Cogniet, he soon set to work to teach himself as etcher THE MID- 
and illustrator. In 1834 he went to colour, and began to make CENTURY 
a mark about 1840 with the famous little highly finished interiors qF THE 
such as the famous Chessplayers, the Artist at his Easel, and La Rixe. EIGHTEEN- 
Then came the cycle of Napoleon. On the 31st January 1891 his HUNDREDS 
career was at an end. He devoted enormous pains to the creation jjyj FRANCE 
of military subjects, but Meissonier was more concerned with 
" accuracy," with details, and the like. Oddly enough, his realism 
was not given to events of his own age, but to the past. 

Meissonier's interest in war created a school developed by 
Detaille and De Neuville and Aim£ Morot in France. 

In England war, strangely enough, found its genius in the 
remarkable gifts of a woman, Elizabeth Thompson (Lady Butler), 
in such works as Scotland for Ever and Quatre Bras. Caton 
Woodville, though it is said an American, chiefly wrought his 
telling art in England. 



In historical painting, the French school has produced Jean 
Paul Laurens. Born at Fourquevaux, Laurens was trained at the 
Beaux-Arts at Toulouse, he thence went to Cogniet and Bida in 
Paris. In 1863 he showed his Death of Cato, making his mark 
about 1869 with his Supper of Beaucaire. 

Olivier Merson and his son Luc-Olivier have a certain 





distinction in their academic intention. Ferdinand Humbert 
produced a sad art also of some distinction. 

CoRMON (1845- ) reconstructs savage man of primeval times; 

RocHEGRossE the barbarians of primitive Asia and the Grecians. 
Tattegrain rebuilt the Middle Ages. Francois Flameng (1856- 
) is interested in the eighteenth century, 


Rethel (18 16-1859), influenced strongly by Ingres in his 
portraiture, had the innate German gifts for the woodcut, which 
brought him fame in his Dance of Death. Sattler more recently 
took up the German line of Diirer and far surpassed Rethel in its 
employment, bringing superb gifts of design and powerful crafts- 
manship to his remarkable achievement. 

The symbol, if living and understood of the man in the street, is 
perfectly legitimate in art ; the moment it requires a " book o' the 
words " to explain it, then it is a dead thing. Rossetti, for instance, 
used " the stars in her hair were seven." It means nothing, except 
to pedants. Burne-Jones requires a library to interpret him. 


GusTAVE Moreau, having made a mark at the Salon, hid himself 
in solitude, selling his work to collectors who, it is said, under promise 
to him, concealed them from the public eye. On becoming professor 
at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, to the consternation of the academicians 
he showed a wide taste in art, whilst he pointed the students back 
to the primitives. Why " primitive-academism " should offend the 
academics more than any other form of academism, who shall 
unravel ? At his death he left a large number of his works to the 
State. Moreau is essentially a painter-illustrator ; his subjects are 
mythological anecdotes, impossible to be understood except by the 
book-read. His Salome., Hydra., the Phaeton., the Indian Poet, and 
Jupiter and Semele are held to be his masterpieces. 

His school brought forth Eugene M artel and Simon Bussy, 
who have both left their teaching. Rouault and Desvallieres 
have gone to the primitives to find utterance for the occult and the 
mystical ; VALiiRE Bernard also worked under Rops and Puvis de 
Chavannes. Armand Point seeks inspiration in the Italian Re- 
naissance. The Swiss Carlos Schwabe employs symbolism of a 
more modern intention. Odilon Redon (1840- ), has essayed 



symbolism in lithography ; he began to exhibit in Paris about WHEREIN 
1881. He influenced the Belgian Fernand Khnopff (1858- ) WE LOOK 

and others ; and his art spread to Germany. UPON THE 


Under the Second Empire, classicalism brought forth Cabanf.l ,„|v- ,^ 

(i 823-1 889) with his History of Saint Louis at the Pantheon, and ^tttt Min 

his portraits, and his famous Birth of Venus. Bouguereau (1825- „p-^„. 

1905) is of this type; his La Verge Consolatrix having some emo- „p q^TTp 

tional sense of a conventional style. Jules Llfebvre was of the ^..p^„„„-^ 

school (he made also some good portraits), as was Hippolyte T,,,^^„p„' 



Akin to the classical painters, but creating a more primitive 
academism, and endowed with rare decorative gifts, appeared a man 
of power in the mid-century who was also strongly influenced by 
Millet and the men of Barbizon, thereby bringing vitality to the 
aid of outworn forms — but it was chiefly the decorative work of 
Chasseriau that inspired Puvis de Chavannes. 


1824 - 1898 

Born at Lyons on the 14th December 1824, Pierre Cecile Puvis 
de Chavannes became pupil to Henri Scheffer and Couture, and 
came to the front late, his first Salon picture being of 1859, An 
aristocrat and a religious mystic, Puvis de Chavannes wrought his 
art amidst the last half of the eighteen-hundreds. Deeply immersed 
in classic poetry, and as deeply rooted in the land that bred his 
stock, he looked out upon the world with the eyes of the past. 

Without subtlety of vision, vigorous of body and in spirit, he 
could leel the splendour of the whole impressionistic intention ; but 
he could not become a part of it. As a colourist he uttered sweet 
if pallid harmonies ; and remained, even so, more deeply concerned 
with line; yet even his line had a rude, severe, old-world intention. 
His colour-faculty creates no profound sensing ; it is chaste, severe, 
pleasantly austere. He was a realist in a primitive fashion, not a 
classicalist. His favourite poet is said to have been Virgil ; and his 
art is epic of the soil. He detested the Academy, and it returned 
the dislike. It was but a war of academisms. Puvis de Chavannes 
made his spaces as splendidly " empty " as Chasseriau had over- 
VOL. VIII — T 145 




loaded his surfaces ; he won to a greater power thereby, but remained 
somewhat empty. 

Puvis de Chavannes wisely discarded fresco, and painted on 
canvas attached to the walls ; he had the right instinct to paint in 
harmony with stone walls, not to make easel pictures. At the 
Pantheon is his fine Life of Saint Genevieve ; at the Hotel de Ville 
his famous Summer and Winter ; at the Sorbonne he wrought the 
decorations of the amphitheatre; at Rouen is work by him; at 
Lyons the Sacred Wood, Vision Antique^ the Rhone, and the Saone ; at 
Amiens the decorations include his Work ; at Marseilles are his 
Marseilles, Porte de l' Orient, and the Greek Colony ; at Boston the 
famous decoration for the Library. 

The general impression is that of a man essaying to put back 
life into terms of the past, painted with exquisite freshness of 
colour, but pallid of vision. Like all academics, he creates types 
rather than character ; a landscape setting that is typical rather 
than real. Bookish men have dubbed him "Hellenist"; he 
conveys to me no classic intention. He paints his decorations with 
consummate tact to fit the conditions of their position. There is a 
mystical haunting sense about his works in position which is not 
fully realised in his painting when seen apart. 


1828 - 1886 

Paul Jacques Aime Baudry, third of the twelve children of a 
maker of wooden shoes in Brittany, was born on the 27th November 
1828 at Roche-sur-Yon, and taught by a local artist Sartoris, from 
whom he went to Drolling in 1844. Winning the Prix de Rome, 
he made for Italy for five years, working under the glamour of 
Raphael and Correggio. His famous nude of The Wave and the 
Pearl wa-S of 1863. Thence he went to decoration ; and his best- 
known work was the decoration of the Opera House. 

As Delaroche had been the favourite of the Orleans Restoration, 
the favourite Court portrait-painter under the Second Empire was 
WiNTERHALTER (1806-1873), who had an enormous vogue ; he has 
sunk into his mediocre place. Hubert also painted the portrait in 
these years. 






Orientalism was a part of the Romantic movement. Delacroix WHEREIN 
in his Massacre of Scio concerned himself with it. Decamps made WE SEE 
the subject his own, with a fine sense of colour. Even Ingres FRENCH 
painted pseudo Odalisques. Marilhat (1811-1847) went rather to REALISM 
Algiers than the Levant. Berchere followed, creating Eastern senti- SEEKING 
mentalism. Chasseriau, the favourite pupil of Ingres, from whom FOR THE 
he went to Delacroix, gave his best work to the painting of the SUN IN 
Arabs; and he painted their fights and their doings with masterly force THE EAST 
and glittering colour. Gustave Boulanger wrought Orientalism. 


Felix pRANgois Georges Philibert Ziem, born at Beaune, left 
the Cote d'Or as early as he could and made for Paris, where he 
worked for several years ; but at twenty-four he went to Italy, thence 
to the East, being away some three or four years. Coming back, 
he sent a Bosphorus and Gratid Canal, Venice, to the Salon of 1849, 
his first display ; the next year of 1850 his Meudon won him a 
medal ; he made for Holland, and in 1852 won a First Class Medal 
with his Chaumiere h la Haye. His Anvers of 1855 was bought by 
the State. The Constantinople of 1857 won him into the Legion of 
Honour. In 1868 he showed his last picture, his Maj-seilles. He 
never again exhibited. In 1878 he was promoted Officer in the 
Legion of Honour. One of Ziem's four studios was at Barbizon. 
Another was at Venice, the painting of which city is his chief 
claim to fame. He loved to paint her red. Some of his finest 
water-colours are of Venice. A friend of Rousseau, he bought the 
famous old windmill, the Moulin de la Galette, Montmartre, 
intending to rebuild it at Barbizon as a studio ; but the affair fell 






Jean L^on G^r6me, born at Vesoul on the nth May 1824, be- 
came the favourite pupil of Delaroche, and encouraged by his parents 
in his artistic desires came early to fame, malcing his mark with 
his first Salon picture in 1847. In 1854 he made his first journey 
to the East. Gerome interested himself largely in Orientalism, as 
well as the nude and history. He has marked dramatic gifts. His 
coloured statuettes are remarkable. His famous statue of Bellona 
shrieking war was dramatic and powerful. One of his greatest 
works of art is his much despised Death of Ney; and his Napoleon 
and the Sphinx has rare dramatic intensity. 


1845 - 1902 
Benjamin Constant also interested himself in Orientalism, and 
won to wide favour ; his portraiture of a somewhat theatrical 
academic type also had a wide vogue. Morocco brought out all 
his best qualities. 

1838 - 1874 

Born at Reus on the nth of June 1838 of humble Catalonian 
stock, his father dying when the boy was little more than a child, 
Mariano Fortuny was cared for by his grandfather, a travelling 
showman, the little fellow painting the marionettes for the old man's 
show. The boy knew terrible hardships. He was early carving 
the little dolls that form so large a part of Spain's devotional offerings. 
The grandfather sent the lad to the Reus Academy, thence he 
went to the Academy of Fine Arts at Barcelona ; his student days 
saw him suffering wretched want. At twenty he won the prize 
that took him to Rome, after sharing the money with his grand- 
father, who, unfortunately, was to die before the young fellow 
returned. In i860 Spain sent an expedition to punish the Riff 
pirates, and Fortuny was allowed to go with it. Here General 
Prim, the " kingmaker," became his friend. Fortuny painted for 
Barcelona the great canvas of the fight of Wad Ras. On his return 
he was sent to Paris, but Tangier called and called, and to Tangier 
he went, Rome seeing much of him also. In 1867 he married the 
daughter of Madrazo — a happy marriage. 

He led the way to that vivid use of floating water-colour that 
was to produce the finest modern achievement. The dazzling 
highly finished glittering work that brought him to early fame and 


wealth, fretted him ; and bored at last by it, he was turning from WHEREIN 
" the kind of art which success has imposed upon me," and was WE SEE 
about to enter upon the art of his desire, when he caught a chill FRENCH 
whilst sketching until sunset in a damp part of the marshes by the REALISM 
Tiber and died suddenly on the 2ist of November 1874. SEEKING 

Fortuny created school in illustration, a large part of the best FOR THE 
modern endeavour, such as that of Edwin Abbey, being founded SUN IN 
upon him. The Warrington Gallery possesses a superb oil sketch THE EAST 
oi Arabs Tumbling by him. 


1843 - 1871 

Regnault by thirteen was so skilled that he could have earned 
his livelihood as an illustrator ; he haunted the Jardin des Plantes 
sketching animals. It was when at Rome, in the March of 1869, 
after Fortuny's marriage, that Regnault met Fortuny and hailed 
him master ; but he had already painted his superb portrait of 
General Prim, which that worthy did not like, whereby the Louvre 
came to it, and the heroic Automedon with the Horses of Achilles. 
He was in Tangier when the threat of the Prussian War broke out, 
and, locking the door of his studio, he made for Paris to volunteer for 
the front. He refused a commission as officer — " You have a good 
soldier in the ranks in me ; why lose him to make a mediocre officer?" 
said he. He fought through the war ; but in the last action before 
Paris, perhaps by the last rifle fired in the war, he was struck in the 
left temple by a bullet. He fell for his country at twenty-eight. 

The virile art of Henri Regnault created the greatest equestrian 
portrait of the age, General Juan Prim reining up his black horse. 
Regnault is essentially of the spirit of the earlier Romantic move- 
ment, and one of the supreme masters of it, and he bridges the gap 
to open-air painting. His water-colours of Oriental life are bathed 
in sunlight. 

Gust AVE Guillaumet (i 840-1 887), living the life of the Arabs 
in Algeria, essayed to utter the true colour of the desert fringe ; and 
his Luxembourg Sunrise in the desert and Evening at Laghouat show 
remarkable powers so to do. 

Noire has uttered the waste places of Algiers ; Cottet created 
Oriental splendour before he gave his art to Brittany. 

Eugene Fromentin (i 820-1 876) painted the gleam of the sun's 
flood upon Arab horses in Oriental pictures ; bringing to Orientalism 
less pose. Binet paints the Eastern women with mass-impressionistic 







1819 - 1891 

There was born at Latdorp, by Rotterdam, in 1819, Johann 
Barthold Jongkind, who lived his life in France. Pupil to 
Scheffont, he then went to Isabey (i 804-1 866). At the Salon of 
1852 he won a first class medal, and was thereafter steadily rejected. 
Living a life of bitter neglect and penury, he produced water-colours 
of a strange glitter, sold a few works here and there at a wretched 
price, and crushed by want and utter misery he drank himself to 
death at Isere in 1891, alone, deserted, forgotten. Yet this man 
was throughout these years striving to break up and set upon the 
paper the vibrating rays of the sun's light ; to master the gleam of 
reflections ; and to catch and utter the changing colours created 
upon the same objects by the light at different hours of the day. 
His art deeply impressed two young Frenchmen, Manet and Monet. 
Monet hailed him " le grand peintre." He found towards the end 
of his life the fulness of his powers in the painting of the country of 
the Dauphine, in which luminous atmosphere is his chief concern. 


1825 - 1898 

Jongkind had a friend, Louis Eugene Boudin, born at Honfleur 
on July 12, 1825, to a bluff, hearty sailor fellow, the pilot who 
guided the fortunes of the steamboat Francois of Havre, and to his 
wife the stewardess aboard her husband's boat. Little Boudin began 
to earn the bread of his harsh life as cabin-boy, seeing before his 
fourteenth year the seas that lie between France and England and 
the Western Indies. At fourteen the lad yearned to become a 
painter and to be done with seafaring. Luck was in his way, for 
the father, weary of the sea, set up a little stationery shop on the 
Grand Quai at Havre, and young Boudin became shopboy. The 
shopboy taught himself painting on the quays in and out of season. 
Into the shop strayed a hard-up artist called Troyon, then well 


content to sell a picture for a sovereign, bought a canvas, and made WHEREIN 
friends with the lad. Another dow^n-at-heels fellow^ called Millet, WE SEE 
then near starving, and pestering the merchants, officials, sailors DARK 
and their sweethearts to let him paint their portraits at thirty francs REALISM 
a head, also befriended him. Courbet sought out the lad. His in FRANCE 
friends and kin warned the youth that Corot at fifty could not earn SENDING 
a livelihood ; but to painting young Boudin would go. The town FORTH 
council of Havre raised him a small students' allowance, and to FORE- 
Paris he went on a pound a week for a short while. The money RUNNERS 
was soon at an end ; and Boudin found himself without friends or TO IMPRES- 
fee. He paid his laundress forty francs with a picture — it has SIONISM 
recently brought four thousand. For his wine he paid in pictures 
— they have passed into gold at forty times the cost of the wine. 
So Boudin knew the bitters of penury. Driven home at last, he 
tried to raise the money to get to Paris in 1857 by auction of 
pictures, tempted by Claude Monet thereto, who promised him the 
help of dealers. He had settled in rooms at the old inn and farm- 
house on the road to Honfleur called Saint Simeon ; the sale failed ; 
the man sadly opened a school of painting there. That old inn of 
Saint Simeon was to become the nursery of French Impressionism. 
There for five-and-twenty years lodged from time to time Millet, 
Troyon, Courbet, Diaz, Harpignies, Jongkind, Lepine, Isabey, 
Daubigny, Monet, Cals, and others. However, Boudin's academy 
was no success ; and he moved twenty miles to the coast, to Trou- 
ville. Rapidly his mastery of the sea and heavens won him the 
homage of painters. Courbet cries " you alone understand the 
heavens"; Dumas calls him "master of the skies"; Corot dubs 
him "king of the heavens." 

But the public would not buy, nor the dealers. Boudin, utterly 
poor, married in 1864, and with a small dot of eighty pounds the 
pair made their home in a garret up a flight of rickety stairs in a 
mean street of Honfleur at a rental of half-a-crown a month. There 
the out-at-heels Jongkind would sadly visit them. Boudin fought 
starvation there for four years ; then made for Havre, but his 
poverty was so acute that he had to lose an order to decorate some 
panels for a rich tradesman of the town, not having decent clothes 
wherein to go to the business. The winter saw him burning the 
furniture for warmth, and going out to work as a common labourer. 
The artists called him to Paris, a city he detested, only to be dogged 
by the ill-luck of the war of 1870. Boudin made for Brussels, and 
amidst the swarm of refugees knew the bitterest poverty ; he had 
to go out as a labourer again. His wife, by good luck and manage- 





ment, interested a dealer in his art whilst marketing, and the good 
fellow enabled the artist to get back to his easel. At last in 1881, 
Boudin's persistent appearance at the Salon won him a third class 
medal. In 1884 he won a second class, which cleared him of all 
future terrors of rejection and put him " hors concours." He had 
now been selling his pictures slowly for some time, if at poor prices. 
In 1888 a hundred canvases were sold at the Hotel Drouot for but 
_^28o. But the tide was turning. The State bought his large 
Russian Corvette ; but 1889 saw him struck his bitterest blow in the 
loss of his wife ; and the gold medal was given to a heart-broken 
man. In 1896 the State bought his Rade de Villefranche^ and sent 
him by Puvis de Chavannes the Cross of the Legion of Honour. 
But the old artist's health was broken by long years of want. 
Whilst at work on a canvas at his chalet near Deauville, his native 
Normandy, in 1898, he fell dead. 

A modest man, who sought honours only for his fellows, Monet 
said of him, " his advice has made me what I am." 

1817- 1891 

The Dutchman Johannes Bosboom, born at The Hague, learnt 
the mysteries from Philippus Jacobus Van Bree (1786-1871). 
A very master-painter of interiors, Bosboom employed a breadth of 
handling and a glorious colour to utter the mood of daylight playing 
within church and house, such as place him amongst the immortals. 
His art yields the haunting spirit of the place. He draws the very 
atmosphere on to his smallest canvases, and arouses the poetic mood 
of the place before him. His water-colours are as great as his oils. 

A southern school of French painting had been rising somewhat 
akin in vision to the Romantics — the animal-painter Emile Loubon, 
AuGUSTE AiGUiER the marine painter, Prosper Gresy. It was to 
come to splendour in Ricard and Monticelli. 


1824 - 1886 

Adolphe Monticelli was born at Marseilles. Under the 
training of Raymond Aubert (1781-1857) Monticelli began his 
art career subject to Ingres and Raphael. But standing before a 
Delacroix his eyes were opened ; and Diaz, who lived near him in 
Paris for several years, revealed the wizardry of colour to him ; 
indeed, he copied Diaz so closely that his work of this time was, 


and is, sold as the work of Diaz. Then Monticelli, a typical son of WHEREIN 
Provence, eccentric, handsome, vigorous of body, eloquent, winning WE SEE 
of manner, made for the south to come to wide triumph awhile. DARK 
Then came reverses. He made for Paris again, in desperate state. REALISM 
In Paris he knew bitter want, selling his pictures on the pavements, IN FRANCE 
sleeping at night with vagabonds and wastrels on waste places and in SENDING 
empty houses. Then came the war of 1870, and he made south, FORTH 
tramping it to Marseilles, getting food and shelter for the thirty-six FORE- 
days' journey by painting from place to place. RUNNERS 

Back in his native Marseilles again he settled down to what is TO IMPRES- 
called his original manner. A slave to absinthe, he wrought his SIONISM 
visions rapidly, and made and sold a picture a day for anything he 
could get that he might have the means to indulge his vagabond 
tastes. The colour that he used with such musical skill to utter 
the romantic mood of the moment — fair ladies on terraces, in the 
woods, and the like — grew less coherent. His charming temper 
and eager will were soon clouded with drink. The paint grew 
clotted and the forms more vague. For years at last no one knew 
whether he were alive or dead. He passed away in the most 
miserable penury. 

Monticelli " painted music." He poured forth symphonies of 
rare and exquisite subtlety. To him had been revealed the secret 
of colour's power to arouse moods and sensations, as music by sound 
so rouses the senses. The Judge Evans' Landscape proves how he 
could catch the poetry of the sun's light upon the land. But he 
gave himself rather to dreams than to Nature. He wove golden 
songs without words. 

After he died his art came to great fame ; he is one of the most 
widely forged artists of modern times. His best-known works are 
his Fetes galantes ; but his rarer landscapes are amongst the most 
powerful interpretations of Nature in his age. Still-life, flowers, 
seascapes, he wrought them all. His earlier "allegories" or 
" fetes " are painted somewhat smoothly, marked by attention to 
form and drawing. He rapidly increased the loading of his paint, 
developed touch-impressionism, and came to his middle and greatest 
original style. The painting is broken, and is a mass of radiant 
gems, whilst the resultant effect is large and decorative. His art is 
blithe and joyous, as if it were good to be alive. It is a miracle 
when one remembers that he dashed off these pictures in a few 
hours. He is said rarely to have used brushes ; but to have squeezed 
the colour in touches on to the panel or canvas straight from the 
tube, and to have used the palette-knife or his fingers or nails when 
VOL, VIII — u 153 




desired. " I am painting for thirty years hence," said Monticelli 
in 1870. 

Monticelli, whose art was confined to small easel pictures, is 
one of the supreme decorative painters of the land. 


1824- 1873 

GusTAVE RicARD IS One of the master portrait-painters of Pro- 
vence. Beginning by copying Van Dyck and Titian for ten years, 
Ricard gave himself thereafter to portraiture. Founding on the 
Venetians, his searching vision for character revealed itself in a 
refined and subtle portraiture, which in its reserved and aristocratic 
way is one of the achievements of his age. Ricard states the 
essence of the sitter in haunting fashion. 

B O N V I N 

1834 - 1866 

Leon Bonvin, one of the best painters in water-colours of his great 
age, painted the blithe beauty of flowers amidst a miserable life. 
There lived at Vaugirard, a suburb of Paris, a man who came from 
Lille, a hard old fellow who had been a domestic servant, then a 
barber, then a farmer, then a soldier, thereafter a gendarme. He 
was ending his days as a rural policeman and tavern-lord. The 
stern, harsh old man was the terror of evil-doers, and had been 
known to descend on a quarry and arrest a gang of them single- 
handed. He was dreaded as much in his own home. One of his 
elder sons, FRAN901S Bonvin (i 817-1887), had run away from home 
and became an artist of the realist school, and of fine gifts. The old 
Bonvin had married again, and his fourth child was born to him on 
the 28th of February 1834, and was to know a rough and harsh 
childhood. Though old Bonvin added to his other means of live- 
lihood the setting up of the little rockeries in the windows of 
restaurants, he would let his sons learn no trade, making them act 
as waiters in his tavern. The youngest son, Leon Bonvin, had not 
the initiative to run away, and suffered the buffets and blows in 
silence. Timid, embarrassed, and awkward, he became silent and 
moody. His brother Franfois would come home at times, and see- 
the poet that lurked in the heavy, clumsy, fair lad, would give him 
pencils and set him to " copy what he saw as he saw it." Later he 
took him to the art school in the Rue de I'Ecole de Medecine to 
Lecocq de Boisbaudran. By 1857 ^^^ young fellow was painting 
remarkable water-colours. In 1861, at twenty-seven, the loveless 


man married, eagerly looking to that marriage to bring into his life the WHEREIN 
tenderness for which he craved. He found himself tied to a virulent "WE SEE 
shrew^. The man w^as a poet — not only by instinct a painter, but a DARK 
musician. He had been compelled to live his day over the pots and REALISM 
pans of a tavern kitchen, seizing the early hours of the morning IN FRANCE 
and the lamplit night in which to paint his superb water-colours. SENDING 
The gentle and affectionate, tall, blonde fellow now spent his days FORTH 
in like fashion, to the tune of the raillery and biting irony of a FORE- 
shrewish wife's tongue, flinging drunken ruffians out of the tavern RUNNERS 
as part of his day's work. He saved enough from "pourboires" to TO IMPRES- 
buy an harmonium which he learnt to play from an old German in SIONISM 
the neighbourhood ; and after dinner he would play Beethoven and 
the masters, until his ignorant and scoffing wife went and tapped 
him on the shoulder, telling him he was " boring the people with 
his gloomy church music — play them something gay " ; and he, to 
prevent a scene, would strike up a popular polka or lilt. And all 
the while, when he could escape his tavern, he would paint flowers 
or still-life, or the interior of his house with the shrewish wife at 
her household doings, or landscapes outside his doors, with exquisite 
and subtle power. For these superb things he could get but miser- 
able fees. At night he would paint, enclosing a lamp in a box to 
throw a strong light on the flowers or still-life. 

The winter of 1865 was a terrible one for Leon Bonvin. Other 
taverns had been opened near him, and the workmen drifted away 
from him. Leon had to go out and work as a carter. Debts were 
growing. On January 29, 1886, he took some water-colours to 
an art-dealer, who said they were " too dark, not gay enough." On 
the evening of the last day of January he went to a wood at Meudon 
and hanged himself They buried him in unconsecrated ground ; 
the poor soul slept at last. 


1837 - 1904 

Ignaz Henri Jean Theodore Fantin-Latour was born at Gren- 
oble to a pastel artist ; from whom he passed to that trainer of fine 
artists, Lecocq de Boisbaudran, thence to the Ecole des Beaux-Arts 
under Ingres. In 1 857 he painted awhile under Courbet. But the old 
masters at the Louvre were his teachers ; his first display was at the 
Salon of 1 86 1 ; thereafter he steadily won his way. The Legion of 
Honour came to him in 1 878. His Hommage a Delacroix was of i 863, 
the Toast of 1865, his Atelier a Batignolles and Coin de Table of 1872, 
and the Famille D of 1 878. Of 1 884 was his Autour du Piano ; 


YUE ^^^ °^ 1886 his famous fourteen lithographs for the Richard Wagner. 

CONFLICT J^is immortal achievement is in the painting of Flower-pieces . His 
OF MASS- portrait of Manet is famous. Odd to say, his portraiture is generally 
IMPRES- ^^^'^ ^""^ colourless, who was wont to make of his paintings of 

SIONISM flowers a very music of splendid colour. 



ACADEM- 1837 - 

ISM OF Alphonse Legros, born at Dijon, was 'prenticed at eleven to a 

THE drunken house-painter of the town, going to the school of art 

ESTHETES there for awhile until he made with his family for Lyons. There 
he got work at a decorator's. Thence to Paris, where he was 
employed by the scene-painter Cambon ; entered the Ecole des 
Beaux-Arts; went to Belloc (1786-1866), the pupil of Regnault 
and Gros, and thence to Lecocq de Boisbaudran. At twenty, in 
1857, he showed a portrait of his father. The Angelas wz.s of 1859 ; 
the Ex Voto of 1861 ; the Messe des Morts of 1863; but not win- 
ning to success he then came to England. At the Salon of 1866 he 
won a medal with his Lapidation de Saint M^tienne. Perhaps his best- 
known paintings are his Pelerinage^ his Benediction de la Mer, his 
Chaudronnier^ his Repas des Pauvres, his Jacob's Dream, and his 
Marchand des Poissons. Legros has also made a high reputation in 
etching. Slade Professor at University College in London in 1876, 
he has become famous as a great teacher, besides doing fine work 
as a sculptor. Though Legros was hailed as a realist, his art really 
breathes the spirit of a bygone day. Solemn, grey, severe, he 
belongs to another age. 





We have seen in England the Realism of Constable go to France ; WHEREIN 
we have seen the Realism of Barbizon pass into the Dark Mass- THE 
Realism of Courbet. Alongside these Realist movements in GREAT 
England and France, we have seen Primitive-Academism ousting REVELA- 
Classical Academism. France was now to take up the Mass- TION OF 
Impressionism of Velazquez and Hals and the Tenebrosi, and MASS- 
develop the gamut of Art. IMPRES- 

The wag on Charivari who on seeing Monet's sunset labelled SIONISM 
Impressions, and who thereupon nicknamed the whole movement COMES TO 
*' Impressionism," spake truer than he intended. The essential FRANCE 
point of Impressionism, as I have already shown in the chapter on 
Velazquez, is to paint the impression of the whole as it strikes the 
eye. Every mood of life that is uttered by the artist must be 
created by so bending colour and form, that both colour and form 
shall be redolent of the mood — that blithe colours must give forth 
blithe moods, sombre colours sombre moods. Turner had discovered 
this majestic modern revelation — his revelation almost died with 
him. It lay to a certain extent implicit in Velazquez and Hals and 
Rembrandt ; but the Frenchman thrust it forward. Manet painted 
what he saw in great flat masses, thereby giving a superb decorative 
effect to all he did, and ridding the eye of petty fatigues. It was 
in his power of selection, and his consummate use of colour to create 
the impression desired, that he stepped leagues beyond Courbet. 
Courbet said of Manet's Olympia that it was " like the Queen of 
Spades coming from the bath " ; Manet answered that Courbet's 
ideal of art was a billiard-ball. Yet so hard does academism die, 
that even Meier-Graefe discusses Manet's aim in terms of Beauty ! 
But then he sees beauty in the bowels of a bullock ! 

Now, lest there be confusion about the Impressionistic move- 
ments, owing to the befuddling of the name, we had best be clear 
at once. 



XHE Courbet went back to the Tenebrosi, and painted sheer Realism 

CONFLICT i" Mass. Now came a group of men and took up the large art of 
OF MASS- Velazquez where he had left it. Remember that Chardin had 
IMPRES- already painted sheer impressions ; but the Revolution had come to 

SIONISM destroy his revelation and to turn back art to classical academism. 

WITH THE It will be seen that the art of painting has steadily essayed from 

MEDIAEVAL development to development to find a wider gamut of craftsmanship 
ACADEM- whereby to utter its fuller significance — the play of colour so that it 
ISM OF shall yield wider and more complex emotions. 

XHE Now Courbet in his gross way, with exaggerative violence, had 

i^STHETES struck against classic ideals, had struck down the historical ideals 
even of the early Romantic movement, railed against the painting 
that required literature to explain it, attacked symbolism as being an 
intellectual effort outside the province of art, and went to extremes 
in denying art the power to interpret the soul. In the larger part 
of this Realism he was unassailably right ; but being a coarse fellow 
of considerable genius he naturally did not feel spiritual things. But 
the senses are the avenues to the intellect ; and as long as an idea 
reaches the intellect by way of the senses it may become prodigious 
art. However, at first. Realism became largely an affair of sordidness. 
An ugly tendency also set in to mistake mere craftsmanship for art. 
And these two vulgarities lay upon and largely threatened Painting 
and Literature awhile. But at least it drove artists to set their own 
age above all the claptrap of tradition and the past ; it cleansed and 
purified the whole intention of art, and freed the artist from imitation 
of dead men. 

Manet now came to rid the movement of Courbet's grossnesses. 
Manet saw and felt life as a much nobler, more profound, and 
complex thing than the mere vulgarities of Courbet. He saw that 
colour was like rhythm in music, creative and arousing certain 
sensations each in its own power. The artists now cease to talk 
of Beauty — they speak of Character. They are concerned with 
Life, with Truth, the value of things ; they realise that to the eye 
Light reveals all things. This rejection of Beauty for Life and 
Character is a prodigious forward movement to the heights. The 
life of the humble is seen to be as " noble " as the life of the rich. 
Painting is realised to be as a music of colour harmonies ; not a 
code of rigid academic laws. 

Let us realise that by i860 a group of men have arisen who, in 

their different ways, have found an instrument that will give them 

the orchestration they desire for the utterance of the impression of 

the thing seen by means of " values " — that is to say, by their colour 




as seen in the depth of their atmosphere from the eye — and by WHEREIN 
massing their forms and colours. And, led by Manet, they now all THE 
seek to create the impression of the thing seen by massing. Courbet's GREAT 
mass Realism has at least led to that. REVELA- 






Coming of the old magistracy, born to a judge in Paris on the 
23rd of January 1832 in the artery of the Latin Quarter now known 
as the Rue Bonaparte, Edouard Manet, the eldest of three brothers, 
grew up to manhood as the Elegant — the man about town. As a 
lad he had shown great gifts of drawing ; but the judge had a judge's 
career in his mind for the young fellow. Manet's uncle, Colonel 
Fournier of the artillery, supported the youth. He was sent a voyage 
in the Guadeloupe to Rio de Janiero to lure him from art. But 
artist he would be; and in 1850 went into Couture's studio. 
Couture was at least a small respecter of tradition, but he demanded 
from Manet what he would not himself give to others. They 
quarrelled and wrangled from the start. But Manet realised that 
the shoemaker's quarrelsome, thickset, scowling son was the finest 
teacher in Paris ; and he stayed with him for six long years. At 
twenty-five he left him, and went a-wandering over Germany, 
Holland, and Italy — copying Rembrandt in Germany, Hals in 
Holland, Titian and Tintoretto in Venice. Coming back to Paris 
he copied the Spaniards — Velazquez and Goya — at the Louvre. 
Beginning by painting in low tones, and strongly influenced by 
Goya, Manet concerned himself with Spanish subjects. Then came 
Courbet into his ken with his trend from Romanticism to mass- 
Realism. In 1859 Manet made his first attack on the Salon with 
his Buveur d^ Absinthe, and was rejected. Here we see that Courbet's 
blacks and greys have become rhythmical. The next Salon (1861) 
displayed Manet's portrait of his Father and Mother and the Guitarero\ 
Manet received honourable mention due to Delacroix. Ingres was 
kind. Couture sneered: "He will be the Daumier of i860." 
Daumier was the abhorred of the academics. Gautier hailed Manet 
with delight. There was general consternation. His Music at the 
Tuileries had been rejected. The Street-singer and the Boy with the 
Sword were of 1861 ; the sad-faced girl with the guitar is his 
first great effort in realistic impressionism. The Old Musician was 




of 1862. The death of his father brought Manet a consider- 
able fortune; in 1863 he married a Dutch lady of musical gifts, 
Suzanne Leenhoff. A little one-man show, in which were seen the 
Spanish Ballet and hola de Valence^ with other works, won the 
alliance of Baudelaire but divided the town. Then he knew repulse. 
The Salon of 1863 refused him; and with him Whistler, Cazin, 
Fantin-Latour, Harpignies, Jongkind, Legros, Pissarro, and others. 
The Emperor had insisted that a room should be given to the rejected, 
and Paris flocked to the Salon des Refuses to laugh herseff hoarse. 
Manet made the sensation of his Breakfast on the Grass. A new 
vision was come to France. All objects were shown in full light ; 
no dark shadows were " arranged." The picture of the Dejeuner sur 
Pherbe with its nude lady amongst the dressed figures scandalised 
every one — even those who gazed unmoved on Giorgione's Fete 
champetre at the Louvre. 

In 1864 the Salon accepted the Venetianesque Angels at the 
Tomb of Christ and the Bullfight, out of which he cut the dead 
Toreador, burning the rest. 

The academicians in alarm threw wide the doors of the Salon of 
1865; Manet made his mark with Jesus insulte zx\^ the famous Olympia. 
The air rang with tumult. The next Salon rejected him vin- 
dictively. So far, Manet had founded his art on Hals and Velazquez ; 
he had mastered their craft, and blended it in his own vision. This 
had scandalised the academic ! By 1865, then, he was famous — the 
talked-about man. Paris was divided — and fiercely. Baudelaire 
hotly supported him. The famous Olympia finished the business. 
This superb colour-harmony of the nude courtesan lying on her bed, 
a negress bringing her a bouquet of flowers, and the black kitten at 
her feet, hangs to-day at the Louvre, the flag of a great victory — it 
reveals a new vision wholly distinct from all that has gone before — 
the subject is placed in full light as though a great window were 
behind the painter ; and the massy arrangement is enhanced by 
the rhythm of its lines and the orchestration of its colour. Superbly 
drawn with large touch, this immortal masterpiece sets Manet 
beside Hals and Velazquez. The simplification is masterly ; yet 
even Manet hesitated to show it until Baudelaire urged courage, 
reminding him that much genius had found derision. 

Manet was now the recognised fighter ajid leader of the new 
movement ; his vigorous personality marked him for the office of 
this leadership. He bore the brunt of the attacks by the critics. 
The elder of the group, he was at full manhood, set in his purpose. 
To him gathered his friends Whistler, Fantin-Latour, and Legros. 


1832 - 1883 



Signed on left: — "ED. MANET, 1865." Painted in oil on canvas. 
4 ft. 2 in. X 6 ft. 3 in. (i-27x i -90). 


To Whistler his revelation was vital. The ill-favour of the WHEREIN 
academicians drove others under his flag ; and the young Degas, THE 
Monet, Pissarro, Renoir, Caillebotte, Berthe Morisot, and the young GREAT 
Bazille, who was to fall in the war of 1870, forgathered. The REVELA- 
writers Gautier, Baudelaire, and Banville were his hot allies ; and TION OF 
later Zola and the De Goncourts and Stephane Mallarme all came MASS- 
to his support. The generous nature of the man made him a born IMPRES- 
leader, to say nothing of his fire, his large spirit, his tireless energy, SIONISM 
and his dauntless courage. COMES TO 

The friends were soon jceringly known as " L'Ecole des FRANCE 
Batignolles," from the obscure Batignolles cafe at which they met — 
the Cafe Guerbois. So far he had mastered the craft of Hals and 
Velazquez, and, as colourist, surpassed them in orchestration. 

In 1886 the Salon rejected the Fifre and the Tragic Actor 
(Rouviere in Hamlet). Finding the Salon inimical he in 1867 
showed fifty of his collected works in the Avenue de I'Alma, with 
Courbet. He was free of bread-winning, and he fought for his 
poorer brethren. The catalogue held the famous phrase : " The 
artist does not say to you to-day : Come and see flawless works, but. 
Come and see sincere works . . . the painter has only thought of 
rendering an impression." 

Zola's enthusiasm for Manet led to that writer being dismissed 
from the Figaro in 1866. Academicians would buy the Figaro, 
waylay Zola or Manet on the boulevards, and tear the paper to 
pieces before them in public ! 

Of 1868 were his ^mile Zola and Lady with a Parrot \ of 1869 
the fine Dejeuner and Balcony ; both revealed the man's compelling 
power. For 1870 the Salon had the portrait of his pupil, the gifted 
pastellist Fva Gonzales, and he had painted the famous Execution 
of Maximilian (1867-8). 

It was in the early part of 1870 that his old journalistic friend 
Duranty attacked him in the press ; at the Cafe Guerbois Manet 
struck him across the face. In the resulting duel, with Zola and 
Vigniaux for seconds, Manet wounded Duranty in the chest. 
Thereafter there was reconciliation. The cloud of war was 
gathering over France that called Manet with the rest of the man- 
hood of the land to the colours. Even the short-sighted Daudet 
did sentry-go ; Regnault fell in a sortie ; Bazille was slain ; 
Meissonier was made colonel of the Garde Nationalc, and, grimly 
enough, Manet was promoted captain to his staff! Years after- 
wards, Manet, gazing upon Meissonier's Charge of Cuirassiers, was 
heard to mutter : " Good, quite good ! everything is steel but the 
VOL. VIII — X 161 




cuirasses." However, Manet was through some hard fighting 
under the fire of the Prussians, and of his own people later in the 

Manet had now spent his patrimony, and had to look to his 
art for livelihood. Impressionists, so nicknamed, were not in the 
fashion ; Manet alone having considerable vogue. With all the 
breeding that distinguished him, he took advantage of his vogue to 
display the works of his comrades in his studio. Manet heretofore 
had not greatly concerned himself with the figure in relation to its 
lighting out of doors. With his wonted force, he now shook off 
Hals and Velazquez, as he had shaken off Goya. His superb 
painting of the lady Before the Mirror was of 1876. 

Manet was thirty-eight ; was done with the Old Masters, and 
had created an intensely individual art. After the war, he allied 
himself with Monet, Degas, and Renoir, and increased his Impres- 
sionism towards brilliant lighting. This very year he had painted 
but had not shown the Garden ; he had already in 1886 painted the 
sun-filled sea-piece of the Fight of the " Kearsage " and the " Alabama" 
which revealed his development in the open-air painting towards 
which he had already moved in his Musique aux Tuileries and the Bal 
de POpera ; just as the Halslike Bon Bock of 1873, a masterpiece 
of great power, and the Liseur saw him working still in his earlier 
manner. From 1868 Manet had been painting in the open air. 
The Salon of 1874 showed his Le Chemin de Fer. 

In 1875 he sent his open-air Argenteui/ to the Salon; and the 
jury, afraid of the greatness of the man, admitted it under protest. 
But the following year of 1876 they rejected his Desboutin portrait 
and the fine open-air Le Linge of 1875. Manet promptly repeated 
his retort of 1867, and opened his studio to the public. The Salon 
of the next year, 1877, accepted the Faure as '■'■Hamlet" but with- 
drew the Nana ; but at last the jury realised that Manet was too 
great to reject, and every Salon henceforth knew him until the day 
he died; and there appear in 1879 En bateau (in which blue-and- 
white scheme Mr. George Moore is seen arrayed in boating 
flannels) and Dans la Serre ; of 1880 were the Antonin Proust, 
the \\ivn\nou% Pere Lathuille restaurant; and in 1881 the Rochefort 
portrait and the serio-comic Pertuiset, the Lion-slayer, brought 
Manet a medal, and his old friend Proust being Minister of Fine 
Arts, Manet found himself in the Legion of Honour. Of 1882 was 
the glittering Bar aux Folies-Bergeres and the portrait of a lady called 

But Manet had fallen a victim to locomotor-ataxy, and, worn 


out with the great fight and his prodigious industry, having suffered WHEREIN 
amputation of a foot to save him from gangrene, he sank and died THE 
on the 30th of the April of 1883. GREAT 

The hand of the vigorous and forthright painter of the Woman REVELA- 
with the Parrot, of the unforgettable young mother seated In the TION OF 
Square near her infant in the perambulator, of the portrait of a lady MASS- 
called Rest, of the great three-quarter-length portrait in profile of IMPRES- 
Madame M. L. was stilled at last, in but his fifty-first year. Void SIONISM 
at last was that searching eye for character that set down with COMES TO 
powerful direct strokes the weaknesses and the strength of men as FRANCE 
you may see in his unflinching masterly portraits of Zola, of Roche- 
fort, of Desboutin, of Proust, of Clemenceau and Guys and Faure, of 
Baudelaire, and of Irish George Moore amongst others. 

Manet was a giant. Knowing what he desired to utter, and 
with consummate hand and unerring instinct employing an art best 
fitted to that utterance, he never swerved a hair's-breadth towards 
the academies. He stands alone, and apart, as Hals and Rembrandt 
and Velazquez stood, without rival in his age. Men were shaped by 
him — Whistler and Sargent and Degas and others of great gifts; but 
he stood serenely above all. He handed on the torch to the coming 
years. He was one of the subtlest colourists. His handling and his 
virile forcefulness are a marvel. He was never subject to touch-im- 
pressionism ; never wrought his art by colour-spots. He rejected 
science wholly for sensing ; by consequence he achieved the dignity 
and stateliness of the grand style of the classical without the empti- 
ness, and mastered a compelling poetry of reality. Seeing that the 
sensitive temperaments of the rebels of his day flinched from war, he 
lOok that war upon himself, and fought the battle with his own sword. 
They resigned themselves to being misunderstood, but Manet was of 
more heroic clay, and insisted on being understood, or at least 
accepted ; by consequence he brought them courage, and, but for 
him, they might have been overcome. To him the nude or the por- 
trait, landscape and seascape, the home-life or still-life, surrendered 
their wizardry. He never mistook Realism for sordidness, nor Life 
for a dunghill. His grasp of Life was profound ; his temperament 
fine and comprehensive and balanced. He lacked the psychology of 
Rembrandt, as did Hals and Velazquez ; yet psychology he had, as 
his illustrations to Poe's Raven prove — indeed in illustration, in his 
etchings, his lithographs, and his pastels, he showed his powers as in 
all else that he wrought. In his portraits above all he proves his 
psychology, a grip of character. He scorned to imitate any man, 
even himself. He saw that art must create a style to fit every subject. 





" Each time I paint I throw myself into the water to learn swim- 
ming," said he. 

Manet not only led France into the promised land, he was 
the mightiest achiever. Rembrandt's impressionism is the highest 
in spiritual sensing that the world has yet seen ; but it is created by 
light and dark, not by colour — it is as effective in black and white 
— Manet's is absolutely dependent on colour. Mauclair reveals the 
bookish man when he asserts for one's understanding of Manet's art 
that " one has to know his admirable life, one has to know well the 
incredible inertia of the Salons,"or that one can feel something great 
in him " even without knowing the conditions of his life." Art 
reaches the senses with truthful power or it does not ; and no 
reading about outside things can increase that sensing. The increase 
that critics feel has nothing to do with art, but is a refined form of 
intellectual snobbery. 

The object of loud laughter — the Empress Eugenie demanding 
that his works should be removed from public display, thereafter 
President Grevy pursing his lips in demur at the name of Manet 
on the list for the Legion of Honour, indeed being overruled only 
by Gambetta — Manet fought every inch of the way to conquest. 



Manet eagerly joined battle with convention ; Monet and 
Degas and Renoir shrank with horror from the squabbles of the 
academies and the publicity of war with the critics. 

HiLAiRE Germain Edgard Degas was born of bourgeois stock 
in Paris on July 19, 1834, and entered the Ecole des Beaux-Arts 
in 1855 in his twenty-first year, working under Lamothe and Ingres 
— it was Degas who carried Ingres out of his studio when the old 
artist was stricken down in the seizure from which he died. 

Degas had gone to America, and the luminous atmosphere and 
colour of Virginia and Florida roused the painter's vision for colour. 
Back again in Paris he joined the art rebels. In 1865 he was one 
of the group at the Cafe Guerbois on the Boulevard des Batignolles 
with Manet, Renoir, Monet, Lhermitte, Fantin, Legros, and Cazin, 
Whistler and Stevens and Pissarro. From i860, when he painted 
the American Cotton-broker* s Office in New Orleans, his vision was 
essentially realist and modern, even though he had not yet concerned 
himself with atmosphere and impression. He appeared at the Salon 
of 1865 with a pastel of JVar in the Middle Ages. But the following 


year of 1866 brought forth his Steeplechase v^h'ich. began his long WHEREIN 
series of racing subjects. The next year saw portraits from his hand ; THE 
1868 a Ballet-dancer \ and more portraits followed in 1869 and GREAT 
1870. Thereafter he never again sent to the Salon. Replayed REVELA- 
with classic subjects, Spartan Youths Wrestlings and the like, even TION OF 
whilst he essayed the modern life. MASS- 

In 1874, '76, '78, '79, and '80 he displayed his work with the IMPRES- 
impressionists, with Manet and Monet and the rest. In 1884 he SIONISM 
showed some scenes of the racecourse. Degas found his strength COMES TO 
in draughtsmanship. He is a genius of great power, ruthless, FRANCE 
compelling, vital. His frank truthfulness and his biting wit were 
gall to Whistler, whom he loved to taunt with his poses and his 
theatricalities. He refused all decorations. 

Degas continues the development of Daumier. The Luxem- 
bourg possesses his superb Cafe on the Boulevard Montmartre amongst 
other fine works. 

Degas saw life in a narrower fashion, and was impressed by life 
on a lower plain of realism than was granted to the mightily en- 
dowed Manet. He became influenced by the touch-impressionists 
as did Manet. He has not the colour range either of Manet or of 
Monet; but he has the vision for mass and the power to utter modern 
life of the mass-impressionist. His colour ranges through quiet 
grey harmonies ; his sense of orchestration is limited. Retiring, 
silent, and solitary, he is said to be pessimistic ; reputed to be of 
quick and biting wit that men dread. He has an astounding 
draughtsmanship ; his line is broad, firm, telling — his drawing and 
his vision are opposed to classical drawing and vision. He has a 
cynical contempt for critics, and says that a man only buys pictures 
because he thinks they will increase in value. Beginning by copying 
the Italian Primitives, Fra Angelico above all, he was for long 
under their glamour, painting finely drawn tawny portrait-heads 
against black or black-grey grounds, intense and earnest in inquisi- 
tion. In his beginnings he had these two things in common with 
Ingres, hard mastery of drawing and photographic vision — what we 
may call scientific perfection. He was at that time doggedly set 
on mathematical precision and mastering of technique — soulless and 
icv. But from the first he revealed a marvellous sense of the 
harmonies that lie in greys and blacks. On such severe training 
was being built that loose pulsing drawing that was to bear him to 
his own. Thence he clearly came awhile under the glamour of 
Corot — his subtle and intense feeling for greys developed. Degas 
never gave way to lyricism in colour ; even in his highest range 





in colour the scheme is grey and black with here and there a 

Bitterly ironical, sensitive to impressions and to wounds, Degas 
has given forth the emotions of life as though guardedly. His 
whole interest is in life — in the world of his own day. He is said 
to share Ibsen's contempt for modern morality. But his astute 
vision is impartial, judicial ; he takes life as he finds it and sets it 
upon the canvas, careless of its why or its wherefore. 

His interests are curious — the racecourse, the ballet-dancer, and 
middle-class women taking their baths. One remembers his finely 
arranged Carriages at the Races, saved from photographic truth by 
its subtle statement of colour. He catches the movements of horses ; 
and his subtle gradations of colour are as nervous and alive as the 
mettle of the thoroughbreds. But it is the flutter and whirl of the 
ballet that brings out the vitality of the man. His severe training 
in draughtsmanship here serves him to fine purpose. The cloud of 
gauzy skirts, the swing of the pink-fleshinged limbs, of the gracefully 
poised arms, the glint of mirrors, all bring out his innate gifts. In 
the often vulgar girls he sees no ideal Greek figures, but the coarsely 
muscled legs, the commonplace heads, the narrow shoulders, the at 
times ugly features. His insight into character never hesitates. 
He shows, with relentless skill, the allure of sex even under the 
betrayal of bodily imperfection. He suggests the curious move- 
ments of ballet-girls, and the jerk of their gauzy skirts, with rare 
truth. He is wholly concerned with truth of impression. 

When bookish theorists see in these masterpieces the " lavish- 
ness of Degas's intellect," and that a " figure or attitude tells us 
more about Parisian life than a whole novel," they mistake the 
function of painting for that of literature — Degas never makes any 
such mistake. 

A very luminous example of Degas's art is the Dancer at the 
Photographer s, as she poses in her gauzy skirts before a large 
window, one foot out-pointed in the hideous convention of standing 
on the points of the toes which gives the foot an ugly buniony 
appearance, and does so much to destroy the grace and slay the 
rhythm of the dance in the ballet. Here we see him concerned 
with light in amazingly masterly fashion, as in the pastel of the 
three ^irls in the Greek Dance we see him akin to the touch- 

The series of women of the people bathing in their rooms 
shows Degas's grimly humorous searching vision into awkward- 
nesses — he catches the awkwardnesses of the ungainly woman when 


she has put off public pose and gives herself to the slovenly habits WHEREIN 
of privacy. THE 

About 1896 Degas proved himself a poetic painter of landscape, GREAT 
perhaps in some ways the truest utterance of his soul. REVELA- 

The art of Degas is said to reveal lassitude and disenchantment TION OF 
with life ; his subjects would go to prove this rather than his art. MASS- 
A lonely man he is, with few friendships. His satirical tempera- IMPRES- 
ment shows throughout his work. He is ever something of the SIONISM 
mocker. Pessimistic therefore he is in a degree. The human race COMES TO 
scarce looms majestic in his eyes. A genius — as pastellist, as FRANCE 
draughtsman, and within his limited gamut as colourist — Degas is 
steeped in his age. He can feel none of the heroic faculty of the 
people. They race and dance in ballets or wash themselves — they 
are innately awkward even when they pose as graceful. A man of 
prodigious force, he has created a craft all his own. He had the 
genius and the courage not to paint vulgar things in the grand 

Degas made school. His influence has been very wide. A 
retiring man, he trained at least two remarkable pupils — Forain and 
Mary Cassatt. Out of Degas also grew the school that brought 
forth Renouard, and a greater, Toulouse-Lautrec, and a still 
greater, Steinlen. 



1841 - 1894 

Great-granddaughter to Fragonard, Berthe Morisot had come 
under the influence of Corot, when the genius of Manet burst upon 
France. She was on the edge of twenty when the great battle 
began ; and she flung herself on the side of Manet. Marrying 
Manet's brother Eugene, she continued to sign her works as Berthe 
Morisot, out of respect to her great brother-in-law's name. An 
artist of remarkable gifts, as her luminous work of A Toung Woman 
seated on a Sofa proves, she had the genius to express herself, to 
utter a woman's vision instead of aping that of a man. Her realm 
was the garden and the life of young girls ; she had rare gifts in water- 
colour. A woman famous for her beauty, she came to as wide fame 
in her art. On the death of Manet, it was she who championed 
his name and fame until she died in the fulness of her gifts at fifty- 





three, leaving behind her a large output of her luminous designs, 
wherein her love of flowers, her blue and silvery colouring, her 
interest in the coast of Normandy and the glittering gardens of Nice, 
her concern with young women, and her glory in fruitful orchards 
keep her fame green. Manet painted her in the famous canvas 
where she is seen seated on a sofa and in the Balcony. 

Marie Bracquemond, wife of the famous engraver, was pupil 
to Ingres, then joined the Impressionists. She has painted enormous 
decorative schemes and delicate etchings. 

EVA gonzal£s 

Eva Gonzales, the favourite pupil of Manet, was coming to 
fame as an exquisite pastellist ; and, having rejected her early train- 
ing under Chaplin, was winning to powerful utterance under Manet, 
when the end suddenly came. She was the wife of the engraver 
Henri Guerard. Manet has left us a portrait of her at work at an 
easel. The Luxembourg has a small pastel by her. 


An American, Mary Cassatt, is a remarkable woman of genius. 
Pupil to Degas, Mary Cassatt joined the Impressionists, and, like 
Berthe Morisot, she had the instinct to utter art as a woman, instead 
of aping men. She gives forth the woman's vision of motherhood 
and children. She has come to mastery of oils and pastels. 





In the meantime Mass-Impressionism was being created in England WHEREIN 
in the hands of a black-and-white artist — his name, Charles WE SEE 
Keene. MASS- 


1823 - 1891 SIONISM 

■^ . . . , ARISE IN 

Of Suffolk stock, born at Hornsey to a solicitor of Furnival's ENGLAND 
Inn on the loth of August 1823 (his mother a Sparrow of Ipswich, 
therefore also of Suffolk stock), young Charles Samuel Keene 
entered his father's office at sixteen, soon thereafter going to an 
architect. Then he was apprenticed to the engraver Whymper for 
five years. In 1851 he first drew for Punch, and was soon working 
for the magazines. But it was Punch that gave him his great scope, 
his high gifts winning the admiration and applause of Menzel and 

In Keene we have the impressionism of the British genius de- 
veloping into superb black-and-white illustration of the life of the 
age rendered with a power that has never been surpassed by mortal 
hands. He advanced impressionism in the utterance of the life of 
his age, so that it is to Keene that the future must go to see that 
life, whilst not a single painter was creating it, and painting was 
seeking false gods and aims in primitivism. The critics have placed 
the etchings and illustrations of Whistler upon the altar of their 
faith, accepting Whistler at his own valuation ; but the line-work 
of Whistler cannot approach the art of Keene, who stands head and 
shoulders above his age. With the pen's stroke he could weave the 
winds of heaven, the gale, the onset of waves, the movement of 
boats, the glamour of the sun on the fields, as well as the life of 
the streets, on to the paper with a wizardry of genius that has 
never been surpassed. Keene died at 112 Hammersmith Road on 
January 4, 1891. 

In his painter-like use of line Keene creates the impression of 
VOL. VIII — Y 169 




the thing seen with compelling power. He gave us the life of the 
middle and lower classes in immortal fashion. And he did it by 
the conjunction of mass and of broken line which forestalls the whole 
European intention of the years to come in painting. 


1834 - 1896 

What Keene did for the middle and lower classes, George Du 
Maurier, with great gifts of impressionism in pen-line about equal 
to those of Keene, did for the upper classes. His earlier work is so 
close in genius to the art of Keene that it is difficult to separate 
them. Du Maurier and Keene, if all other records were swept 
away, create for us the life of their age with consummate genius. 

1834 - 1903 

Whistler looms large to the English-speaking peoples, since he 
was the disciple who spread the gospel of Mass-Impressionism ; it 
was the wilful genius of Whistler that bore the torch to his own 
people. A shrewd self-interest made him hide his indebtedness to 
Manet in the strut of the heir to Velazquez. Every ounce of his 
innate gift of intrigue and his arrogant egoism were absolutely 
essential to his triumph. And he rested neither day nor night, nor 
flinched from any act that might impress him upon his race. The 
influence both of Rossetti and of Fantin-Latour are most marked ; 
nor is the pseudo-classicism of Albert Moore absent from his vision. 
Then Courbet dominated him awhile, as we see in the Coast of 
Brittany (1861), the li^ave (1862), and other strong landscapes. 
Thereafter came Manet. Then in the Old Battersea Bridge of 1865 
Whistler found himself. 

Whistler, on the father's side, came of English stock long settled 
at Whitchurch and Goring-on-Thames, being descended from 
Charles 11. 's President of the Royal College of Physicians. The 
family had gone to Ireland, thence to the American colonies, and in 
the United States, at Lowell in Massachusetts, to Major George 
Washington Whistler and his wife, Anna Matilda M'Neill, of the 
old Southern aristocracy of Baltimore, descended from Scottish 
stock, was born on the iith of July 1834 James Abbott M'Neill 
Whistler, who was to bring immortal fame to the name. At 
seventeen the youth was sent to the military college at West Point, 
but his time being up, he surrendered the sword for the brush, and 


1834 - 1903 


(National Gallery) 

Bought by the National Collections Fund from the Whistler Memorial 
Exhibition. One of the canvases brought forward during the Whistler v. 
Raskin trial. 


made for Paris at twenty-one, never to see his native land again, WHEREIN 
entering the studio of Gleyre in 1855, where Du Maurier and WE SEE 
Poynter were amongst his fellow-students. Fantin-Latour came MASS- 
into his life when Whistler was copying the Old Masters at the IMPRES- 
Louvre ; and Manet, two years older than he, began to come to the SIONISM 
front at the end of the fifties. Whistler's quick senses realised the ARISE IN 
new movement. He was soon attached to the group who worshipped ENGLAND 
at the Cafe Guerbois at Manet's feet — Degas, Fantin-Latour, Monet, 
and the others. Into the fray he was later to fling himself. It was 
in etching that he made his first advance with the "little French 
set " (1858). At twenty-five (1859) he came to live in London with 
his brother-in-law, Seymour Haden (i 8 18- 19 10), the surgeon whose 
capable etching won him knighthood. Soon thereafter he was 
sharing a studio with Du Maurier in Newman Street ; then paint- 
ing and etching at Wapping. The end of the year saw him settled 
at Chelsea. 

In the following year of i860 he sent his first painting to the 
Royal Academy. At the Academy of 1862 was The Thames in Ice. 
Paris struck him his first rebuff. In 1863, on the edge of thirty, 
his White Girl was rejected at the Salon, being hung at the Salon 
des Refuses with the works of Manet and other rebels. 

Unfortunately, amongst Whistler's many affectations was the 
giving of numbers to the titles of his pictures instead of a dis- 
tinguishing name, and this White Girl, " No. 2," hides a fine 

Bracquemond had burst into enthusiasm over the art of Hokusai 
in 1856 ; all Paris awoke to Japanese art. Whistler missed nothing. 
He saw that Japanese art was bringing a new arrangement into 
composition. It broke down classical symmetry. Manet was 
strongly influenced. Whistler revelled in the revelation. He took 
violent perspectives, and the sprigs of leaves, and set up schemes on 
Japanese lines. He invented a Japanese butterfly signature out of his 
initials which he set in his design. Above all he painted in flat 
coats. He employed oil-painting as the Japanese employed colour- 
prints from the wood. The result was tender, delicate, subtle ; but 
on the other hand it lacked power and other great attributes. But, 
since Whistler was not stirred by great and majestic moods, it did 
little harm ; and in adapting the Japanese colour-print he wisely 
realised his limitations, at the same time that he increased his 
exquisiteness. Just as his landscapes of London were soon to 
suggest London seen through eastern vision, so we shall see his 
portraits suggest British folk seen through the eyes of a Spaniard. 





The following year (1864), rejected by Paris, Whistler showed at 
the Royal Academy the Wapping and the Die Lange Leizen — of the 
Six Marks. In 1865 the Academy held his Golden Screen, his 
Old Battersea Bridge^ The Little White Girl, and The Scarf— master- 
pieces all. 

Whistler was now come into his kingdom. The voyage to 
Valparaiso in 1866 completed the conquest. His hand becomes 
bolder; he rises above schooling and tradition. Tht superh Nocturne 
in Blue and Gold — Valparaiso is the revelation of an original and 
consummate genius. He had already proved that genius in the 
Old Battersea Bridge ; he now established it. 

He came back to Chelsea and proceeded to paint masterpiece 
after masterpiece of poetic Thames river-pieces. 

Whistler now used colour in glowing restrained key with a 
tense, emotional exquisiteness. Beauty ot statement and ease of 
utterance were become a confirmed habit. Some magic had fallen 
on the vision of the man, and his skill of hand leaped eagerly to 
express the lyrical ecstasy within him. Henceforth his crattsman- 
ship stated every impression that he desired to arouse. Without a 
note of music in him — indeed, he owed the musical notation of his 
works to Fantin-Latour — he has discovered the oneness of the arts 
of colour and sound. 

Using a large polished table instead of palette, he mixed in the 
centre of it a great patch of the colour he decided to be the key to 
his scheme, and into this he dragged each colour of his gamut. But 
his eyesight always baulked him from complete mastery of values ; 
and he painted far darker than Nature. He painted up his whole 
canvas together, not in patches. He required for portraits many 
sittings. His earlier work is in bold, thick, vigorous strokes ; 
rapidly he came to painting in a thin fluid manner. He painted 
direct, never softening the stroke of the brush-\vork. In oils he 
constantly mixed black with his colours, as in water-colour he 
mixed white. 

Not sending to the Academy in 1866, he sent in 1867 The 
Symphony in White No. 3, the Battersea, and Sea and Rain. Skipping 
two years he sent in 1870 The Balcony, then skipping a year he sent 
to the display of 1872, in his thirty-eighth year, the world-famous 
and powerful Portrait of Whistler s Mother — Arrangement in Grey and 
Black, which now belongs to the French State. Thereafter Whistler 
only sent once again to the Academy — an etching in 1879. 

In his fortieth year Whistler held a display of works in Pall 
Mall, and the world saw his superb Carlyle, and perhaps his supreme 



1834 - 1903 

(Corporation Art Galleries, Glasgow) 


portrait of the little girl Miss Alexander^ wherein the subtle atmosphere WHEREIN 
of girlhood is caught with rare purity and exquisiteness. The WE SEE 
tenderness of the colours, the marvellous brushwork, the command MASS- 
of greys, alone raise Whistler in this canvas amongst the masters ot IMPRES- 
the ages had he never painted another masterpiece. The Carlyle SIONISM 
shows Whistler creating the effect of philosophic grim old age, with ARISE IN 
a power that equals his statement of Miss Alexander s childhood, and ENGLAND 
his own Mother s serene old-ladyhood. 

The Grosvenor Gallery meantime was giving him a splendid 
outlet for his genius ; to London indeed he owed his recognition, his 
rapidly increasing vogue, his honours and his discovery — and he 
proceeded to flout and sneer at England for the rest of his life ! Yet 
there was a reason for his spites. The whole solid body of 
Academicians, the Press, and Ruskin were bitterly hostile to 
the man. 

In 1877, at forty-three. Butterfly was to arouse the petulant ill- 
will of Ruskin. Ruskin was now the despot of the art-world. In an 
evil moment for himself, he turned peevish unseeing eyes upon the 
master-work of Whistler, and uttered the now notorious drivel : 
" The ill-educated conceit of the artist so nearly approached the 
aspect of wilful imposture. I have seen, and heard, much of 
Cockney impudence before now ; but never expected to hear a 
coxcomb ask two hundred guineas for flinging a pot of paint in the 
public face." The injustice and sin of this thing were insane, 
almost criminal. A weaker man than Whistler must have been 
utterly destroyed by it. But Ruskin had delivered himself, naked, 
into the hands of the spoiler. He never spoke again with the same 
authority. . . . Whistler sued him for libel ; and the doings of 
those two dark November days, when the case came before Baron 
Huddleston and a special jury, became the laughter of the whole 
country. It was a duel between him and the Attorney-General, 
with Whistler's brilliant wit and passionate confidence in his art 
against the pompous playfulness of the legal luminary screening his 
ignorance. The Attorney-General walloped the air with a sand- 
bag, hitting his own nose, perspiring and inanely jocund, slowly 
realising at last that the keen rapier-play of his enemy was shedding 
his brains all p.bout the cockpit. Stupidly asked by the Attorney- 
General whether he asked two hundred guineas for the labour of two 
days. Whistler made his famous reply : " No ; I ask it for the 
knowledge of a lifetime " ; and later, to the Attorney-General's " Do 
you think you could make me see the beauty of that picture ? " 
Whistler, after a pause, gazed at the Attorney-General's face, looked 




at the picture, and answered to the expectant Court : " No. I fear 
it would be as hopeless as for the musician to pour his notes into the 
ears of a deaf man." His farthing damages made him the best 
talked-about man for many a day ; his pictures advanced in the 
favour of many who, whilst they did not fully appreciate his art, 
admired his courage and his wit. Whistler knew full well that 
that farthing on his watch-chain had dealt a blow for art which a 
public subscription to Ruskin's costs could not mitigate. 

Out of the devilry emerged the first of those brown-paper pam- 
phlets in which Whistler was wont to rail at his enemies. 

The next year (1879) saw him in Venice, where he wrought for 
nearly two years upon the famous series of Venetian etchings ; and 
he was busy thereafter with portraiture. In 1884, at fifty. Whistler 
was elected to the Royal Society of British Artists in Suffolk Street. 

In 1885 he delivered his lecture Ten 0' Clock. It was the year of 
his Sarasate. The last day of the year saw the eruption of his 
quarrel with Mr. Leyland over his famous decorations for the Peacock 
Room. Whistler had set up his La Princesse du Pays de la Porcelaine 
as the keynote of the room. The red of the valuable gilt Spanish 
leather upon the walls jarred with the work. Whistler, with an 
assistant, feverishly painted out the leather with peacock-blue and 
gold. The strife became very bitter. 

But a fiercer quarrel was coming. Whistler was elected 
President of the Royal British Artists ; fell foul of the old gang in 
the Society ; the decline of sales gave the Society the excuse for 
compelling his resignation ; and he withdrew with all the young 
bloods in 1888. Meantime he had begun to work in lithography. 

The nineties opened with a roar for Whistler. He published 
his Gentle Art of Making Enemies. It tickled a large public to whom 
his high achievement in art was Greek or boredom — the human 
always turns aside from the serious business of life to watch a dog- 
fight. It set up such a nervous dread amongst critics that from the 
day of its appearance he became immune from attack. But the bulk 
of the book is the record of his quarrels ; and such things are best 
forgot at setting of the sun. Whistler played catch-as-catch-can 
with an open razor. For, when all 's said, and the face draws 
serious after the laugh, we become aware that he set up as picture of 
himself an acrid-witted and somewhat unlovely figure that was 
scarce even a half-truth of the man, but which was straightway 
accepted as his whole confession. Whistler himself felt this sense of 
blight. At that May-Day banquet of his life, when England 
rendered him homage, at the summit of his achievement, world- 


wide his repute, fifty-five of his stormy years of life behind him, rising WHEREIN 
with friendly faces greeting him, he made his public confession that WE SEE 
he had had to " wrap himself in a species of misunderstanding, as MASS- 
the traveller of the fable drew closer about him the folds of his cloak IMPRES- 
the more bitterly the storm assailed him on the way." It is not in SIONISM 
his book but in his art that you shall find him. Whistler attacked ARISE IN 
the teacher, scorned the didactic ; his life was one long effort to be ENGLAND 
thought a teacher. His Ten o'clock is the narrowest didacticism, as 
it is false from end to end. 

A year or so before he was sixty Whistler showed his 
"Nocturnes, Marines, and Chevalet pieces" in 1892 at Goupil's ; 
the world flocked to render homage. Such as felt no artistic 
emotion before his work kept silence, afraid to be thought dullards. 
His contempt had now the furnace-blast to wither reputations. 
Insincerity in praise was become as widespread as aforetime was 
fatuity in blame. A born fighter, there was now nobody to fight — 
no giant to slay. Peace had settled upon his kingdom. He slowly 
died of it. 

Whistler went abroad and, roaming through Brittany, drifted to 
Paris, taking a studio in the Rue du Bac. At sixty-one he came 
back to England, showed his lithographs, and the following year 
settled in London again. Tragedy now entered to him. His wife, 
the widow of the architect Godwin, died, leaving Whistler a lonely 
old man. In 1898 the " International Society " was founded with 
Whistler as President. But the great fight was done. Honours 
poured upon him. In 1899 he essayed to repeat his success of The 
Gentle Art with The Baronet and the Butterjly, but to break the 
butterfly on a clumsy wheel. His quarrel with Sir William Eden 
was too parochial to stir the public pulse. There was a sense of 
stooping. The old war-dog was growling at shadows — seeing ghosts 
in the twilight of life. He worked to the last. In the early part 
of 1903 he was slowly tailing — he died rather suddenly on the 
17th of July, in his seventieth year. 

Whistler, when he spoke upon art, would have us believe that it 
is the province of Art to say nothing very beautifully ; his instincts 
and his genius made no such mistake. He said that Art was the 
Science of the Beautiful — which were no mean definition of Cratt, 
and had been no bad definition of Art, but that Art is not Science 
and is not Beauty. It is of the wisdom of the wiseacre who defined 
a crab as a scarlet reptile that walks backwards — which were not so 
bad had it been a reptile, had it been scarlet, and had it walked 





Art concerns itself with tears and pathos and tragedy and 
ugliness and greyness and the agonies of life as much as with laughter 
and comedy and beauty. Neither Whistler nor another may narrow 
the acreage of the garden of life. 

It was exactly in his confusion of Art with Beauty that Whistler 
fell short of the vastnesses. There are far greater emotions than 
mere beauty ; and it was just in these very majestic qualities, in the 
sense of the sublime and the immensities, before which his exquisite 
and subtle genius stood mute. But at least one of the greater senses 
was granted to him in abundance — the sense of mystery. His fine 
instinct told him that Suggestion was the soul of craftsmanship, and 
he never over-stated the details of life. Out of the mystic twilight 
he caught the haunting sense of its half-revelations and its elusive- 
ness with an exquisite emotional use of colour. His masterly brush 
painted the moods of landscape with a power that compels them 
upon the senses. 

It is often sneered that America can only create a British art. 
So far from being subject to sneer, it is America's glory and her 
significance. The fact that she has politically separated from 
England is a mere parochial affair. Her law, her speech, her 
whole significance are a part, and a magnificent part, of the English- 
speaking genius. She inherits Shakespeare and Chaucer as much 
as England inherits them. When Whistler flung his spites at 
England, as he never hesitated also to do at America, he was but 
a suburban Buggins quarrelling with a suburban Tompkins ; but 
both Buggins and Tompkins in their hearts know full well that 
they are of the same breed, and the mastery of their race is their 
pride. To miss the oneness of the English-speaking peoples 
is to miss their whole destiny, their significance, and their 

Whistler flouted his race ; but he took good care to live in 
England. He flits across the Victorian years — gay, debonair, laugh- 
ing, quarrelsome, huffy — a dandified exquisite of a man, insolent, 
charming, unexpected — a wit amongst the chiefest wits ; and he drew 
his rapier upon them all, hidalgic, swaggering, blithely stepping 
into frays for mere love of a quip ; like one of those tempestuous 
Spaniard dons of his beloved Velazquez, hot upon his honour 
always, just to keep his blood jigging. Strutting it like gamecock 
he fought his duel, drew blood, and, almost before his blade was 
wiped, had forgotten his man, and, with flashing eyeglass in choleric 
eye, was peering for another. 


And it was behind this so mocking fantastic figure, which he WHEREIN 
whimsically created and set up, and almost came to believe in, WE SEE 
to trick the herd of men and bewilder the authorities, that he strove MASS- 
to hide the wounds he suffered from the dull unseeing eyes and IMPRES- 
clownish malice of his stupid day. And with the bitterness of years SIONISM 
of hate and obloquy in his heart, and stung by the injustice of ARISE IN 
it all, he grasped that what the world would not see he could whip ENGLAND 
it into seeing ; so he whipped it — with flout and knout and jeer 
and sneer qnd caustic jibe he whipped it, until its unwieldy bulk 
became first uneasy, then wholly perplexed, then tolerant, then 
forgave itself, then recognised him and paid him cautious homage, 
admiring just his truculent audacities, discovering only his greatnesses 
after fearsomely bowing to his small disdains. 

So he smiled away the agonies, playing the fop, with flashing 
eyeglass and long cane and flat-brimmed silk hat and the long glove 
and devil-may-care laugh ; and, except from a few, hid as best he 
might the serious artist that was in him. All that was greatest in 
him he spent in the eager agony of artistic endeavour. The rest of 
his day he played at play-acting in a fantastic farce, dressing up in 
theatric attire, and thrusting before the footlights the dandified 
quarrelsome little figure that strutted it with bigod airiness, making 
even of Nature's defect, the white forelock amidst his black hair, 
a source of pride — moving in a whirl of mockeries and witticisms, 
and rough and stinging repartee, reckless of consequence except the 
answering laugh, reckless of friendships broken. He essays to play 
the part of Butterfly — the gorgeous wings but thinly veil the 
venomous body of Wasp. He did not wholly deceive himself — the 
butterfly that was his pictured signature he often drew with sting 
for tail. 

He tried to despise the good opinion of the world ; and he 
came near to breaking his heart in the effort to prevent the world 
from ignoring him. 

Endowed with great gifts, he would spend precious hours of 
his working day in attacking critics, sometimes friends, for 
stupidities or unmeant slights. To this end he would cudgel his 
keen wits to pen the spontaneous epigram, or to find a victim for 
a ready-made slur. 

Whistler stepped into the Victorian years out of some old-world 
tangle, some old romantic brawl, unreasonable, quixotic. He was 
of the blood of the dictators. He must never be in the wrong. 
He ruffled it, dapper, fire-eating, striking insults with his cane 
across offending shoulders, calling men out to duel — and in 
VOL. VIII — z 177 




whimsical aside, tongue in cheek, hopes to God they may not 
come out. 

He was a rolHcking law to himself, whether in the country 
taking his walks abroad in dancing-pumps, or climbing rocks by 
the seashore in the same — whether in town posing and strutting 
by the hour before the mirror at the tailor's or the hairdresser's. 

He was a very strategist. He detested the vulgarities. If 
possible, the rude scuffle was to be avoided. But war must be. 
He had the genius for war. If it had to be the personal scuffle, 
fearless but small, he did not give battle until the more powerful 
enemy was at disadvantage — then he darted in and flung the clumsy 
fellow, taken unawares, through the plate-glass window in Piccadilly. 
And before the other had recovered from the fierce surprise of the 
first onslaught. Whistler had skipped into the public eye and was 
crowing his victory. He set his wit against the other's strength. 
The most mischievous of sprites, and at eternal strife, he detested 
war as an unrighteous horror and unclean. He hated sport — 
abhorred killing. 

Up with the lark — ever blithe — he was an early riser, a tireless 
worker, the man of taste in all the things that he did. He lived 
delicately on slender fare ; was temperate with wine, of which he 
was a good judge. He was the dandy always, dressed even at his 
work as though ready to enter the drawing-room of fashion. His 
day's work done, he sallied out to dine with the wits. With 
friends he spent his evening at the playhouse — Shakespeare's or 
other serious play a huge joke to him — the comic song of the 
music-hall a joy. He had no sense of music whatsoever. Intel- 
lectual pursuits were not for him. He had few books — and read 
fewer. Religion troubled him not at all. His day's work shed 
from him, he must enjoy life — know men through contact with 
their wit and gossip. Always fresh, always bright, never weary, 
he was never heard to utter an indecent phrase — he detested all 

Vague in affairs of money, his difficulties at times were pathetic. 
He loved his work — to part with the work of his hands was an 
agony, the drawing of blood. He refuses an etching to a dealer for 
a guinea — he gives it to a poor admirer for a crown. 

Full of energy, he never lounged in an arm-chair ; and his home 
contained no comfortable furniture. " If you want comfort," cried 
he, laughing, " go to bed." And his evening's gadding over, he 
would walk home, making of his exercise an opportunity to study 
the glamour of the night — when sluggards are abed. 


Whistler had certain evil effects on art. With a trivial mind WHEREIN 
he gloried in art being a trivial thing. He deliberately belittled the WE SEE 
range of art, for he deliberately saw^ life as a little thing. But he MASS- 
saw^ it exquisitely and created it exquisitely. Whistler mistook IMPRES- 
the joy of craft for the sole aim of art ; as men — and women — SIONISM 
only too often mistake church for religion. ARISE IN 

About Whistler arose a cult of Art which is about as sorry a ENGLAND 
falsity as was ever uttered upon it. There lies before me a book, 
wrought through and through with the antique drivel about art 
being beauty, and the stupid cackle about " Whistler helping to 
purge art of the vice of subject " — as if Whistler might not liave be- 
come a mightier genius had his subjects been of vaster range ! For, 
subject, spite of the gabble of the studios, there is in all art — a 
portrait is a subject. Then we come on such fatuities as that " the 
realist in this troubled world cannot look through rosy spectacles," 
as if it were not the idealists who are not amongst the greyest of 
pessimists, whilst the realists almost as often bring forth the optimist ! 
Whistler, exquisite and subtle as were his sensing, at least cannot be 
accused of wearing " rosy spectacles " ; that eyeglass of his was the 
window to as pessimistic a soul as any man ever possessed. 






Whilst the mass-impressionism of Charles Keene in black and white 
brought forth a superb achievement in pen-work, there also arose in 
England a group of painters of pastoral idylls and landscapes. 


1825 - 1899 

Of Quaker stock, born at North Shields, Northumberland, in 
1825, the youth Miles Birket Foster went at sixteen as 'prentice 
to the wood-engraver Landells. At twenty-one he was illustrating 
children's books, and working for the illustrated London News. 
Wielding a delicate poetic craft, he wrought a multitude of little 
landscapes that breathe the very air of his beloved England. By 
1858 he was also working largely in water-colour, and was elected 
to the R.W.S. in i860. 

1818 - 1872 

George Heming Mason came of the old county aristocracy. 
Born at his father's seat, Wetley Abbey in Staffordshire, on March 
II, 1 81 8, the lad was sent to Edward vi's School at Birmingham 
with the intention of making a physician of him. Going abroad 
with his brother in 1843, at twenty-five, the young fellows, whilst 
at Rome, heard that money disasters had fallen on the family. 
Mason turned to art. At Rome the young Leighton found him 
near starving ; befriended him, and secured him work. Coming 
back to England in 1858, Mason married and went to his old 
home in Staffordshire, and began the painting of those rural scenes 
which created a school. In 1865 he came to live in Hammer- 
smith ; in 1869 he became A.R.A. But his health, never of the 
best, gave way ; and he died on the 22nd of October 1872. 

Side by side with this Idyllic movement was working a school 
of Realists who won to chief mastery in the field of Book- 
Illustration, known as " the men ot the sixties," some of whom 


adventured into painting, into which they carried their book- OF THE 
illustrating intention almost to a man. ENGLISH 

Frederick Walker (1840-1875) idealised the pastoral life of PAINTERS 
the land. Born at Marylebone, London, on May 24, 1840, to a OF THE 
working jeweller, the lad early showed the artistic bent. Entering PASTORAL, 
the office of an architect in i 855, he studied at the British Museum ; AND THE 
in 1858 entered the Academy schools, apprenticed himself to the GREAT 
wood-engraver Whymper for three years, and was soon illustrating ILLUS- 
for the magazines. Thackeray called him to work up his own TRATORS 
sketches for Philip in Cornbill. In 1863 he showed paintings at OF THE 
the Academy ; was elected to the old Water-Colour Society in the HOME-LIFE 
following February ; and in 1867 the Royal Academy showed his OF THE 
Bathers^ which began his series of works at these displays. Elected SIXTIES 
A.R.A. in 1 87 1, he was already suffering from the consumption 
which was to cut short his life at thirty-five ; he died at St. Fillans 
in Perthshire on June 4, 1875. His Harbour of Refuge is typical of 
his art. 

George John Pinwell (i 842-1 875), born to a builder at High 
Wycombe on December 26, 1842, developed early, and became a 
designer at an embroiderer's. In 1862 he went to Heatherley's 
school, and was soon illustrating. He worked with Whymper 
just after Walker had left. He was early doing important work 
for the illustrated magazines. In 1865 he was painting. Like 
Walker, he was doomed to an early death, dying on the 8th 
September 1875. 

Boyd Houghton (i836-i875)was another good artist of this 

To Joseph Crawhall, one of the finest descendants of the old 
chap-book illustrators, I shall return as creator of one of the most 
vigorous of the younger schools amongst us to-day. He was the 
friend of Keene, and to his wit we owe many of the humorous 
legends that adorned Keene's masterwork. 

Of Tenniel (1829- ) and the other brilliant illustrators there 

is not space here to speak. It was a great period of some of the 
supreme work done in black and white, to which the rare imagina- 
tion of Tenniel and the men of the time brought a vast range of 







In the forties Scotland brought forth a group of painters of the 
home-life, who emerged from under the wing of Wilkie — the 
Realists Erskine Nicol, the Faeds, and R. T. Ross, all of them 
good colourists. 

Thomas Faed, R.A. (i 826-1 900), showed at the Royal Academy 
for the first time in 1851, and settled in London the next year. 
His pictures of Scottish home-life were painted with power and 

Erskine Nicol, A. R.A. (i 825-1904), painted the life of the 
people, Irish as well as Scottish, with broad humour and a telling 

At the same time the Pre-Raphaelites cast their glamour over 
Sir Joseph Noel Paton (1821-1901), James Archer (1823-1904), 
David Scott's brother W, Bell Scott (1811-1890), Sir W. Fettes 
Douglas (1822-1891), Herdman (1829-1888), and Gavin (1827- 
1883), all seeking literary inspiration. 


1817 - 1867 

It was out of Wilkie's school that one of the most powerful 
painters of Scotland was to come — a man to whom was revealed 
that broad mass-impressionism that was arising in France across the 
Channel. The son of a poor soldier, young John Phillip, born in 
Aberdeen on April 19, 18 17, apprenticed at an early age to a house- 
painter, was soon essaying portraiture, beginning with the copying 
of a picture of William Wallace from a signboard. A local painter 
of portraits, called Forbes, gave him lessons; and in 1834 he made 
for London as a stowaway aboard a brig. In London he visited the 
Academy, was taken up by Major Lockhart Gordon, and under 
his influence came to the notice of Lord Panmure, who placed the 
youth as pupil with Joy. Rejoined the Academy schools in 1837, 


his twentieth year; showing at the Academy in 1839 his Moor. OF THE 

In 1840 he went back to Aberdeen to paint portraits — amongst MID- 

others the young Millais in 1843. In London again in 1846, it CENTURY 

was in 185 1-2 that he first went to Spain, winning the name of SCOTSMEN 

"Spanish Philhp," or " PhilHp of Spain." The Diploma Gallery 

copy of Las Meninas proves his deep interest in Velazquez. He was 

in Spain again in 1856-7 with Ansdell ; was elected A.R.A., and in 

1859 R.A. In i860 he was again in Spain ; and began his famous 

series of brilliantly lit and broadly handled pictures, which had a 

wide influence in the north. His royal portraits are of this time. 

In 1866 he went to Italy, studied Titian ; but was driven home by 

ill-health, dying in London of a paralytic stroke on February 27, 

1867. Phillip had a marked influence on Millais, and was the 

man who bought Whistler's first painting at the Royal Academy. 



Edward Matthew Ward, under the advice of Wilkie, entered 
the Academy schools in 1835; went to Rome in 1836 for three 
years, thence to Munich under the Nazarene Cornelius to study 
fresco, and came back to London in 1839 ; showed his Cimabue and 
Giotto. Made A. R.A. in 1847, he became R.A. in 1855, having in 
1853 been commissioned to paint eight historical pictures for the 
House of Commons. He died by his own hand on January 15, 
1879. Ward had married in 1848 Henrietta Ward, herself an 
artist, daughter of George Raphael Ward, and granddaughter of 
James Ward. Ward's best-known pictures are the Doctor Johnson 
'waiting for an Audience in the Ante-room oj Lord Chesterfield^ the 
Disgrace of Lord Clarendon^ the South Sea Bubble, and James 11 
receiving News of the Landing of the Prince oj Orange. 

In landscape the Scottish artists were now close at grips with 
Nature, catching her moods, her weather, and the breezes that blew 
across her face. Naturalism and Pre-Raphaelism went hand in 
hand. Sir George Harvey (1806- 1876) gave his later years to 
landscape; and Milne-Donald (1819-1866), Sam Bough (1822- 
1878), and Fraser (1828-1899), and Docharty (1829 ?-i878), 
all wrought their art. 

John Crawford Wintour (i 825-1 882) bridges the gap towards 
the modern achievement, as seen in his poetic masterpiece, A Border 
Castle. Etty had initiated him into his splendid art, thence he 
broke into landscape, with Constable as his influence, and came to 
splendour thereby. 






In Scotland about 1 860 the work of R. Scott Lauder began to tell ; 
he had trained a group of painters — romantic illustrators — who for 
awhile dominated the Scottish achievement, and there emerged 
Orchardson, M'Taggart, Cameron, Chalmers, MacWhirter, the 
Grahams, the Burrs, and others. 


1835 - 1910 

Sir William Quiller Orchardson, born in Edinburgh, was a 
Highlander. Joining the Trustees' Academy in 1850, he early 
showed such gifts that he had left when Scott Lauder was made 
headmaster. Orchardson returned and became leader of a brilliant 
group of Scott Lauder's students, Chalmers, M'Taggart, Pettie, 
Tom Graham, Peter Graham, MacWhirter, who joined together 
into a sketching club, and came in touch with the Pre-Raphaelite 
movement in 1857, doing much illustration. Orchardson rapidly 
developed a manner of his own, in which the exquisitely drawn line 
in pencil on the canvas was made the base, about which the strokes 
of paint were subtly and tenderly hatched with flowing touch, em- 
ployed in a restrained pearly or golden harmony. Orchardson came 
to London in 1862 and made a mark, being elected A.R.A. in 1868, 
and R.A. in 1877, the year of his Queen of the Swords. Of 1878 was 
his Social Eddy, in which he began his series of modern dramatic 
scenes, the Mariage de Convemwce being of 1884. The Napoleon on 
the Bellerophon was of 1880, initiating his French series. Of 1886 
was his superb black-and-gold harmony of his wife and babe called 
Master Baby. His Sir Walter Gilbey of 1891 was one of the finest 
portraits of his age ; as his Windsor group of the Royal Family 
(1899) was one of the greatest Court portraits. 

John Pettie (1839-189^) struck a more vigorous and dramatic 
note, and was a good colourist, taking his anecdotes from history ; 
Chalmers (1836-1878) painted homely subjects; M'Taggart 
(1835-1910) beginning in Pre-Raphaelism developed into one of 
the most powerful painters of the sea, of the sunlight and the wind, 
the poet of the fisherfolk. 

Besides this dominant group, Lauder trained or influenced 

Peter Graham (1836- ), well known for his landscapes and 

seascapes; John MacWhirter (1839-1911) the landscapist ; Tom 

Graham (i 840-1 906) who came to brilliant achievement in the 



painting of the figure, he was under the Pre-Raphaelite influence, OF THE 
and Hugh Cameron (1835- ) who painted the humble folk. MID- 

Closely akin to this school was a group of well-known artists. CENTURY 
Lockhart (1846- 1900) came under the influence of Scott Lauder's SCOTSMEN 
school at a time when John Phillip's masterly Spanish phase was 
making a profound impression in Scotland. Gibb (1845- ) 

painted battle-pieces; William Hole (1846- ), most famous 

for his etchings, is an Englishman trained in Scotland ; C. Martin 
Hardie (1858- ) is best known for his Burns in Edinburgh in 

Orchardson's manner ; Ogilvy Reid is much of the same style ; 
and J. Watson Nicol is interested in the romance of old Scottish 
life. George Wilson (i 848-1 890) was Pre-Raphaelite. 

The Pastoral cast its glamour over Robert W. Macbeth (1848- 
), whose art is akin to that of Mason and Walker, the English 
Pastoral painters ; Manson (i 850-1 876) and P. Walker Nicholson 
(1858-1885) and John R. Reid (1851- ), White, Noble, and 
Robert M'Gregor, were all born at this time. The portrait- 
painters include the academic Sir George Reid (1841- ). 

Of the illustrators, one of the finest was William Small ; and 
the humourist W. Ralston. 

Landscape brought forth W. D. Mackay ; A. K. Brown ; David 
Murray; David Farquharson (i 839-1907) ; Joseph Farquharson; 
Leslie Thomson (185 1- ); Campbell Noble (i 846- ), whose 

art is so akin to that of the Modern Dutchmen ; Robert Noble 
(1857- ); CouTTS Michie ; R. B. Nisbet ; Cecil Gordon 

Lawson (i 851-1882), who made his mark in England; Hope 
M'Lachlan (i 845-1 897) ; both deeply moved by the work of the 
men of Barbizon, and the subtle and tender landscapist Wingate 
(1846- ), one of the most poetic painters of the age who had 

looked upon the art of Corot. 

Of the sea-painters, Cassie (1819-1879) painted calms; but 
M'Taggart revealed his vigorous art to Colin Hunter (i 842-1 904), 
Hamilton Macallum (1841-1896), Henderson (1832-1908), and 
R. W. Allan. 

Of the animal-painters were Robert Alexander, whose Watching 
and Waiting is in handling much like the work of Macbeth ; and 
Denovan Adam (i 842-1 896), who painted cattle. 

There also arose in England a school of illustrative painters 
largely concerned with Historical Illustration, that brought forth 
fine craftsmen. 

Seymour Lucas, R.A. (1849- ), proved by his famous 

VOL. VIII 2 A 185 




Gordon Riots a close kinship with the painters of Hogarth's time ; 
the Scotsman Gow, R.A. (1848- ), gave himself to historical 

anecdote; whilst Yeamf.s, R.A. (1835- ), wavered between 

historical anecdote and the type of costume-comedies by which 
Marcus Stone, R.A. (1840- ), is best known. 


8 7 o 




With the seventies there came to France the revelation of Turner. WHEREIN 
Mass-Impressionism developed to Broken-Colour Impressionism — WE SEE 
colour employed like music. THE 


Broken-Colour Impressionism (or Touch Impressionism) it was 
that was labelled " Impressionism " by the Press ; and if we 
would understand its significance we must here and now rid it of 
this false critical claim ot the impressionism. It were best to 
grasp it before we proceed further. This misuse of the word 
impressionism by the critics must be stopped if the student hopes 
to understand modern painting. 

The Mass-Impressionists had been essaying to thrust forward 
the massing of the Tenebrosi and Hals and Velazquez, so that colour 
should take the place of merely dark shadows. But towards 1870, 
the artists were getting into the sunlight, and they felt that their 
masses were founded on indoor colours that failed to utter the 
glittering impression of sunlight. They looked about them, and in 
all the vast achievement of art but one man beckoned to the sun- 
light — English Turner. They discovered the whole modern revela- 
tion in what bookish men called the Decline of Turner ! 

Now science was showing that a ray of sunlight on passing 
through a prism is broken into three pure colours, yellow, red and 
blue — and at their edges by junction these colours by mingling 
create violet, green, and orange. The men of '70 (or rather of '75) 
found that by using pure colours in broken strokes side by side, the 
impression of colour could reversely be created — and, not only so, but 
that the results were far more brilliant than the painting of the old 

Turner had conquered. 






The war of 1870 scattered the artists of the Cafe Guerbois. 
Several made for London town ; and in London town was revealed 
to them the genius of Turner. The effect was profound. Whilst 
Boudin and Jongkind were working as common labourers in 
Belgium, Monet and Pissarro, and F. Bonvin and Daubigny, with 
others, were in London, almost penniless. Monet worked in the 
parks, Pissarro joyed in the fog and snow and the coming of the 
spring ; both haunted the galleries and museums, revelling in 
Turner and Constable and Old Crome. They sent to the Academy 
and — ^were rejected. 

They noticed what Delacroix had noticed, that Constable and 
Turner employed flecks of colour side by side to create masses of 
tone ; and that it created intense luminosity. They copied bits 
of Constable and Turner and Watts. They went back to 
France complete revolutionists in painting. They preached a new 
gospel. They set up a brotherhood at the Cafe de la Nouvelle 
AtliLince, forgathered there with Manet, and greatly influenced 
him. They added to their old literary allies Arsene Alexandre of 
the Figaro, and others. They were poor, and unpopular ; the 
critics were hostile ; the public timid ; the music halls laughed 
them to scorn ; the dealers shut their doors to them ; the Salon 
would have none of them. The artists knew starvation ; their 
houses were sold up ; they were glad to sell a picture for a couple 
of pounds. The dealer Durand-Ruel was near bankrupt with their 
former stock. The historic exhibition of Impressionists in 1874 
was a failure ; the critics bitterly assailed it. But on the roll of 
honour were the names amongst others of Boudin, Cezanne, Degas, 
La Touche, Lepine, Monet, Pissarro, Renoir, Sisley. By i 879 the 
group includes Forain and Mary Cassatt ; by 1880 Rafi^aelli, Vidal, 
increase the list; and in 1886 appear Odilon Redon, Seurat, 

Of the Painters of the Broken-Colour of the Seven Hues of the 
Spectrum or Touch-Impressionism, the leader was Monet. 



Born in Paris on November 14, 1840, to a rich merchant of 
Havre, Claude Monet early revealed artistic gifts, hotly dis- 
couraged by his parents, who sent him travelling abroad. At Havre 


he played with caricature and made friends with Boiidin. Two years WHEREIN 
of soldiering with the Chasseurs d'Afrique in Algeria sent him WE SEE 
home with fever. Thereafter he went to Gleyre's studio in THE 
Paris. REVELA- 

Claude Monet, founding his art on Corot and Boudin, then sat TION OF 
at the feet of Manet ; attracted to his art by 1863, he thereafter ENGLISH 
based his art upon mass-impressionism. Monet first appeared at TURNER 
the Salon of 1865 ; the art and the nearness of the man's name BURST 
interested Manet. But it was in 1870, on coming to London with UPON 
Pissarro, that he saw the work of Turner, and returned to France FRANCE 
to create a new craftsmanship from that revelation, and was soon OF THE 
thereafter influencing Manet. SEVEN- 

Let me put this in simple terms. Turner's earlier art is con- TIES 
cerned with the impression of masses. His genius from the first 
kept him from mistaking art for imitation. He strove always to 
give the " impression " of the scene — he used the word as the whole 
aim of art. He sought to express the romance of a place, the 
mood it aroused in his sensing. He did this by massing. Then he 
rapidly realised that colour, regardless of mass altogether, when 
employed like music, did, by certain combinations, create the mood ; 
and when this colour orchestration was combined with massed 
forms, colour yielded so vast an utterance that the most subtle and 
mystic emotions could be suggested. It is this later phase of Turner 
that the critics usually call his decadence ! 

It so happened that the scientific discoveries of light and colour 
by Chevreul in 1864 interested the whole world in the seven colours 
of the spectrum. 

Monet found that, instead of mixing colours into mass like 
Manet, he could, by setting little strokes ot the seven colours of the 
spectrum side by side, create the illusion of a scene before him, 
when you stood off and focussed the painting as a whole. He not 
only found this, but he also discovered that the gamut of artistic 
utterance was enormously increased, so that the play of light upon 
objects could be suggested almost to any degree of intensity. 

Monet found that painting as heretofore practised, except by 
Turner, would not yield the wide orchestration necessary to utter 
the intense moods of full sunlight. He found that the sun's light 
changed the whole colour-scheme of the same thing in every 
differing hour of the day. The texture of surfaces, the glint of 
leafage, the surface of rocks, the glitter of water, are all an illusion 
of colour. The distance or nearness of things is not an affair of 
black and white, but of the values of colours. 



BROKEN- If you look at the same bcene in different times of the day, you 

COLOUR will find that the green leaves of a tree are not the green of a single 

IMPRES- leaf, but, according to the lighting, may be many colours. So, 

SIONISM also, shadows are not blackness or brownness, but different values of 

colours ; they are the colours of the spectrum, but seen in less 

intense light. In other words, high lights are colours more vibrant 

than colours in shadow ; but both are in a rhythmic state of 

vibration. To add to this rhythm, all objects reflect light on and 

from each other. 

Thus, an unobservant person is astonished to see a face against a 
blue ground that is lit by orange light, showing green reflections. 

Now Monet found that for all Manet's superb instinct for mass- 
values he could not utter the vibration of colours as he saw them 
playing under the glamour of sunlight ; so he took the seven pure 
solar colours, added black and white, and employed these in touches 
until he created the illusion that gave forth the vivid moods of 
nature, not by mixing them, but by putting them directly on to the 
canvas side by side. "And all was light." 

It has this immense advantage, not only that it creates 
astounding brilliancy and rhythm, but that the purity of the 
unmixed colours keeps the whole work fresh and brilliant. But — 
and here it is necessary to contradict the sneers of the academic — 
it creates an enormous increase of difficulty in handling to do it. 

Impressionism by broken-colour had this advantage that it 
turned the artists from bastard artistic intention. It co7npelled 
artists to look at Lije-, not at pictures. 

Now, whilst Monet's portrait of a Lady in a Fur-lined Jacket 
shows him a master in portraiture, he gave his genius nearly wholly 
to landscape. Manet himself added colour-orchestration to his 
powerful flat-impressionism. 

Monet began his art career by painting figures ; he then went 
to landscape, and to sea-pieces with boats in harbour. In 1883 he 
settled at Giverny, and the neighbourhood inspired his present work. 
About 1885 came his first efforts in luminosity, in rhythmic 
orchestration of colour. Only displaying his work in private 
galleries, he won his way to fame but slowly. He and Degas knew 
a long climb, side by side, to recognition. Against both was 
brought the charge of charlatanry — they were tricksters, mad ! 

Monet now took scenes and painted them at different hours of 

the day ; his famous Haystacks of 1890 are perhaps the best known. 

He painted the same haystack in a field in phase after phase of the 

day's light ; by consequence they varied in colour-harmonies from 



silvery greys to brilliant reds and purples. He did the same with WHEREIN 
near as famous a series of lyrical poems of the Poplars^ of the Cliffs of WE SEE 
^tretat, of the Golfe Juan, of the Coins de Riviere, of the superb series of THE 
Rouen Cathedral, of the Water-Lilies and of the Thames, These series REVELA- 
are his chief triumphs. He made of these themes a sequence of "^I'lON OF 
lyrical poems : the thrill of colour playing through the leafage of the ENGLISH 
trees, given forth by the sparkling waters, all created by the TURNER 
symphony of reverberating colour employed in an astounding BURST 
orchestration like the notes of musical instruments. It is difficult to UPON 
put into words the resonance of these things. His power of FRANCE 
conveying the sense of heat, of luminosity, of what one may call the OF THE 
vitality of the atmosphere, is miraculous. The wizardry whereby he SEVEN- 
pours into our senses the aerial lyric of the famous Poplars on the TIES 
Kpte in Autumn, one of his masterpieces, just with those simple lines 
of trees, is an unforgettable thing. The compelling force of the 
thing is as much a wonder as its poetic dreaminess. Yet, on looking 
into it, we see but a shower ot gaudy spots. Monet is one of the 
greatest painters of symphonies. His skill can conjure up for us the 
vaporous mists of heat as easily as the ruggedness of rocks. The 
thunder of the seas, the peace of tranquil waters, the level flower- 
fields of Holland, the snow, the river, all yield their essential 
significance to him. The sunlight pulses and throbs and thrills 
over his landscapes ; the wind moves and stirs. 


Camille Pissarro has carried out his art in landscapes, pastorals, 
and pictures of streets and markets. Born in the Danish island of 
St. Thomas, to a well-to-do Jewish trader of the West Indies, the 
young Pissarro early showed artistic bias. Sent to Europe about i 837, 
he returned to St. Thomas about i 847 ; the youth was taken into the 
studio of the Danish painter Melbye. In Paris again by 1856, the 
Salon of 1859 displayed his first success. He worked in the woods 
of Ville d'Avray beside Corot on huge canvases. Then he came 
under the glamour of Millet and changed his style, painting peasant 
life, and adding to his repute. Then he fell under the glamour of 
mass-impressionism ; and later again changed his artistic style and 
intention to broken-colour. It brought him great increase of power 
in rendering his scenes of harvests and of the market-place. The war 
of 1870 sent him with Monet a fugitive to London. He returned 
to France with his great leader Monet to work on the new 
Turneresque revelation. Twelve years thereafter he was bitten 
VOL. VIII — 2 B 193 



awhile with the new idea of scientific painting called Pointillism, 
to which we are coming. He was the close friend of Monet and 
of Renoir, His finest works are perhaps his Streets of Paris. 



A more personal vision is that of Alfred Sisley, a fine master of 
landscape, poetic, luminous, with a remarkable grasp of the play 
of light and atmosphere. Sisley must be ranked close to Monet. 
He has not Monet's tenseness, his compelling impression of heat, of 
the sluggardy of nature, of the anger of nature ; he does not concern 
himself with these moods. But the more placid moods of France 
reveal him a master. Sisley died an old man at the little village of 
Moret on the edge of the forest of Fontainebleau, which he made 
immortal. Whether he painted the Road under Stiow, the Bougiva/^ 
by the water's edge with willows aquiver, boats reflected in the still 
flood, and all bathed in the daylight, or the Bridge at Moret, he 
caught with rare skill the mood and atmosphere of the thing seen. 
Born in Paris to English parents, Sisley adopted the land of his 
birth. Beginning under the vision of Courbet, he painted huge 
canvases of landscapes in brown and grey, in the manner of his 
master. Thence Corot won him away, and he painted smaller 
canvases. Thereafter he found himself creating rich colour, being 
caught with the glamour of the violet glow of the country under 
sunlight. Then came England, and he grew to love Hampton 
Court and the Thames. To France he went back ; and painted along 
the Seine. Settling at last at Moret he immortalised the neighbour- 
hood. He wrought all his life in dire poverty, though his blithe 
art does not reveal his sufferings. He never knew relief from the 
toil for daily bread. He needed all his great courage and dogged 
will — for the struggle never ceased. Unjealous, loyal, great-hearted, 
he saw the others winning to fame whilst he was passed by. 



I have seen it written that Renoir, "like all truly great and 
powerful painters, has treated almost everything — nudes, portraits, 
subject-pictures, sea-scapes, and still-life, all with equal beauty." I 
do not think that Renoir is so poor an artist as that ; at the same 
time the great tragic moods may not have been attempted by him, 
and therefore he may not have been guilty of the unforgiveable 


artistic lie of painting horrible, terrible, or dreadful things as if they WHEREIN 
were beautiful. WE SEE 

The son of a poor tailor of Limoges, the youthful Renoir was THE 
earning his livelihood at seventeen by painting on china. His gay REVELA- 
and glowing sense of colour was revealed from the first. Then, TION OF 
owing to the ruin of the painters on china — by the invention of ENGLISH 
printing on china — being in a sorry plight, the young fellow saw TURNER 
that hands were wanted in a shop for painting the transparent BURST 
blinds for churches ; he went in — offered himself — was set to work UPON 
— was within a week, earning good money by his rapid skill. He FRANCE 
saved the money to enter the Ecole des Beaux- Arts ; met Monet OF THE 
and Sisley and Bazille there ; went to Fontainebleau in the summer SEVEN- 
with them, and met the veteran Diaz, who liked him and gave him TIES 
lessons and helped him. Renoir, with Monet and the rest, now 
under the black glamour of Courbet, was disciplined thereby to 
realism. Then Manet brought him a more juicy handling. 

From his early Boucher-like phase he rapidly developed to 
impressionism in landscape, flowers, and portraiture. 

I have said that there is something feminine, receptive, in the 
art of Renoir — he is quick to catch the movements. His hand is 
less virile than that of Manet. But he was to paint masterpieces. 
By twenty-six, in 1867, he had painted the famous open-air portrait, 
Lisc^ a powerful work. In 1873 came the LaJy on Horseback with 
Boy on Pony ; in 1874 he gave forth the Ballet Dancer and La Loge. 
Then colour and luminosity came to Monet ; and Renoir drank 
of the revelation. Monet uprooted Courbet's influence ; Renoir 
sought colour, and forthwith he entered upon his finest phase of 
brilliant lighting. Healthy of brain and senses, he was to paint the 
healthy allure of women, the healthy charm of children, in all their 
natural mundane reality. 

Of 1 88 1 was the Dejeuner des Canotiers ; and his Bal au Moulin 
de la Galette, the First Step, the Sleeping IFonian %vith Cat, the Box^ 
and the Terrace are of this time, and his finest landscapes. The 
portrait of Sisley shows the use of the point, and the Jeune Fille au 
Panier shows his having looked upon Greuze, whilst Fragonard 
inspires the Jeu7ie Fille a la Promenade. Always he sees life super- 
ficially. He was as yet selling his works at miserable fees and with 
cruel difficulty. He now turned to draughtsmanship and bent his 
will to the line of Ingres awhile. The result was seen in his 
masterly works from 1885, the year of his fine Women Bathing, in 
which a girl in the water splashes two nude women on the bank. 
Renoir had found himself. In the Women Bathing he has not only 



BROKEN- brought colour and line subject to his intention, but he increases 
COLOUR the impression desired by the angular awkwardness of the reclining 
IMPRES- nude, who makes an abrupt efl'ort to defend herself from the assault 

SIONISM of the cold water. He gave forth also his superb nude seated 
three-quarters back to us, doing up her red hair (1885). 

Thereafter Renoir went to Venice, painted fine landscapes, and 
met and painted Wagner, whom he worshipped. Wagner had just 
finished Parsifal, and would only sit for twenty minutes ; his 
laughing verdict on the portrait was that he looked "like a 
Protestant clergyman." 

Renoir went back to Paris, his eyes dazzled with the colour of 
the south, and created masterpieces of painting of the nude. The 
fair-haired nude, seated three-quarters facing us, in The Bather on the 
Beach, is a superb work, showing his characteristic habit of seeking 
for roundness and fulness of form. 

His creative faculty is restless. He pours out work. And even 
when his fingers have grown crippled, he cannot rest from work. 


1845 - 

Jean Franc^ois Raffaelli is concerned with the comedy of the 
people of Paris, as Steinlen is concerned with the more profound 
significance of that people. Rafi^aclli does not use the broken- 
spectrum colours of Monet, but he has evolved a technique of 
vibrant touches in which black and white are used in conjunction 
with touches of direct colour to build up an original utterance and 
reveal a most personal vision. 

Raffaelli came to the front in 1875 with illustrations in colour 
for several magazines. His famous series of Parisian Types in an 
album revealed a genial irony, free from bitterness, interested in 
the life of the people of Paris, in the fascination and character of 
Paris herself, and of her neighbourhood. Raffaelli has given us the 
working-man and the small tradesman, the poor, the wastrels, and 
the scum of Paris in her streets, her hospitals, in their work or 
shirking of work ; and with what human kindliness, for all his 
chaffing, quizzing comedy, he brings the folk into our experience ! 
He has done the same thing for the quaint suburbs of Paris ; the 
picturesqueness of her very Cinderella moods he has caught and 
rendered with rare skill. But Raffaelli has not been content with 
the workers and working Paris. He blazons her splendour, the 
fascination and allure of her great thoroughfares as few men have 
done — the glitter and splendour of her exquisite colour harmonies, 
1 96 


■whether on pearly-grey days or when the sun bathes her in golden WHEREIN 
and silvery hues. His art is fresh and blithe as the breezes of WE SEE 

Spring. Raffal-lli, besides being a sculptor, has invented an oil THE 

pastel pencil. REVELA- 

Raffaelli joined the impressionists somewhat late. He had TION OF 

strange adventures in his artistic beginnings. In his search for ENGLISH 

work he has put his hand to many trades. He had known the TURNER 

drudgery of an office awhile ; sang bass at the theatre ; was chanting BURST 

psalms in a church choir to keep himself a student under Gcrome UPON 

at the Ecole des Beaux-Arts ; worked his way at each town at FRANCE 

which he stayed on his wander through Europe, reaching at last to OF THE 

Algiers ; came back to Paris to show his pictures ; discovered the SEVEN- 

wastrels and the toilers of the dingy suburbs of Paris — and made a TIES 
hit. Raffaelli is basically in his art — like all touch-impressionists — 
a fine pastellist ; he employs oil-colour like pastels. His work, by 
consequence, is vivid, pulsing. The State did well to give him the 
ribbon of the Legion of Honour. 

Another of the prismatic-impressionists is Armand Guillaumin, 
who, born to a linen draper, and beginning life himself behind the 
counter, passing to clerkdom, came to learn from fellow-students, 
chiefly Pissarro and Cezanne, the mysteries of his craft of artist, 
founding his art on Courbet, Daubigny, and Monet. But it was a 
lucky draw in a lottery of the Credit Foncier of some ^(^4000 that 
made him a free man. 

GusTAVE Caillebotte, the amateur painter, befriended the 
impressionists from the beginning. The Luxembourg has his 
Raboteurs de Parquets, with its steep perspective of the floor on 
which the workmen are at their task. His gift to the State of 
works by the impressionists constitutes the Caillebotte collection at 
the Luxembourg. He made it a condition of his bequest that his 
old masters should not be separated from the impressionists ; and 
the academicians yearned for the old for the Louvre, but refused to 
have the new. A bitter war followed, in which the academicians, 
led by Gerome, hotly assailed impressionism. But when it is 
remembered that they hotly opposed Whistler's superb portrait of 
his Mother, it is good to know that the Minister of Fine Arts 
overthrew them. 

Albert Lebourg was a landscape-painter of poetic gifts, whose 
tender use of blues and greens was very personal. 




BROKEN- Now whilst the seventies saw Broken-Colour Impressionism 
COLOUR struggling amidst bitter enmity to herald its great revelation to 
IMPRES- art, there were two movements in painting fulfilling themselves 

SIONISM beside it. 

Inspired by the genius of Millet there arose a school of " Plein- 
Air Realists," who gave their art to the life of the peasant, painted 
in the open air. Jules Breton (i 827-1905), as Millet said, painted 
peasant girls too pretty to stay in their villages. Leon Lhermitte 
or L'Hermitte, born at Mont-Saint-Pere on the 31st July 1844, 
gave his labourers dignity, whilst keeping the reality of his reapers 
and husbandmen. He later employed something of the broken- 
colour touch in his impressions of the pastoral life. He is a master 
of the lithograph. About Millet also arose Rosa Bonheur (1822- 
1899), who painted animals with remarkable skill ; Emile Breton ; 
AuGUSTE Boulard ; and Cazin. 

C A Z I N 

1841 -1901 

Jean Charles Cazin loved the moonlit nights by the seashore, 
the fishermen's hamlets in northern France. Born near Samer, by 
Boulogne, to a well-to-do physician, he learnt the mysteries in Paris 
under Boiscaudron, the master of Rodin (i 840- ) and L'Hermitte. 

He married early a wife who was herself an artist. The Salon of 
1865 saw his first displayed picture ; he began to make a mark about 
1876, and came to the front about 1887. 

A distinguished group of Dutch painters arose, also schooled in 
the vision of Barbizon. 


1827 - 191 1 

In Holland Joseph Israels took up the revelation of Millet, 
mixed with that of Rembrandt. Born at Groningen in Holland on 


the 27th January 1827, Israels has devoted a long life to the paint- WHEREIN 
ing of the life of the people. IS MUCH 

From the Academy in Amsterdam under Peinemen (1809-1861), TALK OF 
and the studio of Kruseman (1786-1868), Israels went to Paris MILLET 
and worked under Picot (1786-1868) and Henri Scheffer (1798- AND 
1 861). He made his mark at the Universal Exhibition of 1855 at VELAZ- 
Paris with an historical picture of William of Orange. Then his QUEZ 
pathway seems to have been revealed to him, for, in 1857, he was THROUGH- 
painting at Katwyk, and sent to the Salon his Children of the Sea and OUT 
Evening on the Shore. The Legion of Honour came to him in 1867, EUROPE 
the year of his Orphan Asylum at Katwyk. The art of Israels con- 
cerns itself with the deep emotions of man ; even in his landscapes 
the scene is but the accompaniment of some human mood. Israels 
has compelled all his gifts to the utterance of the spiritual signifi- 
cance of the life of the people. If he force the pathetic note to 
excess at times, at least he is concerned with true pathos. 

Modern Dutch art is largely Parisian by training, and, as I think 
Henley neatly put it, "They have read their Constable in a French 
translation." But they have developed a subtlety of colour and of 
utterance wholly apart. 

David Adolphe Constant Artz (i 837-1 890), born at The 
Hague, became a student at the Academy of Amsterdam, thence 
made for Paris, where he worked for eight years, until 1874, under 
several artists. His best known works are the Orphanage at Katwyk, 
the Chaude Journee, and the Moment Propice. He gave his powers to 
the character and sentiment of his own people, without essaying the 
deeper and more sombre moods of Israels. 

Albert Neuhuys (1844- ), born at Utrecht, trained thereat 

by Gisbert de Craayvanger ; went to the Antwerp Academy for 
four years, and developed along the lines of Israels in a more 
comedy vein. 

Bernardus Johannes Blommers (1845- ), born at The 

Hague, and trained at The Hague Academy under Koelman (1820- 
1857), owes much of his vision to Israels, and the great Dutchmen 
of the past. 


Hendrick Willem Mesdag was born at Groningen in 1831, 
and born rich. He was thirty-five before he began to paint, went 
to Roelof in Brussels to learn the mysteries, and Alma Tadema gave 
him lessons. But he rapidly and steadily came to the front. He 




is a painter of the sea, and of the heavy Dutch craft that roll upon 
the waters. 


1838- 1888 

Anton Mauve, born at Zaandam, became pupil to Van Os. 
His subtle vision caught the glamour of the grey greens, the silver 
and pale blue, of Holland with a rare and exquisite sensing ; and his 
swift deft brush uttered the subtleties in oil and water-colour with as 
rare power. He mastered atmosphere. He was above all a lyrical 

Frederick Pieter Ter Meulen, born at Bodegraven in 1843, 
began by painting cattle, but had to give up painting for a consider- 
able time ; coming back in ten years he wrought thereafter an art 
largely founded on that of Mauve and Willem Maris, chiefly in 


To a painter of The Hague were born three sons, the brothers 
Maris, who all came to wide repute as painters. 

1837 - 1899 

Jacobus Maris, the eldest of the Maris brothers, and the more 
powerful artist, born at The Hague, after being trained by his father 
went to Antwerp to the Academy there, thence in 1865 making for 
Paris, to the studio of Edouard Hebert. His first Salon picture was 
of 1886, the Little Italian Girl^ followed in 1868 with subjects 
like the Woman Knitting and the Sick Child ; but he was soon there- 
after giving himself to that landscape that was to bring him to fame 
in oils and water-colours, rising at times to high flights of achieve- 
ment, vigorous in handling and breadth of conception. He 
mastered the movements of clouds, their lights and shadows, and 
aerial manoeuvre, their mystery. 


Mathys Maris, like his brother, born at the Hague, went from 

his father to the Antwerp Academy, thence in 1867 to Paris to 

Hebert and the Ecole des Beaux-Arts. He was in London ten years 

afterwards, where he settled. Mathys Maris is shy or contemptuous 



of publicity. A poetic and imaginative man, inclined to be morbid, WHEREIN 
he paints dreams. His melancholy concept of life is uttered with is MUCH 
distinction, and his remote fancy wears an elfish and weird apparel ; TALK OF 
he gives lyrical utterance to a dreamy romance that is without MILLET 
positive passion — a far-away unearthliness. Dowered with a tender AND 
sense of colour, he weaves his blue-and-golden magic web. VELAZ- 


1843 - 1910 OUT 

WiLLEM Maris, like his brothers born at The Hague and EUROPE 
trained by his father, unlike them stayed at home and sought his 
art at home. " Silvery " Maris, the youngest of the three, is the 
painter of cattle and haze and sunshine, revelling in the play of light 
upon the leafage of trees and upon peaceful streams. He loves the 
grassy lands with the herds loitering or resting in the heat of the 
noonday sun. 

But the man of great genius whom Millet inspired to immortal 
masterpieces was the Belgian sculptor, Constantin Meunier. 
To him the torch of Millet was handed on in full flame. 

But before the torch was born to further heights, it looked like 
being quenched in a shallow stream of photographic Realism 
through Bastien-Lepage. 



1848 - 1884 

Born at Damvillers, the son of a farmer, Bastien-Lepage came 
under the glamour of Millet. Bastien-Lepage wrought his art 
out of doors without the genius and epic gifts of Millet. The 
Hayfield made a sensation, and brought the artist into wide fame ; 
and his Joan of Arc listening to the Voices caught the mystical mood 
of the simple religion of the peasant folk of France. Unfortunately 
Bastien-Lepage led the way for the wide practice of photographic 
painting, not only in his own country, but in England. 

The Russian girl, doomed to an early death, Marie 
Bashkirtseff (1860-1884), pupil to Bastien-Lepage, is more famous 
for her Diary than for high achievement in painting. 

VOL. VIII — 2 c 201 




B O N N A T 

1833 - 

Alongside of Manet's interest in the Spaniards, a painter Leon 
Bonnat was being influenced by the powerful light and shade of the 
Tenebrosi, particularly by Ribera. Leon Bonnat, from Bayonne, 
founded his style upon Rembrandt and Ribera, if trained by 


But even in his historical painting, the famous and much-reviled 
Beheading of St. Denis at the Pantheon, Bonnat shows vigorous qualities 
that compel attention, even if its realism be of the bloody kind. In 
portraiture Bonnat is the painter of the official caste. 

Meantime Hals and Velazquez were on the town, and a marked 
Hals and Velazquez academism set in, producing at least some 
strong painters as craftsmen. 


1840 - 

Ferdinand Roybet, born at Uzes, beginning life as an engraver, 
and trained under Vibert at Lyons, was given a medal at the 
Salon of 1866. He took to the historical anecdotal painting 
under the influence of Meissonier, employing gay, bright colours, 
and came to popularity with his academic effects after Hals and 
Velazquez in bright colour-schemes. 



Born at Lille on the 4th of July 1837, Charles Auguste Emile 
Durand, or, as he prefers to call himself, Carolus Duran, strongly 
inspired by Velazquez, began a brilliant career with Realistic mass- 
impressionism, giving forth the famous and masterly portrait of his 
wife known as the Lady with the Glove (1869), in which Manet's 
influence is overwhelming. Returning from Italy to France in 
1866, he later went to Spain, thence to England, making a sensation 
in 1869 with the Lady with the Glove. His fine portrait of a little 
child in red, called, I think, Beppino, was of his good period. But 
his art rapidly fell into a convention, and the plush hangings 
brought a woolly and muffled quality into his portraits. Carolus 


Duran has been a great teacher, and Sargent amongst others WHEREIN 
owes much to his training. He is the fashionable painter of IS MUCH 
the plutocracy. TALK OF 

Louis Mettling was born at Dijon in 1847 of English parents, MILLET 
but is French by training and in vision. Taught the mysteries at AND 
the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, the pupil of Cabanel, he was early VELAZ- 
showing at the Salon, founding his craftsmanship on that of QUEZ 
Velazquez. THROUGH- 

Beside these movements, affected by the interest in light, in OUT 
handling, and in style, several men were working of whom one of EUROPE 
the most brilliant was Chaplin (i 825-1891), whose portraits and 
pictures of French young-womanhood are painted with exquisite 
grace and masterly decision, in a rhythm and utterance all his own, 
and finely fitted to express the mood and intention desired. 





L E I B L 

1844- 1900 

BROKEN- Born at Cologne on the 23rd of October 1844, Wilhelm Leibl 
COLOUR came to manhood about the time that Manet first struck for Mass- 
IMPRES- Impressionism in France. With high promise and a briUiant out- 

SIONISM look, Leibl went to Paris. Some six years before he arrived in 
Paris Manet had painted his Olympia and Luncheon on the Grass. 
Leibl, witli his keen intention of Realism, founding on Holbein 
and the German old masters, with an eye for the Dutchmen, came 
into the circle of Courbet and Alfred Stevens — he never went to see 
Manet or his art. He painted Realism, 'tis true ; but he painted 
it in a hard flat manner, and all his art gives an intention of mathe- 
mathics, of science — as if he worked by triangles or curves or laws. 
In Paris he painted in 1869 his Cocotte — it is a French light-o'-love 
seen through German eyes. His masterly head ot Schuch of 1866 
is more modern. The Head of a Boy (1869), and the Old Woman of 
Paris of the same year show touch and depth influenced by Courbet; 
but at heart he was with the old Germans. Realism was in the air 
— it became his god — yet of Realism he made a sort of science. 
He painted with the mind more than with the senses. His sense 
of impressionism was so scant that he would paint in an eye before 
the rest of the picture ; and he had a habit of cutting pieces out of 
a painting to make pictures. 

After a brief success in Paris, Leibl passed amongst the neglected 
— like Feuerbach and Von Marees he became a lonely man. 

About 1879 (i 878-1 881) he painted his famous Women in Churchy 
hard, mathematical, but with power, which his few allies at Munich 
persuaded him to show alone at Munich in 1881, and which sold 
for about a quarter of what he had asked for it. The bitter disappoint- 
ment at the neglect of his Poachers at Paris in 1888 broke the man. 
He cut the picture into pieces. Melancholy fell upon him and he 


retired to a lonely life, from which nothing could rouse him, even WHEREIN 
the triumph of a great display of his works at Berlin. Dogged by WE SEE 
neglect, Leibl suffered the humiliation of seeing parts of his pictures REALISM 
repainted by others to " improve " them. One of the finest heads S TEP INTO 
he ever painted was that of a Country Girl in a white headdress ; GERMANY 
even in that the Holbein tradition is most marked. And his very AND LEAD 
fine etchings have the old German vision. He laid down the TO IMPRES- 
Munich law of painting alia prima — at first stroke, without inter- SIONISM 
brushing and working over, and Nature as sole guide. His portraits 
of the sixties are his masterpieces. 

By 1870 Leibl had created allies in Germany — the Hungarian 
MuNKAcsY, Eysen the landscapist, Karl Haider, and Hans 
Thoma, with Alt, Rudolf Hirth der Frenes, Sperl, Schider, 
Karl Schuch, Albert Lang, and Trubner. 

The landscapist Sperl was the faithful ally of Leibl and went 
into exile with him. 

1844 - 1900 

The Hungarian Michael von Munkacsy, born on 20th of 
February 1 844, carried on the influence of Leibl in Realism. 
Though he called himself the pupil of Leibl, he had also owed 
much to Alfred Stevens, their common friend. His earlier work in 
particular, and his portraits, reveal his pupilage to Leibl. Like Leibl 
and Lenbach he remained his life long a dark painter, though 
following Leibl's black painting, not Lenbach's brown. His paint- 
ings of the home-life of the people, his elaborate homes of the 
rich, and his large sacred subjects, came to a wide vogue. 


1839 - 

Born to a miller on the 2nd October 1839, Hans Thoma began 
under the necessity of painting signs, amongst the peasants and 
wood-carvers of the Black Forest. In 1868 he made for Paris to 
learn painting ; and was the first German to discover the revelation 
ot Manet, and to bring the news of his greatness to Munich. This 
produced the period of Thoma's best and most sunny art — unfortu- 
nately he afterwards painted out many of these pictures that he 
might not offend his public ! His fine Flower pieces are of this 
time. Thereafter he came under the glamour of Bocklin ; he gave 
himself up to hard dry pictures of mermaids and the rest of it. His 
journey to Italy, and the glamour of the early Florentines finished 



BROKEN- him. In 1877 Thoma left Munich for Frankfort, and went to 
COLOUR pieces. 

IMPRES- In ^'^ll ^^ Leibl circle at Munich broke up. Leibl went into 

SIONISM the country with Sperl. Hirth and Thoma left Munich. Alt was 

in an asylum. Schider went to Bale. One pupil remained true to 

Leibl : Trubner. 


1851 - 

Born on the 3rd of February 1851 to a goldsmith of Heidelberg 
was WiLHELM Trubner, the colourist of this school. Beginning 
in the hard manner of Leibl with a couple of figures at prayer in 
church, which showed the young fellow of twenty a firm draughts- 
man, Trubner turned his strength to colour. Unfortunately he 
looked to the past like the rest of them, instead of looking forward, 
and delayed his development. There was no national tradition 
except Holbein and Diirer. The winter of 1872 he spent in Italy ; 
thence going to Holland and Belgium. 

It was the Dutchmen, fortunately, who fired Trubner, and he 
found himself. Ter Borch and Hals led to Velazquez. In 1872 
his Girl on the Sofa showed an advance in German art towards colour 
and impressionism, the flirtation in The Studio of the same year 
showed increase. He advances at a stride towards Manet. By 1876 
he painted his Lady in Grey — he had seen Hals and Velazquez and 
evolved a forward art — it was the year of his Schuch and a fine Still 
Life. The break-up of Leibl's circle at Munich saw Bocklin and 
Thoma in favour. Trubner fell to Battles of Giants and Centaurs 
awhile ; but even here he was a colourist and a realist. The 
Germans shut themselves up in black during the eighties as though 
Manet were unknown. Then came Liebermann to Berlin, and 
Trubner broke into luminous colour. Trubner had lost time and 
development by trying to find art in the Old Masters ; he now, under 
the influence of Liebermann, flung the ancients from him and made 
for the new adventure. 


1836 - 1904 

Franz von Lenbach was of the Tyrol, being born on the 13th of 
December 1836 ; and was gifted with swift draughtsmanship whilst 
limited in colour-faculty. He was early painting portraits, founding 
on the famous portrait-painters such as Rembrandt, Van Dyck, 
Reynolds, and occasionally showing that he had seen the work of 


Hals ; but employing a curious brown tone always, not free of WHEREIN 
muddiness, that refused to yield him atmosphere or luminosity ; yet WE SEE 
painting, or rather drawing with the brush, virile strong portraits REALISM 
of the greatest and most fiimous men and women of the wonderful STEP INTO 
years of the making of Germany, from the German Emperor and GERMANY 
Princes, and Bismarck and Moltke, downwards. AND LEAD 

Kaulbach is a portrait-painter of this school, as is Koner TO IMPRES- 
(1854- ). SIONISM 



The effect of the French display at Munich in 1869 was 
stultified by the war. 


1849 - 

Germany, philosophic, scholarly, thorough, and running at 
every hand to academism and authority, was slow in moving towards 
vital art in painting. Her " literary " interest in allegory was hard 
to kill ; she had " symbolism " on the brain. Fauns, unicorns, 
satyrs ramped everywhere. Munkacsy, the Hungarian, had 
brought her vigour, but sombre intention. Then came Lieber- 

Max Liebermann, born on the 29th of July 1849 to a wealthy 
Jewish merchant of Berlin, showed early artistic leaning, but the 
father decided that he must become a philosopher, and sent him to 
the university. Philosopher he proved to be, for he kicked philo- 
sophy out of the window and spent his time in Steffeck's studio, 
painting the guns and uniforms and hands into his master's battle- 
piece of Sadoiva, and sketched in the streets and parks, and haunted 
the galleries. At last, in 1869, the youth of twenty was allowed to 
go to the painting-school at Weimar, and for three years under 
Thumann and Pauwels suffered the cast-iron classicism of the day. 
He then broke away and went to Nature. In 1873 he painted his 
Women plucking Geese, the black picture now at Berlin, and the 
" vulgarity " of it caused him to be vowed the " apostle of ugliness." 
The young artist shook the dust of Berlin from his feet, made for 
Paris (1873), and came under the revelation of Millet and 

Munkacsy was then the god of German art ; and the young 
fellow went to seek his guidance, who advised him to make for 
Holland and paint massive black shadows like Ribot. Courbet 



BROKEN- was in the ascendant ; so to Holland the young Liebermann went, 

COLOUR ^"d painted his Women preserving Vegetables in a dimly lit barn in 

IMPRES- 1^73- 'Th^ execration of Germany sent him to Paris to settle. 

SIONISM As yet Manet meant little to him. The galleries revealed to him 

the romance of Troyon and Daubigny and Millet ; then he was to 

be won by Degas, whilst to a slight degree his eyes were to become 

slowly used to Manet and Monet. He went down to Barbizon 

to the aged Millet, and painted the Labourers in the Turnip Field 

and the Brother and Sister of the Salon of 1876. He was at the 

parting of the ways. 

Roaming Belgium and Holland and Germany and Italy, he 
sought for light out of the darkness. At Venice he met Lenbach, 
who advised him to make for Munich, whither he went for six 
years ; painted sacred subjects ; was scowled upon by the clergy ; 
and, leaving Munich, made for Amsterdam. To the Salon he sent 
in 1 88 1 his Asylum for Old Men, and won a medal. His country- 
men began to realise that he was becoming a force. The Society of 
Fifteen, of whom were Alfred Stevens and Bastien-Lepage, elected 
him to their body ; and he lived thenceforth between Berlin and a 
Dutch village. In portraiture he made hits with his Virchow and 
Gerhart Hauptmann. The Courtyard of the Orphanage at Amsterdam 
of 1 88 1 showed that he had shaken off the dark influence of 
Munkacsy ; and in it he struck his characteristic use of red. 
Thereafter came his Ropeyard, the fine Netmenders (1888), the 
Woman with Goats (1890), the Old Woman Darning (1880), The 
Toung Shepherdess (1890), the Boys Bathing (1897), in which detail 
gives way to impression, and colour is employed with power. His 
" interiors " henceforth glow with reflected light. So he emerged 
to the fulness of sunlight and viulet of open-air shadows under the 
blue heavens and by the sea. He became the natural leader of 
revolt from the academic, and headed the great Secession. He 
brought the sun into Germany, and created the fine modern 
endeavour of Munich, which has passed from greys to the glitter 
and play of light. Fauns and unicorns grew dusty and moth- 
eaten ; and pulsing life is gripped by the younger men of Germany. 
Slithery and minute polish and finish are passing away. Germany 
is free. Decadence is flung at them by the dying, as it was flung 
at Delacroix and Manet and Monet and Corot — they are warned of 
" the abyss " — the end of things. 

After Liebermann came the group of landscape-painters that are 
done with prettiness, and paint great open spaces with haunted 
empty roads that lead away into an unknown Beyond, away to a 


wonderful wistful gloomy Whither ? even in ugliness a wonder ! WHEREIN 
Poetry seeks the great mystery — Life. Intellect has killed the old WE SEE 
gods, the old religions — there is gloom without some light to guide ; REALISM 
the optimism of a new revelation of the godhood of man is not STEP INTO 
theirs as yet. But they march forward to the Beyond, even if the GERMANY 
way be as yet but dark with tragic threat. Instinct guides where AND LEAD 
mere reason fails — the senses lead towards the mighty adventure. TOIMPRES- 
The feeble ones look back ; primitive-academism lulls them. But SIONISM 
for the forward-moving no opiates. The people, the poor, the 
primal man call them — the convention of the rich baffles with its 
smug self-content. 

A witty, caustic, and brilliant man, Liebermann rid the German 
genius of symbolism and other professorial gabble. 

1848 - 1910 

Fritz Von Uhde is chiefly famous for his treatment of religious 
subjects in modern dress. He brings the Christ amongst modern 
folk in their modern attire — thus really only doing what was done 
in the Italian Renaissance, but the costumes of Italy, having become 
old-world, do not strike us as being " modern " to their age. The 
curious part of this essay in bringing the Christ amongst modernly 
arrayed people has too often been to give the effect of incongruity, 
as though Christianity were out of date. 

Von Uhde, born on the 22nd of May 1848, began his career with 
great promise in the realistic school. An officer in the Saxon 
army. Von Uhde turned to painting. Beginning under subjection 
to Munkacsy, he turned to Frans Hals, to whom Manet had owed 
such heavy debt, and whom alone Liebermann ever copied. But 
Von Uhde never wholly got free, and his intention was always 

So far the colour development of Monet in impressionism had 
not stirred the Germans. But Gleichen-Russwurm brought it into 
the land. 

Max Stremel and Paul Baum were to take up the pointillism 
of Seurat. 

Bracht was concerning himself with Realistic landscape, and 
slowly evolved towards a powerful handling and sense of colour. 
His romantic landscapes such as the fine Hamnbars Grave gave way 
to even stronger realism, in which he shows affection for tawny 
golden moods of nature. 

VOL. VIII — 2 D 209 




In England the seventies were chiefly possessed by the illustrators. 


A group of men who were fine illustrators have most of them 
since become illustrators in paint. 

Sir Luke Fildes, R.A., (1844- ), did his early work in 

illustration, and concerned himself with the life of the people. His 
first works in painting, such as The Casual Ward, little more than 
monochromes, were of remarkable promise. A visit to Venice drew 
his eye to colour, and he became a fashionable portrait-painter. In 
the famous The Doctor he went back in later life to essay his earlier 

Sir Hubert von Herkomer, R.A., (1849- )•> ^^so made his 
mark in illustration, his Danton, Marat and Robespierre being a 
masterpiece. He, too, was soon painting, making a mark in 
portraiture, of which was his famous portrait in a white key of 
Miss Grant. 

Frank Holl, R.A. (i 845-1 888), born in London, 4th of July 
1845, to the engraver Holl, early showed the artistic bent ; in i860 
he was working at the Academy schools ; and in 1864 showed his 
first portrait and subject picture. At first working upon tragic 
subjects from the life of the people, he rapidly came to the front as 
a portrait-painter of power, and the famous Duke of Cleveland, and 
the like, gave him a leading place as a painter of men. An A. R.A. 
in 1878, he became R.A. in 1884 ; but overwork killed him on 
4th August 1888. 

Charles Green (i 840-1 898) was one of the most exquisite 
illustrators of this time, an ideal illustrator of Dickens, his sense of 
character being as fine as that of the author. 

J. Mahoney (18 -1882) was another of the illustrators of this 
period, influenced by Mason and Walker and Pinwell. 

E. J. Gregory (i 850-1 909) was an artist of the same group who 
gave a more powerful brush to the life of the well-to-do classes. 


But the genius of the decade in England was Randolph OF THE 
Caldecott, though he belongs even more to the early eighties. ENGLISH- 


1846 - 1886 seven- 

Randolph Caldecott was a master of such significance as is TIES 
scarce realised by criticism. Born to an accountant of Chester on 
March 22, 1846, he became at fifteen a clerk in a Shropshire bank. 
In 1868 some drawings by him appeared in a Manchester paper. 
In 1872 he went to London and worked at the Slade under Poynter, 
and was illustrating Blackburn's Harz Mountains; but whilst there is 
hint of his personal vision, so far he is a mere capable illustrator of 
no distinction. It was in a series of line drawings with colour 
washes in the Graphic and in a series of Nursery Rhymes that he 
revealed to England that a new artist of personal vision had arisen 
amongst us. Free from all the affectation of the esthetic move- 
ment of Morris, Caldecott took up the pure English achievement 
where Rowlandson had laid it down, perfected it, and raised it to 
remarkable fulfilment. In 1878 appeared his immortal John Gilpin, 
and every year thereafter his books of nursery rhymes were eagerly 
awaited throughout the length and breadth of the land. Caldecott 
evolved an impressionism of line that was a marvel. His drawings 
with the pen line and wash, finely engraved by Edmund Evans, created 
colour-prints which will one day be prized as amongst the supreme 
works in this field. The fell disease that early threatened him and 
killed him in Florida whilst in the prime of lite, on the edge of 
forty, never cast a shadow over his blithe art, which was native and 
sane and healthy ; to Caldecott the meadows and woodlands of 
England yielded their fascination and their charm, his art is lyrical 
of England, of its romance in the fields, fresh and fragrant of butter- 
cups and daisies and streams and the cattle in the fields. His dainty 
humour played with jocund delight about the village green. To 
turn from the affected medieval academism of the day with its 
pseudo-Renaissance mimicry to the art of Randolph Caldecott is to 
step out of a hot-house or museum into the fresh airs of heaven. 
At once there is a sense of life, of blitheness, ol joy in nature. And 
vital as was his art, produced for reproduction in colours to be 
scattered broadcast throughout the homes of the people, as remark- 
able was his craftsmanship and mastery of line. All the glory of 
the great British school of water-colour draughtsmen was in him. 
His sense of character in line had no equal in his day. It is as 
absolute and quick as the fine achievement of Japan, without a 



BROKEN- suspicion of alien vision or affectation or influence. So true and 
COLOUR just is it that one does not realise its mastery for the very reason of 

IMPRES- its seeming simplicity. To this marvellous use of line he brought a 

SIONISM consummate gift of colour employed in flat washes that was a 

revelation to the age. In the years to come he will be collected as 
men collect Japanese prints to-day. He created a wide school, and 
here and abroad much of the modern endeavour was founded upon 
him. Essentially of romantic mind, Caldecott saw romance in all 
God's world, in the meadows and on the highways ; and his pen- 
drawings during his best period have a personal vision, a fascination, 
a charm, and an exquisite quality and sense of character that are a 
joy for ever. As his colour-books appeared one realised that the 
Bull-dog^ the Cow, the Pig, the Lamb, the Sheep, and Goat, with the 
flights oi Pigeons and Rooks and all the other dumb friends in our 
English pastoral life, had never been perfectly seen until Caldecott 
came. His line-drawings of beasts and birds in Msop are master- 
pieces. He caught the character of horses and ponies and their 
movements with positive joy in the act. And in him the romance 
and glamour of the countryside found their supreme interpreter. 


I 8 8 o 







Now by 1880 there were three chief streams in painting running WHEREIN 
beside each other. First, the Impressionistic, which was producing WE SEE 
powerful artists who were combining mass and broken-colour into IMPRES- 
Colour-Orchestration and essaying towards a higher utterance of the SIONISM 
imagination. TRIUMPH- 

Secondly, the Scientific Impressionists who were essaying to ING IN 
reduce craftsmanship to painting in round regular spots, called COLOUR- 
Pointillism. ORCHES- 

Thirdly, a genius arises who essays to lead back painting and life TRATION 
to Savage Primiti'vism. 

Realism meanwhile brought forth masters. 

BiLLOTTE, with his charming pictures of the sea-folk, is more 
idyllic than Bastien-Lepage ; Binet paints strong Eastern or 
Moorish subjects with power. 



Born in Paris, 7th January 1852, to a Brazil merchant who was 
the son of one of the great Napoleon's officers, Dagnan-Bouveret 
has painted realism with power, and has brought a poetic vision to his 
survey. His religious pieces and his peasants of Brittany have made 
him famous. He paints religious subjects with an austere fervour 
and large simplicity, and has employed the treatment of Christ in 
modern surroundings with fine results. He began to make his mark 
about 1878. 



Alfred Philippe Roll has given his considerable powers to the 
interpretation of modern life, war, strikes, workmen, peasants — treat- 
ing ordinary facts with force. 





ORCIIl'.S- LuciEN Simon has painted impressively powerful pictures of the 

TRATION rude emotions of the Breton fisher-folk, in which he calls up with 

AND THE p-reat force the life of the simple people. 



PRIMAL- 1863 - 

ALAIJEM- Charles Cottet paints with equal force, but with deeper 

emotional sense, the tragic moods of the Breton toilers of the sea. 
The intense and grim type of the people, their poverty, their 
suffering, and their harsh life, he gives forth with dark and gloomy 
dramatic sense. 

Emile Wery has concerned himself with strongly painted sea- 
scapes and the life of the people, 




The artists now combined the brilliant colour-music of Broken- 
Colour Impressionism with Mass-Impressionism, and thrust forward 
the range as well as increasing the gamut of artistic orchestration. 


1849 - 

Albert Paul Besnard is an artist who has combined mass- 
impressionism with the intensity of colour revealed to the touch- 
impressionists by Turner. Daring and masterly in handling, he is 
ever attempting fresh conquests. His sensitive sight sees the play 
of colour in nature about objects with intensity, and his hand's 
skill is trained to record his vision in an art which creates thrill and 
movement and luminosity. He can make objects in the flare of the 
sun blaze with light. He had the good fortune to come into 
French art at a time when the battles of the impressionists were 
completely won, and honours have fallen thick upon him. Born 
in Paris, married to a sculptor of considerable gifts. Mademoiselle 
Dubray, Besnard has gone from success to success. The municipal 
authorities of Paris — the great nursery of painting in our times — as 
well as the provincial municipalities of France, that are an example 
to the world as encouragers of painting, have given Besnard's fine 


gifts full play in painting his vivid, telling decorations. The State WHEREIN 
has enriched the National collection with his splendid painting of WE SEE 
The Nude Woman Warming Herself [La Femme qui se Claufe), the IMPRES- 
hauntingly powerful and tragic La Morh; the Port d' Alger au SIONISM 
Crepuscule, the Entre deux Rayons, and a Self-P or trait. TRIUMPH- 

Winning the Prix de Rome in 1874, Besnard soon shook off all JNG IN 
academic training, and flung himself into the problems of mass- COLOUR- 
impressionism and touch-impressionism. ORCHES- 

In his Madame Roger Jourdain at the Salon of 1884, Besnard TRATION 
caused a sensation with the treatment of golden lamp-light 
against the lilac lights of evening. So he advanced to his Madame 

Mauclair lays it down that it is with modern "decorative art 
interpreting modern and scientific symbols," as shown in the art of 
Besnard that the future of painting lies. This is to lower the whole 
achievement of Besnard, and to set up a new academism as the aim 
of art. Art has nothing to do with symbols — with science it has 
absolutely not a tittle in common. To make a sextant or a 
quadrant or an electric light a symbol is as bastard art as to make 
Cupid and Psyche a symbol, or Arethusa or the musical glasses. 
Art is an emotional interpretation of life, and has no other faculty 
whatever — indeed that faculty raises it to the next importance to 
life itself; all other aims lower it from its high Emprise. No man 
knows where the future of art lies — since no man knows where the 
future of life lies. Besnard's powers are of a high order ; but in 
the range of deep and profound emotions he is not a supreme 
master. Intended for diplomacy, born of artistic stock, Besnard 
early came to repute, and has known success from the first, making 
a mark with his La Femme rose in 1868 ; but it was his La Femme 
jaune et bleue in 1883 that settled his reputation. 


1854 - 

Gaston La Touche is a very remarkable painter of vivid 
impressionistic methods who has wrought figure and landscape in 
masterly fashion, and has also given his art to pictures of modern 
fetes galantes. La Touche has rare lyrical utterance ; his intensely 
sensitive vision for the play and counterplay of reflections yielding 
him a pulsing orchestration in colour of pure artistic lorce without 
wandering into blind alleys of science or intellect or other baleful 
endeavour. His decorative gifts are brilliantly employed, since he 
is a man of quaint and ranging imagination — a poet. 

VOL. VIII — 2 E 217 



ORCHES- 1836 - 

TRATION Jules Charles Chi^.ret began life as a lithographic workman 

AND THE in London, designing, it is said, the gay wrappers for a well-known 

COMING perfume manufacturer. About 1870 ChL-ret began to design posters 

OF A NEW in black, white, and red. His knowledge of lithographic printing 

PRIMAL- stood him in good stead ; he developed its capacity to superb effect 

ACADEM- in the poster that made resplendent the picturesque streets of France. 

ISM From the time he went back to France he rapidly came to a wider 

range in art ; and by 1885 he was famous. He caught the grace 

of the Parisian women. Cheret is a born decorative genius. His 

art is pure impressionism, colour being employed like music. 

Whilst the pompous academies were imitating the great dead, 

and producing still-born art, Cheret, despised of them, was ranging 

far above their ken. A modest man, his triumphs are a gratification 

to artists. A display of his works proved him a nervous telling 

draughtsman and a great pastellist. The State gave him large 

mural decorations to carry out, and he won to further triumphs. 

His kinship to Watteau is most marked, even to his love of the 

characters of Italian comedy and the old heroes and heroines of 

French comedy. His is the very spirit of Carnival. Watteau 

and Boucher and Fragonard are in him. He brought imagination, 

gaiety, and blitheness to impressionism, and thereby vastly increased 

its gamut and its orchestration. 


1856 - 

Born to American parents at Florence in 1856, John Singer 
Sargent passed his boyhood in that city. At nineteen he went 
to Paris, already an accomplished painter, entering the studio of 
Carolus Duran (1875), an excellent teacher. Duran brought him 
to gaze at the life about him, to look upon it broadly, in the mass ; 
and the young fellow, in the midst of the great mass-impressionistic 
movement created by Manet, was early essaying to create art in its 
most advanced torm. On leaving the studio of Carolus Duran he 
painted his master's portrait. Thence he made for Madrid, to learn 
from a greater teacher. Searching into the mastery of Velazquez, 
Sargent rapidly came to power. When he came back to Paris — in 
the early eighties — he was already making a mark. In 1881 he 
showed a portrait of a Toung Lady : the year of his Smoke of Ambergris. 
In 1882 he stood revealed a master at twenty-six, with his 
masterpiece of the dancer against the dark room, where she whirls 



By kind permission of the Artist and The Studio 



to the music of the mandolinists who sit in the gloom, the WHEREIN 
famous -E/ Jaleo, which created a sensation. A portrait of four WE SEE 
children and the Manetesque Madame Gautreau followed. Mean- IMPRES- 
time his reputation was spreading to London, which he frequently SIONISM 
visited ; and some six years after he returned from Spain he settled TRIUMPH- 
in London. His early triumphs at the New English Art Club were ING IN 
the sensations of these years — Carmencita, the Japanese Dancing Girl, COLOUR- 
the nude Egyptian Girl. In 1894 he was elected to the Royal ORCHES- 
Academy ; in 1897 ^e became R.A. TRATION 

The influence of Sargent has been sane and far-reaching. His 
healthy and searching vision has been a splendid example to his age. 
His superb craftsmanship has done much to rid painting of pettiness. 
Sargent came into art when a rank mimicry of the low-toned art of 
Whistler was a widespread threat to the national genius. 

In portraiture his range has been astounding. His search into 
character is uncompromising. He stands out to-day one of the 
supreme masters of his age. Sane, wide-surveying, masterful, fear- 
less, Sargent founded his technique on the mass-impressionism that 
is the vastest orchestration of painting yet revealed to us from the 
great Spaniards and Dutchmen, developed by Manet. 

To essay an examination into the wide achievement of Sargent 
would be to catalogue the celebrities of the age. His fine scheme 
in grey and white and rose of the beautiful Mrs. hangman ; the 
gorgeous yellow schemes of the famous masterpiece of the dancer 
Carmencita ; the two handsome Jewish ladies, the Misses Wertheimcr, 
so remarkably in contrast with the aristocratic atmosphere ot the 
Lady Elcho, Mrs. Adeane and Lady Tennant group ; he ranges from 
the marvellous effects of the golden lights of Japanese lanterns being 
lit in the lilac twilight by children in the famous Caryiation Lily, 
Lily Rose, to the tragic intensity of Ellen Terry as " Lady Macbeth " ; 
from the fine character-study of Graham Robertson with the jade- 
handled cane, to the great portrait oi Lord Ribblesdale in hunting kit. 

Sargent's decorations for Boston Library are famous ; and he 
has of late given his remarkable genius to landscapes — of which are 
the stately Santa Maria della Salute, his powerful studies of sun- 
light, and his manifold vigorous impressions of nature. 


Antonio Mancini was born at Narni to a tailor, who moved to 
Naples when Mancini was a boy. At Naples the lad worked under 
LiSTA, who trained him to paint flowers and fruit. At the Fine 






Art Institute, with Piccini and Michetti for fellow-students, 
Mancini soon got a name for portraits. But his poverty was so 
intense that he would often exchange a picture for a new canvas. 
At last, one fine day, his work caught the eye of M. Albert Cocn ; 
and Fortuny began to buy some of his pictures. He made foi 
Paris, and worked for the Goupils for several months. His 
second visit to Paris, with a friend, the sculptor Gemito, saw him 
get foul of his employers ; and it so preyed upon his mind that on 
his return to Naples he had to be put under restraint. He painted 
the portraits of his fellow-sufferers at the asylum. Winning back 
to sanity, he stepped forth into the world again, going to Rome, 
where he was well received and made much of, and sold his paint- 
ings. His health broke down again, but on his recovery he went 
back to his art with all his wonted energy. He next made for 
Venice. Mancini is essentially, like Monticelli, concerned with 

C L A U S 

The Belgian, Emile Claus, born in Western Flanders, was the 
sixteenth child to parents of humble position who sold provisions to 
the boatmen as they worked on the river Lys. The child early showed 
the artistic bent ; and escaping from the drudgery of the home life, 
essayed the offices of pastry-cook, railway watchman, and went 
behind the counter of a linen-draper. At last, scraping together 
some seven pounds from his family, he made for Antwerp, became 
a free pupil to De Keyser, the art professor there ; worked at the 
Academy by day, gave drawing-lessons by night, or coloured the 
religious pictures of the stations of the cross, or did the rough work 
for a sculptor. After enduring struggles with bitter want, he 
gradually began to win orders for portraits of children in fancy 
dress. In 1879, at thirty, he made for Spain and Morocco, paint- 
ing the while. He came back to Antwerp a changed man. In 
1883 he completely threw over all his former craftsmanship, and 
leaving the city for his old home in the country, he developed 
a vivid art of intense and close intimacy with the moods of nature 
— brilliant, throbbing with light, personal, and lyrical of his native 
land. His debt to Turner he glories in acknowledging. 

1858 - 1899 

Born at Arco in Trent, Giuseppe Segantini's first impressions 






(Luxembourg, Paris) 

Exhibited at the Royal Academy in 1S91 ; acquired by the French 




were of the mountains. As a child he knew bitter poverty ; and WHEREIN 
the lad went to work as a labourer on a farm. His first essay in WE SEE 
learning the mysteries of painting was in the studio of Tettatamanzi IMPRES- 
in Milan, who, asking the lad what he would do if he were an SIONISM 
artist like his master, was met by the blunt reply : "Throw myself TRIUMPH- 
out of the window " ; whereon the apprenticeship ended. The ING IN 
young fellow struggled on as best he could in Milan. Withdrawing COLOUR- 
to the mountains he gave his whole strength to the rendering of the ORCHES- 
life of the peasant. Beginning by painting somewhat broadly and TRATION 
hesitatingly, Segantini rapidly developed towards broken-colour 
realism. His Woman knitting in the Sun shows the palpitation of fierce 
light. Beginning life as a swineherd, living in the mountains, off 
the highway of the world, Segantini evolved a vibrant colour-sense 
and a large and spiritual aim. Segantini is from the Tyrol ; where 
Italy and Germany meet. He has uttered the life of the humble 
with poetic intensity. Simply and without affectation he takes us 
back to the innocence of the ages, where so much modern effort is 
striving with affectation to lead us from London and Parisian draw- 
ing-rooms. In Segantini as in Millet is no primitive-academism, 
but true, simple peasant, sincere and compelling in the communion 
of his art. He uttered the rhythm of light, even if his atmosphere 
be somewhat dry, and sometimes lack depth and envelope. 

1853 - 1890 

The Dutchman, Vincent Van Gogh, employed an impressionistic 
craftsmanship of remarkable power. Van Gogh used an extraor- 
dinary impasto, and relied on swinging lines and masses of colour to 
produce exquisite moods of nature. The subtle colour-music of his 
Orchard in Provence and of his Garden of Daubigny in Auvers place 
such works amongst the unforgettable things of the time. Though 
Van Gogh worked in France, he saw nature with Dutch eyes ; and 
there is a Dutch quaintness in all he did. 

Born at Grootzundert in Holland on the 30th of March 1853, 
to a Protestant pastor. Van Gogh only began to paint at thirty 
(1883). He was always an unbalanced man. Going to clerking 
at an art-dealer's, he was with Goupil in their offices at London, 
Paris, and The Hague, and as a picture-dealer he was constantly 
seeing art. In 1876, at twenty-three, he gave up commerce and 
became a schoolmaster in England. The next year his religious 
fervour took him to Amsterdam to become a clergyman. Dissatis- 



COLOUR- fied with the formalities of religion, he made next year for Brussels 

ORCHES- to preach to the miners. He found that, to reach their simple, 

TRATION uncouth minds, he had to change his whole utterance ; by 1880 he 

AND THE longed for some means of closer communion with his fellows. He 

COMING saw that Millet had reached to prodigious range by iorsaking con- 

OF A NEW ventional art and uttering the life of the people. By 1881 Van 

PRIMAL- Gogh was in Holland again with his people in the vilhge of Etten 

ACADEM- in North Brabant ; his cousin being married to the painter, Anton 

ISM Mauve, he went to him for advice, and entered his studio at The 

Hague. They did not get on well together ; and Van Gogh's 

brother soon set him up in a studio, where he worked hard and 

studied the old Dutchmen. In 1883 he was back in his own 

country, painting forceful studies of the peasants — his Potato-Eatej-s 

being of 1885. He discovered the primal sanity of the rude toilers 

of the earth — he saw them without the sneer of the man of cities. 

To Van Gogh the peasant became the symbol of health as against 

the corruption of the town. He was a fanatic in all he did — he 

was a fanatic in this. 

It was natural that Van Gogh, seeing the peasant as the Healthy 
Real Man, should try to utter this art in primal rude fashion. He 
now went further ; and having begun by developing impressionism, 
he tried back and essayed to see life through the spectacles of the 
primitive painters. Millet made no such mistake. 

In 1885 he went awhile to the Academy at Antwerp, painted 
scenes of jail-yards ; then in 1886 he made for Paris, and found one 
solitary dealer, Tanguy, to take up his work. At Tanguy's little 
shop he met Gaugain and Emile Bernard. With Bernard he went 
awhile to Cormon, whom Lautrec had just left. The touch- 
impressionists called him awhile, and developed his colour, and his 
best work is a combination of mass and of touch, developed into 
swinging, swirling strokes that give an astounding sense of move- 
ment. Then he came under the glamour of Seurat and essayed 
round-spot impressionism awhile ; but rejected it. We are coming 
to Seurat. 

The nervous, silent, reserved man, of concealed fire, was soon at 
work again amongst the peasants of the South of France at Aries. 
He flung himself at the recording of scenes that only last like a 
breath oi life. He swept his impressions on to the canvas as by 
magic — they pulse and move. Those pictures painted at Aries trom 
1887 to 1889, hundreds of them, are his master-work. Meier- 
Graefe even sees him essaying to give the sense of life to dead 
things ! Van Gogh was too pure an artist to so befoul his vision ; 



(Collection op Lord Ribblesdale) 


but then Meier-Graefe sees "holy ecstasy" in a bunch of lettuces WHEREIN 
by Van Gogh. WE SEE 

Now Van Gogh himself spoke of being misled by the Impres- IMPRES- 
sionists — but impressionism did much for him, as did Daumier and SIONISM 
Delacroix and Millet. TRIUMPH- 

Here let us touch awhile on the much-talked-of Symbolism of JNG IN 
Van Gogh. Now his own talk of " symbolism " simply meant that COLOUR- 
colours created certain emotions ; in other words, created art. His ORCHES- 
use of the word was mere clap-trap of the studio. It is of the whole TRATION 
essence of painting as an art, therefore ot all impressionism in parti- 
cular, that colours alter impressions or moods as colour. This has 
nothing whatever to do with symbolism. 

Van Gogh was a genius, but halt mad withal. Whether he 
suffered sunstroke or not, he was in the habit of flinging off his hat 
when painting under the fierce sun of the south until the hair was 
burnt off his scalp. Whether struck by sun or that the madness 
increased upon him, he had threatened suicide to Gaugain when 
with him at Aries. In a tavern at Aries he quarrelled with this 
friend Gaugain, and the next day with a razor tried to kill him. 
That night he cut off his own ear with the razor as an act of 
penance. The next six months of his life saw him in the asylum 
at Aries. 

Van Gogh went of his own will to the asylum at Aries ; even 
painted pictures there — his mad Self-Portrait and flowerpieces. 
His thoughts returned incessantly to the days of his child- 
hood. Thence he went awhile to paint at St. Remy, but his brother 
who had supplied him with means and encouragement all his life 
was in trouble in Paris, and Van Gogh went to Paris. All the 
while he seems to have been dogged by the hideous ghoul that for 
ever whispered suicide. Afraid of himself he went to Dr. Gachet 
(himself a painter under the name of Van Ryssel), a good friend to 
artists (Daumier and Daubigny and Cezanne amongst others), at 
Auvers-sur-Oise ; to Auvers Van Gogh went in the summer of 1889 
and painted. But he feared decline into the long negation of an 
idiot. He shot himself. When Gachet found him lying with a 
bullet in him, he replied to the doctor's Why ? with a shrug ot the 
shoulders. The two men smoked through that night and the next 
day together, talking art. On the 28th of July 1890, the restless 
plagued fellow passed into eternal sleep. 

Van Gogh essayed to develop impressionism on more rhythmical 
and lyrical lines, and to utter a more profound sense of life thereby. 
His sole mistake was playing with "primitive-academism." We 



COLOUR- see the difference when we compare his advanced utterance with 
ORCHES- that of the EngUsh /Esthetes, Morris and Burne-Jones, and the 
TRATION hke, who deUberately went back to media'val reaction, not only 
AND THE in intention but in handUng and craftsmanship. Meier-Graefe 
COMING calls this reaction Anarchism — of course it is the very opposite, it is 
OF A NEW Academism. Van Gogh is stimulative, reaches onwards ; Morris 
PRIMAL- and Burne-Jones led back. 

ACADEM- In surveying the art of Van Gogh we must sharply separate his 

ISM intensely lyrical impressionism from the archaic intention of his 

insane fobblings. Learning late, his fingers never grasped drawing 
with the skill of habit ; yet it was his insane and feeble draughts- 
manship, not his increased use of impressionism that was to become 
the aim of the more feeble of the group of painters, the primal- 
academics, of to-day. But we are coming to that, and to Gaugain 
between, and must defer further reference awhile to look upon the 
impressionism of this decade. 


1849 - 1907 

Eugene Carriere founded his superb impressionistic art on the 
poetic mass-impressionism of Rembrandt. It yielded him a haunt- 
ing and powerful instrument for the utterance of the mystery of 
motherhood. Carriere concerned himself little with colour ; he 
found the hauntingness of shadows a sufficient orchestration for the 
most intense of his moods. His power in portraiture was profound. 
He concentrated on character ; and the figure that he limned 
moves and breathes — one almost senses the feelings of the sitter as 
well as the mood aroused in the painter. The lithograph gave him 
as great utterance as oils. His vast hushed theatre, in which we 
gaze at the audience in the sweep of the arena as they look en- 
thralled at the play upon the stage, was a marvellous work. He is 
ever a poet, he is often a mighty dramatic one. 

The son of a painter, and born at Gournay-sur-Marne in 1849, 
Carriere lived at Strasbourg until he was eighteen. At twelve he 
was drawing. From the Academy at Strasbourg he went to business 
at Saint Quentin. A visit to the Gallery there set his creative 
genius on fire ; he suddenly felt impelled to utter art under the 
glamour of La Tour. He went to Paris to the Beaux-Arts to learn 
the mysteries. The war burst over France ; Carriere was taken 
prisoner ; was sent to Dresden ; and at Dresden he lived in the 
galleries. Rembrandt greatly interested him. Sent back to France 
in 1872, he went to the Ecole des Beaux- Arts again, and to Cabanel 


for five years' hard work. Then he made the plunge, took a studio, WHEREIN 
and commenced artist. He failed for the Prix de Rome. His WE SEE 
marriage compelled him to go to the Vaugirard for five years ; and IMPRES- 
he had to fall back on his own family for models. It made him. SIONISM 
They were five years of intense toil ; but he came back to Paris TRIUMPH- 
an artist of mark and almost at once won to success. The ING IN 
Luxembourg has his Dead Christ. COLOUR- 

Carriere's portraits of Verlaine, of Edmond de Goncourt, his own ORCHES- 
Family, and the like, are amongst the masterpieces of the century. TRATION 

Carriere, impressionist of mass-impressionists, has led impres- 
sionism forward by leagues from the mere superficial realism that 
Courbet flaunted, leagues beyond the mere outward play of light as 
an end in art. He has brought the inner significance of life into its 
utterance, and thereby at a stroke has vastly increased the conquest 
of impressionism, revealing how it may utter the most intimate 
moods of the soul. 

I stand in memory but a few years back when Carriere had a 
show in London town. It is almost incredible that the whole of 
criticism practically ignored that marvellous revelation altogether. 
And it is one of my chief sources of comfort that Carriere, who 
was an utter stranger to me, wrote to me as comrade, and thanked 
me that I understood him. 

Carriere wrought at first in subtle and exquisite colour-harmonies 
as revealed by Manet. He lowered his palette to black and brown 
and white ; and he evolved out of mass-impressionism thereby 
a powerful and haunting musical utterance. Mauclair sees in his 
art the power to render " thought." No artist can do that in paint. 
What he does is to utter the most intimate /t'd'//>;^j-. 

To find " absolute beauty " in the art of Carriere — nay, to seek 
for it — is to miss his whole significance. To find in his art a trying 
back from impressionism is wholly to misunderstand Carriere and 
impressionism. He has thrust forward impressionism to utter deeper 
and more subtle emotions than the earlier impressionists considered 
that it could utter. 

BoLDiNi (1853- ) paints the portraits of fashionable people 

with verve, in impressionistic manner, if in low colour. De Nettis 
(i 846-1 884) was a force in painting. 

AuGusTE Emmanuel Pointelin (1839- ), born at Arbois on 
the 23rd of June 1839, learnt the mysteries from Maire. The 
name of this painter of twilight landscapes at once comes to one's 
mind on writing of Carriere. He too dreams in low dark moon- 
light or twilight moods, sombre and sad, seeking the solitudes in 
VOL. VIII — 2 F 225 


COLOUR- somewhat melancholy reveries amidst the wooded hills of his 

ORCHES- beloved Jura, and ever called by the darkling pools. He was a long 

TRATION time coming into his own, and he had to try his hand at several 

AND THE callings the while to earn his bread, chiefly that of a professor of 

COMING mathematics ! But he was to enter the Legion of Honour at last. 

OF A NEW JOHN Macallan Swan, who has just passed from us, was born 

PRIMAL- at Old Brentford in 1847, and trained at the Worcester School of 

ACADEM- Art, then under Mr. Sparkes at Lambeth, and became a student at 

ISM the Royal Academy. In 1874 he made for Paris, going to Gerome 

for five years, and to Fremiet at the Jardin des Plantes, to Bastien- 

Lepage, to Henecker, and to Dagnan-Bouveret. Swan came to the 

painting and sculpture of animals with exquisite sense of colour and 

form. He died in 19 10. 


The so-called " Glasgow School " may be said to have been 
created by Whistler and the French mass-impressionists. The 
literary anecdote was to be shed from painting. M'Taggart and 
Wingate had shown the way in landscape — and Wintour had stepped 
towards the great revelation. 

W. Y. Macgregor, a dogged man, with hard theories, had come 
from the Slade ; James Paterson came from Paris ; and from Paris 
also soon came Lorimer, Cadenhead, Robert Noble from Carolus 
Duran's studio. By 1885 the school had forgathered, headed and 
led by Macgregor. In 1881 Guthrie, E. A. Walton, George 
Henry, and the Newcastle painter, Joseph Crawhall (the Younger), 
had been working together ; they soon came in touch with the 
Edinburgh painter, Arthur Melville (i 856-1 904), who was also 
developing a broad impressionistic style, akin to theirs. Hornel 
soon joined the group ; and Roche and Lavery, coming back from 
Paris in 1884, added their force. Their first interest was with tone 
and values ; and the natural inclination to lower the tone resulted 
awhile. Then they concerned themselves with vigorous handling. 
As with all movements, the artists swore no other was art. Rapidly 
colour-harmonies and decorative rhythm were added. Whistler and 
Velazquez and Hals and Constable were the art-gods. William 
Stott of Oldham (i 858-1 900) created an art akin to their desire. 
The sculptor M'Gillivray joined the group, and the poetic land- 
scapist Macaulay Stevenson, Alexander Mann, Millie Dow, 
Harrington Mann, D. Y. Cameron, Mackie, George Pirie, and 
the flower-painter Stuart Park, were added to the ranks, and in 


Edinburgh T. Austen Brown, James Pryde, and others were to WHEREIN 
come into the movement later. WE SEE 


1856 - 1904 SIONISM 

In Arthur Melville Scotland brought forth a water-colour TRIUMPH- 
painter of power. A son of the people, Melville was to come to ^^ ^ 
high distinction. COLOUR- 

Beginning by painting much in the manner of John Reid, ORCHES- 
Melville looked like becoming a painter of homely subjects, when TRATION 
in 1878 he made for France, to Gerome and Meissonier. By 1880 
he was painting much in the manner of the men who were founding 
the Glasgow School. In 1883, or a little later, he met Guthrie, 
and soon thereafter came into the Glasgow brotherhood. The 
water-colours of Fortuny had taught him light and luminosity ; and 
in 1 88 1 he had made for Egypt and the East, where he rapidly 
developed towards that broad handling of floating colours on to the 
paper which he was later to make so entirely his own. To this 
glowing "blob and dash " use of water-colour he brought a broad, 
decorative, pulsing use of paint which he poured forth in superb 
colour-harmonies. Spain and the East ever afterwards called to 
him ; and it was typhoid contracted in Spain that killed him in 
1904. Brangwyn, in the late eighties, also went to the East ; and 
found colour and a broad, majestic treatment of water-colour and 
oils. After Brangwyn's display in Bond Street the two men met ; 
and drawn together by like problems of painting, they went to 
Spain together in 1892, each impressing the other; but Brangwyn 
was destined for far higher flights of the imagination, destined to 
create a far more profound art ; he was to give the floated masses a 
form and a signiiicance beyond Melville's strength. 

Hans Hansen has painted excellent water-colours under the 
influence of Melville ; and Graham Robertson, who began subject 
to Rossetti, came under the glamour of Melville. 



It is a somewhat strange fact that the grey photographic 
realism of Bastien-Lepage seemed necessary to free the Impressionists 
in England and Scotland from Academism and iEstheticism. 

Sir James Guthrie got it badly. His Schoolmates was sheer 
mimicry of Bastien-Lepage. Thence he evolved a fine portraiture, 
gathering power and breadth and colour as he moved, under the 
stimulus of Whistler, to his greatest performances. 




ORCHES- i860 - 

TRATION E. A. Walton is one of the purest lyrical poets in landscape. 

AND THE One of the most original painters, he has evolved a personal art 

COMING like music. He is a master of colour, of design, and of handling. 

OF A NEW Turning from landscape, he early proved himself as superb a painter 

PRIMAL- of the figure. 


ISM 1863- 

Alexander Roche early developed a personal impressionism. 
He catches the character of his sitters ; and he brings the fresh air 
of heaven and the mystery of the night and the play of sunlight on 
to his canvases. 

JoHN Lavery, of Scottish-Irish blood, has come under many 
influences, and has evolved a charming type of portraiture more 
concerned with beauty than w^ith character. He has come to wide 
honours everywhere. His portraits of ladies have brought him 
into an European vogue. 

George Henry brought forth marvellously fine designs. Some of 
his Japanese subjects, and of his works that followed, are amongst the 
highest technical achievements in colour in our generation. His 
subjects are but veiled portraits ; but of the portrait he makes decora- 
tions, and his brush has a quick sense akin to the wit of his tongue. 



The Australian Scot, E. A. Hornel, met Henry in 1885, and 
was painting conventional Scottish home-life when they met. 
The two men greatly developed each other ; Hornel was the 
essential decorative artist, and was soon painting those " carpet- 
like " paintings of children at play for which he is now famous, in 
which no attempt to create values or the illusion of atmosphere is 
attempted. Hornel makes the colour-harmonies utter the mood 
desired, just as a musician must ; and to that he sacrifices all else. 
In 1893 Hornel and Henry made for Japan for a couple of years; 
and Hornel still further rejected mass and depth of atmosphere, and 
kept only pattern and colour ; his sense of character not being 
strong, he forces the decorative intention. 



About this very time that the gamut of art was being widened by WHEREIN 

colour-orchestration, there arose a school of men who mistook art SEVERAL 

for science. Now, as a matter of fact, Monet had not concerned MISTAKE 

himself with science ; he instinctively employed a palette of the seven ART FOR 

prismatic hues. But the new group — "the Frenchmen of '80" as SCIENCE, 

they are called — had given themselves over to science, and found AND 

that by using little round dots of colour, the same size, they could ESSAY TO 

build up an impression of a mathematical kind, as though they CREATE 

employed mosaic. They were debauching impression and destroy- ART ON 

ing it at its very source ; and the fact that they now and again THE 

achieved a passable impression of a scene in a cast-iron way was MATHE- 

small mitigation of their " science." MATICAL 

Of course they had to be Neo or Post-Something-or-Other, so PRINCIPLE 
they labelled themselves with the fatuous tag of Neo-Impressionists. 
They are also known as Pointillists. They are best called Round- 
Spot Impressionists. 




Now in 1807 Thomas Young in England gave forth his 
discovery of the three stimulants of the retina of the eye. In 1852 
the German Helmholtz published his theory of waves of colour and 
sound ; in 1853 Dove published his researches into colour ; in 1864 
Chevreul published his famous Law of the Contrast of Colours^ 
founded on the analysis of colour of the solar spectrum. Then in 
the eighties Charles Henry, a professor at the Sorbonne, who had 
the ear of Seurat, tried to apply to these laws a "science" of 
painting and colour. Seurat was soon sinking his really artistic 
instincts in trying to " paint on principle." 






ORCHES- 1859-1891 

Seurat had sufficient power of artistry to overcome round-spot 
scientific painting, and to compel impressionism in a limited form 
through it. His woolly sketch for La Grande Jatte of 1884 shows 
him winnine to impressionism : his childish he Chahut of i8go 

"PRTIVTAT or ' _ ^ ^ 7 

ri\ii i/\i-- shows him baffled. He and his faithful Signac taking Dubois- 
PiLLET as ally, did the "original" thing, copied the Impressionists, 
and opened a Salon of the Refuses as the " Indcpendants " in 1884. 
The real founder, Dubois-Pillet, soon sank, and the movement rapidly 
came to the end of its tether ; but the society was to create a move- 
ment of another kind. 

Seurat gathered to him Luce, Augrand, Cross, the young 
Brussels group, then Pissarro in 1886, Ernest Laurent, Lauzet, 
and others, besides Signac the best of them all. These " Neo- 
Impressionists " quickly found that " science " was death to " person- 
ality," and personality is essential to art. 

Seurat, once admitting " science " as the foundation of art, soon 
fell back on the childhood of painting, and sought the early art 
of Egypt, under the fantastic delusion that because the mimicry was 
older than the mimicry of the Italian Renaissance or Greece, 
therefore it was more " original " vision ! 

But he so far mistook art for science that he added to his 
original bastard system an even worse theory of mathematics, 
whereby he created a new academism of geometrical laws for the 
silhouette of his figures and objects that was to mislead a later 
group of young painters into the bog. 

Seurat was doomed to an early death. But his mantle fell upon 
Signac, who worked much upon his lines. Both men did good 
Round-Spot work, and achieved atmospheric effects. 


Paul Signac produced a wonderful impression in spite of his 
"scientific" spots. He set the mood above the tricks of thumb. 
The peaceful luminous Morning at Samois of 1900, a steamer on the 
river, shows Signac doing the utmost that his craft can achieve, 
and in the doing coming near to fusion of colour ! 

Even Monet's touch-impression failed to create texture — the 
flesh of a woman is of the same material as grass or a turnip or 
raiment ; scientific painting loses material still more. 


The activity in this so-called Neo-Impressionism and in Primitive- WHEREIN 
Academism is as wide to-day almost as in the commonplace creation SEVERAL 
of the academic potboiler of every kind. The result is a sense of MISTAKE 
the belittling of life ; no great masterpieces are created ; no great AR'l' FOR 
emotions uttered — at best little trivial moods. These men are SCIENCE, 
searching for a style, thinking style to be some fixed thing in itself, AND 
forgetful that every work of art, to be great and compelling, needs ESSAY TO 
a style to utter itself. They essay to make a Style, hoping to bend CREATE 
Art to it, instead of creating art, and forming a style to utter that ART ON 
art. It is as though a man thought he created music by making THE 
a new kind of piano. MATHE- 

Now the masters could create mighty art in black and white MATICAL 
alone. " Give me but mud, and I will make masterpieces," said PRINCIPLE 
Delacroix. What shall it avail an artist to use all the colours of the 
rainbow and master the whole of science, if he create not the great 
moods of man .? 

Meantime, the reaction against the development of art created by 
Turner and Constable and the Mass-Impressionists and Touch- 
Impressionists of France, the reaction begun by Rossetti and the 
genius of Puvis de Chavannes, continued in the art ot Maurice Denis, 
who, as Puvis had brought certain modern qualities from the 
Impressionists, now brought certain qualities from the later scientific 
painting into his decorative achievement. Denis turns back his 
eyes to the early Italians. But whilst his art may be more in 
keeping with Renaissance interiors, it is not in keeping with 
modern moods and intentions a whit more than was the art of 
Morris or Burne-Jones. Piety to-day is a very different thing from 
piety in the thirteen-hundreds. Denis went to Italy, and brought 
the Italian vision to France as definitely as any of the old Mannerists. 
At the same time he brings a personal colour, a certain sensuous 
healthiness into his religious decorations, that show him a personality 
in art ; for in old chapels and churches he fitly employs an archaic 
note, compromising with the old building in which modern art 
would jar. It is the disadvantage and the advantage ot trying to 
decorate an old place. And it is such conditions that fitly create the 
art of Puvis de Chavannes and Denis ; but with modern utterance 
such has nothing to do. Pallid, bloodless art must result ; and superb 
craftsmanship and a style that is departed be the chief sources of 

The Belgian Theo Van Rysselberghe (1862- ), holds by 
the round-spot faith, and to it in portraiture he gives fine draughts- 
manship and good colour, but the chill hand of the new academism 



COLOUR- is not to be repelled even by him. The seascape gives him his 
ORCHES- better utterance. 

TRATION ' The results of the system were so indifferent that the group 
AND THE of painters rapidly deserted the round-spot practice. But it had 
COMING turned their eyes to the old mosaics, having much the same effect 

OF A NEW vv^hen viewed at a distance ; and a rot set in, which turned back the 
PRIMAL- artists' eyes to primitive simplicity. To go back can never be to 
ACADEM- go forward — trite as the statement may be. 

ISM In Belgium has grown up a group employing scientific painting 

and primitive-academism. The creation of the " Society of 
Twenty" in 1884 brought forth a group to which Constantin 
Meunier and Rodin and Fernand Khnopff and F^licien Rops and 
other masters brought fame ; and to the group came certain " neo- 
impressionists " — Finch, Van Rysselberghe, Van de Velde, 
Lemmen, and Anna Boch. Van Rysselberghe at once fell under 
the glamour of Seurat. Finch has become a potter. Lemmen has 
concerned himself with the crafts. Van de Velde deserted. 




There had been talk for some years of getting back to the Simple WHEREIN 
Life — the savage was supposed to be nearer the heart of the universe PRIMAL- 
— civilisation w^as vow^ed to be rotten — and painting came forward ACADEM- 
to utter the Primal Intention in the person of a strange fellow with ISM IS 
the savage name of Gaugain, as though some half-inarticulate fellow CREATED 
had arisen from the cave-dwellers and would take back mankind to BY ONE 
sit in the branches of trees and crack nuts. Yet there is as much to WHO 
be said for the mimicry of primal man as for the mimicry of any RETURNS 
other period — if mimicry there must be. But do not let us mistake TO THE 
primal-academism for " originality," still less for development. LIFE OF 

To understand how impressionism as a craft was dragged into SAVAGES 
this movement — of all things — we must go back awhile to the 
Cafe Guerbois, and look upon one man wont to sit there — 


1839 - 1906 

Son of a wealthy banker, Paul Cezanne was born at Aix in 
Provence on the 19th January 1839. Paul Cezanne, who wrought 
his art in Provence, and lived out of the world, has painted his 
landscapes, his still-life, and his country scenes, in his rude rough 
fashion, with a sort of primal vision, the hand essaying in a rude 
way to give the play of colour in the broader manner of the mass- 
impressionists, with the splendour of the broken-colour effects. A 
certain simplicity and old world sincerity results. Whether de- 
liberately, or from limit of craftsmanship, he has sacrificed an in- 
nately fine impressionistic power by reaching back towards primitive 
intention. He strove his life long to master drawing — going to 
learn at studios until quite an old man — but never mastered it. 
We shall see this defect made a virtue in our own time — Cezanne 
made no virtue of it. 

VOL. VIII 2 G 233 



Cezanne and Zola were schoolfellows at Aix ; they each made for 
Paris ; and whilst Zola became clerk, in Hachette's publishing firm, 
Cezanne came under the glamour of Delacroix, then followed 
Courbet, then in 1866 sat at the feet of Manet at the Cafe 
Guerbois. Zola made Cezanne the hero, Claude Lantier, in his 
novel of the art-life, UQiuvre. Cezanne's somewhat vague handling 
of landscape, his inherent sense of colour, and his badly drawn still- 
life, whether deliberate or not, largely helped to create the rude 
aim of the present primal-academism. But we are coming to this. 
His clumsy and brutal painting of the figure was due to lack of 
draughtsmanship. And these tendencies grew upon him. At times 
he creates work of astounding force. Van Gogh, Gaugain, and 
Bernard all owe much to his leadership. He did not sign his 
pictures. Of the sixties is his strong black Courbet period ; of the 
seventies is his Auvers period of broad vigorous landscapes, rapidly 
moving to the higher keys of colour under Monet ; and using thin 
fluid paint, he reached to his great period of the paintings of 
Provence in 1885. 

Now we have already seen Van Gogh, hampered by late ad- 
venture into the craftsmanship of painting, bending his will to create 
impressions of nature with power, but painting the figure in a crude 
elementary, savage fashion. But from Cezanne and Van Gogh's 
gropings, we are now come to a man who deliberately sought " to go 
back to savage times," the infancy of the world. And though the 
primitive-academism of Gaugain really began and belongs to the 
next decade of the nineties, it is best to consider it here in relation 
to the men who led him towards it. 


1848 - 1903 

There came into the art of Europe a strange disturbing influence 
from the Creole blood. Born in Paris on June 7, 1848, to a Breton 
father who was a journalist in Paris and died a young man, and to 
a mother who was a Peruvian Creole, the boy Gaugain early showed 
the adventurous spirit. Running away to sea at fourteen, on the 
edge of manhood he came back to Paris to enter a bank. He 
rapidly made money. He married, became the father of several 
children, then — he saw pictures, and the creative desire to paint was 
born in him. The friend of Pissarro and Guillaumin, he began to 
paint of a Sunday with them, and at thirty became an artist. In 
1880 he showed his first pictures — landscapes in the manner of 



Pissarro. The next year he "found himself" in a Nude Study of a WHEREIN 
Woman in profile on a divan, mending a chemise. PRIMAL- 

He now forsook scientific impressionism. Seeing that spot- ACADEM- 
impressionism was feeble in its powers as against mass-impressionism, ISM IS 
he went to Manet and Degas, and reached to power. In 1886, he CREATED 
met Van Gogh in Paris, and in 1886 he went back to Brittany and BY ONE 
painted the simple peasants in simple nature as big elemental types. WHO 
In 1887 he made a voyage to Martinique, and came back with his RETURNS 
senses filled with colour. La Baignade, with its two nudes, is of TO THE 
1887. Gaugain was now under Manet and Cezanne — he copied LIFE OF 
the Olympia in 1888. Then he made for the South of France, to SAVAGES 
Van Gogh at Aries. Living together, Van Gogh was driven to his 
violent attack of mania over one of their many disagreements. One 
evening in a tavern, Van Gogh flung his glass at the head of 
Gaugain, who left the place, and the following morning he told 
the remorseful Van Gogh that he would leave Aries and tell Van 
Gogh's brother of his act. Van Gogh grew sullen, and that 
evening he attacked Gaugain in the street with a razor. Gaugain 
held him, got him quieted, and Van Gogh went home and cut off 
his own ear with the razor for penance. Gaugain had gone to an 
hotel, and awoke the next morning to find a mob outside Van Gogh's 
lodging. Sending for a doctor, he left the place. Van Gogh was 
taken to a hospital, from which he went to an asylum. 

At Aries, Gaugain developed peculiar colour-faculties that were 
to make his "yellow Christ'' typical of his next development. He 
went back to Brittany, to Pont-Aven, and gathered a school about 
him. The poets gathered to him. In the May of 1891 was given 
the famous performance at the Vaudeville where Gaugain's pictures 
were shown, and Maeterlinck's Ulntruse was played for the first 
time, to raise the money to send Gaugain to his hotly-desired Tahiti. 
In Tahiti he wrought his new intention. He forgot to be quite 
sincere and dreamed the while of Paris at his feet when he came 
back. He came back with his pictures in the autumn of 1893, and 
his book Noa-Noa, strutting the streets in his embroidered blue and 
yellow waistcoat, his fingers heavy with rings, carrying a huge stick, 
and pride and hauteur in his mien. His pictures were a complete 
failure. Paris was bored. Even Strindberg, who also had " an 
immense yearning to become a savage and create a new world " was 
frankly bored, and refused to write in his honour. Gaugain pined 
for Tahiti and savage life again. The great-hearted Carriere helped 
him to go out. Gaugain shook the dust of effete Europe from his 
feet for ever. 



COLOUR- Now, whilst Gaugain essayed to interpret savage life in terms 

ORCHES- fitting to it, and did so like the fine artist that he was, employing all 
TRATION his skill to give fitting form to the primeval emotions of a barbaric 
AND THE people, and thereby achieving a superb mastery in the communion 
COMING of savage life that is astoundingly original and true when compared 
OF A NEW with a European's bastard ideas of savage races as uttered by men 
PRIMAL- of cities, he was wholly justiried — as were Puvis de Chavannes and 
ACADEM- ' Maurice Denis to a far less extent, nevertheless to great extent, 
ISM in employing primitive intention in the decoration of old churches. 

Unfortunately, the modern sophisticated artists have been led by 
these men to affectation, into mere primal-academism — that is to 
say, into aping primitive art simply as a trick of craft, without the 
slightest relation to that primitive life that Gaugain had in his 
blood. Gaugain's primitivism is one of the purest of arts in its 
intention, for it uttered t/.>e life of a savage people, of whom he 
deliberately became one. His art of literature in Noa-Noa is quite 
as simple and pure ; and perhaps it is through its art of literary 
form that the ordinary man can best realise what at first seems un- 
true, but which is absolutely artistic and true, his astounding power 
to utter the sensing of life in the savage as revealed in his Tahitian 
paintings. The very absurdities of it, as we see it, are the realities 
to savage man. They themselves so express their sensing of things 
seen. It is to Gaugain's immortal fame that, as European turned 
savage, he revealed to us the sensing of the savage genius. 

He early rejected European fellowship in Tahiti ; rejected the 
half-breeds ; and took a pure native girl to wife, living the native 
life. His contempt of civilisation he showed in that great caricature 
of himself listening to the idyllic conversation of the two native 
girls in his Savage Legends (Contes Barbares). He detested the 
French officialdom of the island. But marvellous as is his con- 
summate tact in uttering the savages, there is something vast and 
massive and modern in its utterance, as in the great figures of the 
Parget Tahk'mns. When he died on the 9th of May in 1903, in 
Dominica, utterly ignored, he left a heritage, alas, from his 
remarkable genius, that is creating the blackest threat of mimicry 

Gaugain went to the savage life, and was in his marrow barbaric, 
but he had already mastered a superb draughtsmanship and mass- 
impression. That is the inevitable paradox of civilised man essay- 
ing to return to the savage. In Tahiti he steeped himself in a 
primitive atmosphere of savage intention closely akin to the moods 
of children. Deliberately clumsy and awkward in his treatment of 


the figure and of Nature, in order that he might interpret the savage WHEREIN 
man, a certain largeness in the man cannot wholly rid even his PRIMAL- 
deliberate intention of being archaic from a broad massy utterance ACADEM- 
which has fine modern qualities in spite of himself. It is as though iSM IS 
a man essayed to imitate the handvi^riting of a child. To try to shirk CREATED 
the complexities of modern life in an intense archaic simplicity may BY ONE 
be a holy hobby, but it is to play with unrealities and to miss the WHO 
significance of life. And the irony of his endeavour lies in the fact RETURNS 
that his vision and his hand's craft are too well trained and too TO THE 
modern to play the primitive without the modern revealing that the LIFE OF 
savage war-paint covers a European — and a Frenchman at that. SAVAGES 

Gaugain and Van Gogh both knew the emotional use of colour; 
both affected archaism to the extent of drawing askew ; their 
followers play with deliberate bad drawing until they involve 
their often serious intention in farce, as though a priest preached a 
sermon in a fool's cap. But let us be clear, here and now — this 
academism founded on primitivism is not a whit more preposterous 
or crack-brained than the academism founded on Michelangelo or 
Van Dyck ; at the same time it is as chill with death to art. And 
it is as well that the classic academic should realise that his art 
affects us in precisely this same way as that the bookish critic should 
realise that this primitive-academism is neither "post-impressionism" 
nor has anything to do with living art, but is more dead than classic 
academism — if it could be more dead than death. 

It has been claimed for this primitivism that the artists are con- 
cerned with " individual expression," are not concerned with real 
things as they see them, but with the more real mystic things that 
lie behind them ! It is no more " individual " to mimic savage art 
than classic art. The mystic significance of things is as much 
within the modern world as in a " faked " world of crudities. 
" Freedom " is not found in reversion to prehistoric boors, but in the 
fulfilment of our own life here and now. To say that these men 
are " themselves," " naked souls before the living God," is to set up 
an emprise for the Almighty for which there is no proof. 

The tradition of the Hottentot is as much tradition as is the 
tradition of Michelangelo. 

To understand the two opposing modern streams in art to-day, 
then, it is necessary to grasp the significance of colour-orchestra- 
tion and of primal-academism ; and the roots of primal-academism 
are in Gaugain. The wild rush, after dazed bewilderment, of a 
group of critics to embrace primal-academism is an amusing farce 




They are little likely to grasp its essence when such a critic as the 
Frenchman Duret (who has come to a sort of possession of 
Whistler and the French Impressionists, and has lived amongst their 
movements) shows in his handsomely illustrated works that he has 
scant insight into the vital qualities and significance of these artists — 
indeed his estimate of the art of Turner and of modern English 
painting is pathetic as it is dogmatic. I should be alarmed at the 
size of a collection of writings I have poured forth for close on 
twenty years in support of the Impressionists, yet he denies all 
British recognition until Sir Hugh Lane — the painters themselves 
at least made no such mistake. If Monsieur Duret has such scant 
insight into impressionism, it is little likely that English critics 
should suddenly, at a pistol shot, as by a miracle, be given that 
insight. Nor have they been granted the miracle. Their vapid 
ecstasies miss its essential significance ; and their eager worship is 
in large part mere intellectual snobbery. Above all, they miss the 
real essence of Gaugain ; and their theories of primal vision being 
more spiritual than modern vision and " Nearer God " is about the 
most frantic drivel that even British art-criticism has poured forth. 
But I trust that I have cleared the brain of the art-lover and the 
student of some of the sham and confusion that are bewildering and 
leading astray to-day ; if so, the rest of the modern achievement 
will appear in closer relation to its true significance. 



8 9 o 






By 1890 Colour-Orchestration was being still further developed, and WHEREIN 
ranged into the realm of the Imagination. IMPRES- 

Of the rival streams the ^Esthetic alone show^ed force, for SIONISM 
classical-academism may be ignored as utterly discredited. The THROUGH 
/Esthetic movement of mediaeval-academism was giving place to COLOUR- 
V Art Nouveau (an academic Stylism founded on Morris and the art of QRCHES- 
the East, mingled with other primitive art), spreading from Paris TRATION 
throughout the whole of Europe. As the whole aim of this school CONQUERS 
is to fit design to a preconceived style, aroused by Morris and Burne- THE 
Jones from Rossetti in the first instance, we may well use the REALM 
word Stylism. OF THE 

The third movement, a reaction, is the wide intention of Primal- IMAGINA- 
Academism. The scientific intention of the Pointillists was dead, TION 
giving place to the Primal-Academism of Gaugain, who has set agog 
a vast academic interest in the infancy of the world, which has sent 
artists to the museums to search out old Egyptian and early Greek 
and Chinese gods and utensils, and to try and bring back to life the 
" simplicity " and " mysticism " of the ancient barbaric endeavour 
of savages. It is considered " original." That such an academism 
should label itself Post-Impressionism or Post-anything under the 
sun is part of its " originality," and must not be confused with the 
forward intention of thrusting Colour-Orchestration onwards to 
utter the highest sensing of Modern Man. It were as sensible 
to speak of a Post-lamp-post or a Post-turnip-field as Post- 
Impressionism. Impressionism is not a slab of Time — it is the 
basis of Art, without end. 



1867 - 

Brangwyn has taken all that was best in mass-impressionism and 
the play of sunlight in touch-impressionism and woven it into a vast 
VOL. VIII — 2 H 241 






decorative intention, creating a masterly art that is hailed amongst 
living masters to-day as of the first achievement. 

Brangwyn has moved steadily forward. He utters the life and 
great intentions of the race — its imperial pride in the conquest of 
the earth — its strength — the mighty conquests of man, with 
exultant voice. Massing his forms, Brangwyn relies on the 
absolute stroke of the brush to set down at a touch the exact value 
of colour as seen in its distance of atmosphere from the eye. Such 
mastery naturally comes to no man at once. Yet the rapidity with 
which he conquered this, the most difficult achievement in the 
whole range of painting, was very remarkable. 

Of an English father — an architect of Buckinghamshire stock 
with Welsh blood in him — and a Welsh mother, Frank Brangwyn 
was born on the I2th of May 1867 at Bruges, where his father had 
set up a factory for the copying of old embroideries for vestments 
and altarcloths. The boy seems to have scrambled towards youth 
in a careless, happy-go-lucky way, early developing artistic gifts in 
the dreamy picturesque old city. The art of Degroux, who died 
in 1870, the painter of the poor of Belgium, a fine colourist, 
employing a vigorous brush, was the inspiration that roused the 
latent genius of the child — for child only he was, of about eight 
years, when he set his small fingers to the task of trying to copy 
some engravings after works by Degroux. Early in 1875 the 
child's father made for England again, and in this, his eighth year, 
the school days of Brangwyn were over — he entered his father's 
office in John Street, Adelphi. The boy came to a London that 
was astir with the esthetic movement. Brangwyn was soon 
sketching at the South Kensington Museum. Here Rathbone 
found the boy at work, and encouraged him, giving him line- 
drawings to do in pencil from the sculptures of Donatello — he thus 
early won to severe mastery of forms. Thereafter Macmurdo, of 
" Hobby Horse " fame, rediscovered the clever lad at South 
Kensington, and set him to the copying of Mantegna. Then 
William Morris discovered the young fellow drawing, and 
Brangwyn was set to making full-sized cartoons for tapestries 
from Morris's sketches. 

Fortunately the youngster was too originative to fall completely 
under the spell of Morris ; from fifteen to seventeen he worked for 
him, then, fretted by the museum atmosphere, impelled by a restless 
desire to be out across the face of the world and to see life itself, he 
scraped two or three pounds together and set out for the village of 
Sandwich, lived amongst the fisherfolk, and painted the life about 



1867 - 

(Luxembourg, Paris) 


him. Supplies soon ran out, and Brangwyn leaped at the offer of a WHEREIN 
ship's captain to go a voyage with him. He took a hand with the IMPRES- 
crew in all their work, and vas infected by that love of the sea-life SIONISM 
which has ever since remained with him. These roving voyages THROUGH 
became a settled habit, and the young fellow was soon as much COLOUR- 
sailor as artist. At eighteen Brangwyn sent an oil painting, A Bit of ORCHES- 
the Esk, to the Royal Academy, and it was hung. Thereafter he TRATION 
settled in London awhile to work for Morris again, but the payment CONQUERS 
for the great Renaissance of the Arts and Crafts was wretched, and THE 
he was painting the moods of the sea between whiles. A sea-piece REALM 
in 1886, his nineteenth year, was hung at the Academy and bought OF THE 
by a shipowner, thereby bringing Brangwyn a personal friend who, IMAGINA- 
a couple of years later, in 1888, sent him for a sea-voyage to the TION 
Levant. Two years afterwards he made a like voyage, and the 
March of 1891 saw his exhibition in Bond Street From the Scheldt to 
■ the Danube. He had been to Spain between the two Eastern 
voyages. But it was at that display of 1 891, in his twenty-fourth 
year, that Brangwyn revealed to the world his superb sense of colour. 
Up to this time his masterly use of silvery greys and tender low 
tones had created considerable stir ; but in his sudden outburst of 
colour-song he stood forth as one of the most profound masters 
amongst the younger men. The achievement for a man of twenty- 
four was a revelation. 

The^ end of this same year saw Brangwyn in Spain again, this 
time with Melville, the two men having many aims in common ; 
and the comradeship did them both good. Brangwyn has been 
accused of imitating Melville, just as two years later Whistler was 
accused of imitating Brangwyn ! Brangwyn and Melville were 
both by this time set in their personal utterance, and, had the critics 
but followed Brangwyn as eagerly as we in the studios followed his 
art, they would have seen him set in his style in that display in 
Bond Street. 

With the Buccaneers, the Slave Market, and the Turkish Fisher- 
men s Huts, in 1893, Brangwyn created the loud uproar that ever 
means fame and the arrival of a master. From that year his record 
began to be European, and his reputation has leaped forward 
through triumph after triumph, until to-day he stands at the 
forefront of our national achievement, scarce past his fortieth year, 
world-famous. This man has gone on his way, careless of honours, 
regardless of petty things, building up the wide conquest of his 
art, bringing the highest distinction to every realm in which he has 
essayed to create art — in decoration, in oils, in water-colours, in 







etching, in the woodcut, in lithography. He stands out a giant in 
all his endeavour. He glories in the majesty of ships upon the 
waters, in the strength of manhood, whether that manhood cleave 
asunder the wilderness of the great forests with railways or bring 
life to the deserts of continents ; whether that manhood, with 
shoulders bared to the adventure, hew its way through the bowels 
of the earth in the perilous work of mines, or, with the unceasing 
toil of industry, weld the iron from boiling cauldrons to the rigid 
purpose of great enterprise. He hymns the strength of the workers 
in the factory, at the work-bench, or the loom. And when, in the 
after years, the generations look back upon the vast achievement of 
the race of which we are a part, it will be to the art of such as 
Brangwyn that they will go to find the dramatic and lyric utterance 
of the people's splendour. The king over us is of the sea-folk, and 
it is fitting that his first painter should be of the sea-folk, as his 
people are of the sea-folk. Our might and our significance are upon 
the great waters and in the vast industries of our toiling people ; 
we have spread that might across the oceans and carried the 
splendour of it to the ends of the earth ; and the whole vast gamut 
of this commonweal design has found its chief poet in Brangwyn. 
To achieve the utterance of so large an art were beyond small 
talents, however exquisite ; and Brangwyn came to the handsome 
business endowed with a wide orchestration of colour and form, of 
resonant darks and pulsing lights, of majestic rhythm, and of lofty 



Charles Wellington Furse, A.R.A., was born in 1868, the 
third son to the Archdeacon of Westminster, whose home was 
Halsden House, in North Devon. This son of Devon went to his 
schooling at Haileybury College. His county and school were the 
nurseries of military adventure on land and sea, and it is probable 
that the soldierly young fellow was intended for the calling of arms ; 
but already the signs were against it, even if the desire were not. 
Furse early showed a bent towards art, and was soon the ardent 
disciple of Velazquez and Sargent. So to the unravelling of the 
mysteries of painting he went, joining the Slade, then under the 
vigorous direction of Professor Legros. From Legros he went to 
Paris ; thence to Munich. The New English Art Club drew the 
young rebel to its ranks. A man of great personal charm, a 
soldierly fellow, not without the neat ways of the dandy, and with 


much of the cultured manner of the man about town, Furse gave WHEREIN 

the impression of a man of affairs. Doomed to an early death by IMPRES- 

the white scourge, he bore himself in handsome, debonair fashion, SIONISM 

that wholly concealed from the world the canker in his life. The THROUGH 

consumptive is often too prone to see and record life in fantastic, COLOUR- 

unhealthy forms ; but the art of Furse was robust, virile, vigorous. ORCHES- 

His first triumph came to Furse the year he painted Diatja of the TRATION 

Uplands. She caught the town. Diana was the type of healthy, CONQUERS 

handsome, English young womanhood, walking the breezydowns with THE 

her greyhounds on leash. Furse married in 1900, in his thirty- REALM 
second year, the youngest daughter of John Addington Symonds of OF THE 

Renaissance fame ; but his married happiness was to know short IMAGINA- 

years. Elected to the Royal Academy, on which he had led so TION 
many attacks, in 1904, death stepped across the threshold of his 
home on the 17th of the October of the same year, and took him, 
just as his powers were maturing. 


Born at Philadelphia, this brilliant woman began her career by 
drawing fossils upon stone for the U.S. Geological Reports. Pupil 
to Miss Drinker, she went to Van der Wielen ; in Paris she joined 
the Julien Academy, but received her chief artistic impetus from 
Alexander Harrison and Charles Lasar. Coming to the front about 
1885, Cecilia Beaux rapidly evolved a powerful style of portraiture 
akin to the art of Sargent, and stands out as one of the finest 
women-painters of her age. 

B R O U G H 

1872 - 1905 

The early doomed Robert Brough was reaching to high 
achievement when a terrible death in a railway accident, wherein 
the carriage caught fire, ended his career. Born at Invergordon 
in Ross-shire in 1872, Brough went to school at Aberdeen, became 
apprentice to the lithographers Gibb and Co., studied drawing the 
while under Eraser, painting in the early hours of the morning and 
by gaslight at night out of business hours. On completing his 
apprenticeship he went to the R.S.A. schools at Edinburgh, work- 
ing meanwhile at lithography and making chalk portraits. Thence 
he made for Paris, worked under Laurens and Constant, and coming 
back to Aberdeen in 1894, at twenty-two, painted portraits. 
Moving to London in 1897 ^^ steadily came to the front. His 







Fantaisie en Folie of 1897 was one of the sensations of the Royal 

O R P E N 


The Irish painter William Orpen is more akin to the School 
of Pryde and Nicholson than to that of the New English Art Club 
which gave him his road to fame. His sense of character is his 
great power ; and his quick eye tor humour is as subtle as his sense 
of tone. Orpen is quite one of the most brilliant portraitists working 
amongst us to-day. 


Douglas Robinson, on leaving the Royal Navy, learnt the 
mysteries in Paris, and coming under the glamour of Whistler and 
the mass-impressionists rapidly won to the tront as a portrait- 
painter and a poetic landscape-painter. 

A considerable group of figure-painters, including Mouat 
LouDAN, essay mass-impressionisms. Sauter, though alien by 
blood, seems to have ranged himself with the British, and paints 
harmonies of subtle distinction. 


1849 - 
Sir Alfred East, A.R.A., born at Kettering of Northampton- 
shire middle-class folk, lived in a little town where there was not 
even a shop to get the materials for painting. Brought up to a 
business career, entering a counting-house in Glasgow, it was in 
early manhood in that counting-house that he began to feel the 
compelling desire to create art. He was full twenty-five, however, 
before he could make for Paris and learn the mysteries in earnest. 
Painting landscape at Barbizon, under the glamour of the men of 
1830, in 1883 East showed his first landscape at the Royal 
Academy, Dewy Morning. His out-of-door work soon brought 
him into touch with the problems of colour that were creating 
the mass-impressionists and broken-colour impressionism ; and he 
rapidly passed from grey schemes to the endeavour to utter the 
varying moods of Nature in colour-schemes that, whilst they held 
the stately compositions of the Romantic movement, were also 
concerned with the play and counterplay of light. His wide range 
in oils and water-colours has brought him honours from many 



1849 - 

By kind permission of R. Clarke Edwards, Esq., and The Studio 




Hughes Stanton has also founded his landscape on the majestic WHEREIN 

art of mass-impressionism, and has created a dignified and decorative IMPRES- 

art that sets him high in the modern achievement — bringing a SIONISM 

stately measure into his decorative intention. THROUGH 

In Peppercorn landscape has found a tragic impressionist, who, COLOUR- 

if somewhat monotonously, utters the gloom and threat of Nature ORCHES- 

with vigorous brush. TRATION 


1821 - 1896 THE 

Brabazon, beginning as an amateur, developed into one of the 
most eloquent painters of blithe impressionism of the nineties. 
His original and intensely personal art was born out of Turner's 
revelation, wrought in the spirit of the broken-colour painters added 
to mass. He came to a luminosity and a lyrical power that mark 
him as one of the finest landscape-painters of the time ; and his fame 
will greatly grow. 

Of the many brilliant painters in landscape who have founded 
on the practice of the modern aims, there is no room here to speak ; 
but the original art of Moffat Lindner, of Livens and of Mark 
Fisher must be noted. 

In water-colour, Clara Mont alba and her sisters, Sir Ernest 
Waterlow, C. J. Watson, Wimperis, Wetherbee, Haite, and 
others who founded on the old English school have been touched 
by the modern flame ; whilst Ranken, Cecil Aldin, Lee Hankey, 
Lenfesty, Aumonier, Oliver Hall, Little, Reginald Barratt, 
Lloyd, Marshall, and the like, have looked upon it. Walter 
Bayes' fine sense of decoration is wasted in criticism. Montague 
Smythe and Hopwood are both impressionistic. David Murray 
is one of the best-known landscapists of the Academy. 



1852 - 
Beginning under the grey threat of the photographic realism 
of Bastien-Lepage, one day the revelation of colour-orchestration 
from Monet came to Clausen. There is no man living who states 
the moods of pastoral life with more lyrical power ; no one who is in 
truer fellowship with nature ; no one more intimate with her chang- 
ing moods amidst the meadows and orchards and barns of the farmer 
folk ; no one who so exquisitely catches the lyric poetry of her 
mystic colours from sunrise to sundown where the labourer tills the 



THE fields or gathers the harvest or works in winter in the spacious 

TRIUMPH gloom of barns. He takes just those exquisite ordinary scenes that 
OF are conveyed to us by the word Countryside, and he takes them in 

IMPRES- the fragrant and tender moments that haunt our whole being when 

SIONISM we think of rural sounds and places ; he sets them down for us 

IN with that colour-sense in which our memory retains them, rid of all 

COLOUR- superfluous detail, rhythmic and telling in all essential truths — so 
ORCHES- that there comes to us the whisper of familiar wayside sights and 
TRATION sounds. Whether he paint the night or the sunlight, the dusk or 
AND THE the sunset or the break of day, he utters the very music of it all in 
REACTION colours wrought by a lyric poet. Whether the village green or the 
TOWARDS village shop in the moonlight, or the peaceful village drowse in the 
PRIMAL- wondrous shadow of the mystery of the night, half revealing the 
ACADEM- ghosts of the sleeping hamlet, a poet's voice speaks to us. With 
ISM INTO the play of the sunlight a more pulsing bravura of colour dazzles 
OUR OWN the senses. 

DAY Harry Becker has largely wrought his art in Holland. His 

blithe pastorals are rid of all taint of the weariness of toil. His 
peasants labour in the fields in joyous health and jocund freedom 
from the weariness that hangs like a threat over nearly all the 
modern attitude towards the labourers of the field. He pitches his 
harmonies in vigorously painted schemes of subtle and tender colour 
that form a fine orchestration for the blithe labourers, men and 
women, who till the earth and reap the harvest, so that his georgics 
are like an anthem of thanksgiving for the goodly fruits of the fields 
and orchards. He is one of the best of modern lithographers. 

Arnesby Brown (1866- ) has brought mass-impressionism 

to the utterance of the pastoral in a large decorative spirit. La 
Thangue (i860- ) arouses a powerful impression of sunlight 

flooding a bright world. Adrian Stokes (1857- ) employs 

colour-orchestration, as does his wife. Edward Stott has painted 
the pastoral in twilight moods with tender and subtle charm and 
wistful melancholy. Mrs. Swynnerton is a forceful impressionist. 
Fred Footet is one of the British touch-impressionists who weaves 
poems of fancy from landscape. Wynford Dewhurst is another 
disciple of Monet. 


We now come to a society of British artists that has made a 
mark, if not as great as it promised, in the production of genius. 
As the society has more or less swallowed the Newlyn School, 
perhaps we had better go back to the Newlyn men. 



" HOEING'-' 

By kind permission of Messrs Boussod, Valadon & Co. 
and The Studio 


f£' 'TliJ&Ll_- -'^-^iWfcr '.**- . ■' ■irv<v^^ li ^-,:, ^■jaufimwf^ 

JV. !*«*■"■_» 


There arose a group of Realist painters of a grey and black WHEREIN 
photographic Realism, known as the Newlyn men. At Newlyn, in IMPRES- 
Cornwall, this English school of photographic realism founded on SIONISM 
the Continental intention of Bastien-Lepage, brought forth a group THROUGH 
of men, led by Stanhope Forbes, all of whom painted black realism COLOUR- 
awhile. Stanhope Forbes of late has developed a more colourful ORCHES- 
art. TuKE (1858- ) much earlier became interested in colour, TRATION 

and seizes the play of light sparkling upon the waters and bathing CONQUERS 
the nude in luminosity, and Bramley, (1857- ) in his Hope/ess THE 

Dawn, even whilst black and photographic, achieved work of tragic REALM 
power ; he has since greatly developed his colour-faculty. Hall OF THE 
was also of this school. IMAGINA- 

In 1886 the New English Art Club was formed as a secession TION 
from Academic ideals. It held two main streams, the Newlyn 
Realism and the Colour-Impressionists, of whom Sargent was the 
supreme genius. The grey realists soon passed over to colour-im- 
pressionism, and Clausen and La Thangue and others strengthened 
the impressionistic aim. Then came the broken-colour impres- 
sionists, headed by Wilson Steer, who may be said to be the 
head of the body, and the Sickerts and other Whistlerians, like 
Maitland and Roussel, confirmed the intention. Sargent, Clausen, 
and others have been swept into the Academy, leaving Wilson 
Steer as the type of the brotherhood. The Academy found in it 
at last a brilliant group of artists, who combined to give the last 
blow to that outworn institution. The Academy, by silence in 
public, by absorbing the leaders of its enemies, and by intrigue, had 
always broken all rivals. The Club used the Academy's own 
weapons against it, and being a more energetic and younger group 
of men, have at last seized every position of power and practically 
dominate the old enemy. Although of a fresher academism, it 
became inevitably a clique and an academy itselt. 

Wilson Steer (i860- ) is the most brilliant type of the Club. 

With rare gifts of craftsmanship, he has flitted from style to style ; 
now broken-colour impressionism ; now the old English landscape 
men, chiefly Constable. One of the most brilliant Mannerists of 
the time he has achieved remarkable work. Tonks is one of the 
colourists of the school, and has done rare impressionistic works. 
William Rothenstein is an artist whose DoWs House revealed 
a powerful impressionism, and whose lithographic portraits have 
distinction. Von Glehn, though wholly subject to Sargent, has 
painted good pictures. Connard is a fine colourist. W. W. Russell 
is a brilliant colourist whose landscapes, interiors, and figures are 
vol. viii — 2 I 249 






wrought with a rare sense of the play of light and of colour under 

Several men of mark treated elsewhere have belonged to the 
Club, but are somewhat outside its type. In Chowne it possesses 
one of the most remarkably gifted painters of flower-pieces in Europe 
to-day ; and in James, a painter of flower-pieces in water-colours whose 
luminous use of colour is exquisite. Philpot is a portrait-painter 
who, if he can rid himself of mimicry of the great, threatens to reach 
a high position. Orpen we have already considered. But the man 
of highest repute in the Club is Augustus E. John, its draughtsman. 


Augustus John began his career with powerful colour-realism 
in the portraiture of gypsy-like women. He has hot allies to-day. 
Yet, in some strange way, the new-academism of the Club has cast 
a shadow upon his vision. His etchings recall pupilage to Rem- 
brandt. And at present his painting is so steeped in the vision of 
Leonardo da Vinci that he seems ever seeking to reproduce the 
Leonardesque smile. Of all the Club Mannerists, he is incomparably 
the man nearest to genius ; but whether he will shake off Mannerism, 
whether he will reveal original gifts, yet remains to be seen. 

Now whilst the New English Art Club cannot be freed from 
the charge of that Mannerism that is Academism, it is a far more 
alive Mannerism than that of the Royal Academy. It at least 
founds chiefly on modern developments. It has opened its doors to 
men of mark to whom the Academy held out, as Americans say, 
"the icy mitten " instead of " the glad hand." 


By 1890 broken-colour impressionism was in full career, 
George Henry and Hornel coming to the front after a visit to 
Japan in iSgT,-^. Mounxey (i 852-1 901) in landscape, MacGeorge 
(1861- ), and Robert Fowler and Blacklock (1863-1903) were 
strongly influenced by Hornel. 

The early doomed young painters Yule (i 869-1900) and Robert 
Brough (i 872-1 905) followed; and then emerged a personality of 
marked individual power in S. J. Peploe, who has created a virile 
and searching colour-orchestration. 

Before surveying Peploe's and Pryde's influence, however, it is 
well to note the exquisite water-colours of birds and flowers and 


animals by Edwin Alexander, whilst Campbell Mitchell has WHEREIN 
made a mark, in landscape. IMPRES- 

Strang (1859- ) had been a fellow-student with W. Y. Mac- SIONISM 
gregor at the Slade, and, under the glamour of Legros, had taken to THROUGH 
etching. He was elected to the Royal Academy as an etcher ; COLOUR- 
but why he should have been so elected in face of his equally ORCIII'.S- 
remarkable work in painting, the Academy alone knows. TRATION 

D. Y. Cameron (1865- ) paints stately landscapes and has CONQUERS 

made a mark as an etcher. Cameron is as serene and classical in THE 
spirit as Strang is rugged and brusque ; both men are poets in art. REALM 

MuiRHEAD Bone (1876- ) later came to the front as a OF THE 
draughtsman and etcher, winning to a considerable reputation upon IMAGINA- 
a strangely scant achievement. Bone has felt the exquisite sense of TION 
the etched line ; he is the essential etcher ; the " size " of his Ayr 
Prison is marvellous as its sombre intensity of mood. 

David Muirhead paints the home-life of the ordinary well-to- 
do ; Harrington Mann, Fiddes Watt, Sholto Douglas, and 
BoRTHWicK are of the portrait-painters. 

By the remarkably gifted three who were destined to an early 
death. Yule (i 869-1 900), Brough (i 872-1 905), and Bessie 
M'Nicol (i 869-1 904), so much brilliant promise had been given 
that we can only lament the tragedy of their careers. 

Bessie M'Nicol was one of the most remarkable women-artists. 

In animal-painting William Walls has come to repute. 
T. Austen Brown is a forceful painter of country life. 

Of the Scottish Impressionist landscape-painters, W. Y. Mac- 
gregor, painting the grandly-phrased The Quarry, and James 
Paterson (born in 1854), whose loosely handled and blurred land- 
scape in oils and water-colours holds a personal vision, had as fellows — 
Nairn (1859-1904) ; Alexander Mann (1853-1908) ; the poetic 
Macaulay Stevenson, who is concerned ever with an elegiac 
mystical mood of nature ; and the painter of spacious heavens with 
low horizons and low-lying foregrounds, Campbell Mitchell ; 
Tom Robertson, the lover of moonlit waters ; whilst the tender 
pastorals of M'Bride and the decorative design and forceful painting 
of Jamieson add to their repute. I take Jack the portraitist to 
be a Scot. 

Of masters of pen-drawing whom Scotland has given us, 
Denholm Armour should not be judged by his weak line-work for 
Punch ; he is essentially a water-colour painter, and approaches the 
superb work of Joseph Crawhall (the younger). Hartrick is 
a finer master of the pen and has romantic sense. 








1 868-1909 

Standing in some ways in relation both to Whistler and 
Beardsley, but creating an exquisite art all his own, was the 
colour-poet, Charles Conder, doomed to an early death. Conder 
employed colour in subtle lyrical fashion in an original way that 
suggests all the wistfulness of Watteau, all the hauntingness of 
Whistler, all the impudent naughtiness of Beardsley. His art was 
blown across the silk of fans like the fragile atmosphere of dreams ; 
and in Conder the fan found its supreme master of the art. The 
effects of space, of aerial distances in his art are magical. His 
rhythmic utterance is like the music of viols and lutes in some old- 
world terraced garden by Versailles. Conder has also made delight- 
ful lithographs. He gives to the allure of women the glamour of 
the lover's vision, as when the ballroom is aglow with gay lights, 
and music is in the air, and there is the excitement of the dance. 
He brings to his art an exquisite utterance that set his colour beside 
the best work of Whistler in its lower register, and far above it in 
his higher, freer flights. 

The Russian Constantin Somoff paints in a realm akin to 
that of Conder and of Beardsley. 

S I M E 


With Sidney H. Sime there came into the art of England in 
the nineties one of her most remarkable men of genius. The Man- 
chester lad who began breadwinning in the bowels of the earth 
must have already, with grim northern humour, been spinning 
dreams of heaven and hell before he came up to the surface at the 
pit's mouth to try sign-painting for a change. However, when he 
came from the Liverpool School of Art in 1893 to seek fortune in 
London, he was already master of an art that soon won him on to 
the illustrated papers. He came into illustration just as Beardsley, 
Raven Hill, Phil May, and all the brilliant young illustrators of 
the nineties were making the decade one of the greatest periods in 
illustration. His exquisite sense of line showed him kin to Beardsley 
on one side of his art ; but he revealed a profound poetic sense, a grim 
philosophic gift, and a range of imagination far beyond Beardsley 's 
ken. He early shed all influence, and developed a craftsmanship 
that enabled him to range heaven and hell. From a swift dexterous 


caricaturist — one of the first of our generation — Sime suddenly came WHEREIN 
upon us as a poet. Sime had an intellect far beyond the artists of IMPRES- 
his time ; he bent that intellect to artistry, compelling the senses to SIONISM 
transform the idea into the experience. He felt the immensity of THROUGH 
life. Where Beardsley laughed shrilly at Death and Doom and the COLOUR- 
Punishment of Sin, or passed it by with a gay shrug of the shoulder, ORCHES- 
Sime treats of great ideas with grim humour, hears the thunder of TRATION 
the spheres. Throughout his art is a grim chuckle at bogies, a CONQUERS 
large love of the human being, a deep compassion for the weak, a THE 
fierce desire to see behind the screen of the Unknown. He stands REALM 
to-day in the foremost artistic achievement of our time — a poet of OF THE 
exquisite and subtle fancy, with a rare beauty of craftsmanship IMAGINA- 
whereby to express his wide-ranging imagination. His painting is TION 
of a romantic and weird power. That this painting is not more 
widely known is a public loss. The large imagination of the man 
is wedded to a profound inquisition into the minds of men. He is 
perhaps the greatest living authority on Blake and Foe, as probably 
on Meredith. 


1864 - 

Tom Mostyn began to make a mark with glowing low-toned 
paintings of subjects and portraits that early won him honours in 
France. I next remember him as creating landscapes in the great 
English tradition. He has steadily developed his art, until to-day 
he has emerged as a poetic painter of romantic landscape in which 
he pours forth, as with largesse of glowing and glittering jewels, the 
moods aroused in the senses by dreams of the drama and romance 
of Nature. He is master of an art created by himself in which he 
has evolved a technique of extraordinary power. His sane vision 
has dreamed dreams founded on Nature ; and his romantic spirit, at 
first hesitant, has rapidly found a bejewelled craftsmanship that 
brings forth radiant colour-harmonies. He has taken from the 
touch-impressionists all the orchestral possibilities of broken-colour, 
achieving without the disintegration of the prism what they thought 
could only be achieved by that disintegration. 


1862 - 

GreifFenhagen seems to have gone into silence of late ; yet, in 
the nineties, his was one of the most glowing brushes that gave 
itself to colour-impressionism in a luminous, if somewhat low-toned 







art of remarkable decorative power ; and his vision revealed a 
romantic essence all too rich and rare for retirement from the noble 
adventure of art. 


The son of a fine artist, Dudley Hardy is one of the most 
brilliant colourists of our time. No man has so wilfully 
squandered his gifts. Yet Dudley Hardy at his best remains one of 
the lyrical painters of his generation. If he go to Holland he 
paints Holland as though the whole modern genius of the land had 
flung him its craftsmanship. He does the same in France. He has 
such an innate gift for caricaturing any man's style or of repeating 
it at will, that it becomes a danger to him. His pictorial memory 
is a marvel. He will stoop to the most trivial advertisements or 
illustrations. Yet, when he pours forth his gifts upon a painting, 
when he takes himself seriously, he rises to lyrical utterance. He 
has dashed off lyrics of Algiers and Tangier, and made paintings of 
the Arabs, which for glow of colour and intensity of poetic utter- 
ance surpass the art of Fortuny and others who have given their 
lifework to try and create what Hardy flings off like a gesture. He 
is one of the great Ne'er-do-Weels of art who create by sheer 
genius, and waste themselves on trivialities the greater part of their 
lives ; but his art will live, as their art nearly always lives. 

Mrs. Dods-Withers is a lyric poetess in landscape. 


Meanwhile a Northumbrian had gone back to the old English 
Chap-Books, and developed a most telling art from the broad black 
masses of the woodcuts of the English broad-sheet. 

Joseph Crawhall dips his hands into the stilted magnificence of 
the eighteenth century, gets a grip upon the elaborate etiquette and 
paste-buckled manners that held the time, and brings out in his deft 
fingers the discovered secret of the whole art of the chap-books, with 
the bluff hint of his own deeper secret of artistry added to it. And 
his modern eyes seeing the form of things more subtly than these 
Georgian folk saw it, seeing form with that deliberate grace that is 
the characteristic of our later nineteenth-century art, seeing it also 
with a full sense of its surface and body, and most of all of its texture 
— he gives us the art of the chap-books considerably glorified. So 
that you shall find amongst the geniuses of the old chap-book days 
— now wholly unknown, and their names altogether forgot — no 



man of them all with gifts so complete and hand's skill so adequate "WHEREIN 
as this Crawhall. What squidgy soft body he gives to a snail for IMPRES- 
all the limits of the wood-block's technicalities ! how we almost SIONISM 
count the slow inches of its slobby career as he sets his " demd, THROUGH 
moist, unpleasant body" towards the vague ambition whither his COLOUR- 
protruding feelers blindly lead him — to end in the thrush's singing ORCHES- 
interior, or otherwise end in the music of the spheres ! TRATION 

In none of those whimsical plays of fancy has this, our whimsical CONQUERS 
Old Crawhall, more vigorously displayed his knowledge of the sleight THE 
of hand that was in the craftsmanship of the eighteenth century, REALM 
with its fine decorative sense, than in his Dandy with the Powder OF THE 
Puff; yet here again we see something of that subtlety of tone and IMAGINA- 
of draughtsmanship peeping out through the breadth and rude skill of TION 
the thing. Even in his Battle Ships, with their laughing affectation 
of primitiveness, full of portholes, the artist but forced the drama a 
little so that he might give an inordinate threat of guns ; so choke- 
full are they of impossible masts that there is not deck's planking 
enough into which to step them all, wherefore one or two are of 
needs almost overboard ; but this exaggeration gives the desire to 
sail at all costs, and get the wind of all enemies, and we cannot 
quarrel with rigging that fouls under such virtuous ambition. 

And his conventional Sun, is it not lit with the flare of the old 
broadsheets ? flaming out of the days when journalism was touched 
with classic aspirations ; when journalism, not yet being devoid of 
some ambition to be accused of the smell of midnight oil that is 
the very perfume of scholarship, always spoke of him, half-playfully, 
as Old Sol ! 

P R Y D E 

1866 - 

James Pryde has largely, with Crawhall, created one of the 
strongest schools of painting of our time. Pryde took up the 
British achievement where the most virile efix)rt had ended, and 
in the vigour and fearless vision of Hogarth, the broad art of the 
chap-book men, as Crawhall perfected it, he founded his utterance. 
He rapidly increased in power, the mass-impressionism of France 
not being lost upon him. The full-blooded nature of the man has 
found its outlet in native art, powerful and haunting, dramatic above 
all things, and personal. The affectation of the Arthurian romance 
repelled him; he is rather the heir to Chaucer, to Balzac, to Rabelais. 
Romance and drama breathe through his every work. 

Pryde for awhile took up pastels ; but he seems early to have 



THE exhausted the range of the pastel : and his use of oils reveals his 

TRIUMPH soundness of judgment in employing the more powerful medium in 
OF which his breadth of touch is as marked as his subtlety, as The Demi 

IMPRES- Mondaine bears witness. 

SIONISM Strange to say, Pryde clings to a very low scale of colour ; and 

IN though he employs it with a resonant colour-sense, his art more 

COLOUR- than hints at a rich orchestration held grimly in reserve. Perhaps 
ORCHES- it is this reserve that is chiefly responsible for that monotony of style 
TRATION from which he seems unable or unwilling to shake himself free. 
AND THE James Pryde, with his brother-in-law, William Nicholson, first 

REACTION came before the public ken as the Beggarstaff Brothers, who brought 
TOWARDS aft to the walls of our thoroughfares, with some of the most 
PRIMAL- masterly posters that have been created. He has the artist strain in 
ACADEM- ^'in^ ; both Scott Lauder and Beugo were his close kin on the 
ISM INTO mother's side. But he owes most to his own romantic vision, 
OUR OWN vvedded to a Rabelaisian joy in life. His work is rich in character 
DAY — whether he portray the rubicund iollity of Jorrocks or the full- 

girthed stupidity of Old John Willet^ mine host of the old Maypole 
Inn from Barnaby Rudge, or limns the sardonic humour and 
tragic bearing of Henry Irving in the finest portrait ever painted of 
the great Victorian actor. He does not produce quickly. His Murder 
House is typical of the haunting power of his scenes, built up with 
rare gifts of brushing, colour, arrangement, black and white. It 
thrills by its high romantic atmosphere, its threat of tragedy, its 
resonant colour, its largeness of spacing. 

Pryde seems to be baulked by some strange sluggishness of 
creative faculty. He leaves the impression of genius unfulfilled, of 
a powerful imagination dropped to earth. Yet out of all his work 
there is breathed a strange, compelling, tragic sense as of the travail 
of a soul akin to the soul of Edgar Allan Poe. 


1872 - 

The younger of the famous " Beggarstaff Brothers," being six 
years the junior of his brother-in-law, James Pryde, is William 
Nicholson. Nicholson, if we are to judge his art when created 
apart from that of Pryde, is gifted with rare distinction of arrange- 
ment, a fertile imagination, and great sense of arrangement. His 
blithe art, strangely enough, he utters with an almost sombre reserve 
in colour. Nicholson has created an art of woodcut, printed in 
massed blacks upon an ochre or raw umber ground, and touched 
with colour, which has brought forth a large school of artists, 




By kind permission of His Honour Judge W. Evans and The SluJio 


His immortal portrait series done in this method, his great London WHF.REIN 
Types^ and his Almanack of 'Iwehe Sports have brought him the IMPRES- 
world-wide fame he deserved. He is equally a man of genius with SIONISM 
oils, water-colours, or coloured woodcuts. His still-life will one day THROUGH 
be reckoned amongst the masterpieces in this realm ; and his Cupids COLOUR- 
Fighting for a Rose and the Cupids in a window are unforgettable. ORCHES- 
To everything that he designs he brings distinction — whether TRATION 
a playing card, a ball programme, or an initial letter. CONQUERS 


Edward Gordon Craig, son of the famous actress, Ellen Terry, OF THE 
though he has given his art chiefly to the theatre, in which he is IMAGINA- 
to-day an European influence, is also one of the most poetic painters TION 
of our times. Self-trained in the chap-book art of Crawhall, and 
largely influenced in youth by James Pryde as he himself declares, 
he early developed an original personal vision of a high order. His 
woodcuts are amongst the finest that the age has produced, amongst 
the finest that any age has produced. But he has also developed an 
art of water-colour so intensely personal, wrought with so dramatic 
a power, that he is the supreme poet of this very remarkable group 
of painters. The dramatic intensity of such designs as some of the 
Shakespeare scenes, of the series for Electra, or the like, is of an order 
that defies comparison with anything else in the whole range of 
painting. The effect of his application of colour-harmonies to the 
theatre has been one of the most wide-reaching of all modern move- 
menis on the European stage. His unerring sense of arrangement, 
his consummate sense of design, have enabled him to give utterance 
to an art of the most dramatic kind, haunting and rhythmical. I 
know no artist to-day with such gifts for evoking majesty, tragedy, 

Amidst his wide activities he has brought to the craft of 
printing and lettering a consummate taste that far outdistances the 
whole achievement of Morris and his school — showing a sense of 
selection and a grip of the relation of the design to the printed 


Founding on the art of Pryde and Nicholson, which freed him 
from the hard aesthetic tendencies of his pupillage, Simpson rapidly 
came to the front as the draughtsman of this group. His adventure 
into caricature, which was the rather fine portraiture in the solid 
blacks of the chap-book style of the BeggarstafFs, brought him 
VOL. VIII — 2 K 257 






personal utterance ; and his craftsmanship in the making up of 
a book, from its cover-design to the arrangement of the print, 
has affected the modern book, based on the fine essays of the whole 
of this school. Simpson has of late taken to painting, in which his 
few essays give rare promise, and reveal him to be possessed of subtle 
colour-vision and a higher colour utterance than his first masters the 
Beggarstaffs, and more akin to the colour-orchestration of Fergusson 
and Peploe. Indeed, Simpson bridges the two northern schools. 

Of several artists of this school, Dacres Adams and Flint are 
coming steadily to the front. The brothers Orr are also of this 
decorative school, as is the young artist Lovat Eraser. 

Akin in some measure but creating an art apart is Joseph 
Crawhall the younger. 

The son of " Old " Crawhall, Joseph Crawhall was dowered 
with genius. Trained by one of the most original of artists, his 
sporting father, Joseph Crawhall came forth as one of the most 
original painters of our time. An exquisite draughtsman, Crawhall 
floats his luminous flat washes of colour over his design with 
marvellous decorative power. His eye for the forms and structure 
of animals surpasses the marvellous skill of Japan. His studentship 
to Aimc Morot left no mark upon his art. His favourite ground 
is fine brown holland, which aids the swiftly floated water-colours 
to render the texture of fur and feather. His Spangled Cock and 
Black Cock are of his highest achievement. 


The Mass-Impressionism revealed to England by Manet through 
Whistler found many pupils. In Scotland there arose a painter 
who founded on Whistler, but rapidly developed an art quite outside 
Whistler's range, into which light and blithe colour entered to rid 
it of Whistler's low tones. This man, Peploe, added the bravura of 
the broken-colour impressionists without breaking colour. 


S. J. Peploe has evolved a vigorous painting at first stroke, fluid 
and direct, which he has raised to remarkable achievement. It 
is true that he has been more concerned with the means of uttering 


art than with the emotional range of the significance of Hfe that WHEREIN 
craftsmanship alone serves to create. But the forerunner is often the IMPRES- 
great craftsman rather than the wide-ranging artist. Whether life SIONISM 
has yielded him a wide gamut of its significance he has as yet given THROUGH 
no sign. But that which he does see, he interprets with a power of COLOUR- 
impressionism which it would be impossible to surpass so far as the ORCHES- 
craft of painting has as yet been employed. The play of light upon TRATION 
the thing seen, the values of colours in their depth of atmosphere, CONQJJERS 
the whole basic significance of the vision of things to the naked eye, THE 
are easily within this man's empire. His subtle sensing of colour REALM 
has never been surpassed. Compared with him, Whistler was OF THE 
sombre, half-blind. For subtlety and freshness of colour-sense, there IMAGINA- 
is no one to approach him and his pupil Fergusson in Europe TION 
to-day. He has thrust impressionism far beyond Manet or Monet, 
yet — he is also baulked by their lack of the eagle's flight by the 
limited imagination. It is as if the gods denied one man the All. 
All is delivered into his hands but the gift of song — and the 
song is the essential All ! 


Trained by Peploe, John Duncan Fergusson was soon the 
equal of his master, and rapidly increased his mastery of colour. 
Fergusson at first looked like becoming but a brilliant disciple of 
Whistler ; but he very early surpassed Whistler in colour-orchestra- 
tion. Peploe's astounding range of colour soon lifted Fergusson to as 
blithe and joyous an art, and as wide-ranging a faculty of uttering 
light, as he himself had mastered. Thenceforth Fergusson advanced 
to that lyrical painting that places him amongst the supreme masters 
of the younger group. The Marchesi Berneval, The Lady in Pink, 
proclaimed him a master far outside the limited realm that Whistler 
made his own. There is now not only a fresh virile sense of the 
glamour of light, but a pulsing movement of air and leafage and 
water. He had already painted a moonlit square in Cadiz, in which 
he had revealed this virile handling in the treatment of the night 
that Whistler had mastered. The square is possessed with the 
wondrous mystery that enwraps the earth when the moon holds 
dominion in the heavens. The figures of the woman and child flit 
ghost-like across the moon-flooded square with that intangible 
subtlety of unreality which possesses the world when the purple firma- 
ment is ablaze with its myriad stars — their very movement seems, 
with stealthy uncanniness, to add to the mighty stillness. Above all, 
the scene is bathed in the impalpable volume of the half-revealing 







light, yielding a hush into the senses, eloquent as it is of the 
stillness of things. 

In his famous night-piece of Dieppe, he ventured into a far more 
difficult realm. He boldly attempted the vivid blues of the evening 
when the summer night is a pulsing harmony of rich tones. A 
stretch of green sward, the purple night winning to mastery over the 
defeated day ; in front flit a few well-dressed figures of fashionable 
folk in evening attire ; beyond are the rush and swirl of fireworks 
that ascend with hiss and roar into the leagues of blue, shrilly 
bursting into glorious rain of vivid hues, descending in a shower of 
coloured fire that lurches downward to earth again, then hangs for 
awhile in the heavens, held back and sustained by the resisting air 
that opposes its earthward velocity and allows the golden glory of it 
to come down only in slower and more sedate pageantry. 

Here was an artist who had mastered the craft of Manet, of 
Whistler, of Peploe, and the whole modern revelation, and found 
an utterance for his own personal vision which is a marvel in a 
young painter. The vividness of his impression, the purity of tones 
and telling emotional sense of colour, win from Nature her gladness, 
and light, and mystery. The play and flicker and rhapsody of light, 
the swirl and eddy and glint of the waters, the fragrance of the 
earth, are his to create into lyrical art. His achievement is enhanced 
and his domain widened by his full-blooded joy in, and large interest 
in, every passing whim that the light of heaven reveals to him. 
Nothing is too exquisite, nothing too exuberant for the inquisi- 
tion of his interest ; and he has mastered a direct technique and a 
fearlessness of colour which give him quick facility to interpret 
what he sees. His forceful brush sweeps on to the canvas whatsoever 
mood the world at the moment arouses in the mirror of his senses, 
whether it be awakened by the haunted, subtle hour of dusk, the 
ghostly passing of the night, or the laughing moments when sun 
and breeze run riot over the land, or the thunder-laden heavens 
announce their lightning-loaded tragedies. From each place he 
filches its essential spirit, its fragrance, its savour ; each of the 
twenty-four hours yields to him its secret. The sun-flecked waters 
set his brush skipping carol-wise ; the twilight yields its sombre 

I have shown that Fergusson, mastering the superb craft of the 
mysteries of painting from Peploe, has brought to the practice a 
more profound art — a larger sense of life. The whole realm seemed 
opening to him. And just as he seemed at grips with the greatest 
problems in art, he has become interested in enlarging the gamut of 



By kind permission of Madame Marchesi and The SluJio 




craftsmanship again. He has turned aside to pattern, rhythm, and WHEREIN 
decoration. Whether it is to become his Sedan or to lead him to IMPRES- 
wider ranging I know not — we must abide the result ; but there is SIONISM 
danger in leaving the great advance in the midst of the onward THROUGH 
charge in order to make flank attacks. For Fergusson the rest is COLOUR- 
on the knees of the gods. But he who mistakes craft for art ORCHES- 
is lost. TRATION 

Fergusson has trained a brilliant American pupil in Miss CONQUERS 
EsTELLE Rice. Whether it be under his influence that she is THE 
dangerously threatened with primitive-academism I know not — REALM 
master and pupil are at work in Paris, and Paris rings with *^^F THE 
primitive-academism. Character, the supreme faculty of portraiture, IMAGINA- 
is sneered at as subordinate to pattern. Rhythm, the essential oi IION 
all great craftsmanship, is set above the sensing of life. A heavy 
threat lies upon the younger men. Time alone will show whether 
they are to conquer or to fall, as all great art falls at last, into 
Mannerism, and is no more. The professor of philosophy and the 
mathematician loom ; and song is always slain by the pedants. The 
craft of impressionism is the vastest yet built for the utterance of 
great song ; but where are the singers ? 'Tis time they were done 
patching up the instrument and got them to their singing. 


Alongside Colour-Orchestration has been evolved an impres- 
sionism of Line-Drawing whereby the line is employed in musical 


1872 - 1898 

The genius of the greatly gifted youth, Aubrey Beardsley, did 
not utter itself in painting. But his influence has been wide. Born 
of middle-class folk at Brighton, the delicate lad early displayed 
astounding gifts ; and almost before full manhood he had created a 
remarkable art and was gone to his grave. 

Beardsley was attacked and is still attacked for his erotic in- 
tention. To deny that intention is to deny his whole significance. 
But art is as justified in treating the erotic emotions as in treating 
any other emotions ; and Beardsley uttered the sexual sensing of the 
human being with power. A sickly youth developing into a disease- 
inflicted manhood turned his art to a flippant attitude to life ; but 
such also was the art of several giants of the Past, and we must 
judge him as artist, not as moralist. 







The lad was a greedy student of literature, and in his teens haa 
mastered the erotic masterpieces of French and classic literature. 
The erotic colour-prints of Japan he bought at a time that money 
needed hard winning. 

Beardsley was the reaction towards the hectic life out of the 
aesthetic movement that created him. Beardsley was born out of 
the art of Burne-Jones. The whole monkish attitude is born out of 
an unwholesome and distorted repulsion from sex, and its reactions 
are inevitable. Beardsley was the crown of that reaction. 

I withdraw Beardsley utterly from the primal-academism of 
his school, because the forms of the academism that originally 
interested him soon became a form only. Though he came trom 
Rossetti out of Burne-Jones, and was subject to Botticelli and 
Mantegna, he early developed a style wholly his own, and fitted to 
utter his individual vision of life. 

Born on the 21st of August 1872 at Brighton, the child, quiet 
and reserved by nature, early showed a liking for drawing. The 
disease which destroyed him showed a threat at seven ; at nine he 
was taken to Epsom. In 1883 his family went to London, the 
child appearing as a musical infant-phenomenon with his sister at 
concerts. Kate Greenaway's art drew the young musician, and he 
made pocket-money with menus and other cards. In 1884, his 
twelfth year, he was sent back to Brighton with his sister to live 
with an old aunt ; here the boy was soon reading books. In the 
November he went to the Grammar School, where he fell amongst 
kindly and encouraging masters. His drawings of this time are of 
little promise. In the July of 1888, his sixteenth year, he went to 
an architect in London, going thence in 1889 to an insurance 
office, and was very ill for a couple of years. In i 891, at nineteen, 
he became stronger again, and set to work on illustration, warmly 
encouraged by the Rev. Alfred Gurney. Then artistic friends saw 
the promise of the lad, Aymer Vallance amongst others. Up to 
this point he was working on the lines of Burne-Jones, Botticelli, 
and Mantegna, and his Joan of Arc and Litany of Mary Magdalen 
little more than show promise of his gifts. His earlier work was 
imitation of Rossetti, Burne-Jones, and William Morris ; yet even 
in this esthetic mimicry a personal vision rapidly revealed itself. 
However, whilst in the insurance office, he went in 1892 at night 
to Professor Brown's school at Westminster. In the August he 
left the office. Dent gave him the Morte d' Arthur to illustrate and 
he left the art school. 

Whilst he wrought his fine designs for the Morte d^ Arthur, he 


developed from mimicry to a personal art which sets the whole WHEREIN 
effort of Morris's book-illustration in a second-rate position. The IMPRES- 
gulf between the earlier designs and the later designs is so vast that SIONISM 
another man might almost have been thought to have created them. THROUGH 
The restless, feverish spirit of the lad tired of the task before it was COLOUR- 
completed. Then came Pennell as ally and hotly fought his cause. ORCHES- 
Beardsley haunted the British Museum and National Gallery. TRATION 
With the idea of illustrating The Shaving of Shagpat, he met CONQUERS 
Mr. John Lane. A certain deft gift of literature of a meretricious THE 
kind he was persuaded to abandon, fortunately for his art, though REALM 
he wrote two or three poems with skill. Intensely secretive about OF THE 
his work, it seemed a miracle that he did any, for one was soon IMAGINA- 
meeting Beardsley everywhere. He destroyed early examples of his TION 
work with rare forethought ; and would exchange fine later works 
for earlier ones amongst his friends. Yet, many hid away early 
efforts that he desired to destroy, and after his death published 
them ! 

Some drawings in the Pall Mall Budget in February 1893 
showed feeble powers ; but for the newly founded Studio he drew a 
passable cover in the style of the Morte d'' Arthur, and Pennell 
introduced him to the public with some fine designs. Beardsley 
now came under strong Japanese influence, and produced the much 
lauded work of his career — the Japanese imitation threatened to 
destroy all his great gifts. At the end of 1893 ^^ ^'^'^ ^^ work 
on the illustrations for Salome, in which he evolved this style 
founded on the Japanese — his second phase. In the April of 1894 
appeared the Tellow Book, the first four volumes containing illustra- 
tions that revealed to the world that there had arisen a new artist of 
personal and impudent vision. He became famous. He was widely 
assailed as well as praised. In the January of 1896, Beardsley 
showed enormous strides in his art by his superb contributions to 
The Savoy, published by Leonard Smithers. This was his great 
period, the third period that brought forth The Rape of the Lock 
and the superb masterpieces that made The Savoy one of the greatest 
illustrated works ever produced. The Lysistrata designs, though 
necessarily privately printed, show Beardsley at his highest powers 
— those designs that in one of his last letters he adjured his friend 
"in his death agony" to destroy, and he is said to have destroyed 
the most obscene. Unfortunately, a chill at Brussels brought back 
ill-health, and his disease got a firm grip of the blithe, witty young 
fellow. His last works, the drawings to Mademoiselle de Maupin, in 
which he employs wash with his line, and the marvellous pencil 







designs for the Volpone^ to say nothing of its glorious cover-design, 
on which he was at work when death struck, prove his power. 
In 1897 ^^ v^^ent to Paris, and was never to see his native land 
again. At the end of the year he was taken to the Riviera, dying 
at Mentone on the 25th of March 1898. 

A charming personality, witty, dry, and brilliant in converse, 
Beardsley knew early fame. He feverishly packed a long life into 
his few short years. Coming early into the glare of London society 
from a modest home, he acquired an affected manner ; but it 
covered a really gentle spirit. 

Beardsley mastered a line of such exquisite quality that it afllscts 
the eye as the perfect notes of a violin affect the hearing. Whilst 
he was not an illustrator in the sense of interpreting the text, the 
subjects of literature gave him the motives for his rhythmic art. That 
he owed much to the Greek vase-painters is obvious. But it was 
when he mastered all that was greatest in the engraving of the 
eighteenth century, and utterly beat it, that he revealed his greatest 
gifts. His invention was limitless. His industry as enormous as 
it was secret. He never mastered colour, except in the low tones 
of his fine Mademoiselle de Maupin, an exquisite thing ; and his 
self-sufficient talk about painting proved that colour meant little to 
him. In Turner he could only see " rhetoric " ! Think of it ! 
this lad at twenty-five was one of the world's greatest masters of 
one of the most difficult mediums known to the artist — the pen line. 
And though at first he seem but an illustrator of books, at bottom 
his art is an utterance of life. He took subjects from literature, and 
in the crucible of his genius they became new things ; he gave 
them a pulsing life. Beardsley was a poet in every fibre. He took 
the Japanese line — and surpassed it. He took the great eighteenth- 
century engravers — and surpassed them. He took Morris's 
mediaeval designs — he put them into a mediocre class. He did 
more — he took the superb achievement of Greece in its vase- 
painting — and he surpassed it. Yet he was dead at twenty-five. 

Beardsley created schools on the Continent and in America. 

The American, W. H. Bradley, is one of the best gifted of the 
school. In Germany Heine and Marcus Behmer found their black 
and white work upon Beardsley, Behmer without disguise. 


1864 - 1903 

Born to an engineer at Leeds in 1864, and left at nine to fight 
his way in the world, Phil May was twelve when he began to earn 



a living. Drawn to art from boyhood, he taught himself from WHEREIN 
LiNLEY Sambourne's cartoons in Punch. An assistant to the IMPRES- 
scene-painter of the Grand Theatre at Leeds at fourteen, he made SIONISM 
pocket-money by drawing portraits of the actors and actresses. THROUGH 
For three years he toured with theatrical companies. In 1882 COLOUR- 
he came to London without a shilling, and for a couple of years he ORCHES- 
wellnigh starved. But the personal charm of this lovable man TRATION 
soon won him friends. Lionel Brough got him upon the staff" of CONQUERS 
Society, thence he went to the St. Stephen s Review, thence to THE 
Australia to the Sydney Bulletin until 1888, when he again REALM 
made for London, and won to ever-increasing fame on the illustrated OF" THE 
papers — making his mark on the St. Stephen s Review, on Pick-me- IMAGINA- 
up, on the Graphic, and the Pall Mall Budget, at last reaching to TION 
Punch. He reduced the superfluous line. He employed line to 
utter the life of the people in immortal fashion ; and during his 
great decade he is the supreme master of the life of the people. 

Penwork to-day is the essentially democratic medium of our 
age ; etching is a technical harking back to a means of utterance 
that had the same intention in Rembrandt's age — the reduplicating 
of works of art. 

First as to Etching : of the British genius Brangwyn stands out 
in the European opinion as the supreme etcher. Legros at times 
reached to great heights. Whistler, in a narrower realm, was 
very exquisite, but the great emotions of life were beyond him, and 
he wisely employed small plates. Seymour Haden was a good 
if somewhat commonplace etcher ; Colonel Goff is a brilliant 
amateur. Strang has made some excellent plates. Alfred East 
is a fine decorative landscapist. C. J. Watson, Burridge, Martin 
Hardie, Tristram Ellis are good etchers. The Scots D. Y. 
Cameron and Muirhead Bone and Frank Short have done 
excellent work. 

England's pen's draughtsmen have been remarkable since Pre- 
Raphaelite days ; and Sandys, Lord Leighton, Holman Hunt, 
MiLLAis, RossETTi, Mahoney, Charles Grefn, Harrison Weir, 
Birket Foster, Cruikshank, Hablot K. Browne, Fred Walker, 
Fildfs, Herkomer, Small, Pinwell, Tenniel, Boyd Houghton, 
Randolph Caldecott, Sir John Gilbert, Shields, Du Maurier, 
Keene, Raven Hill, Brangwyn, Blake-Wirgman, Crane, 
Parsons, Linley Sambourne, Phil May, Bernard Partridge, 
Chantrey Corbould, Brock, Hugh Thomson, Aubrey Beards- 
ley, Anning Bell, Railton, Manuel, Dulac, Miss Hammond, 
vol. viii — 2 l 265 






Pegram, New, Laurence Housman, Miss Pitman, Millar, 
TowNSEND Nelson, Carton Moore Park, E. T. Reed, Hassall, 
Gallagher, Griggs, Eleanor Bkickdale, Byam Shaw, Sime, 
Garth Jones, Spare, Carter, Charles Robinson and the Australian 
Norman Lindsay, have raised it to the foremost achievement. 

Arthur Rackham employs a quaint and charming fancy in 
inked line upon a brown ground, into which he floats low-toned 
colour. E. J. Sullivan has poetic gifts which he employs in the 
inked line, in water-colours, and in lithography, his fine draughts- 
manship being the handmaid to a wide-ranging imagination. 
Edgar Wilson is one of the most original decorative artists with 
the pen line that this country has brought forth, and deserves a far 
higher place in art than is granted to him. Hartrick is a master 
of several methods, water-colour, pencil, lithography and oils. 
Maurice Greiffenhagen is one of the most delightful of living 
illustrators. Bellingham Smith is a poet, as he reveals in his water- 
colours of old English castles. Jackson is one of the most masterly 
of the lithographers, and Spencer Prvse has made his mark, as has 
Becker in this province. Painters of the sea and shipping are 
Dixon and Wilkinson. 


French impressionists are labelled with different tags as the 
" Intimistes " and the " Peinture-claire," and the rest of it ; but this 
is mere docketing. 

Bi^isNARD and Gaston La Touche continue to develop colour- 
orchestration with power. 


1862 - 

Henri Le Sidaner, one of the most exquisite poets in painting, 
was a son of fisherfolk from St. Malo. Born in the He Maurice, 
where the little fellow passed his life until ten, thereafter his home 
was at Dunkirk, the greyness of the North Sea overwhelming the 
Creole blood oi the youngster. His father was given to painting 
and sculpture for recreation, and taught the lad. At fifteen he left 
school and entered the Ecole des Beaux-Arts at Dunkirk, being 
brought up under the heavy tradition of the Antwerp School. 
When he went to the Ecole des Beaux-Arts at Paris he passed under 
Cabanel for five long years, sketching animals at the Parisian Zoo, 
and copying Delacroix and Jordaens the while. It so happened 
that in 1881 Manet showed the S/ayer of Lions and the Kocheforty 


and the young fellow stood before them in wonder. Here were WHI^REIN 
things that were scorned by his studio, they were against all his IMPRES- 
teaching, yet they profoundly impressed him. The Bar dcs Folies- SIOMSM 
Bergcres still more moved him. It so chanced that he went to THROUGH 
Etaples for his holiday in 1881, At Ktaples he settled from 1884 COLOUR- 
to 1893, nine eventful years that made him a poet. Here he made ORCHES- 
comrades of Vail, Thaulow, Duhem, Alexander Harrison, and TRATION 
other impressionists. CONQUERS 

A visit to Holland revealed to him the mastery of Rembrandt, THE 
De Hoogh, and Vermeer. A third class medal at the Salon gave REALM 
him the chance to go to Italy, and he copied Fra Angelico. OF THE 
He turned his back on Titian, Veronese, and Tintoretto. Perhaps IMAGINA- 
it was this visit that sent him to the deserted thoroughfares TION 
of peaceful Flemish towns. So he always paints, with a vision 
and lyrical melancholy like our poet Gray of the " Elegy in a 
Country Churchyard," the haunts of men in which the departed 
humans are felt but as ghosts. With a wizard power of invoking 
subtlest impressions, he yields into our senses the silent streets of old- 
world Flemish cities or the glittering twilight and nights of Venice, 
with intense power, and a handling of masses built up by touches 
of colour that thrill and vibrate in the senses. One of the purest 
mystics of our day is perhaps Le Sidaner, who never employs a trick 
or symbol, but arouses in our senses the mystery of things above 
symbol, and wins from us a sigh such as twilight evokes. The 
Luxembourg possesses the exquisite La Table, spread with a white 
cloth on which glows a lamp mingling its light with the dreamy 
lilacs of a moonlight evening that holds possession of the 
courtyard of a country house. He is a very poet who compels 
Nature to sing her intense moods with lyrical tenderness. 

Of the more dreamy creators of impressionistic poems in France 
are Edouard Vuillard, whose art is closely founded on the 
Japanese vision, painting with tender colour the home-lite ot the 
people, seamstresses, children, flowers ; Eugene Lomont, with his 
interiors in which women play music ; Maurice Lobre, who 
makes the old rooms at Versailles haunted with their ancient 
perfume ; Armand Berton, who brings smiling women into his 
dreamy world ; Simon Bussy ; Louis Picard, who sets blithe, 
slender women in gay gardens ; Edmond Aman-Jean, who with 
exquisite colour paints the subtler moods of women ; and Ernest 
Laurent, who paints the fascination of the home-life. Somewhat 
akin to Conder is Rene Menard ; his nude maiden. By the Sea, 
is a fine type of this poetic sensing. Helleu, best known as an 







etcher of the portraits of beautiful women, is also a fine colourist, 
a brilliant impressionist. 

Maxime Maufra, born at Nantes in 1861, learnt some- 
thing of painting from a teacher of the town, Le Roux ; but his 
commercial father compelled the lad to take up a business career. 
Being sent to Liverpool, the young fellow copied pictures in the 
galleries there. Making some money, he broke with commerce 
and devoted himself to painting, to the consternation of his family 
and friends ; but five years' hard toil saw him without patrons. He 
collected his works and had a one-man show in Paris. The famous 
dealer Durand-Ruel walked into the show, sent for Maufra ; and 
thenceforth the artist knew no neglect. Turner and Constable 
were his art gods. 

Born at Toulouse in 1864 to an editor of the town who was 
interested in art, the young Didier-Pouget was encouraged from 
early days to paint Nature, and after local training he passed into 
the studio of Lalanne the famous illustrator. Local encouragement 
spurred him on to Paris, and success came to him early. Honours 
have fallen thick upon him. The Salon has shown his works since 
1886. Belleroche (1864- ) is a fine artist, as his famous 

Tea-Table proves. Lunois (1863- ) is well-known for his 

impressionistic methods. 


Henri Martin has combined the decorative intention with 
realism and the flicker of sunlight to an extent that suggests Puvis 
de Chavannes set afire — peasants and pastoral life set amidst glorious 
landscapes. Born at Toulouse on the 5th of May i860, Martin was 
born into impressionism of which he is one of the colour-poets to-day. 



JosEPH Bail, born at Limonest on the 22nd January 1862, of 
artist stock, came to the front in the late eighties and made his 
mark in the nineties as one of the most forceful painters of the 
home-life and of still-life. His woman pouring vinegar from a 
large bottle amongst pickles, called La Menagere ; his fine paintings 
of cooks'-boys in kitchens, of which he is so fond — gatte-sauces, as 
an old French nurse used to call them — of which is the famous 
La Cigarette, all prove his power. 

Georges L^on Dufrenoy is a brilliant painter amongst the 
younger Frenchmen. Charles Lacoste of Bordeaux has national 


vision. The French-Canadian, Wilson James Morrice, has learnt WHEREIN 
his craft in Paris, and French he is in artistry ; he paints Canada IMPRES- 
as he sees Canada with the French vision of his race, and he has all SIONISM 
the subtle colour-sense of France. THROUGH 


T-> 1 • - TVT 1 A r • • • • • ORCHES- 

r ranee has given a voice to North Africa in impressionism 'poATinM 

through the art of Noire. Maxime Noire has bathed his senses in r-r»NnTlKR<; 

the atmosphere of Tunis and Algiers and the desert until he pours „„„^- 

forth vigorous utterance of the sunlit land. He hymns Morocco, ouatm 

the desert, Africa of the Mediterranean Sea. „P thp 

The impressionist movement has brought forth some very fine ,n/,A/-ix/, 
r 1 -111 J- 11 --^ ilVlAGlNA- 

painters or the portrait, though the tendency is to be low in tone. tion 

Jacques Emile Blanche (i86i- ), strongly influenced by 

Whistler and Besnard, has become not only an excellent portrait- 
painter, but a good painter of interiors. 

Louis Anquetin paints good Manetesque portraiture. 

Antonio de la Gandara, founding on Velazquez, with the 
subtle vision for colour of Whistler, though he of late developed 
a somewhat brown and dry style, has painted portraits of remarkable 
power, and his landscapes of the years gone by were exquisitely sensed. 

Henri Caro-Delvaille is an interesting painter of French- 
women in their drawing-room life, and of nudes. Of his portraits 
of ladies with their children, the fine Grandmotlier and Little Girl has 
perhaps brought him widest repute ; his style is akin to that of 
Boldini and the other society painters of Paris, and inclined to be 
low in tone. His Madame Rostand is one of his successes. 

But the modern achievement in French art of most vital power 
has arisen largely in illustration, 


Jean Louis Forain, pupil to Degas, has brought forth a 
prodigious mass of social satire upon the middle-classes of France, 
chiefly in line-drawings for the press. The art of Forain is remark- 
able for its powerful shorthand of draughtsmanship. Forain 
employs a quick nervous line, used with the utmost selection and 
reticence of handling, sometimes adding a dash of wash with 
marvellous skill. But the larger qualities of the man are to be seen 
in his less-known paintings, in which he reveals himself a sombre 
follower of Degas. But Forain runs even here to exaggeration of 
type and consequent caricature. He has his master's taste for the 
wings of the theatre and the night cafes. His pictures of middle- 





IN • 


class France, of financiers, deputies, and the like, will live ; but the 
impression received from them alone will give but a sordid estimate 
of his great country. 

Jeanniot is a powerful painter and illustrator of the life of the day. 



Daniel Vierge, a Spaniard by origin, wrought his art under 
Impressionism in France, though that art chiefly concerned itself 
with the literature and habits and atmosphere of his own land. 
Vierge was a superb artist ; and great as he was as illustrator in line, 
his wash-work and water-colours are even greater. His Turkey- 
Market and Pig-Market are masterly impressionism. 



Lonis Legrand, pupil to Fclicien Rops, is an etcher and 
draughtsman as well as a painter, formed in the development of 
the mass-impressionism of Manet and Degas. Legrand is an artist 
of power. His masses and his vigorous and tuneful line are of a 
personal utterance that set him in a foremost place in the modern 
endeavour. Dijon brought forth a master in Louis Legrand. 


AuGUSTE Lepere, painter, pastellist, and wood-engraver, is most 
famous as one of the impressionist wood-engravers of our age. His 
use of black and white to create contrast is of rare musical sense. 

Paul Renouard has given his career to the illustration of the 
life of the day in the illustrated press, largely to the Graphic. 
He is not only a fine draughtsman in chalk, but an etcher. 


1864- 1901 

Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec-Monfa was born at Albi to the 
Comte de Toulouse-Lautrec, a wealthy scion of the Counts of 
Toulouse, one of the great historic families of France ; and from the 
sporting father (a fine horseman, something of a sculptor), young 
Lautrec inherited a wild spirit. Unfortunately, whilst an infant, he 
had both his legs broken, and, the legs being badly set, he grew up 
a misshapen dwarf. The lad's high spirit and proud nature made 
him shy of being seen amongst his fellows. The family came to 
live in Paris in 1883, the young fellow's nineteenth year, and 
Lautrec went first to Bonnat, then to Cormon's studio in 1884 for a 
year; then in 1885 he met Degas. His student work caused no 



stir, but he was sketching the types of the street the while; and WHEREIN 
when Steinlen came to the front with his astounding studies of the IMPRES- 
people and made his mark, Lautrec with a dwarfs bitterness would SIONISM 
vow that Steinlen had stolen his ideas. A wide gulf separated the THROUGH 
vision and the art of Steinlen and Lautrec — the gulf that separates COLOUR- 
the great humanist and the bitter mocker. Lautrec had the fierce ORCHES- 
conceit and the bitter egoism of a stunted man. A witty fellow, TRATION 
caustic, strident and shrill of voice, gesticulative, he was well liked CONQUERS 
by his fellows. He came to wide repute chiefly through his posters, THE 
which revealed an astonishingly original vision, a quaint unconven- REALM 
tional arrangement clearly founded on the unsymmetrical symmetry OF THE 
of the Japanese genius, and always giving the strident and IMAGINA- 
gesticulative essence of the man. Founding on Degas, above all TION 
influencing Ibels, the artist nearest akin to him, Lautrec's repute is 
constantly increasing — and will increase. His decorative sense, his 
compelling use of line and mass, and his simplification of colour- 
masses have all created school. His famous poster of Arist'uie Bruant 
shows the poet-landlord of an artists' tavern in Montmartre. 
Lautrec found his most congenial field in the music-halls of Paris ; 
and for their singers of genius he created masterpiece after master- 
piece — of which were La Goidue (the dancer of the Moulin Rouge) ; 
the many fine caricature posters of Tvette Guilbert ; La Vache Enragee ; 
Babylone d' Allemagne ; U Artisan Moderne ; the fearsome At the 
Foot of the Scaffold^ and the like. Lautrec's wonderful use of the 
head of a great 'cello or of an orchestra beyond which the figure 
moves upon the stage, is most original and decorative, as in the 
famous monster hand that holds the head of a 'cello beyond which 
the slender Jane Avril performs a high-kick dance, or the as famous 
Divan Japonais or La Gitane. 

Of the music-hall Lautrec caught the whole flare and glitter and 
racket, the strong scents and powder and paint, the gorgeous 
crudities. He saw that all that was vital in the dance had left 
the false toe-pirouetting of the ballet at the opera, and had flown 
to the far finer dancing of the music-halls. Lautrec journeyed 
to Spain, to Holland, and to England, but his art wasever of Paris. 

In Henri de Toulouse-Lautrec the flame of rare genius burnt 
fervently in the body, ill-treated by Nature, afflicted with constant 
ailments. And Lautrec with fiery energy and restless wilfulness 
revenged himself on Nature by revealing her in her vicious moods. 
His bitter spirit boldly charged her with her fantastic vulgarity. 
His masterly line and his powerful artistic utterance flaunted her 
grotesqueness. He delighted to show the painted faces and the 







frenzied life of her underworld in her cafes and night haunts. De- 
scended in vision from Daumier, mastering and adding force to the 
handling of Degas, Lautrec boldly proclaimed the vulgarity of the 
" women of pleasure " and all that with them frequent ; their 
crudities of conduct even when they paint their faces to strut it as 
ladies ; their sloven habits and their untidy and disordered dwellings 
and wayfaring ; the pathetic brutalities of the caress they endure 
under the grim name of pleasure ; their shabbiness and their shame. 
Lautrec never mistook Art for Beauty. He accused the whole social 
fabric of civilisation through these poor women. His inquisition 
was deep and penetrating. It was a bitter intent that made sordid, 
vicious faces leer above splendid attire. He, like Degas, confined 
his great powers to the portrayal of a narrow class in Paris that 
gives but a small and sorry impression of life as a whole ; but like 
Degas he came to supreme fulfilment and mastery in his chosen 
realm. All he did was compact of genius. Free, his life long, 
from all cares of bread, he could create what he willed. Proud and 
sensitive, shrinking from the stare of the curious at his strange body 
and disfigurement, Lautrec shrank into his den, making riot there 
with his boon companions ; and in that workshop he kept fiery spirits 
and liquors from which he mixed wondrous brews for the enter- 
tainment of his friends, and drank deep when they were gone. His 
body and nerves, already strained by his fiery energy, could not stand 
this devildom ; he began to show an undue interest in the gruesome, 
to gloat in watching surgical operations — then madness fell upon him. 
He was taken to the ancient home of his race, the old castle of Albi, 
and there died — and with him ended the long line of a great feudal 
French house. In portraiture he developed great power. 

Out of the brilliant group of men who forgathered at the old 
" Chat Noir," where Salis was artistic tavern-lord — Guillaume, 
Leandre, and the rest — stepped a man who was to be one of the 
supreme geniuses of the age, his name Steinlen. Rodolphe Salis 
had founded the tavern in 1882 ; from it emerged Caran D'Ache 
(i 858-1 909) as Emmanuel Poire christened himself, coming to 
fame with his silhouettes of Napoleon and the Grande Armee flung 
upon the circular white sheet of the puppet-show at the end of the 
tavern ; here also Willette's delicate line invented his Pierrots ; 
Riviere made his shadow-silhouettes. 

Just as BouTET DE MoNVEL sings the children and people of 



fashion of the parks and great houses, so the Swiss Protestant Steinlen, WHEREIN 
son of humble folk, of Lausanne, hymns the poor and has created IMPRES- 
the immortal picture and record of the Paris of our age. The SIONISM 
grandson of a painter, Steinlen married at twenty, and came to Paris THROUGH 
to earn his livelihood. His depth of vision, his vast tragic powers, COLOUR- 
and his marked pictorial sense are supported by a battery of great ORCHlilS- 
capacities in craftsmanship that render his art and work of epic TRATION 
value to France, If you possess the reproductions of the large out- CONQUERS 
put of Steinlen, you know your Paris and your France as no other THE 
artist can reveal Paris and France to you. His range is prodigious REALM 
— Paris, her streets, her colour, her allure, her people, her moods, OF THE 
from sunrise to sunset and through the night. His large humanity IMAGINA- 
and his insight into the life of his day are uttered in a deep, tense, TION 
and haunting art. The passing sneer of the great satirists is not for 
him ; when he lashes his age his art takes on an anger that is Mil- 
tonic in its deep baying music. When he joys in the gaiety of life, 
he utters that joy in lyrical fashion. And he has produced this 
great art, not in elaborate " historical paintings," but in the pages of 
Gil Bias Illustre and other periodicals, in lithographs of which he 
is a supreme master, and in drawings, so that his art is within the 
reach of every man. The revelation ot Degas would seem almost 
to have been but a guide to a vaster utterance in the hands of this 
great poet of the people. He catches something of Manet's grandeur 
and force, of the forthright draughtsmanship of Degas, of the 
intensity of Daumier ; but he has a range of human passion and 
emotion, a depth of pity, and an anger against injustice that leave 
the achievement of his great forerunners in a parish compared with 
his vast realm. 

Whilst the academic have been building their chilly canvases for 
public displays, this man has winged his flight through the vast- 
nesses. Whilst the studios have been squabbling over this and that 
trick of thumb, and producing scant art with it all, this man has 
been building such an achievement as the coming years will 
realise to have been one of the greatest in all France. Whilst the 
dealers have been manipulating for the market this small achieve- 
ment and that, there has been living and creating his profound art 
a man who stands head and shoulders above all their traffic. 
Mauclair gives a volume to the Impressionists ; and patronises 
Steinlen in a paragraph. 

Steinlen is one of the most lofty geniuses brought forth by 
mass-impressionism, which has produced no greater draughtsman, 
no finer grip on character, no deeper tragic poet. 

VOL. VIII — 2 M 273 


THE He who only knows Steinlen by his designs for Aristide 

TRIUMPH Bruant's Dans la rue, or his book, of cats, knows little of the genius 
OF of the man, realises its vast range still less. The illustrations that 

IMPRES- brought fame to the weekly Gil Bias Illustre, during the nineties, 
SIONISM are enough to have made a supreme position for any artist in the 

IN achievement of his age. 

COLOUR- Steinlen realised that art was not Beauty. The anger that he 

ORCHES- feels against tyranny, and injustice, and cant, rouses in him a mighty 
TRATION passion that his fingers have been gifted to utter with deep tragic 
AND THE power ; and the chalk and stone yield in answer to his call a dark 
REACTION and solemn wrath, as though a mighty voice sounded forth the 
TOWARDS anger of God. He lashes the military and clerical vices of his time, 
PRIMAL- the cant and vice of miscarried justice, and the black villainies of 
ACADEM- commerce. His heart is with the toilers ; their sufferings have 
ISM INTO found in him their august poet. The blithe life of the students in 
OUR OWN t^afe and at carnival time sends his pencil jigging to a gayer refrain. 
DAY The shop-girls, the milliners, he reveals in all their cheery way- 

faring. The streets of Paris give him an ever-shifting change of 
glorious scenery for his comedy and tragedy of life. Steinlen is the 
voice of Paris — of her boulevards, her cafes, her home life, her 
busses, her cabs, her cabmen, her big, powerful workmen, her girls, 
her harlots, her wastrels, her thieves and scoundrels, her rich and 
her poor — Paris in all times of the day, in all hours of the night — 
Paris sad, Paris gay, Paris sombre with threat of rebellion, Paris 
laughing carelessly. 

His superb spiritual work has avoided the clap-trap of sym- 
bolism ; he has uttered the ideal through frankest realism. He is 
one of the great Rebels. No human emotion is beyond his reach. 
He stands forth in his art one of the giants of his age, a man who 
has bettered the world, lifted his generation, and brought honour to 
his great people. 

Of all the men who have taken up coloured etching, a few have 
avoided its unpleasant tintiness. One of the best of the Frenchmen is 
De Latenay. Then De Monvel, Michl, Godin, Ranft, Bejot, 
Maurice Taquoy, and others have also done fine work in this 
realm. Robbe has made the immortal coloured-etching of the old 
woman at the funeral ; Leheutre, Huard, the fine etcher Bernard 
DE Monvel, Lepi^re, Steinlen, Dupont, Lafitte, Bracquemond, 
have all come to fame. 

Of the etchers, Helleu is famous for his musical line in portraits 



of beautiful women, Chahine is best known for his etchings of WHEREIN 
Parisian types. IMPRES- 

In pen-drawing, France has produced Vierge, Steinlen, Raf- SIONISM 
FAELLi,, Lautrec,Willette, Forain, Renouard, Sem, Grasset through 
the mediitvaHst, Schwabe the mystic, Willette the wit, Boutet de COLOUR- 
MoNVEL the primitive humorist, Riviere the silhouettist, Caran ORCHES- 
d'Ache the caricaturist and silhouettist, Huard, Gkrbault a TRATION 
master of line, Renouard, Leloir, De Latenay ; all brilliant men. CONQUERS 
Roubille combines colour with line in fine decorative designs. THE 



The Spaniards to-day are showing power ; and have taken up 
the art where Velazquez laid it down : Zuloaga, Casas in 
Barcelona, Rusinol, Sorolla, and other remarkable men. 


1872 - 

An artist of genius in Spain is Hermen Anglada y Camarasa. 
Anglada employs the full orchestration of European painting, to 
utter life as he sees it, fearlessly, nay recklessly. His quick 
magnetic gifts raise the desired impression with force. He 
catches the passion, however subtle, complex, or grim, of the 
human. He bends every faculty of his crait to state the essential 
mood. A draughtsman, he will elongate an arm or leg, to force 
all to utter the intention. A gaunt-soul'd money-getting harlot 
passes into the street into the flare from the cafe ; Anglada catches 
the whole devilry of the thing in a wonderful pattern, quick with 
life, frank, fearless. From high treble to deep bass, he knows the 
potentialities of his whole orchestra of painting. His capacity to 
state movement, the flip of a skirt, a stealthy glance, the mad whirl 
of a dance, is consummate. He gives the flexible movements in 
dance and walk with rare skill. The riches of his palette 
splendidly serve his arrangement and his decorative sense. He 
catches the mystery and glamour of the night. 

And the same virile power that he displays in Dance of Cordova, 
his Dance of Alicante, his Champs-Elysees, and Fleurs de Paris he reveals, 
in his torso of a man, to be founded on superb draughtsmanship. 



Ignacio Zuloaga, a blunt, rugged man, downright and fearless, 
has carved out a personal art of power. Born of artistic stock at 



THE Eibar in the Basque country, he had to fight his way to fame through 

TRIUMPH poverty. He came of folk who for generations had been workers 
OF in gold and silver, sword-makers. The father, Placidio Zuloaga, 

IMPRES- rediscovered the secret craft of damascening, being decorated by the 

SIONISM French Government for it. Young Zuloaga, after a visit to the 

IN Prado, hungered to become a painter ; his father denied him, 

COLOUR- desiring a business career for the son, who was then a lad in his 
ORCHES- workshop. The young fellow stayed out his apprenticeship ; the 
TRATION father, touched, gave him at eighteen some colours and allowed him 
AND THE to essay his hand in art. Zuloaga had come under the glamour of 
REACTION Velazquez and Goya and El Greco at the Prado ; they became his 
TOWARDS idols. From some kink of the brain he denies impressionism ; but 
PRIMAL- his hand's skill makes no such mistake — he is to-day one of the 
ACADEM- greatest living mass-impressionists. He began in open-air impres- 
ISM INTO sionism ; he has discarded it. Mere realism holds him no longer. 
OUR OWN " Art," he soon discovered, " is not the literal transcript of nature." 
DAY The accurate painting of an apple he soon saw to be little better 

than coloured photography. He realised that art was the interpre- 
tation by the individual of the moods felt in life. He is moved by 
the old grandeur, the rags, the splendour and the dust, the heroic 
essence and the misery, of his people. He utters what he sees fear- 
lessly. Whether he paint a nude dancer, a landscape, or a subject 
from the life of the people, he reveals powerful dramatic gifts — 
force, originality of vision, personal insight, passionate humanity. 
His LaJy in Green, his Mot Piquant, and his Dwarf of Eibar are well 

1862 - 

Sorolla paints realism, the play of sunlight on the figure or 
object in all its fulness, realistically, faithfully — a far different art 
from that of Zuloaga. Sorolla shows the surface of life, without any 
deep dramatic insight. Sorolla y Bastida began to make a mark 
in Paris with his dazzling open-air paintings of the sea with large 
boats thereon. In 1905 he made a sensation with his Oxen pulling 
a Boat out of the Water. His First Communion^ and his Girls bathing in 
the Sea, prove him a marvellous interpreter of sunlight. 

The fine pen-work of Fortuny has had a wide influence both 
in Europe and America — it is the employment of line like paint 
as distinct from line as line. Vierge combines the two ; but is 
greatest of all in his superb wash drawings. Casanova y Estorach 
is a brilliant follower of Fortuny. 






With the Impressionistic movement in Germany ran a Romantic THROUGH 
intention, sometimes classical in subject but modern in feeling. COLOUR- 


1857 - CONQUERS 

Max Klinger was born at Leipzig on the i8th of February 1857. 
He is a sculptor, a painter, an etcher, and a musician. In sculpture 
his promise is very remarkable, but with that we are not here con- 
cerned ; he shows therein a vision for the modern revelation of 
impressionism that is strangely lacking in his painting and etching, 
in which, like Bocklin, he founds his craftsmanship upon the past, 
and he relies on older methods, which, by sheer power, he bends to 
his will in remarkable fashion. In his etchings he comes to high 
emotional utterance, as in the unforgettable babe, with eyes of 
wonder, as it sits upon the breast of its dead mother, or the 
Prometheus borne by Mercury and the eagle over the far tide of the 
surging sea below. The Rivals who fight with daggers for the 
Spanish girl reveals his homage to Goya, and there is something 
strangely suggestive of Goya in the trousered legs and the feet of 
the dead man seen beyond the steps in the moonlight where the 
avenging husband has shot him from an upper window in Caught in 
the Act, whilst the guilty wife shrinks into hiding. 

The Christ on Olympus and the Crucifixion prove his limitations. 
He is at his best in painting when modern, in spite of his classicism, 
as in the pathetic and dignified Death. 



In Franz Stuck, Germany has an imaginative and poetic artist, 
who, steeped in the classic vision of Bocklin and Klinger, whilst he 
revels in fauns and satyrs, has treated them in a modern and realistic 
spirit which almost makes them live things. He brings to his art 
a feeling for line, for decoration, and for colour, which he employs 
in mass-impressionism combined with broken colour in dramatic 
fashion. A fine etcher, a very German in his power of pen line, 
he has a quaintly humorous imagination, and ranges through tragedy 
and comedy, as seen in his Expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise^ 
his Lucifer, his Sphinx, his Pieth. He joys in sending centaurs galloping 







through the woods, and in showing fauns at play. His three furies 
in Murder make a grim design ; and his Bacchanalians dancing on a 
low horizon with great trees to the side, massed into the heavens, is 
one of his masterpieces in movement, design, and colour. 


LuDwiG VON HoFMAN (1861- ) is chiefly concerned with 

the nude in the sunlight, painting decorative realistic designs that 
give him free play in this realm. 

In Samberger, Germany has a portrait-painter of remarkable 
force, who is all too little known amongst us. 


Born in 1850, Heinrich von Zugel early made a mark with his 
fine pastorals, painted with realistic power. By 1870, his twentieth 
year, he had painted remarkable pictures of sheep. He rapidly 
developed a forceful style of pastoral, moving towards breadth of 
handling and colour and ever-increasing interest in the play of 



Hans von Bartels paints sunlit figures in water-colours and 
oils with realistic power, composing finely, and equally at home on 
sea or land, on sand-dune or in the fields or garden. He combines 
mass-impressionism and broken-colour impressionism. 

Of the Dachau men of the Munich Secession were Dill, Holzel, 
Langhammer, and Koenig. 



By 1878 LuDwiG Dill, an officer in the war of 1870, trained 
by Piloty at Munich until 1874, was concerned with sunlight upon 
river barges in Venice. The nineties saw him painting his fine 
landscapes, broadly impressionistic, decorative, and rhythmical — 
woodlands by streams, and villages amidst the trees. 


Adolf HOlzel in the late eighties was still playing with 
costume ; the seventies had seen him influenced by Menzel's inten- 
tion. By 1890 he was painting the life of the people realistically; 


and in 1891 he painted his fine Stacks of Corn m the field under WHKRKIN 
sunhght. Of the next year was his ghttering picture of a lady IMPRES- 
seated at a breakfast-table in an open-air restaurant, which showed SIONISM 
that impressionism was his aim, and his peasant and woman at a THROUGH 
table was of the same year. His poetic landscapes are broadly COLOUR- 
handled and finely arranged. ORCHES- 

Arthur Langhammer's broad impressionistic style is given to TRATION 
the home life of the people and to fantasies. CONQUERS 

Art in Germany to-day is astoundingly alive — restless — inquisi- THE 
tive. It is shedding academic emptiness, and is becoming the REALM 
weapon to reveal to the people higher aspirations and deeper OF THE 
emotions of life. It is in art to-day that Germany gives tongue IMAGINA- 
to the call of duty of the Haves towards the Have-Nots. Young TION 
Germany has realised that street riots go to the ranked battalions 
working under a stern discipline. One shrewdly suspects that the 
German Emperor, amongst his other endowments, has a sense of 
that humour that was given to his great collateral Frederick the 
Great, who, on seeing a gross caricature of himself hung high in a 
shop in Berlin, walked into the place and told the frightened print- 
seller to put it lower in the window that the crowd might see it 
better ! But there are fussy officials about the Court who do not 
share the family wit. There are seizures and prosecutions from 
time to time, and prison for the editor. The German, being a droll 
at heart, invented a Sitting Editor, whose business it was to go to 
prison when the Government struck at the journal. 

The Germany that is created for us by our morning papers is a 
far different Germany from the land that is revealed by her satirists 
and artists. Behind their biting wit and trenchant humour lie vast 
problems that are as much our life-problems as theirs, and none 
utters a hoarser note of passionate resentment than that all-com- 
pelling indignation which is with us now, and looms large and 
dangerous in the immediate future — the resentment of the toilers to 
the tyrannies of capital. 

Of the two great satirical papers, Simplicissimus is the most dar- 
ing — the Sitting Editor has, I fancy, held no sinecure. Here the 
political satire is fierce, mordant, European — it attacks the whole of 
modern civilisation— what there is of it. The German working- 
class families set up a boycott against the drinking of Schnaps 
(Hollands gin) and took to tea owing to the manufacturers increasing 
the price to relieve themselves from taxation. A biting satire by 
Th5ny shows the working class fretted by the new drink, tea ; and 
the gin-making plutocrat appeals to them "to be patriotic," and 







pay the tax on gin, or he cannot afford to keep his son in the 
Guards ! . . . Well, not so very far from home, after all. Heine 
is another fine artist of this group. 

By far the most artistic paper in Europe to-day is Jugend, thanks 
largely to Dr. Hirth. 

In the realm of imagination, Julius Diez stands out ; his 
fantastic and picturesque mind rouses to any subject, and turns 
it into a whimsical form that is as remarkable for its decorative 
pattern as for its innate poetic whimsy. Take his giant figure, that lies 
like a vast incubus in the moonlight upon the sleeping town, leaves 
a haunting impression. In the pale moon's light that bathes the 
drowsy world, the purple heavens a-glitter with a myriad blinking 
stars, the city amongst the mountains lies hushed in its many 
hundred beds, but not to sleep, or, if to sleep, to toss in restless 
disquietude — a sleep, if indeed sleep it be, but neither ease nor 
oblivion — whether half-sleeping or half-waking, a galling self- 
reviling and heavy self-contempt in which the vexed body tosses 
fretfully, unable to escape from the indictment of some unseen 
accusing finger that ticks off, as mercilessly as every tick of some 
monotonous clock in the shadows, a long series of charges that 
bring back from the Past miserable pleas of guilty, which make the 
brow damp with the cold and clammy dew of a hundred vulgarities, 
meannesses, hideous mistakes, bitter humiliations, cheap snobberies, 
petty unkindnesses, that bite into the soul with far more vitriolic 
contempt than any crime or heavy sin, which at least had needed 
some courage or daring for their committing. And, it is not the 
least galling part of such a night that we cannot come to grips 
with the damnable accusing devildom. The accused thing lies like 
a mighty uncouth giant upon the silent bridge that, in sleep, parts 
our souls in diurnal death from our poor exhausted bodies ; lies with 
all its vast weight upon our thinking, careless that its oppression 
is a cruel burden of tyranny which irks us, half-bereft of sense, but 
wholly alive to our littleness — separating us from what little pride 
and strength we have, and weighing us down under the clumsy 
load of its galling incubus — until some god-sent chanticleer, shaking 
drowsiness from his handsome be-feathered body, arises a-tiptoe and 
with shrill voice announces that the night is dead and a new day is 
born. Perhaps amongst the best known of Diez's designs are the 
exquisitely wrought Stage-Box of His Most Serene Highness, in which 
an old roue gazes down upon the stage ; and the fine decoration. 
His Most Serene in His Garden. He drew a series of TZ'^? Favourite 
from the days of her questionable sway in the bed of kings to her 


last grim payment upon the scaffold, which hold an immemorial WHEREIN 
truth. IMPKKS- 

EiCHLER gives utterance to the pathos and joy of life in fine SIONISM 
designs, of which were the Girl with the Green Apples, and the Cupid THROUGH 
and the Man with the Ladder ; and his joy in flowers, and in flower- COLOUR- 
sprent meads whereon folk, lie gazing at the breezy heavens, and his ORCHES- 
frolics of snow and winter games are best known. TRATION 

Engels strikes the more grimly German lyre. CONQUI-'.RS 

Erler takes the more grandiose note, though he can employ a THE 
dainty and charming fancy and exquisite touch, as in his fine colour- REALM 
harmony in red and gold of the Girl with the Geraniums, his Girl OF THE 
with the Roses, his Frau Anna, his Girl with the Candles, and his IMAGIXA- 
Toung Mother. TION 

Feldbauer and Jank are much concerned with the troops, the 
movement of horses, whether in camp or field, and with action. 
Both men, besides, have revealed a quaint and sometimes tragic 
fancy — particularly Jank. Geigenberger will give you a drollery 
or a poetic landscape with equal skill. 

RiETH is concerned with the social satire of the pretty 
" Miss," wealthy and fashionable ; and does it wondrous well. 

Georgi is at his best in pictures of the life of the people ; or in 
such a haunting design as the two lovers in the moonlight under 
the chestnut tree ; or in the grim humour of the tethered goat 
which eats the funeral wreath that the mourner has left outside the 
tavern door whilst he enters to refresh himself. 

MtJNZER, founding his craftsmanship on that of Steinlen, utters 
the charm of Germany that her artists have too long neglected. 
Through Miinzer we realise the gaiety of Germany, that she 
does not always wear the spectacles of the professor ; that 
she is not always ruining her eyesight with the philosophies 
peered at under the light of the midnight oil — that lovers kiss 
because 'tis moonlight, and folk dance for the jollity of the 
thing. He catches the fascination of children, their whole-hearted 
joy in their games. He notes the grace and coquetries of women. 

PuTTNER paints landscape in poetic fashion ; as does Reisen. 
PuTz was gifted with a rare sense of colour, the joy in which he 
uttered with delightfully whimsical brush. Leo Putz went from 
grave to gay, from fantasy to fantasy. He was one of the laughing 
philosophers. His peacock-women created a vogue. He loved to 
frolic amongst sea-monsters. He had his grim days. Preshun has 
a quaint imagination and good decorative sense. Salzmann is a 
painter whose ranging fancy and decorative gifts have made him a 
VOL. VIII — 2 N 281 






considerable reputation. Spiegel is another artist of fancy and 
colour-faculty with strong decorative sense, and a rich gift of irony. 
Weisgerber wields a poetic brush, and his Dream-Wife is a haunting 
example of his poesy — that design in which he has caught with 
genius the mystic hunger of youth for the ideal woman that is 
Nature's most compelling craving in man ; that desire, or as the 
cynics have it, that illusion, that makes youth glorify womanhood 
until he sheds from him all dross of selfishness and wills himself to 
sacrifice if need be, for the love of her, a dream-thing it may be, but 
a lamp to his stumbling feet, and a beacon-light to his virility. 
Weisgerber has also a brilliant gift of satire which Wilke shares — 
Wilke turning his satire more upon the people. Kley's deft line 
loves the human figure ; and Prellar sends fauns skipping across 
his design. 

Fritz Mackensen connects the older German vision with the 
new ; his paintings of the people have something of the old German 
severity. The two women drawing the harrow, along a low 
horizoned land, shows him in his best poetic vein. Otto Moder- 
sohn's landscapes and inhabited landscapes have something also of 
this old-world air. Hans am Ende's peaceful landscapes again 
hold this old-world vision, 

Heinrich Vogeler's weird and fantastic imagination has 
brought forth quaint designs innumerable ; he is an exquisite 

Fritz Overbeck is an artist of poetic utterance, his sombre 
tragic landscapes being grandly designed, his superb etching of the 
trees by the little wooden bridge lashed by the Storm being perhaps 
his best known work, rhythmical and sonorous. 

In etching the Germans can show the powerful work of Leisti- 
Kow, the somewhat dry art of Hans Thoma, the pastorals of 
Kalckreuth, the broad poetic handling of Graf, the fine fancy of 
Stuck, of Klinger, Ubbelohde, Wolff, Kathe Kollwitz, Lieber- 
MANN, the poetic Hegenbart, the rhythmic wind-filled landscapes 
of Overbeck, and the art of Fischer. 

In illustration remarkable work has been done by Hugo 
Steiner-Prag, by Weisgerber, by Horst-Schulze, by Corinth 
(1858- ) and by Heine (1867- ). Whilst with pen-work we 

have Schlittgen, Marold, Stuck, Vogel, the powerful Greiner, 
Klinger, Sattler, Oberlaender, Wilke, Hegenbart, ThOny, 
Caspari, and Bruno Paul (1872- ). 







Austria had risen to artistic utterance under the Baroque. COLOUR- 
Rubens was lord of painting. Waldmuller (1793-1865), con- ORCHES- 
cerned with landscape and the life of the people, fell foul of the TRATION 
Academy by painting in the open air! and Romako (1832-1889) CONQUERS 
was also a rebel, as was the landscape painter Hurmann, who fore- THE 
stalls the Secession with his fight for " truth," and his realism as RI^ALM 
against the studio. OF THE 

Rudolf von Alt (18 12-1905) fought sternly for nature, and IMAGINA- 
was a great inspirer — he was the painter of street scenes — and a TION 
thoroughly original and native artist ; he was at his best in water- 
colours, and developed with each great European movement, ever 
interested in luminosity, in the sun, and the play of light. He was 
the recorder of the Vienna of his age. 

Hans Canon (1829-1885) founded on Rubens; then Hans 
Makart (1840- 1 8 84) more influenced by Paolo Veronese, burst 
into gorgeous colour. These old " gallery artists " lived into the 
great modern endeavour, and were to see the painters going to 

Pettenkofen (1822-1889) saw Hungary as a sort of sunlit 
East; whilst ScHiNDLER (1842-1892) essayed the lyrical landscape 
of Barbizon vision. We have seen Munkacsy (i 846-1900), the 
Hungarian, bring Realism into the land from Paris. Horovitz 
(1843- ) ^^^ Angeli (1840- ) were the old type of portrait- 


Krausz is a frank realist. Ress is a landscape painter who has 
caught the poetic vision of Segantini. John Quincy Adams has 
thrown in his lot with Austria. Of the impressionists are Simon ; 
Stretti, who painted a fine Amsterdam ; Preisler ; Svabinsky ; 
Baar ; Roth and the like. 


Walter Hampel of Vienna employs colour orchestration, and his 
lyrical painting, whether of an interior as in his Quiet Corner^ or of 
a Dancer, or a fantasy in the meadows, is one of the most exquisite 
achievements amongst the Europeans to-day. His picture of The 
Dancer (Miss Tanquay) was painted with rare sense of rhythm, 
of movement, and of colour. 

CzoK (I am not sure even of the spelling of the name) was to 








me, however, a revelation of a modern painter of remarkable power. 
His sense of values, his colour-harmonics, and his masterly brushing, 
are as powerful and subtle as the work, of Manet. His Vampire 
should belong to the State as an example to our youth as regards 

I do not know whether Austria claims Segantini (i 858-1 899) 
from Arco in the Southern Tyrol as Austrian ; if so, she has a 
right to claim one of the supreme painters of the age. He was a 
power at any rate in the Secession. 

Engelhart (1864- ) is a brilliant artist interested in the life 

about him in Vienna. But the large group of Austrian painters of 
the Secession in Vienna it is impossible to describe here — Nowak, 
Hofman, Offner, the vibrant art of Stoitzner, Wacik, Roux, 
Talaga, Grom-Rottmayer, Wieden, Kruis, Zerlacher, Eck, 
ScHMOLL, Lenz, Tichy, Freidrich, Muller, List, Myrbach, 
Kasparides, Mediz, Emilie Mediz-Pelikan, Schwaiger, Uprka, 
Delug, and the rest. Andri's woodcuts are as fine as his brilliant 
paintings of the peasants in their handsome apparel, Carl Moll 
(1861) is an excellent landscape-painter. Kramer is the idealist 
of the group, painting religious subjects in the open air. 

The Pole Josef Mehoffer (1869- ) is a powerful colourist, 

who has developed from broad impressionistic portraiture, giving 
himself up to gorgeous harmonies of colour. 

After Schindler came Jettel (1845-1901), in landscape in- 
fluenced by the men of Barbizon. Stohr (1865- ) is best 
known by his romances of the night, above all by the beautiful nude 
asleep in the Moonlight. Graf (1868- ) returning from France, 
brought back broken colour ; Hejda (1868- ) afi'ects simplicity ; 
Lefler (1863- ) and Urban are best known for their illustrations 
of fairy tales ; Germela paints the life of the cafe and the parks. 

Marold (1865-1898) made his mark in painting the home-life; 
Much A (i860- ) is famous for his arty posters. 

Of the portrait-painters are Koppay, Ferraris, Stauffer, Canon, 
Temple, Schmid, Joannovits, Schattenstein, John Quincy Adams, 
the Whistleresque Scharff, and the Hungarian Laszl6. 


Philip Laszlo is to-day one of the most famous of European 
portrait-painters. Employing painting at first stroke, without in- 
termingling the brush strokes, he has evolved a quick vibrant method 
which leaves his whole attention free to concentrate on the character 


of his sitter. Psychic in vision, he seeks out the soul of his sitters, WHEREIN 
about whom he weaves the atmosphere of their rank, and calling IMPRES- 
and manner of life with remarkable force. The princess needs no SIONISM 
label of her rank any more than the soldier, the man of action. THROUGH 
From the Pontiff, and the subtle diplomatic Cardinal, to the Society COLOUR- 
Beauty, the Courtier or the bluff Admiral, the personality is marked ORCHES- 
with unerring brush. Whether he paint a state-portrait of the TRATION 
German Emperor, the dignified age of an aristocratic old lady such CONQUERS 
as his fine Lady Wantage; whether he limn the beauty of a Lady THE 
Ancaster, or the handsome Lady Northcliffe, LaszM shows himself REALM 
always a consummate painter of the portrait. His famous Comte de OF THE 
Castellane in the splendid uniform of the Cuirassiers of the French IMAGINA- 
Garde, his haunting Baroness Dierghardt, his portrait of his own TION 
Wife playing the violin, are amongst the deftest, most masterly works 
that his gifted fingers have produced. He has been fortunate in his 
subjects, since the greatest celebrities of the age have sat to him. 
His sitters have been equally fortunate in their painter. 

Of the remarkable etchings and drawings of Jettmar, of 
Hohenberger's " Chinese Woman," of Engelhart, of Liebenwein, 
of the etcher Schmutzer, of the pointillist Stohr, of Tichy, of 
KoNOPA, of Germela, of Zoff's landscapes, of Ethofer's somewhat 
photographic realism, and the several brilliant women-painters I 
have no space here to speak. 

In etching and in pen-drawing and illustration, Austria has besides : 
Unger, Cossmann, Wierusz-Kowalski and Orlik, Hungary has 
Olgyai, Rauscher, Aranyossy and Szekely. 


Rops has influenced Rassenfosse. Impressionism has brought 
forth in Belgium a remarkable group of painters, eager, poetic, 
daring, close at grips with life — Henri Evenepoel, best known for his 
Spaniard in Paris and Ball at the Moulin Rouge; Rodolphe Wytsman 
and Juliette Wytsman in landscape ; Baertsoen in street scenes; 
Fernand Khnopff (1858- ), who utters haunting art of mystical 
power; and Ensor, who is a powerful mass-impressionist whose still- 
life has a force no whit less remarkable than his figure-subjects. The 
character-painting of Wagemans, the decorative painting of the old 
market-women by Opsomer, the vibrant pulsing art of Morren are 
all to be reckoned to the honour of Belgium. 

Ciamberlani represents the modern classical decorative intention. 







Emile Claus we have seen ; Cassiers has painted scenes from 
Holland. GiLSouL is another lover of canals and harbours ; and 
Marcette of the sea-shore and its life. Eeckhoudt is one of the 
most vivid and virile painters of the play of light upon meadow and 
orchard. He is a force in modern art. Donnay and Delaunois are 
well-known for their dramatic sense of landscape ; Delaunois' 
Interior of a Church has brought him repute. 

Charles de Groux painted the humble; Henri de Braekeleer 
was master of vibrant light ; Leon Frederic (1856- ) is wholly 
concerned with the peopje, with their swarming, teeming life ; 
he sees abundance, and he joys in the abundance. 


Eugene Laermans has an even earlier simplicity than Frederic, 
and is realist rather than impressionist. Even his Evening of the 
Strike has something mediaeval in its atmosphere. He hits the 
tragic note. 

In etching, we have Cassiers with his windmills, the realism of 
Wauters, Gaillard, Romberg, Meunier, Wytsman ; the fine 
work, of the great limner of the houses on canals — Baertsoen ; 
Khnopff and Laermans. 

In pen-drawing Belgium can show Khnopff, Middeleer, and 

In Holland, besides Rever's water-colours, and Mesdag van 
Houten's paintings of flowers and still-life, there has been the fine 
art of Breitner, and the masterly painting and etching of Bauer. 
In etching also Holland has brought forth Zwart, the decorative 
canal scenes of Witsen, the superb romantic etchings of Bauer, the 
spacious designs of Nieuwenkamp ; Van Houten, Reicher, the 
nervous intense work of Toorop ; Koster, Becht, the sombre 
interiors of Van Gravesande, and the art of Bosch. I know not 
whether Pietschmann, the remarkable mezzotinter of the famous 
Bather, be Dutch or German or Belgian. 

In pen-drawing Holland has Nieuwenkamp, and Wenckebach, 
and Morel, and Van Papendrecht, and Koster. 


In the north, Giani, Ciardi, Bezzi, Mariani, Alebardi, 
Alciati, Selvatico, Angelo dall'oca-Bianca, Laurenti, Carozzi, 
Gig nous, Chiesa, Delleani, Grosso, Maggi, Zanetti-Zilla, 
ScATTOLA, and others reveal the new vision ; whilst of the more 
southern artists, Majani, Discovolo, Lori, Lionne, Casciaro, 


Caputo, Miti-Zanetti, Graziosi, De Maria, Gioli, Tommasi, WHEREIN 
NoMELLiNi, Nocci, Innocenti, Migliaro, to say nothing of IMPRES- 
Mancini, nearly all are moved by the new inspiration. But the SIONISM 
supreme genius of Italy of modern times was Giovanni Segantini. THROUGH 


o . ORCHES- 

1826 - igoi 

^T 11- u 1 c r , 1- T , r , • , , . TRATION 

Morelli brought a rorcerul realism to Italy, of which his power- CONQUERS 

fully lit Temptation of St. Anthony remains the most brilliant example, 'rup 

In etching Italy can boast Chessa, Vegetti, Zanetti, rkaLM 

Nomellini, Fattori, and the younger Fortuny. In pen-drawing Qp 7-HF 

Raffaelli is really a Frenchman ; but Italy has produced a good imaCINA- 

pen-draughtsman in Fabres, whom I gather to be an Italian. Rico tioN 

has penned good street-scenes, and trained Tito. 




To the north the cesthetic-academism came as an impetus. Its 
idea was rooted in the rugged ideals of the Norsemen. The pastel- 
list Lundberg (1695-1786), the portraitist Roslin (1718-1793), 
the painter of social life Nikolaus Lafrensen (i 737-1 807), better 
known as Lavreince, the famous miniaturist Peter Adolf Hall 
(1739-1793), the painter of social life called Hillestroms (1732- 
1816), and the fine Nattieresque portrait-painter Pilo (1711-1793), 
had all wrought in the French vision with rare skill. Von Breda 
(1759-18 1 8), painted the portrait in a Reynoldsesque style. Then 
the Swedes had gone to Germany, and Morner (1794-1837) and 
the portraitist Troili (18 15-1875) followed, with men of the type 
of Fagerlin (1825-1907), and Hockert (1826-1866), creating the 
home-life anecdote in the German style. With the landscapist 
Wahlberg (1834- ), the French romantic landscape painters 

influence a fine design ; and Norstedt (1843- ) proves that he 

has seen the work of the men of Munich. Then Realism brought 
forth the vigorous portrait-painter Von Rosen (1843- ) ; whilst 

Munich trained Kronberg (1850- ). Carl Larssons (1853- 

), the decorative poet of the home-life, continues the move- 
ment. Bastien-Lepage brought forth SAf.MSON (1834- 1894). 
Realism created Birgers (1854-1887) and Josephson (1851-1906), 
a strong painter, and the portraitists Bjorck (i860- ) and 

Bergh (1858- ). The royal house produced an artist in 







Prince Eugene (1865- ). Landscape found a poet in 

Jansson (1862- ) ; and birds in landscape another in Liljefors 

(i860- ). Then stepped forth the great Swedish master 

Anders Zorn (i860- ) ; Sager-Nelson (i 868-1 896) ; the 

painter of the people Wilhelmson (i860- ), and a clever group 

ending with Arosenius the painter of fantasies. Nor should the 
remarkable work of Anna Boberg of Norse vision be passed by, 
nor the haunting imagination of Olaf Lange. 

Z O R 



The Swede Anders Zorn is a powerful mass-impressionist 
trained in Paris, Not only a painter of genius, he is also an etcher 
of genius. His art is more Parisian than Scandinavian, it must be 
allowed ; but as a European he stands in the foremost rank to-day. 


I remember a picture of boats at anchor tossing restlessly on the 
incoming tide by Edouard Diriks, which caught the action and 
atmosphere of the thing so truly that one listened for the creak of 
the boats straining at their cordage. And this kind of epic simplicity 
runs through all his art. 

In Norway the Germanic art of Tidemand (18 14-1876) made 
place for the poetic art of Fritz Thaulow (i 847-1 906), and the 
romance and realism of Peterssen (1852- ), of Werenskiold 

(1855- ) and Munch (1863) and others. 


Denmark has evolved a style that fulfils itself in the haunt- 
ing and spacious art of Hammershoj (1864- ). The painters of 
the home-life are Marstrand (1810-1873), KObke (1810-1848), 
Kroyer (i 851-1909), Johansen (185 1- ) and Paulsen 
(i860- ) 


In Finland her art culminates in a superb master Gallen (1865- 

) or Gallen-Kallela. I recall a painting of a boat on a great 

lake in which the stillness of night is uttered with compelling force. 


Verestschagin (1842- 1 904) created a realistic impression of 
warfare in his detestation of war, that was without restraint ; and it 



was a strange destiny that slew him at Port Arthur. All that is WHEREIN 
vital in Russian painting to-day is due to impressionism. Boris IMPRES- 
KusTODiEFF produces remarkably fine portrait groups. Maliavine SIONISM 
(1869- ) paints the women of his race in decorative schemes. THROUGH 

Seroff (1865- ) known best to us by his portrait of the Czar in COLOUR- 

the Uniform of the Scots Greys, is one of the finest portrait-painters, ORCHES- 
as his portraits of Korovine and Count Sumarokoff-Elston prove. Juon TRATION 
(1875- ) is a mass-impressionist. CONQUERS 


''\~ . OF THE 

Grabar's still-life, as seen in his Breakfast Table, pulsing and jmaGINA- 

glittering under the sun's flood that breaks through the leafage of the 'rjoN 

shade from the trees under which the table is set, reveals him one of 

the most lyrical masters of broken-colour impressionism of the age. 

Korovine's fine Cafe in the Crimea is a powerful modern piece of 
painting that pronounces the complete triumph of mass-impres- 
sionism in Russia. The realist Riabuskine is best known for the 
Russian family at Tea. Of the romantic school is Somoff. And 
the most modern problems of Impressionism are tackled by 


Nicolas Tarkhoff's paintings of mothers and babes in their 
impressionism are fragrant of life, as is his vigorous and masterly 
work of the gathering of The Harvest. Coming to Paris he caught 
the allure of the city and the land. The fetes, carnivals, and streets 
of Paris brought out his innate sense of colour, which is joyous and 

Prince Paul Trubetskoj (1863- ) is a fine impressionist 
portraitist best known for his sculpture. 

In etching, Scandinavia has brought forth the Danes Kroyer, 
Niss, and Monsted ; the great Swede Zorn ; the Fnns Miss, 
Flodin, Sparre, Gallen, and Edelfelt. 

In Scandinavia, pen-drawing has produced De Josselin de Jong ; 
Hans Tegner, a master of line ; the Danish Hansen ; the poetic 
Finn Blomstedt ; the powerful Finns Gebhard and Jarnefelt, and 
Sparre. Switzerland has Burnand and Estoppey. 


America was born under astounding promise of greatness ; her 
people were founded in greatness, for she drew to her shores the 
VOL. viii — 2 o 289 






freeborn and virile. That such a people must walk in a sublime 
wayfaring is inevitable, and create a vast art as inevitable. And 
what holds for America holds for the colonial born. Stuart, and 
JouETT (1788-1827) — who came of famous fighting stock, fought 
against Britain, then became pupil to Stuart — founded on pure English 
art. Thereafter painting in America passed through waves of 
foreign fashion ; but a strong native art has persisted, above all in 
the genius of Howard Pylk and the illustrators. 

In the mid-century Diisseldorf was the Mecca of the American 
student ; this accounts for a certain German vision difficult to 
understand otherwise. This "brown" school loved candle-light 
and hard moonlight scenes. There was a trying-back at the same 
time to Flemish and Italian tradition ; and a native landscape school 
arose, if of no great power. 

In 1863 the Century Club was formed, and a Pre-Raphaelite 
trend manifested itself. Some ten years thereafter a group of 
students returned from Europe, and figure-painting and atmosphere 
in landscape began to dawn. Up to this, George Inness and 
Eastman Johnson had alone shown high gifts in landscape. Inness 
was a man of genius and made a great mark. The men of 'seventy 
seceded and formed the Society of American Artists ; and Shirlaw, 
Chase, Eaton, Thayer, George Inness, La Farge, Lathrop, 
Dewing, Low, Daveneck, Fuller of Boston, Whistler, J. S. 
Sargent, and Weir made their mark. The Philadelphia Exhibition 
of 1876 enlarged interest in art. For the most part, Munich was 
the Mecca, but French art began to struggle for the American 
homage. Meanwhile the Water-Colour Society brought forth 
Abbey, Hopkinson Smith, Coffin, Bricher, Beckwith, Charles 
Parsons, Farrer, Fenn, Edwards, Palmer, Hamilton Gibson, 
Dielman, Childe Hassam, Jones, Kappes, Lippincott, the 
MoRANs, Miss Nicholls, Platt, Smedley, Sterner, Colman, 
Tiffany, Wood, Wyant, and Gifford. The Art Students' 
League, founded in 1875, brought excellent leaders to the front — 
Shirlaw, Chase, Freer, Brush, Kenyon Cox, Weir, Beckwith, 
Mowbray, Metcalf, and others. 

Besides Inness, a truly native painter is Winslow Homer, whose 
art is racy of the soil — impressionist before the word was coined. 
La Farge has painted religious pictures. Brush came from 
Gerome, and painted the Red Indians. Shirlaw came from 
Munich. Chase flung aside his Munich manner and rapidly 
developed a mass-impressionism which places him amongst the 
foremost artists of his time. F. D. Millet has kept his Antwerp 


training and Belgian old-master's vision. Blashfield came under WHEREIN 
the glamour of the mediaeval ; Low has interested himself in the IMPRES- 
seafaring folk and in decoration ; Kenyon Cox is given to imagina- SIONISM 
tive compositions ; Kappes painted the negro folk and New York THROUGH 
beggars ; Blum is famous for his pen-line ; Picknell is a realist COLOUR- 
landscapist, as is Ward. ORCHES- 

Of the great portrait-painter J. S. Sargent I speak elsewhere. TRATION 
William Dannat, whose fine hady in Red is at the Luxembourg, CONQUERS 
is a good painter. Thayer makes portraits in lower key. Butler THE 
and Weir and Chase treat the portrait with distinction, as does REALM 
Beckwith. J. W. Alexander has made a decorative style of OF THE 
portraiture all his own. IMAGINA- 

From their early grey habit, Weir and Twachtman developed TION 
into the impressionist movement, seeking light and colour above all 
things. OcHTMAN also and Robinson and Allen became prominent 
interpreters of it. 

Elihu Vedder and Ryder and Church have ranged into the land 
of mysticism and faery. Boughton wrought his charming art in 
England. Bridgman came to fame in painting Algerian subjects 
of Arab women. 

Childe Hassam came from Boston, worked at Paris, mastered 
broken colour-impressionism in fine fashion, and went back to 
America to develop a rare art which has given us such master- 
pieces as the seated nude called Pomona, the pulsing Sunlight on the 
Lake, and his well-known painting of Children seated at a table in a 
luminous room the windows of which are hung across with sunlit 
muslin curtains. He has caught the glow and glitter of the streets 
of New York, as in his Seventh Avenue. 

Alexander Harrison, like Whistlei", began his artistic effbrts 
on the United States Coast Survey. He worked in Florida for four 
years ; got to dabbling in water-colours ; made for Paris ; went 
under Gerome ; sent his Castles in Spain — a boy lying on the sands 
dreaming — to the Salon ; spent ten years painting the nude in the 
open air, greatly under the influence of his friend and companion 
Bastien-Lepage ; and thus settled in France, and developed the 
French vision, under the glamour of Manet and Besnard. His In 
Arcady, nudes in a sunlit orchard, and his poetic sea-pieces are 
typical of his art. In Arcady belongs to the French State, which 
has honoured him — he wears the ribbon of the Legion. 

George Hitchcock has created idylls of Holland in such 
masterpieces as The Annunciation (or Our Lady of the Lilies). 
MosLER, Reinhart, Pearce, Melchers, Walter Gay, Knight, 







have painted figure-subjects, and Davis landscapes, of alien peoples. 
Stewart has painted remarkable portraits, as in his The Baronne B. 
Maxwell Armfield creates dramatic scenes. 

Of every forward movement American artists take advantage. 

Besides Whistler and Sargent, J. J. Shannon has come to Euro- 
pean fame as a portrait-painter. 

Remington, Zogbaum, and Thulstrup went straight to the 
frontier life, and painted Red Indians, cowboys, and the soldier folk, 


In Howard Pyle America brought forth her greatest illustrator 
and one of her truest and purest artists. Pyle with unerring instinct 
founded his art in the British genius. The Revolt of the American 
Colonies was the most British act since Cromwell died ; an act 
struck against the parent state when the parent forgot her mighty 
destiny, her significance, and her majesty. Whilst other American 
artists of remarkable gifts have sought alien inspiration, Pyle has 
made no such mistake; he is a son of the great Revolution. His 
art breathes the triumph and the glory of it. His whole vision is 
concerned with his race, from its island home to its great adventure 
across the seas. He hymns the Buccaneers and old Sea-Dogs, the 
Boston tea-ships, the crackle of musketry at Lexington, the old New 
York taverns, the frontiersman at grips with the Red Indian, the 
whole splendid adventure of Britain grown beyond her island 

Mastering a fine craft, with the pen-line and in painting, Pyle 
has uttered the romance of the race as no man has sung it. The 
illustrated magazine has carried the splendour of his achievement to 
the four ends of the earth. His art has been an inspiration in 
scores of studios. Meier-Graefe has poured himself forth like a 
pump upon modern art — as far as I remember, Howard Pyle's name 
does not once occur in his work ! But Howard Pyle has been 
content to be a remarkable and original artist, and a man of genius. 

1852 - 1911 

Edwin Abbey founded his pen-line on Fortuny ; but his native 
vision also drew him to the art of the people that bred him. Abbey 
later came under Sargent's glamour, and developed a style of 
painting in which delicacy takes the place of Sargent's force. 
Though one or two of his huge decorations for the Arthurian 
legends were of distinction, he has not achieved his greatest art in 
his larger decorative work, which lacks something of those majestic 


qualities so abundant in the art of Brangwyn. But he has created WHEREIN 
a school that stands midway between him and the Pre-Raphaelites, IMPRES- 
of whom the Englishman Frank Craig is a type. With the SIONISM 
pen-line Abbey has qualities of poetic intensity, and in his easel- THROUGH 
pictures he produced an art to which his rare gifts were better suited COLOUR- 
than to his larger decorations, which are really elaborate illustrations. ORCHES- 

In etching, Whistler, Bauer, Stephen Parrish, Shaw Mac- TRATION 
LAUGHLAN, Pennell, Hovenden, Daveneck, Platt, Hacker, CONQUERS 
MoRAN, Lathrop and Stetson are all men of mark. THE 

America has produced marvellously fine pen-draughtsmen in REALM 
Blum, Edwin Abbey, Howard Pyle, Sterner, Reinhart, Smedley; OF THE 
the humourists Frost, Kemble, Newell, Maxfield Parrish ; the IMAGINA- 
social satirist Dana Gibson, Hutt, Reinhart, Church, Pennell, TION 

Of other genius, thoroughly native to America, I have surveyed 
the art of Mary Cassatt and Cecilia Beaux already ; and now 
go to the three ladies of pure native gifts who paint the American 
child with consummate power. Sarah Stilwell, Elizabeth 
Shippen Green, and Jessie Wilcox Smith, are amongst the fore- 
most American artists of our day. 


The British Colonies are showing remarkable artistic vitality in 

In CANADA the portrait-painter Wyatt Eaton (i 849-1 896), 
after training under Gerome in Paris in 1870, spent his summer at 
Barbizon, where he became the friend of Millet, and showed at the 
Salon fine paintings of Harvesters and the like subjects. Morrice 
and Gagnon came under the glamour of Whistler. Blair Bruce 
(i 859-1 906) worked under Julien in Paris, and became a strong 
realistic painter interested in light and action. Paul Peel (1860- 
1892), made his mark in painting the nude. Taking up the 
Barbizon ideals and developing towards the latest movements in 
impressionism, the Canadian painters reveal poetic gifts. Homer 
Watson paints the landscape of Canada with power ; Williamson 
also, as well as painting the portrait with distinction. Browne is a 
poetic landscapist of lyrical gifts ; of the portrait-painters are Harris, 
Wyly Grier (who may also be claimed as an Australian), Dyonnet, 

In landscape Brownell has painted some fine pieces ; Brymner 
also, and Gagnon ; Edmund Morris, who has also painted the 
types of Indians, has revealed a sense of the moods of Nature. 







Hope, Atkinson who loves Dutch scenes, Cullen and Beatty, 
are all good painters. Cruikshank's grand-nephew, W. Cruick- 
sHANK, is an illustrator and painter; Russell is a figure-painter; 
Walker has done remarkable pastorals; and Brownell's fVinnower 
was a fine work. Challoner has done a good deal of decorative 
work. Jeffreys and George Bridgman are both Canadians. 

The Canadian Art Club has done much to create a strong 
brotherhood of painters. The Canadian painter Mrs. Stanhope 
Forbes is one of the most poetic women-artists of our time — she 
paints in all mediums, and has mastered all. 


Australia promises as fine achievement in painting as in song. 
A virile breed, her people seem to be thrilled with a virile sense of 
art. Rupert Bunny in his sea-idylls; Streeton in his impres- 
sionistic poetic landscapes ; Lambert in mass-impressionistic por- 
traiture ; Quin, Fullwood, Tom Roberts, and Minns, are all 
artists of mark. In illustration Australia has brought forth the 
masterly art of Norman Lindsay, who ranks with the best living 
illustrators, and has achieved a memorable work in his fine edition of 
Petronius, which stands out as one of the most prominent works in 
modern illustration. Lindsay is also an exquisite writer of prose. 
His sister. Ruby Lindsay, is one of the most remarkable women- 
artists with the pen-line now living ; and Dyson, his brother-in- 
law, has lately come to the front. 




The second main stream in painting that has flown alongside the WHEREIN 
Colour-Orchestration of Impressionism is a development of the WE SEE 
English ^stheticism into the European L'Art Nouveau— the THE 
mediasval-academism becoming an academism of all ages and climes AESTHETES 
essaying to fit a Style. MAKING 

The basic falsity of all academism is that it looks upon Style THE 
as the tradition of the dead. Style being just the reverse of this, a STYLES 
vital personal quality v^hereby to utter art, the most Jit employment of q)^ THE 
the craftsmanship whereby to utter the impression desired by the artist, it DEAD 
is therefore the personal utterance of the artist, and of the artist THEIR 
alone, which only brain-thieves steal — and it is nothing but that. GOD, AND 
Yet it is precisely this theft that critics and professors call Style ! CREATING 

The academic artist therefore puts the cart before the horse. THE NEW 
He takes a style, say of Michelangelo or Botticelli or the Egyptians ACADEM- 
or the Primitives, which superbly fitted the work of art that these isM 
artists created, and he tries to set up a work of art so that it shall 
look like that style. 

Perhaps if I take a man of fantastic genius in letters as a parallel, 
I can explain this better to the man in the street. Oscar Wilde is 
typical of the school. In the years gone by, we were chaffing about 
artistic movements. I accused the zesthetes of academism and he 
was genuinely shocked. I pointed out that to play with pretty 
words and quaint ideas was not art, and had no relation to art — that 
pomegranates and peacocks' feathers and " feet twinkling like doves, 
like silvery doves " were not necessarily artistic utterance, and I 
asked him bluntly why men of real artistic power did not cease from 
milking unicorns ? He brooded long in his delightful way upon 
the sudden attack, but so inherent was his stylistic academism that 
he proceeded to play with the phrase " milking the unicorn," until 
I reminded him that he was " at it again." This was typical of him. 
Salome is typical academic-stylism — even the sentries talk pome- 
granate and milk the unicorn. But Wilde, with cynical instinct, 







knew that that the critics would mistake this for "poetry," and 
they did — and do, 


This academic-stylistic aim of Morris and his group has created 
a wide industry on the Continent called " L'Art Nouveau." All 
relation to modern life, and all attempt to develop the arts and crafts 
have been overwhelmed by a mimicry of medievalism. Where the 
home is not a museum, it is a quaint effort to provide a stiff medieval 
l)ackground to trousers. 

In PARIS estheticism was set up by Bing, who added to it the 
Eastern element which gave it an increased range. We have here 
no space to survey the contorted and restless lines which were applied 
to architecture, sculpture, painting, illustration, and all the crafts, 
from jewellery to the fire-irons. The nearest painter to the intention, 
though not wholly of it, was the delightful illustrator of the life of 
children treated in an old-world manner, Boutet de Monvel. 
Indeed several illustrators, such as Grasset, wrought their art in 
this old-world spirit. 


A primitive artist emerged as an exquisite illustrator in the 
person of Maurice Boutet de Monvel. Born at Orleans in 1850 of 
the old French noblesse, and of artistic forefathers (the grandfather 
was an officer in the army of the American Colonies in the War of 
Independence), in 1870 the young fellow joined Cabanel's studio in 
the Ecole des Beaux-Arts — had to shoulder a musket instead of 
painting — and after the war went to Julien's studio. In 1875 he 
went on to Carolus-Duran. His marriage in 1876 sent him to book- 
illustration for a living, and he " found himself" in that quaint and 
fascinating art that has made him famous. The eighties saw him 
famous. Boutet de Monvel has had a wide inliuence, especially in 
American illustration. 

In HOLLAND the Reaction has brought forth brilliant works. 


i860 - 
Into Holland came Toorops or Jan Toorop, born in Java, and 
creating amongst the Dutch an Eastern vision, brought from her 


far possessions which has had a wide effect upon her modern art, and WHPIREIN 
with that of Segantini largely influencing the craftsmanship of WE SEE 
a whole School. THE 

TooRop, coming from Borneo, began in Realism ; at the end of ^^STHETES 
the eighties he left dark Realism for brilliant Impressionism ; he MAKING 
followed Seurat into Pointillism ; and thence made for a sort of THE 
Eastern intention. STYLES 

Joan Thorn Prikker, born in 1870, appeared in 1892 as an OF THE 
Impressionist ; rapidly made for Symbolism ; and went back to the DEAD 
Primitives ; he revels in hideous martyrdoms in confused masses THEIR 
without perspective. The art of both men is steeped in the East. GOD AND 

Der Kinderen and Dijsselhof are also affected by the East. CREATING 

In BELGIUM the English ^Esthetic movement settled. With ACADEM- 

FiNCH and Van de Velde and Lemmen decoration soon became the iSM 

whole aim of art ; that is to say that craftsmanship became the aim. 

Van Gogh and Gaugain had a wide influence, and created a school 

of primitivism. Cezanne has become a god. Van de Velde is 

Art Nouveau in its most restless form. 

The nomenclature of all this school betrays its academism. 

Decoration is Neo-Gothic, Neo-Japanese, Neo-Assyrian, Neo- 

Impressionism, Neo-everything. 


In VIENNA the .Esthetic movement created quite a marked 
L'Art Nouveau. Klimt and Oldbrich and Moser evolved a new 
house for the Viennese to live in. Hoffmann and Loos and 
Roller became the vogue. 

On the 3rd of April 1897, nineteen young artists founded the 
Vienna Secession, and Alt was chosen as their leader. The 
Secession broke the embargo on foreign artists. The Glasgow 
School was welcomed ; and soon Segantini and Dettmann appeared 
in the city's displays. The applied Arts arose in the land. And 
the genius of Gustav Klimt dominated the movement, creating a 
force in Austrian art unknown since Makart. The stylists of Austria 
so often essay impressionism that they are difficult to classify. 

In Austria the vitality in painting is remarkable. A freshness 
of vision, mated with a rich colour-sense, is at conflict with an 
uncertainty as to how to utter the modern spirit, and Primitive- 
academism is incongruously rampant hand in hand with modern 
impressionism and colour-orchestration. Klimt, Jettmar, and 
Arpad Basch seem to be the most famous men of this phase. 
VOL. VIII — 2 p 297 






K L I M T 

1862 - 

GusTAV Klimt is an artist of large range ; his imagination is 
limitless ; and in spite of an archaic craftsmanship he creates poems 
of haunting power. His consummate and exquisite gifts are the 
handmaid to a poetic utterance, such as it is difficult to find else- 
where in Europe. His sense of rhythmic line is like music. The 
tenseness and vitality of his vision produce a pulsing, nervous impres- 
sion. He is essentially a decorative painter. 


1869 - 

Rudolf Jettmar is a richly endowed artist, whose slightest 
drawings, flung off for almanacks or any decoration desired, reveal a 
large design, fitted to be carried out in vast wall-decorations. Like 
Klimt, his imagination ranges free and without limit. His mastery 
of form and his gift of arrangement are coupled with a superb 
draughtsmanship and grip of torm which, added to his beautiful 
line, set Jettmar amongst the most notable of the Austrians. 

In GERMANY, initiated by Runge, the movement went ahead. 
The Greek intention was carried on by Stuck ; whilst the primi- 
tivism of EcKMANN, Heine, Von Hofmann, Strathmann, Leisti- 
Kow, and others, did various work. The superb woodcut-work of 
Sattler was founded on Diirer. 

In Scandinavia the Esthetic-academism of Morris turned back 
design to early Norse traditions. There at least it rid the native 
art trom southern bastard designs, and is more fittingly employed. 
Primitive-academism is the vogue. 

In NORWAY, whilst Werenskiold brought back Impres- 
sionism, and Gunner Berg painted the sea-folk, Gerhard Munthe 
created a tapestry-like art. 

In DENMARK Willumsen is master of a rugged rude art in 
sculpture and painting of primitive Egyptian intention. 

In SWEDEN, like the rest of the Scandinavian countries, the 
new movement is all towards a rugged national primitivism, if we 
omit ZoRN. 

In AMERICA Lafarge and Tiffany made the home into 
corners of cathedrals, and a religious air was diffused. Probably 
there were many conversions. 




To-day, whilst (i) Colour-orchestration advances Impressionism to WHEREIN 
a fuller and ever-increasing utterance, and whilst (2) alongside of it WE WALK 
the iEsthetic-academism seeks for the fantasies of style, there has WITH 
also arisen (3) reaction from Impressionism which seeks to combine THOSE 
these two antagonistic aims in what is suspiciously called " Post "- WHO 
impressionism. Its essential basis being Primitive-academism, it is WOULD 
difficult to see how it can be " new " or " post " ; but the critics, in HAVE US 
their confusion, have so labelled it, whilst the artists themselves are BELIEVE 
frantically trying to invent a new name every month. Let us call THAT 
it what it is, and be done with it : Primal-academism. Its aim is TO THE 
to go back to the art of very early peoples and bring back their INFANCY 
simplicity, their " innocence," their crudity. OF THE 

To judge an activity that is in a state of confusion and creation WORLD 
were impossible. But such achievement as has so far been reached WAS 
has as yet brought forth no wide-ranging genius. GRANTED 


Cezanne, as we have seen, on the one hand, and Gaugain on the REVELA- 
other, largely turned Impressionism towards the rude childhood of TION 
the world. 


Of the men whom we may account in some measure of Cezanne's 
school are Vuillard, Pierre Bonnard, and Roussel, who, born in the 
mid-sixties, emerged in the nineties. These men have been drawn 
towards Japanese art. Vuillard paints interiors and still-life. 
Bonnard is wider ranging, and his racecourses and nudes show 
mastery of colour and design. Both men make fine lithographs. 
Bonnard is a born decorator ; and his master was rather Lautrec 
than any one. K. X. Roussel, brother-in-law to Vuillard, has won 
repute with his poetic landscapes with nymphs bathing. 

Charles Guerin is a brilliant colourist. Pierre Laprade is 
another promising young painter. 








Gaugain trained his school at Pont-Aven to use only indigo, 
yellow, and red — to avoid black, or grey, since nothing is black, 
nothing grey — to have a model but never to paint from it, always 
painting from memory — never to seek contrast of colours but 
harmonies — to paint from light to dark, not from dark to light — 
only to paint repose — always to use an outline — never finish, never 
use details — to paint by instinct, not by theory — never to use broken 
colour. The school brought forth a group of artists. There is no 
maddest prophet who will not find disciples just as sincere as the 
disciples of a great genius ; so we had best not accept a school 
simply because it has disciples, until the school creates great art ; 
nor condemn a school merely because our ears are deaf to its artistry. 
But to leap to homage of any fool because great prophets have been 
aforetime stoned is to be drunk with the milk of asses. 

^MiLE Bernard had found Gaugain in Paris in 1886 ; he joined 
Van Gogh the same year, and went with him to Cormon awhile. 
Bernard footed it to Pont-Aven in 1888, paying his way by making 
portraits for food and bed ; Gaugain refused him as pupil, fearing 
the Paris taint in him. Van Gogh's brother brought the two men 
together a couple of years thereafter, Bernard being then about 
twenty. His facile gifts soon made him an imitator of Gaugain, as 
he was an imitator of Cezanne and Seurat and others. So he 
became primitive-academic. Then about 1893 ^^ made for the 
East, and painted his water-colours of Constantinople, getting away 
completely from "scientific painting." 

Laval went with Gaugain to Martinique ; Moret, the land- 
scapist, also, and Paul Serusier. 

Paul Serusier, born in Paris in 1864, came of well-to-do folk. 
Beginning to show art leanings, he gave them up at twenty to go 
into business. But at twenty-four he declared boldly for art ; went 
to Julien's academy where were Denis, Bonnard, Ibels, and Valloton, 
whilst at Boulanger's were Vuillard and Roussel. Showing at the 
Salon of 1888, Serusier then went to Port-Aven and saw Gaugain 
at work, and did not like the work. But on going back to Paris 
he was bored with the conventional picture-making, and came 
under the glamour of the planes, strong lines, and intention of 
Gaugain. He carried the revolt to Julien's. 

Then Pont-Aven becoming fashionable, the group made in 1889 
for Pouldu, where they were joined by the Dutchman Verkade, 


FiLiGER, Seguin, and others. Then they began to look to reh'gion WHEREIN 
to give them motives, because the early Renaissance men had so WE WALK 
done. With Denis, Seguin and Verkade became religious painters. WITH 
They all vv^ore romantic brigand dress, red cloaks were donned. THOSE 
Most are dead or scattered, or have gone to other idols ! Their WHO 
detestation of Monet has vanished. WOULD 

Valloton, the Swiss, has turned to remarkably fine woodcuts HAVE US 
since 1891. BELIEVE 


Now let us make no mistake. Several men of this school are TO THE 
essential impressionists ; several are most skilful draughtsmen. If INFANCY 
they think that by deliberately debasing their fine craftsmanship and OF THE 
drawing as crudely and badly as they can, and by striving to make their WORLD 
colour mimic crude essays in the vision of children and savages, WAS 
they thereby advance the art utterance of the race and come into more GRANTED 
spiritual communion with their age, they are as feeble and childish THE FINAL 
as they are ridiculous in the delusion that they can capture again the REVELA- 
savage and infantile vision. Such must be at best an affectation — TION 
and an affectation is a lie. It is vain for a brilliant draughtsman 
like Henri Matisse to try and hoodwink himself into the delusion 
that he can return to the infancy of the world — even if that return 
increased the genius of modern life. The very gifts of such men 
forbid it; they have mastered modern craftsmanship, have learned 
to speak a modern tongue ; a door has been opened to them by 
which they may never return ; their eyes have looked upon modern 
life and upon Impressionism. To essay to speak like a little child 
or primal man were a vain thing, wholly without relation to art — a 
mere academism. To give to art the aim of science, and to essay 
adventures in geometry like Picasso, is to bemuddle art with science, 
and art has nothing in common with science. It is for art to reveal 
the soul of man through the senses — a prodigious and eagle flight 
next to the wide adventure of life itself. By what means we reach 
to the utterance of this mighty revelation matters nothing, so that 
the artist create majestic art. 

But one thing is sure — he who would utter the vast and 
complex life of our age will not do so by going back to outworn 
instruments, nor by essaying to dissect the brains of infants or 









I HAVE tried to show that the gamut of artistic utterance ever 
increases — that the realm interpreted by art ever widens. It follows 
that an artist to-day, if he would interpret life, must take up the 
conquest of art at its last forward tide, if he would advance and not 
be content with mere mimicry. Mimicry is the signal of distress 
of all bastard art. All academism is mimicry. But — and here is 
the threat to art to-day as it has been through all time — it is just 
as much ?nimicry to ape Primitive art as to ape Michelangelo or Phidias. 

It is a part of the essential significance of art being the sensed 
communion of life that art can only be rendered by the personality 
of a temperament. What the artist can alone give is life seen 
through his temperament ; all else that he essays to give from the 
temperaments of others is a lie, a falsity, a deliberate deceit — he 
becomes a brain-thief. To-day the brain-thief abounds, as he has 
always abounded — the filcher of the robes of the mastery of others. 
To-day he thinks to hide his theft by avoiding filching from the 
classics, filching instead from the earlier than classics, from the rude 
barbarians of the childhood of man. 

The overrating of craftsmanship was bound to lead to disillu- 
sion. But it is obvious that the complex and more profound 
emotions of developed man must be uttered in the art of developed 
man, and not in the accents of infancy. The gurgling and cooing 
of infancy are fitting and right for infancy, they become the dribble 
of idiots in man. 

It follows that art, to go forward, must proceed from the points 
where great art has left off — not go back to points before develop- 
ment. Primitive art was great art for its day ; it is incapable of 
uttering the vast significance of modern life. 

Impressionism, mass and broken colour, having developed a full 

orchestral power, created, as was inevitable, a reaction. This 

reaction was due to the fact that the lesser impressionists found the 

orchestra so vast a thing to handle, that it looked to them like a 



life-work to master it. So they, not greatly gifted enough to utter WHEREIN 
mighty song upon colour-orchestration, yet desiring to find WE STEP 
" originality," have turned back beyond Renaissance Italy, beyond ON TO 
classic Greece, and have tried to win back to the infancy of the THE 
world. They call this vile insincerity Sincerity. HIGHWAY 

They are trying to deceive themselves into speaking of the AND 
*' virginal simplicity of infancy." These artists deliberately try to PART 
draw badly, because children draw badly. They think that this is 
sincerity. They stand off and discover something " mystical " in 
this endeavour. Others who are not " infancy-academics " are trying 
to be " Primitive-Egyptian-academics," others " Chinese-academics." 
But they are all intensely "sincere," intensely "virginal," intensely 
" original." 

Now Criticism, from its very essence, is always a generation 
behind artistic intention. By the time that Criticism has 
refreshed its statutes and written its new book of the law, to keep 
up with the latest achievement, art has moved forward. Criticism 
never led, nor will ever lead, to artistic fulfilment. Yet the tyranny 
and power of Criticism to-day is a threat to all art. The school- 
master's work is done the day we pass out of the school gates. 

I therefore say to the student, to the lover of art, and to the 
man in the street, never approach a work of art through criticism. 
Yield yourself to the work of art — if it communicate its significance 
to you, by so much are you the richer ; if it fail to communicate 
its significance, it is outside your sensing, and no amount of outside 
explanation will aid you to its communion. Be sincere ; by no 
other road shall you enter the garden of the arts — no man may 
forge you the key to it. 

I realise to the full that these volumes must have taxed the 
patience of many who have written upon Painting their lives long. 
I have ruthlessly flung down the laws and the authorities upon 
which they have founded their standards. I have been deeply 
moved by the sincerity and honesty of a large body of men who 
have given their full and deliberate hearing to what must have been 
to many a harsh uprooting. But I myself had to go through that 
uprooting. And if I have brought them towards the truth at last, 
or even to doubt false laws — if I have brought them closer to the 
soul of the artist — my reward is a rich one. 

That several pompous dullards have refused to understand, and 
cling to that intellectual snobbery that bows them flunkeywise to 
the great dead, right or wrong, I foresaw and forestalled. They 







matter nothing. But, a twelvemonth after I began this huge task, 
and had wellnigh completed the bulk, of it, there came to London 
town a display of a jumbled collection of works by the later men 
alongside of whom I was working in the nineties ; and, like bolt 
from blue, this bewildering thing fell amongst the critics and 
scattered them — as Whistler baffled them some thirty years ago. 
The would-be Up-to-Dates rushed to embrace the New Thing — 
flinging into the gutter the laws that they had been teaching during 
their whole lives up to the month before ! Sides were violently 
taken. And already they are rushing to write books, and to publish 
magazines. That display has not caused me to blot a line of 
what I here publish. The researches I here put into print cover 
this ground and, so far as I have been able to test it, all the arts. 
They were originally for my own guidance ; I give them to youth 
to save youth wandering in the desert, whether pasteboard or arid 
desert of false aims. 

By pompous academic men, I say, I have been flouted, as I was 
bound to be flouted. But there are men of eager sincerity who 
hesitate and linger upon the edge. One of these accepts, then assails 
— my friend Lewis Hind has written a book in which he denies my 
definitions. Let us close with him, since he is a fine type — and a 
type worth convincing. Lewis Hind boldly rejects my definition of 
Art as " the emotional or sensed communion of Life." At the same 
time he as frankly rejects his former law, and admits that Art is not 
Beauty. Well ; we are getting on. Art, says he, is Expression. 
Well, 'tis clear one could not create Art unless one could express it. 
But are Euclid and Blue-books therefore Art ? I can imagine no 
more egregious statement than that all Expression is Art. However, 
let us grant that Art is Expression. But at once comes doubt, and 
Hind qualifies. Expression, it would appear, is always decorative and 
emotional ! Hoho ! we come nearer. But quite apart from the 
absolute falsity of this statement, it will be noticed that Art has now 
become " emotional expression " plus decoration. Hamlet it would 
appear is " decorative" ! Then comes a somersault. "Art is the 
expression of personality." Well ; Art cannot be uttered except 
through a personality — this is implicit in " Art being the sensed com- 
munion of life." But Art is not by any means merely the "expression 
of personality." A personality might utter a thousand expressions 
that would not be Art. But Hind soon suspects that the expression 
of personality need not create Art — suspects there is some essential 
lacking in the definition ; so, even whilst he denies me, he adds 
" an emotional personal expression " plus decoration. Now " an 



emotional personal expression " sounds not unlike " a sensed or WHEREIN 
emotional communion of life," somewhat lamely put, since it does WE STEP 
not say what is expressed. However, having practically acknow- ON TO 
ledged what he started by denying, except that he adds " Decoration," THE 
which by the way has no essential part in Art whatsoever. Hind, HIGHWAY 
having denied with me that Art is Beauty, proceeds to say that AND 
Beauty is in everything, particularly in Ugliness, "which really does PART 
not exist " ! In other words, there is Beauty in Lack of Beauty ! 
But thereafter comes complete surrender : " The world that hjc/t is 
greater than the world that is seen" (he clearly forgets that " seeing " 
is a part of feeling). Hind really means that the senses are more 
profound than the Reason — which is an essential part of my teaching. 

But I wonder if Hind has really thought out what he does mean. 
He proceeds — and mark you, he has written a whole book upon this 
business; it is not after-dinner smoke — he proceeds to vow that Art 
is what an artist does. But if an artist fall down a well, or commit 
bigamy, or talk like a fool, how in the doing does he differ thereby 
from one who is no artist yet guilty of these things ? Hind has 
caught the catchpenny about " rhetoric " too — he abhors rhetoric. 
I tell him that the greatest masters have employed rhetoric, Shake- 
speare without hesitation. But — what is this ? " That avenue of 
Freedom, opening out, inviting the pilgrim who is casting off the 
burdens of mere representation, and of tradition when it becomes 
sapless ... it seeks synthesis in the soul of man, and in the substance 
of things; it lifts mere craftsmanship into the region of mysticism, and 
proclaims that Art may be a stimulation as well as a solace ... it 
is as old as ecstasy ... it has been called by many names ... it 
informed the work of Botticelli when he expressed the gaiety of 
spring, Rembrandt when he expressed the solemnity of a Mill 
{N.B. before they cleaned the Mill !) . . . and it would have glided 
on, coming unconsciously to the initiate, uncatalogued, unrecorded, 
had not three men — Cezanne, Van Gogh, and Gaugain — flamed its 
principals abroad," and so on and so forth. So that, though " the 
founders of Post-Impressionism were Cezanne, Van Gogh, and 
Gaugain," they really were not the founders, but Botticelli and 
Rembrandt and Cozens and Swan. 

Then Hind proceeds to belittle Art by saying that it is " but an 
episode in life." If Art were what the critics take it to be, that 
would be so. But I tell him here and now that life without Art 
would be a madman's realm, a blind man's parish. He seems to 
demand of Art that " its profound vision " shall be " clothed in cheer- 
fulness and gaiety." But he who looks upon the Christ crucified or 
VOL. VIII — 2 Q 305 







upon the tragic emotions of life only " with cheerfulness and gaiety," 
is made of strange stuff. Ah, yes — suddenly Hind finds himself before 
Gaugain's Wayside Christ ; his essential need of Art that it shall be 
" clothed in cheerfulness and gaiety " departs and " it brings tears " I 
Yet I have read somewhere that he vows that painting " never moves 
to tears." Then Hind exults over the three great founders of Post- 
impressionism. " What did these three men do ? " he asks. And 
he answers : " They desired to express the sensation an object pre- 
sented to them." So he accepts, after blunt rejection, my definition 
at the opening of these eight volumes — " Art is the emotional com- 
munion of life." Hind holds that Art should go back to the virginal 
utterance of infancy — yet he denies to the People the understanding 
of it; and he confesses that he himself had "to educate himself to 
it " ! But I will hint to him that what he really did was to be led 
to it by reading the suggestions of others. I prefer Hind's own 
impressions. To reconcile bookish falsities on art is an impossible 

Now I ask in all solemnity, what can the ordinary man learn 
from contradictions ? I ask this eager and sincere searcher after 
life, I ask Hind, what good can come of all this vague talk about 
Art, that is founded on mere tradition, without sense, without co- 
hesion, without foundation ? If Hind (who has mastered the art of 
literature) stands thus bewildered, can we wonder that the average 
critic, who is without his artistic gifts in literature, clings to bookish 
falsities and " laws " ? 

No. I say to Hind what I say to every man, Let us be done with 
all this intellectual snobbery. Be done with this approach to Art 
through books ! Go straight to the works of Art themselves, 
whether painting, or literature, or the drama, or music ! And if these 
enter into the communion of your soul, they have been created for 
the enlargement of your experience and the enrichment of your life. 
If they do not, then to you it has not been granted to feel their 
essence and their significance, and by so much are you the poorer. 

And before I blot the last line of this labour of my hands, I 
would add as my last word to youth as youth stands perplexed before 
many teachers : Once you have won to the facile hand that creates 
the craftsmanship at the will's ordering, so that the will can concen- 
trate upon the achievement of its desire, unshackled by hesitations of 
craft, then be rid of the studio squabbles as to this school or that school, 
as to this method or that method ; and fearlessly use every tool of 
craftsmanship that will create or enhance the impression you would 
achieve. The road to fulfilment in the creation of the masterpiece 


is lonely and harsh enough. The whole vast realm of life is for the WHEREIN 
conquering; and the artist, once he has done with his pupilage, WE STEP 
must walk the splendid wayfaring alone. No man may give him ON TO 
aid. Sincerity must be his weapon, and fearless truth his whetstone. THE 
Take of the vast gamut of craftsmanship just precisely the vastest HIGHWAY 
instrument that your strength can handle ; and if that strength be AND 
limited, take the lesser instrument. But we are weary of this PART 
eternal tinkering with the instrument. Be done with the rattle of 
the workshop, and get you on to the high road of Art. It leads to 
the immensities ; and if you have not the courage for the heights 
and a wide conquest, at least there are pleasant places by the roadside 
where fainter hearts may gather flowers. It is time to burst into 
song. We await the singer. We are weary of the chips of the 
workshop — of rhythm, and this and that. 'Tis time for the song. 
The poet achieves by his song. Are there singers amongst you ? 
If so, for the love of heaven, sing I 




Abbate, Cristoforo dell', vi. 36. 

Giovanni dell', vi. 57. 

Giulio deir, vi. 36. 

Niccolo deir, vi. 36. 

Abbey, Edwin, viii. 290, 292, 293. 
Abbott, Lemuel Francia, vii. 286. 
Academy of St. Luke, i. 131. 
Academy, The Royal. See Royal 

Ache, Caran d', viii. 272. 
Adam, Denovan, viii. 1S5. 
Adams, Dacres, viii. 258. 

John Quincy, viii. 2S3, 284. 

Adrienssen, Alexander, iv. 200. 
Aelst, Evert van, v. 237, 252. 

Willem van, v. 252. 

Aertz, Pieter, v. 8. 
Aertszen, Pieter, iv. 73. 
./?Jsthetic movement, viii. 295, 296. 
Agnolo, Andrea del. See Sarto, 

Andrea del. 
Agricola, Christoph Ludwig, iv. 

Aiguier, Auguste, viii. 152. 
Aikman, William, vi. gi, 99-100. 
Alba, Macrino d', i. i6i. 
Albano, Francesco, iii. 30-31. 
" Albert of Westphalia," iv. 88. 
Albertinelli, i. 126, 129, 245. 
Albizzi family, The, i. 54, 55. 
Alciati, viii. 286. 
Aldegrever, Heinrich, iv. 88. 
Aldin, Cecil, viii. 247. 
Alebardi, viii. 2S6. 
Alexander, Cosmo John, the 

Younger, vii. loi. 

Edwin, viii. 251. 

John, vii. too. 

J. W., viii. 291. 

Robert, viii. 1S5. 

Alfani, Domenico, iii. 13, 16. 
Aifaro, Juan de, iii. 226. 
Alfon, Juan, iii. 89. 
Algardi, iii. 176. 
Aiken, vii. 3 13. 
Allan, David, vii. 218. 

R. W., viii. 185. 

Sir William, vii. 127 ; viii. 

Allen, Andrew, vii. 126. 
Allori, Alessandro, iii. 18. 

Angelo. See Bronzino. 

Cristoforo, iii. 44. 

Alma Tadema, Sir Lawrence, viii. 

Alsace, School of, iv. 89. 


Alt, Rudolf von, viii, 183,197. 
Altdorfer, Albrecht, iv. 93. 
Altichiero, ii. 19, 20, 21, 46. 
Aman-Jcan, Edmond, viii. 267. 
Amberger, Christoph, iv. 140. 
Am Ende, Hans, viii. 282. 
American painters, viii. 289, 29S. 
Andalusia, School of, iii. 88, 95, 

100, 1 13. 
Angeli, viii. 283. 
Angelico, Fra, i. 73-76. Rejs. i. 

75. 86, 89, 90, 91, 141, 172, 

Angelis, Pierre, vi. 139. 
Anglada y Camarasa, Herman, viii. 

Anguisciola, Anna Maria, iii. 41. 

Elena, iii. 41. 

Lucia, iii. 41. 

Minerva, iii. 41. 

Sofonisba, iii. 40. 

Anjou, Dukes of, rulers of Naples, 

i. 45, 47. 
Anquetin, Louis, viii. 269. 
Antolne de Recouvrance, vi. 43. 
Antolinez, Jose, iii. 226. 

y Sarabia, Francisco, iii. 227. 

Antwerp, School of, iv. 55. 

decline of, iv. 63. 

founded by Quentin Matsys, 

iv. 56. 
Appiani, Andrea, iii. 78. 
Apshoven, Thomas, iv. 232. 
Apt, Ulrich, iv. 139. 
Aquatinting, vii. 131. 
Aquiles, Julio de, iii. 95, 100. 
Arago, viii. 82. 
Aranyossy, viii. 285. 
Archer, James, viii. 123, 182. 
Archer Shee, Sir Martin, vii. 295. 
Arellano, Juan de, iii. 212. 
Arenas, Juan de, iii. 221. 
Arethusi, Cesare, ii. 184. 
Aretino, Pietro, i. 225, 233; ii. 

89, 92, 131, 132, 136, 138, 143, 

Arfian, Antonio de, iii. 103. 
Ariosto, ii. 125. 
Armfield, Maxwell, viii. 292. 
Armour, Denholm, viii. 251. 
Arnolde, vii. 35. 

Arpino, Cavaliere d', iii. 43, 141. 
Art, antique, i. 8. 
I'Art nouveau, viii. 295, 296. 
Arteago, Mateas de, iii. 221. 
d'Arthois, Jacques, iv. 233. 

" Artist of 1550," vi. 26. 
Artz, David Adolphe, viii. 199. 
Aschalfenburg, Simon von, iv. 95. 
Ashfield, Edmund, vii. 70. 
Asselyn, Jan, v. 230. 
Astley, John,vi. 141, i43;vii. 201. 
Athens, Fall of, i. 13. 
Atienza, Martin, iii. 221. 
Atkinson, viii. 194. 
Aubert, Raymond, viii. 152. 
Aubrey, Etienne, vi. 147. 
Audran, Claude, vi. 1 1 1 , 1 1 7, 1 1 g. 
Augsburg, School of, iv. 115. 
Aumonier, viii. 247. 
Australian painters, viii. 294. 
Austrian painters, viii. 283, 297. 
Avanzl, Jacopo d', ii. 19, 20, 21. 
Avercamp, Hendrick, v. 56. 
Avignon, Italian artists of, vi. 11. 
Ayala, Bernabe de, iii. 228. 

Baar, viii. 283. 
Bacchiacca, II, i. 183. 
Backer, Jacob Adriaensz, v. 92. 
Backhuysen, Ludolph, v. 228. 
Bacon, Sir Nathaniel, vi. 36-37. 
Badile, Antonio, ii. 47, 193, 194, 

Badouin, vi. 20, 22, 23. 
Baertseen, viii. 285, 286. 
Baglione, Giovanni, iii. 21. 
Bail, Joseph, viii. 268. 
Bakker, Jacob, v. 1 35. 
Baldovinetti, Alessio, i. 96, iii. 
Balducci, Matteo, i. 181 ; iii. 19. 
Balen, Henrik, iv. 76, 205. 
Balestra, Antonio, iii. 73. 
Bamboccio, v. 39. 
Bamirez, Pedro, iii. 221. 
Bandinelli, Baccio, i. 215. 
Bandol, vi. 4. 
Bannister, John, vii. 245. 
Barbarelli. See Giorgione. 
Barbari, Jacopo de, ii. 85; iv. 113. 
Barbatelli, Bernardino, iii. 18. 
Barbieri, Giovanni Francesco. See 

Barbizon, School of, viii. 91. 
Barker, Thomas, of Bath, viii. 4, 6. 
Barlow, Francis, vii. 80. 
Bamueva, Herera, iii. 229. 
Baroccio, Federigo, iii. 20-21, 43. 
Baroque Painters of Venice, The, 

iii. 70. 
Barratt, Reginald, viii. 247. 
Barret, George, vii. 242. 


Barry, vii. 212-214.. 

14arth(ileniy, vi. 56. 

Bjitels, Hans von, viii. 278. 

Bartoldo, i. 208. 

Bartolo, Taddeo di, i. 65, 66. 

Bartolornmeo, Fra, i. 126-129, 130, 

136, 169, 188, 194-, 230, 241. 
Bartolotti, Antonio, ii. 177. 
Barloluccio, i. 95. 
Basaiti, Marco, ii. 84.. 
Basch, Arpad, viii. 297. 
Baslikirtseff, Marie, viii. 201. 
Basiano, JacopOjii. 163-165. Re/s. 

ii. 4, 68, 124, 167, 227. 
Bassen, Bartholomew von, iv. 79. 
Bastiano, Lazzaro, ii. 64-65. 
Bastida, SoroUa y, viii. 276. 
Bastlen-Lep3ge,viii. 201, 247, 249. 
Batavus, Godofredus, vi. 16. 
Batten, viii. 142. 
BattonI, Pompeo, iii. 78. 
Baudouin, vi. 196, 197. 
Baudry, Paul, viii. 86, 146. 
Bauer, viii. 286, 293. 
Baum, Paul, viii. 209. 
Bayen y Subias, Francesco, iii. 

Bayes, Walter, viii. 247. 
Baynes, James, vii. 242. 
Bazzi, "II Sodomo," i. 164-166, 

167. Refs. i. 181, 191, 193; 

iii. 12, 19. 
Beach, Thomas, vii. 20J. 
Bealf, Marj', vii. 79. 
Beai^f ey, Aubrey, viii. 252, 261- 

264, 265. 
Beatty, viii. 294. 
Beaubrun, Louis, vi. 47. 
Beauclerk, Lady Diana, vii. 216. 
Beaux, Cecilia, viii. 245. 
Beccafumi, Domenico, i. 167, 168 ; 

iii. 19. 
Beccaruzzi, Francesco, ii. 92. 
Becerra, Caspar, iii. 97. 
Becht, viii. 286. 

Beck, David, iv. 222, 226 ; vii. 62. 
Becker, Harry, viii. 248. 
Beckwith, viii. 290, 291. 
Beechey, Sir William, vii. 267-268. 
Beerstraeten, Jan Abrahamsz, v. 

Bega, Cornells, v. 52, 186. 
Begyn, Abraham, v. 231. 
Beham, Barthel, iv. 114. 

Hans Sebald, iv. 1 14. 

Behmer, Marcus, viii. 264. 

Beich, Franz Joachim, iv. 145. 

Beijeren, Abraham van, v. 192,251. 

Bejot, viii. 274. 

Bell, Anning, viii. 142, 265. 

Bellano, ii. 86. 

Belle, vi. 85. 

Bellejambe of Douai, vi. 14. 

Bellini Family, The, ii. 51. 

Gentile, ii. 20, 32, 52, 61, 

— ^— Giovanni, ii. 69-74 ; pupils 



and followers of, ii. 84-87, 155. 

Kefs. ii. 28, 31, 38, 54, 56, 70- 

74. 96. 100, 116, 171, 184 i 

iii. I 5. 
Bellini, Jacopo, ii. 59-62. Re/s. 

ii. 20, 26, 32, 69, 70. 
Bellotto, iii. 76-77. 
Belon, Nicolas, vi. 38. 
Bentley, Charles, viii. 64. 
Benvenuti, Giambattista, ii. 39. 
Berairo, vi. 166. 
Berchere, viii. 147. 
Berck-Heyde, Gerrit, v. 248. 

Job, V. 33, 238. 

Berenson, on Bronzino's portraits, 

i. 250 ; on Vivarini, ii. 54. 
Bergamesco, Casteilo, iii. 95. 
Bergen, Dirk van, v. 227. 
Bergh, viii. 287. 

Bermudez, Juan Augustin, iii. 228. 
Bernard, Emile, viii. 300. 

Valere, viii. 144. 

Berruguete, Alonso, iii. 93, 96, 97. 

Pedro, iii. 92, 93. 

Berson, Ambrosius, iv. 52. 
Bertin, Victor, vi. 32 ; viii. 75. 
Berton, Armand, viii. 267. 
Bertram, Meister, iv. 88. 
Bertucci, Giovanni Battista, i. 182, 

Beschey, Balthasar, iv. 235. 
Besnard, Albert Paul, viii. 216, 

217, 266. 
Bettes, John, vii. 22. 

Thomas, vii. 35. 

Betto, Bernardino di. See Pintu- 

Beuckelaer, Joachim, iv. 73. 
Beyeren, Cornells, v. 92, 141. 
Bezzi, viii. 286. 

Biagio, Vincenzo di. See Catena. 
Biajio, Andrea di Ser. See Man- 

Bianca, Angelo daH'Oca, viii. 286. 
Blanchi, ii. 35, 170, 177, 179. 
Bigordi, Benedetto, i. 114. 

David, i. 114. 

Bilivert, Antonio, iii. 44. 

Billotte, viii. 215. 

Binet, viii. 149. 

Bing, viii. 296. 

Birgers, viii. 2S7. 

Birket Foster, Miles, viii. 180, 

Bissett, viii. 215. 
Bissolo, ii. 73, 75-76. 
Bjorck, viii. 287. 
Blacklock, viii. 250. 
Blake, William, vii. 249-264. 
Blake-Wirgman, viii. 265. 
Blanchard, Jacques, vi. 37, 46. 
Blanche, Jacques Emile, viii. 269. 
Blashfield, viii. 290, 
Bles, Herri Met de, iv. 61. 
Bloemart, Abraham, iv. 76; pupils 

of, V. 5-6, 35. 
Bloemen, Jan Frans, iv. 235. 

Bloemen, Peter van, iv. 233. 
Bloiiimers, Bemardus, viii. 199. 
Blomstcdt, viii. 289. 
Blondeel, Lancelot, iv. 64. 
Bloot, V. 51. 
Blum, viii. 291, 293. 
Boberg, Anna, viii. 288. 
Bocancgro, Fray Anastasio, iii, 

Boccaccino, Boccaccio, ii. 84. 
Boccaccio, i. 34, 42. 
Boccatis, Giovanni, i. 172. 
Boch, Anna, viii. 227. 
Bocklin, viii. 1 31-132. 
Bockman, P., vii. 123. 
Bode, Dr., on Dutch still-life 
painting, v. 245 ; on Potter's 
animal painting, v. 206; on 
Rubens, iv. 236 ; on Ruisdael, 
V. 21 1 ; on Steen, v. 153, i 54 ; 
on Ter Borch, v. 161, 162 ; on 
Van Dyck, iv. 236. 
Boel, Peter, iv. 234. 
Boeyermanns, Theodor, iv. 227. 
Bogle, John, vii. 232. 
Boilly, Louis Leopold, vi. 147, 

Bois, Simon, vii. 87. 
Boit, Charles, vii. 102. 
Bol, Ferdinand, v. 134, 1 35. Re/t. 

V. 92, 98. 
Bol, Hans, iv. 79. 
Boldini, viii. 225. 
Bollery, Jerome, vi. 37. 

Nicolas, vi. 37, 41. 

Bologna, School of, ii. 40-48 ; iii. 

22, 26. 
Boltraffio, Giovanni, i. 162, 163. 
Bombare, Georges, vi. 32. 
Bondone, Giotto di. See Giotto. 
Bone, Henr)', vii. 237. 

Muirhead, viii. 247, 265. 

Robert Trewick, vii. 237. 

Bonfigli, Benedetto, i. 172. 
Bonheur, Rosa, viii. 198. 
Bonifazio, Veronese, ii. 92, no, 

162, 163. 
Bonington, Richard Parkes, vi. 

179; viii. 49-50, 72. 
Bonnard, Pierre, viii. 299. 
Bonnat, Leon, viii. 202. 
Bonsignori, Francesco, ii. 48, 54, 

Bonviclno, Alessandro. See Mor- 

Bonvin, Francois, viii. 154. 

Leon, viii. 154-155. 

Bonzi, Pietro Paolo, iii. 39. 
Boonen, Arnold van, v. 187, 188. 
Bordler, Pierre, vii. 66. 
Bordone, Paris, ii. 167-169. Refi. 

ii. 103, 1 10, 153. 
Borgia, Lucrezia, ii. 126. 
Borgognone, vi. 87, :6i, 163. 
Borgona, Juan de, iii. 92, 93. 
Borras, Nicolas, iii. 105. 
Bosboom, Johannes, viii. 152. 

Bosch, viii. 2R6. 

— Hieronyvnus, iv. 65. 

Jerome, iv. 75. 

Boschaerts, Thomas, iv. 227. 
Bossam, John, vii. 38. 
Bossche, Bahhasar van der, iv. 235. 
Both, Andries, v. 5, 54, 234. 

■ : Jan, V. 5-6, 54, 189, 234. 

Botticelli, Sandro, i. 98-109. Refs. 

1. 119, 121, 127, 141, 144, 248, 

252 ; ii. 29, 1 15. 
Botticini, Francesco, i. 109. 
Boucher, Francois, vi. 174, 175- 

196; and Fragonard, his pupil, 

vi. 226-227. Rffs- iii. 236 ; vi. 

134, 162, 171, 251. 
Boudewyns, Anton Frans, iv. 233. 
Boudin, Louis Eugene, viii. 150- 

152, 190. 
Bougereau, viii. 145. 
Bough, Samuel, viii. 64, 183. 
Boughton, viii. 291. 
Boulanger, Gustave, viii. 147. 
Boule, vi. 1 16. 
Boulogne, Bon, vi. 87. 

Jean de, vi. 52. 

Louis, vi. 87. 

Bourbon Kings of Spain, The, iii. 

Bourdon, Sebastian, vi. 56-57. 
Boursse, Esias, v. 108. 
Bout, Peter, iv. 233. 
Bouteloup, William, vi. 26, J2. 
Bouts, Albert, iv. 35. 

Dirk, iv. 31-35. 

the Younger, iv. 35. 

Thierry, iv. 31. 

Bouvert, Dagnan, viii. 215. 
Bower, Edward, vii. 64. 
Boyce, George Price, viii. 64. 
Boyd Houghton, viii. 265. 
Brabant, School of, iv. 22. 
Brabazon, viii. 247. 
Bracht, viii. 209. 
Bracquemond, Marie, viii. 168, 

171, 274- 
Bradley, W. H., viii. 264. 
Braekelaer, Henri de, viii. 88, 

" Braghettone, II," i. 226. 
Brakenburg, V. 183, 184. 
Bramante, i. 193, 218, 227, 228. 

Refs. i. 160, 193, 194 ; ii. 27. 
Bramantino, i. 160, 161, 191 ; ii. 

Bramer, Leonard, v. 142. 
Bramley, Frank, viii. 249. 
Brangwyn, Frank, viii. 241-242, 

Brav, Jacques de, vii. 35. 
Breda, von, viii. 287. 
Bredael, Jan Frans van, iv. 235. 
Bredal, Peter, iv. 233. 
Breenberg, Bartholomeus, v. 234. 
Breitner, viii. 286. 
Brekelenkam, Quiringh, v. 134. 
Brescia, School of, ii. 171-J75. 


Brescianino, i. 193, 194. 
Breton, Emile, viii. 198. 

Jules, viii. 198. 

Brett, John, viii. 123. 
Brcu, Jorg, iv. 139. 
Breydel, Karel, iv. 235. 
Bricher, viii. 290. 
Brickdale, Eleanor, viii. 266. 
Bridgman, George, viii. 291, 294. 
Bright, Henry, viii. 55. 
Bril, Matthew, iv. 77. 

Paul, iv. 77. 

Brock, Arthur, viii. 265. 
Broedcrlam, Mekhior, vi. 5. 
Brompton, Richard, vii. 125. 
Bronze Age, The, vii. 4. 
Bronzino, i. 246-251 ; iii. 4,44. 
Brooking, Charles, vii. 130. 
Brosamer, Hans, iv. 95. 
Brough, Robert, viii. 245, 250, 

Brouwer, Adriaen, v. 32, 40-52, 

148, 154, 229. 
Brown, A. K., viii. 185. 

Arnesby, viii. 248. 

— — Hablot K., viii. 265. 
John, vii. 232. 

Madox, viii. 112-114, 118, 


Mather, vii. 290. 

T. Austen, viii. 227, 251, 

Browne, John, vii. 21. 

Canadian painter, viii. 293. 

Brownell, viii. 293, 294. 

Bruce, Blair, viii. 293. 

Brueghel, Jan, iv. 76, 78, 79, 

Pieter, the Elder, iv. 65, 72, 

74-75. Refi. v. 43, 55. _ 

Pieter, the Younger, Iv. 75. 

Bruges, under Dukes of Burgundy, 

iv. 7 ; decline of prosperity, iv. 

40, 55. 153- 
Brunelleschi, i. 82. 
Bruno, Leon, iii. 41. 
Brusasorci, Domenico, ii. 191, 

193, 194. 
Brush, viii. 290. 
Bruyn, Bartholomaus, iv. 86. 
Brymner, viii. 293. 
Butfalmaco, Buonamico, i. 71. 
Bugiardi, Giuliano, i. 219. 
Bunbur)', Henry, vii. 246. 
Bunel, Francois, vi. 38, 40. 

Jacques, vi. 40, 43. 

Bunny, Rupert, viii. 294. 
Buonacorsi, Pierino. See del 

Buonarotti. See Michelangelo. 
Buoninsegna, Duccio di. See 

Burbage, Actor-painter, vii. 38. 
Burger, viii. 132. 
Burgkmair, Hans, iv. 115, 117. 

Thomas, iv. 115. 

Burgundy, Dukes of, iv. 6, 7, 153 ; 

Burlington, Earl of, vii. 98. 

Burnand, viii. 289. 

Burne-Jones, Sir Edward, viii. 

119, 136-138, 144- 
Burnet, viii. 70. 
Burnitz, viii. 132. 
Burns, Robert, viii. 142. 
Burridge, viii. 265. 
Burton, W. S., viii. 122. 
Busi, Giovanni di. See Cariani. 
Bussy, Simon, viii. 144, 267. 
Butler, viii. 291. 

Lady, viii. 143. 

Buttinone, Bernardino, i. 161. 
Bye, Hieronymus de, vii. 35. 
Byzantine art, i. 18-21, 23, 25-27; 

ii. i8, 51. 

"Cabal of Naples, The,'' iii. 

30, 56, 60, 62, 141. 
Cabanel, viii. 14^. 
Cabezalero, Juan, iii. 226. 
Cadenhead, James, viii. 226. 
Cagliari, Benedetto, ii. 203. 

Carletto, ii. 203. 

Gabrielle, ii. 203. 

Paolo, ii. 47. See VeroneiC. 

Cagnacci, Guide, iii. 36. 
Caillebotte, Gustave, viii. 197. 
Caldara, Polidoro. See Polnlnro. 
Caldecott, Randolph, viii. 11 1, 

Calderon, Philip, viii. 123. 
Caligarino, ii. 39. 
Callcott, Sir Augustus Wall, viii. 

Callow, William, viii. 63-64. 
Calvaert, Denys, iii. 22, 23, 24, 

Calvi, Pantaleo, iii. 14, 15. 
Camarasa, Herman Anglada y, 

viii. 275. 
Camblaso, Luca, iii. 16, 95. 

Orazlo, iii. 95. 

Cameron, D . Y., viii. 226, 251, 

Hugh, viii. 123, 185. 

Katherine, viii. 142. 

Camilo, Francisco, iii. 226. 
Cammucini, Vincenzio, iii. 19. 
Campagnola, Domenico, ii. 170. 
Campana, Pedro, iii. loo-ici ; iv. 

Campi, Antonio, of Cremona, iii. 

Bernardino, iii. 4c. 

Giulio, ii. 172 ; iii. 40. 

Camphuysen, Joachim, v. 207, 


Raphael, v. 208. 

Campin, Robert, iv. 23. 
Camprobin, Pedro de, iii. 221. 
Canadian painters, viii. 293. 
Canale, Antonio, iii. 76. 
Canaletto, iii. 76-77. 
Candido, Pieter, iv. 76. 
Candit, Peter, iv. 76. 



Cano, Alonso, iii. 103-207. /?</>. 
iii. 135, 136, 150, 209, Jio. 

Canon, Hans, viii. 283, 284. 

Cantarini, Simone, iii. 36. 

Canuti, Domenico, iii. 36. 

Capanna, Puccio, i. 71. 

Capclle, Jan van der, v. 129, 127. 

Capponi, RafFaelo de', i. 117. 

Capiioli, Domenico, ii. 170. 

Caputo, viii. 287. 

Caran d'Ache, viii. 275. 

Caravaggio, Michelangelo, Ame- 
righi, iii. 52, 53-58; founder of 
the Realist School of the Tene- 
brosi, iii. 33. Refs. iii. 37, 39, 
42, 60, 61, 62, 124, 128, 138, 
142, 143, 153, 162, 163. 

Polidoro da, iii. 15, 16. 

Carbajal, Luis de, iii. 98. 

Matias de, iii. 221. 

Cardi da Cigoli, Ludovico, iii. 

+ V 
Caiducci, Bartolommeo, iii. 96. 

Vincente, iii. 125, 126, 166. 

School of Madrid, iii. 125. 

Carginoli, Domenico, iii. 65. 
Cariani, Giovanni, ii. 75, 120, 

Carlevaris, Luca, iii. 76. 
Carii, Raffaelo de, i. 117. 
Cannagnolo, Francesco, ii. 12. 
Carmoy, vi. 22, 23. 
Caro-Delvaille, Henri, viii. 269. 
Caron, Antoine, vi. 24, 36. 
Caroto, Francesco, ii. 45, 46, 47, 

Carozzi, viii. 286. 

Carpaccio, Vittore, ii. 65-67 ; 

Refs. ii. 76, 83, 95, 100, 105, 

Carpi, Girolama da, ii. 39. 
Carracci, Agostino, iii. 23, 24, 

. Annibale, iii. 23, 27-28, 30, 

128, 138. 

Ludovico, iii. 23-26. 

Carracciola, Giambattista, iii. 30, 

'io, 62. 
C.irrara Family of Padua, The, ii. 

6, 7, 8, 9, 10. 
Carrasco, Juan Lopez, iii. 221. 
Carreno de la Miranda, iii. 199, 


Carriera, Rosalba, iii. 74, 75. 

Carriere, Eugene, viii. 224-225. 

Carse, viii. 70. 

Carter, viii. 266. 

Carucci, Jacopo, i. 245. See Pon- 

Casas, viii. 275. 
Casciaro, viii. 286. 
Caspari, Walther, viii. 282. 
Cassano, Niccolo, vii. 88. 
Cassanova, B., vi. 147. 
Cassatt, Mary, viii. 167, 168. 
Cassie, viii. 185. 
Cassiers, viii. 286. 


Castagno, Andrea dal, i. 82-84, 

86, 94, 99, 142. 
Castelli, Gianbattista, iii. 14. 
Castello, Fibricio, iii. 95. 
Castiglione, Giovanni Benedetto, 

iii. 75. 
Castile, School of, iii. 88, 90, 91. 
Castillo, Juan del, iii. 132, 133, 

204, 207, 214. 
Catena, ii. 73, 75, 76. 
Cati da Jesi, Pasc|uale, iii. 20. 
Cattermole, George, viii. 79. 
Cavaliere Caiabrese, II, iii. 62. 

d'Arpino, iii. 47. 

delle Pomerance, iii. 21. 

Cavedone, Giacomo, iii. 39. 
Caxes, Eugenic, iii. 126. 
Patricio, iii. 95, 126. 

School of, iii. 126, 214. 

Cazin, Jean Charles, viii. 198. 
Cellini, Benvenuto, i. 95 ; iii. 141 ; 

vi. 21. 
Celtic Art, vii. 3. 
Central Italy. See Tuscany. 
Century Club, The, viii. 290. 
Cerano, II, iii. 41, 42. 
Cerezo, Mateo, iii. 225. 
Cerquozzi, Michelangelo, iii. 65. 
Cesare, Guiseppe, iii. 43. 
Cesi, Bartolommeo, iii. 22. 
Cespedes, Pablo de, iii. 103. 
Ceulen, Cornells Jansen van, iv. 

Cezanne, Paul, viii. 233-234, 299. 
Chahine, viii. 275. 
Chaldean painting, i. 11. 
Challoner, viii. 294. 
Chalmers, Sir George, vii. 204. 

Hector, viii. 184. 

Chalon, viii. 67. 
Chamberlain, Mason, vii. 125. 

William, vii. 290. 

Chambers, George, viii. 66. 
Champaigne, Philippe de, iv. 200 ; 

vi. 47. 75- 

Champion, Petit Jean, vi. 15. 

Chardin, Jean Baptiste Simon, vi. 
153-164. Reft. iii. 235 ; vi. 
135, 226. 

Charles i. of England, encourage- 
ment of art, vii. 53. 

relations with Rubens, vii. 

51, 52; relations with Van 
Dyclc, vii. 52, 55, 56. 

visit to Spain, iii. 158, 164. 

Charles 11. of Spain, iii. 106, 224, 

Charles in. of Spain, iii. 234. 
Charles IV. of Spain, iii. 235, 236. 

relations with Goya, iii. 239. 

Charles v.. Emperor of Germany, 

"'• 239-. 

relations with Titian, iii. 

106, 139. 

retirement and death, ii. 143, 

Charonton, Enguerrand, v. 11. 

Chase, viii. 290, 29T. 

Chasseriau, Theodore, viii. 87-881 

•45. '47. 
Chateau, John du, iv. 37. 
Chavannes, Puvis de, viii. I45» 

146, 231. 
Chenavard, viii. 87. 
Cheret, Jules, viii. 218. 
Chessa, viii. 287. 
Chevalier, Guiliaume. See Gav- 

Chiesa, viii. 286. 
Chitfclin, vi. 9. 

Chigi, Agostino, i. 198 ; ii. 156. 
Chintreuil, viii. 95. 
Chodowiecki, Daniel Nicolas, iv. 

Chowne, viii. 250. 
Christian Art, Byzantine influence, 

i. 19, 20. 

early art, i. 18, 19, 20. 

the Iconoclasts, i. 20. 

Church, viii. 291, 293. 

Ciamberlani, viii. 285. 

Ciampelli, Agostino, iii. 20, 

Ciardi, viii. 286. 

Cignani, Carlo, iii. 31. 

Cima, Giovanni Battista de Cone- 

gliano, ii. 83-84, 155. 
Cimabue, i. 25-27, 63, 64, 65, 68, 

Cincinnato, Romulo, iii. 95. 
Clone, Andrea di. See Orcagna. 
Cipriano, G. B., vii. 216. 
Civerchio, Vincenzo, i. 161 ; iL 

Civetta. See Bles. 
Claeis, iv. 64. 
Claeissens, Peter, iv. 72. 
Claesz, Pieter, v. 246, 249. 
Claeuw, v. 150, 153. 
Claret, William, vii. 80. 
Clarkson Stanfield, viii. 65. 
Claude. See Lorrain. 
Claus, ^mile, viii. 220. 
Clausen, viii. 247-248, 249. 
Clays, Paul Jean, viii. 78. 
Cleef, van, the Elder, iv. 60. 

Hendrik van, iv. 77. 

Joos van, iv. 60, 69. 

Cleeve, Joose van, iv. 60, 69. 
Clevely, vii. 239. 
Cleyn, Penelope, vii. 66. 
Closterman, John, vii. 87. 
Clouet de Navarre, vi. 17. 

Francois, vi. 17, 20, 25-30. 

Jean, vi. 14-17 ; vii. 29. 

Clovio, Guilio, iii. 14. 

Cnoop, Cornelia, iv. 48, 50, 51. 

Cochran, William, vii. 126. 

Cock, Jerome, iv. 75. 

Codde, Pieter, v. 32, 158. 

Coello, Alonso, iii. 107, 108-109, 


Claudio, iii. 225-226. 

Coex, Gonzales, v. 51. 
Coffin, viii. 290. 



Cole, Peter, vii. 35. 

Sir Ralph, vii. 80. 

-^^ Vicat, viti. 50. 
Collantes, Francesco, iii. 126. 
Collier, Thomas, viii. 64. 
Collins, Charles Allstiin, viil. 122. 

Richard, vii. 23S. 

Wilkie, viii. 122. 

William, viii. 70, izz. 

Collinson, viii. 121, 
Colman, viii. 290. 
Cologne, School of, iv. 83. 
Colonna, Vittoria, i. 226, 228. 
Colour engravings, vii. 233. 
Coltellino, Michele, ii. 36. 
Commines, Philippe de, ii. 114. 
Commonwealth, Painters of the, 

vii. 68. 
Conca, Sebastian, iii. 75. 
Conder, Charles, viii. 252. 
Condivi, i. 205. 

Conlnxloo, Gilles van, v. 57, 58. 
Connard, viii. 249. 
Constable, John, viii, 40-49, 72. 
Constant, Benjamin, viii. 148. 
Constein, Peter, iv. 36. 
Contarini, Giovanni, iii. 68. 
Conti, Bernardino de", i. 161. 
Cooke, Edward William, viii. 65- 

Cooper, Alexander, vii. 67, 71-72. 

Samuel, vii. 67, 70-72. 

Sidney, viii. 67. 

Cope, viii. no. 

Copley, John Singleton, vii. 208. 
Corbould, viii. 265. 
Cordegliaghi, Andrea, ii. 77. 
Cordelle, Agii, ii. 76. 
Cordova, School of, iii. 91, 200. 
Corenzio, Belisario, iii. 30, 60, 

Cormon, viii. 144. 
Comeille de Lyons, vi. 30-32. 
Comelis, Albert, iv. 53. 
Cornelissen, Comelis, iv. 76 ; v. 

9. '4. 
Cornelius, vii. 35 ; viii. iii. 
Corot, Jean Baptiste Camille, viii. 

74-7 S, 193, J 94. 
" Corporation " pictures, Dutch, 

V. 80. 
Correa, Diego, iii. 97. 
Correggio, Antonio Allegri da, ii. 

176-189. Refs.'i. 139,224; ii. 

47, 89. 95. '°7, 13*. 'S^i "'• 

5, 9, 16, 21, 24, 25, 27, 41. 
Corteliino, Michele, ii. 36. 
Cortese, Borgognone, iii. 65, 66. 
Cortona, Pietro da, iii. 49-51, 66, 

69, 70. 
Corvus, Johannus, vii. 21. 
Cosimo, Angiolo. See Bronzino. 
Piero di, i. 121-125. Rffi- 

169, 241, 244, 245. 
Cossa, Francesco del, ii. 32, 35, 

36, 37, 41. 
Cossman, viii. 285. 


Costa, Lorenzo, ii. 37-38. Refs. i. 

182 i ii. 41, 44, 179. 
Cosway, Maria, vii. 223, 224,226, 

227, 229, 230, 23 I. 

Richard, vii. 221-231. 

Cotan, Kniy Sanclicz, iii. 127. 

Coter, Colin de, iv. 63. 

Cotes, Francis, iv. 226 ; vii. 200. 

Samuel, vii. 102. 

Cotman, John Sell, viii. 52-54. 
Cottell, Charles, vii. 149, 216. 
Cotton, Charles, vii. 291. 
Courbet, Gustave, viii. 102-104, 

137, 158, 194, '95- 
Courmont, Jean de, vi. 9. 
Courtenay, Edward, Earl of Devon, 

vii. 38. 
Courtois, Guillaume, v. 64. 

Jacques, iii. 65-66 ; vi. 87. 

Marie, vi. 149. 

Cousin, Jean, vi. 24. 
Coustain, Peter, iv. 36. 
Couture, Thomas, viii. 87. 
Cowper, Cadogan, viii. 123. 
Cox, David, viii. 57-59- 

ICenyon, viii. 290, 291. 

Coxcie, Michael, iii. 16. 
Coxis, Michael, iv. 64. 
Coxycen, Michael van, iv. 64. 
Coypel, Antoine, vi. 87, 1 1 1. 

Charles Antoine, vl. 87. 

Noel, vi. 86, in. 

Nicholas, vi. 87. 

Cozens, Alexander, vii. 239-241. 

John Roberts, vii. 240-241. 

Crabb, viii. 68. 

Craesbeclce, Joos van, iv. 232 ; v. 

Craeyer, Gaspard de, iv. 196, 197, 

Craig, Frank, viii. 123, 293. 

Gordon, viii. 257. 

Cranach, Johannes, iv. 95. 

Lucas, the Elder, iv. 94-95. 

the Younger, iv. 95. 

Crane, Walter, viii. 136, 141,265. 
Crawhall, Joseph, the Elder, viii. 

the Younger, viii. 181, 

226, 258. 
Credi, Lorenzo di, i. 135-136. 

Refs. i. 97, 117, 121, 122, 129, 

"45, 147- 
Creetes, John de, vii. 35. 
Cremona, Girolamo da, ii. 38. 

School of, ii. 172. 

women painters of, iii. 40. 

Crespi, Daniel, iii. 42, 

Giovanni Battlsta, iii. 41, 42. 

Guiseppe Maria, iii. 42. 

Creswick, Thomas, viii. 64. 
Cristall, vii. 242. 
Cristus, Petrus, iv. 20-21. 
Critz, John de, vii. 37, 46. 
Crivelli, Carlo, ii. 55-56, 115. 

Lucrezia, i. 153. 

Crome, John, viii. 3-6, 51. 

Crosse, Laurence, vii. 81. 

Richard, vii. 237. 

Cruickshank, W., viii. 294. 
Cruikshank, Geo., viii. 265. 
Cruz, Santos, iii. 93. 
Cullen, viii. 294. 

Curtis, Sarah, vii. 79. 
Cuyp, Aclbert, v. 199-203. Reft, 
V. 92, 191, 195, 215, 221. 

Benjamin, v. 36. 

Jacob Gerritsz,v. 6,35-36,63, 

Czok, viii. 283. 

D. D. G., vii. 82. 

Daddi, Bernardo, i. 71. 

Dagnan Bouvcrct, viii. 215, 

Dalil, Michael, vii. 87. 

Dalmasio, Lippo di, ii. 40. 

Da Messina, Antonello, ii. 77, 78, 

79 ; iv. 21. 
Dance, Sir Nathaniel, vii. 203. 
Dandoy, Jan Baptiste, v. 51. 
Dandridge, Bartholomew, vii. 123, 
Daniele, Pellegrino da S., ii. 90. 
Danish painters, viii. 288, 289, 

Danloux, vi. 217. 
Dannat, William, viii. 291. 
Dante, on painting of Cimabue 

and Giotto, i. 26. 

on St. Dominic, i. 34. 

position in Middle Ages, i. 

Daret, Jacques, iv. 23, 24, 28-29, 

3'', 44-, 
Darlay, vi. 43. 
D'Arthois, Jacques, iv. 233. 
Darton, vii. 225. 
Da Tivoli, Rosa, iv. 142. 
Daubigny, Charles Frangois, viii, 

94-95, 190. 

Edme Francois, viii. 94. 

Karl, viii. 94. 

Daumier, Honorc, viii. 8o-8j. 
Daveneck, viii. 290, 293. 
David, Gerard, iv. 47-51, 56. 
Jacques Louis, vi. 263-268. 

Refs, iii. 78 i vi. 161, 241, 242, 
Davidson, Jeremiah, vii. 100, 126. 
Da Vinci. See Vinci. 
Davis, American painter, viii. 291. 
H. W. B., viii. 123. 

William, viii. 123. 

Davison, Jeremiah, vii. 80. 
Dayes, Edward, vii. 239. 
Dawe, vii. 299. 

De Bar, Bonaventura, vi. 141. 

De Bles, Herri Met, iv. 61. 

De Braeklaer, viii. 88, 286. 

De Bray, Jacques, vii. 35. 

De Brie, Jean, vi. 40. 

De Bye, Hieronymus, vii. 35. 

Decamps, Alexandre Gabriel, viii, 

78, 147- 
De Champaigne, Philippe, vi. 47, 

Decher, Comelis, v. 220. 


De Coter, Colin, iv. 63. 
De Courmoiit, Jean, vi. 9. 
Dicourt, Charles, vi. 38, 43. 
■ Jean, vi. 37. 

Susanne, vi. 38. 

De Critz, Emanuel, vii. 37. 

John, vii. 37-38, 46. 

— — Oliver, vii. 37. 

Thomas, vii. 37. 

Degas, Hilaire Germain, viii. 164- 

De Geest, Wybrand, v. 6. 
De Gelder, Aert, v. 122, 140. 
De Grebber, PieterFrans, V. 33, 36. 
De Heem, Cornells, v. 248. 

Jan Davidsz, v. 49, 246-249. 

De Heere, Lucas, v. 51 ; vi. 33 ; 

vii. 31-32. 
De Heusch, Jacob, v. 234. 

Willem, v. 234. 

De Hondt, iv. 232. 

De Hooch, v. 131, 178-181. 

De Jongh, Lieve, v. 35. 

De Keyser, Thomas, v. 9, 77. 

Delacroix, Eugene, vi. 279-281 ; 

viii. 49,50, 72, 73-74. 103, 231. 
De la Fosse, vi. 81, 87, 1 1 1, 121. 
De Lahyre, Laurent, vi. 46. 
De la Joue, Jacques, vi. 1 39. 
Delanne, Etienne, vi. 24. 
De la Pasture, Rogier. See Van 

der Weyden. 
Delaroche, Paul, vi. 279 j viii. 80. 
Delaunay, Elic, viii. 87. 
Delaunois, viii. 285. 
Delen, Dirlc van, v. 33, 236. 
De Leu, Thomas, vi. 36, 42. 
Delft, Jacob, iv. 73. 
—^ JohannWilhelm, iv. 73 ; v. 4. 
De Limburg, Pol, vi. 7. 
Delleani, viii. 286. 
Dello, Fiorentino, iii. 88. 
Del Mazo, Juan Bautista, iii. 197- 

198. Refs. 172-174. 
Delorme, Philibert, vi. 22. 
Del Sarto. See Sarto, Andrea del. 
Delvaille, Henri Caro, viii. 269. 
Demame, vi. 200. 
De Molyn, Pleter, v. 193. 
De Morgan, Mrs., viii. 141. 

William, viii. 136, 141. 

Denisot, Nicolas, vi. 26. 

Denis, Maurice, viii. 231. 

Denner, Balthasar, iv. 144. 

Denys, Simon, iv. 235. 

De Putter, Pieter, v. 251. 

De Ring, Pieter, v. 248. 

Der Kinderen, viii. 297. 

Der Quast, v. 51. 

Deruet, Claude, vi. 63. 

Des Barres, vi. 141. 

Des Granges, David, vii. 72. 

Des Hayes, vi. 196. 

Desportes, Alexandre Francois, vi. 

89, 100- lOI. 
Despret, viii. 82. 
Debvallieres, viii. 144. 



Dctaille, viii. 143. 

De Troy, Jean Fran9oi5, vi. 165- 

Dettmann, viii. 297. 
Deverell, viii. 121. 
Deveria, viii. 82. 
De Voltigeant, Josse, vi, 40. 
De Vos, Cornclis, iv. 195. 

Martin, ii. 227 ; v. 69. 

Paul, V. 197, 198. 

De Wael, Cornells, iv. 201. 

Jan, iv. 201. 

De Wet, Jacob, v. 90, 140, 148 j 

vii. 90. 
Dewhurst, Wynford, viii. 248. 
Dewing, viii. 290. 
De Windt, Peter, viii. 59-61. 
De Wit, Jacob, v. 187; vii. 6. 
De Witte, Emanuel, v. 236. 
Dhoey, Jan, vi. 40. 
Diamante, Fra, i. 91, 94, 115. 
Diana, Benedetto, ii. 68. 
Diane de Poitiers, vi. 16. 
Diapraem, vi. 51. 
Diaz, Diego, iii. 221. 
Diaz de la Pefia, Narcisse Virgilio, 

viii. 93-94. 
Diclcsee, Frank, viii. 141. 
Didier, Pouget, viii. 268. 
Dielmann, viii. 290. 
Diepenbeeck, Abraham van, iv. 

Dietrich, Christian, iv. 143. 
Diez, Julius, viii. 280. 
Dighton, vii. 225. 
Dijsselhof, Yiii. 297. 
Dill, Ludwig, viii. 278. 
Diriks, Edouard, viii. 2S8. 
Discorolo, viii. 286. 
Dixon, John, vii. 80. 

Nathaniel, vii. 81. 

Diziani, Gasparo, iii. 78. 
Dobson, William, iv. 2265 vii. 

Docharty, viii. 183. 
Doelen, Dutch portrait groups, v. 

Dolce, Agnesse, iii. 49. 

Carlo, iii. 46-49. 

Domenichino, iii. 28-30, 58. 
Donaldson, John, vii. 232. 
Donatello, i. 75, 76, 78, 82, 95, 

96, 99, 141, 142, 188, 207, 208, 

252; ii. 24, 25, 26, 27, 31, 35, 

59, 62, 70, 1 16. 
Doni, Adoni, iii. 13. 
Donnay, viii. 286. 
Dono, Paolo di. See Ucello. 
Doomer, Lambert, v. 97, 108. 
Dore, Gustave, viii. 80. 
Dorigny, vi. 20, 22, 23. 
Dorst, Jacob van, v. 108. 
Dossi, Battista, ii. 39. 

Dosso, ii. 38, 39, no, 172. 

Dou, Gerard, v. 72, 77, 131-134. 

Rejs. V. 149, 153, 182, 187. 
Douai, School of, vi. 14. 

DoufFett, Gerard, iv. 200. 
Douglas, viii. 68. 

Sholto, viii. 251. 

Sir William Fettes, viii. 123, 

Doumoustier. See Dumoustier. 
Dow, Millie, viii. 226. 
Downman, John, vii. 232-236. 
Doyen, vi. 229. 
Drake, viii. 293. 

Drolling, Martin, vi. 279; viii. 146. 
Drost, Cornells, v. 108, 141. 
Drouais, Francois, vi. 217. 

Hubert, vi. 217. 

Jean Germain, vi. 217. 

Drummond, Samuel, vii. 290. 
Du Barry, Madame, vi. 215, 217, 

230, 233-234, 237, 242. 
Dubbels, Jan, v. 228. 
Dubois, Abbe, vi. 109, 110. 

Guillam, V. 213, 220 ; vi. 40. 

Pillet, viii. 230. 

Simon, vii. 87. 

Dubreuil, Toussaint, vi. 39-40. 
Due, A., V. 192. 

Duccio, i. 25, 63, 65, 68, 167, 170. 
Ducerceau, vi. 24. 
Duchatel, Francois, iv. 232. 
Ducq, Jan le, v. 192, 193. 
DuflFett, Gerard, iv. 200. 
Dufrenoy, Georges Leon, viii. 268. 
Du Fresnay, vi. 83. 
Duhem, viii. 267. 
Dughet, Jaspard. See Poussin. 
Du Jardin, Karel, v. 231, 232. 
D'Ulin, Pierre, vi. 134. 
Dullaert, Heyman, v. 108, 141. 
Du Maurier, George, viii. 170. 
Dumee, Guillaume, vi. 40, 41. 
Dumoustier, Come, vi. 42. 

Daniel, vi. 42. 

Etienne, vi. 23, 26, 41, 42. 

Geoffrey, vi. 41. 

Pierre, vi. 42. 

Dunwegge, Heinrich, iv. 87. 

Victor, iv. 87. 

Duperac, Etienne, vi. 40. 
Duplessis, Joseph S., vi. 216, 251. 
Dupont, viii. 274. 

Gainsborough, vii. 169, 181. 

Du Pouche, vi. 203. 

Dupre, Jules, viii. 96. 

Duran, Carolus, viii. 202. 

Diirer, Albrecht, iv. 98-113, 138, 

139. Refj. ii. 21, 74, 77, 126, 


Hans, iv. 1 13. 

Dusart, Comelis, v. 32, 52, 53, 

158, 186. 
Dijsseldorf School of Painting, 

viii. 290. 
Dutch Painting. See Chart, p. i, 

vol. V. 
French influence on, v. 184, 

185; genre pictures, v. 254 j 

Italian influence, v. 3-5, 12, 

230 ; landscape art, v. 55, 191 j 


modern, viii. 285 j realism of, 

iii. 195, 196 ; V. 5. 
Duval, Aniaury, viii. 87. 

Marc, V. 32, -jS. 

Duyren, Johann van, iv. 85. 
Duyster, Willem Comelis, v 32, 

Dyce, William, viii. 71, 1 1 1. 
Dyck, Van. See Van Dyck. 
Dyonnet, viii. 293. 

East, Sir Alfred, viii. 246, 265. 
Eaton, Wyatt, viii. 290, 293. 
Eckliardt, John Giles, vii. 123. 
Eclectics, The, iii. 23, 4.3, 54, 55. 
Edelfclt, viii, 2 89. 
Edridge, Heniy, vii. 138. 
Edwards, viii. 290. 
Eecke, Jan van, iv. 53. 
Eeckhoudt, viii. 2 8 6. 
Eeckhout, Gerbrandt van den, v. 

Eeckmann, viii. 298. 
Egg, Augustus, viii. no. 
Egyptian painting, i. 10, 23. 
Eichler, viii. 281. 
Eisen, Charles Dominique Joseph, 

vi. 146. 

Fran9ois, vi. 146. 

El Greco. See Greco. 
El Mundo. See Mundo. 
Elias, Nicolas, v. 34, 79. 
Ellis, John, vii. 123. 

Tristram, viii. 265. 

Elsheimer, Adam, iv. 141 j v. 7, 

91, 142. 
Ende, Hans Am, viii. 2 8 2. 
Engelbrechtsen, Cornells, iv. 65, 

Engelhart, viii. 284, 285. 
Engels, viii. 28 1. 
Engleheart, George, vii. 236. 

J. D., vii. 67. 

Erasmus, iv. 118, 121, 122, 127. 
Ercole di Roberti Grandi, ii. 36, 

Erckhout, v. 92. 
Erier, viii. 281. 
Errard, Charles, vi. 63. 
Escalante, Juan Antonio, iii. 226. 
Escalante de Sevilla, iii. 210. 
Escorial, The, iii. 95, 151. 
Espinosa, Jacinto Jeronimo de, iii. 

129, 201. 

Miguel, iii. 201. 

Esselens, Jacob, v. 108. 

Essen, Jacob van, iv. 200. 

Estall, William, viii. 79. 

Este, Ducal House of Ferrara, i. 

46 ; ii. 7. 

Beatrice d', i. 152, 153. 

Isabella d', i. 153 ; ii. 29, 30, 

74. "I. »33- 
Estense, Baldassare, ii. 36. 
Estoppey, viii. 289. 
Estorach, Casanova y, viii. 276. 

Esturmio, Hernando, Iii. 103. 
Ethofer, viii. 285. 
Etty, William, viii. 109-110. 
Eugene, Prince of Sweden, viii. 

Evenepoel, Henri, viii. 285. 
Everdingen, Allart van, v. 59, 211, 

214, 215. 
Eyck, van. See Van Eyck. 

FABRfes, viii. 287. 

Fabriano, Gentile da, i. 170, 171 ; 

ii. 20, 28, 52', 53, 59, 60, 70. 

Gritto da, i. 170. 

Fabritius, Bernard, v. 138. 

Carel, v. 108, 138, 171, 184. 

Faenza, Jacopone da, iii. 15. 
Faes, Peter van der, iv. 227. 
Fagerlin, viii. 287. 
P'aithorne, vii. 81. 
Falcone, Aniello, iii. 63, 144. 
Falconet, vii. 203. 
Falens, Karel van, iv. 235. 
Fantin-Latour, Ignaz Henri, viii. 

155-156, 197. 
Farge, La, viii. 290. 
Farinati, Paolo, ii. 47, 193, 203. 
Farquharson, David, viii. 185. 

Joseph, viii. 185. 

Farnerius, v. 108. 

Farrer, viii. 290. 

Fattore, viii. 2S7. 

" Fattorc, II," iii. 15, 58. 

Fede, Lucretia del, i. 244. 

Fel, Marie, vi. 21 1. 

Feklbauer, viii. 281. 

Feltre, Morto da, ii. in, 112. 

Fenn, viii. 290. 

Ferg, Franz de Paula, iv. 144. 

Ferguson, William Gow, v. 243 ; 

vii. 89. 
Fergusson, John Duncan, viii. 

Fernandez, Alejo, ii. go. 

Antonio Arias, iii. 226. 

■ Francisco, iii. 126. 

Juan, iii. 90. 

Luis, iii. 132, 133. 

Ferramolo, Floriano, ii. 171, 172. 
Ferrara, Bono da, ii. 22, 23, 26, 

32, 36. 

School of, ii. 34-39. 

Ferrari, Gaudenzio, i. 161, 166 ; 

iii. 13. 
Ferraris, viii. 284. 
Ferri, Ciro, iii. 69. 
Feselen, Melchior, iv. 93. 
Feti, Domenico, iii. 43. 
Feuerbach, Anselm, viii. 130, 131. 
Fiammingo, Donisio, iii. 22. 
Fiddes, viii. 265. 
Fielding, Copley, viii. 61-62. 
Figino, iii. 13. 
Filiger, viii. 301. 
Finch, Frances Oliver, viii. 64, 

232, 297. 

Finland, painters of, viii. 2S8, 

F''inney, SanuK-1, vii. 102. 
Finoglia, Domenico, iii. 63. 
Fiurcntino, Rosso. See Rus&i. 
Fiori, Maria dei, iii. 76. 
I'ischer, viii. 282. 
Fisher, Mark, viii. 247. 
I'"lageolot, viii. 102. 
F'lanieng, Fran(;oi5, viii. 144. 
Flanders, School of, iv. 10. 
Flandrin, Hippolyte, viii. 145. 
Flatman, Thomas, vii. 81, 82. 
Flaxman, vii. 254. 
Flemael, Bartholet, iv. 200. 
Flemish painting. See Chart, vol. 


animal painters, iv. 77. 

early painters. See Preface, 

vol. iv. 
influence on French painting, 

vi. 4, 5, '3. 46- 
Italian influence on, iv. 61, 

62, 63, 68. 

"Jesuit " style, iii. 9, 10. 

peasant scenes, iv. 77. 

Fleury, Tony Robert, viii. 80. 

Fliccius, vii. 27. 

Flink, Govaert, iv. 142 ; v. 92, 

•04, 135. "36. '37- 
Flint, viii. 258. 
Flodin, viii. 289. 
Florentine Renaissance, The, i. 

68, 72. 
painters of. See Chart facing 

p. 252. 
Floris, Frans, iv. 68. 
Foligno, Niccolo da, i. 172. 
Fontana, Lavinia, iii. 22, 23. 

Prospcro, iii. 22, 23. 

Fontainebleau, School of, vi. 18, 

>9. 34, 39- 
Footet, Fred, viii. 248. 
Foppa, Vincenza, i. 159, 160, 161 j 

ii. 26, 27, 32, 84, 171. 
Forain, Jean Louis, viii. 167, 269, 

Forbes, Anne, vii. 204. 

Stanhope, viii. 249. 

Mrs., viii. 294. 

Forbido, Francesco, ii. 45. 
Forii, Melozza da, i. 131 ; ii. 27. 
Fortescue-Brickdale, Eleanor, viii. 

Fortuny, Mariano, viii. 148-149, 

276, 287. 
Fossana, Ambrogio da. See Bor- 

Fosse, Charles de la, vi. 87. 
Foster, Miles Birket, viii. 180, 

Foulon, Benjamin, vi. 30, 43. 
Fouquet, Jean, ii. 21 ; vi. 7-9. 
Fowler, Robert, viii. 250. 
Fragonard, Jean Honore, vi. 225. 

245. Refs. vi. 134, 175. 
Franceschi, Piero dei, i. 84-85, 99, 

iji, iji, 142, 186, 191 i ii. 

29. 35. "5- 
Francia, Francesco, ii. 41-44. Refs. 

i. 182, 184, 232 i viii. 6. 

Giacomo, ii. 44. 

Franciabigio, i, 244-245. 
Franck, Ambrose, vi. 33. 

Hieronyinus, vi. 33, 38, 40. 

Francke, Mclster, iv. 88. 
Franckens, the Brothers, iv. 69. 
Franco-Flemish Renaissance art, 

vi. 4. 5- 
Francis i., i. 155, 242, 248 j vi. 

14, 18. 
Frarre, II, ii. 176. 
Fraser, viii. 70, 183. 

Lovat, viii. 2?8. 

Frate di Galgario, iii. 69. 
Frederic, Leon, viii. 286. 
Freer, viii. 290. 
Freminet, Martin, vi. 41. 
French painting, classic phase, vi. 

•^— Flemish influence on, vi. 46, 

49. 50.. 52. 
— — Italian phase, vi. 18, 19, 23, 

' modern historical, viii. 143. 
modem impressionism, viii. 

■57. I90- 

^-^ modem symbolistic, viii. 144. 

realistic and satirical illustra- 
tion, viii. 80. 

—— Spanish classic influence on 
modern art, viii. 202. 

French Revolution, The, vi. 239, 
241, 243. 

Frere, Edouard, vii. 78. 

Froment of Avignon, vi. 11. 

Fromentin, Eugene, viii. 149. 

Frost, viii. 293. 

Frutet, Francisco, iii. 103. 

Fruytiers, Philip, iv. 234. 

Fuller, viii. 290. 

Isaac, vii. 49-50. 

Fullvfood, viii. 294. 

Fungai, Bernardino, i. 168. 

Furini, Francesco, iii. 46. 

Furse, Charles Wellington, viii. 

Fuseli, Henry, vii. 209. 
Fyt, Jan, iv. 198. 

Gaddi, i. 71. 
Gagnon, viii. 293. 
Gaillard, viii. 2S6. 
Gainsborough, Dupont, vii. 169, 

181, 184. 
—— Sir Thomas, vii. 130, 166- 

Gallacher, viii. 266. 
Gallegos, Fernando, iii. 91. 
Gallen, viii. 288, 2S9. 
Galloche, vi. 168. 
Gandara, Antonio de la, viii. 169. 
Gandy of Exeter, vii. 141. 
James, iv. 222, 226 ; vii. 64. 


Gandy, William, vii. 96. 
Garbo, Raff'aellino del, i. 117. 
Garginolo, Domcnico, iii. 65. 
Garofalo, li. 39. 
Garrard. S« Ghecraerts. 
Gascar, Henri, vii. 81. 
Gaskin, viii. 141, 142. 
Gaspars, John Baptist, vii. 68. 
Gassel, Lucas, iv. 77. 
Gast, Michael de, iv. 77. 
Gaugain, viii. 233, 234-237, 241, 

299, 300. 
Gautier, Leonard, vi. 36. 
Gavami, viii. 82, 83-86. 
Gavin, viii. 182. 
Gawdie, Sir John, vii. 80. 
Gay, Walter, viii. 291. 
Gebhard, viii. 289. 
Geddes, vii. 244; viii. 68. 
Geest, Wybrand de, v. 6. 
Geigenberger, viii. 281. 
Gelder, Aert de, v. 122, 140. 
Geldorp, George, iv. 72 ; vii. 49. 
Gellee, Claude, vi. 61. 
Gennari, Benedetto, iii. 38. 
Genoa, Republic of, i. 37, 50. 

School of, iii. 16. 

Genoels, Abraham, iv. 234. 
Genre painting, iv. 57 ; v. 254. 
Gentileschi, Orazio. See Lomi. 
Geoffrey, Guillaume, vi. 16. 
Georgian era, British painting 

during, vii. 103. 
Gerard, Francois Paul Simon, vi. 

Marc, iv. 72 ; vii. 32, 33, 35, 

Marguerite, vi. 234, 238, 


of Haarlem, iv. 65. 

of St. John's. See St. Jans. 

Gerbault, viii. 275. 

Gerbier, Sir Balthasar, iv. 181, 

217 ; vii. 48. 
Gere, viii. 142. 
Gericault, Jean Louis Andr^, vi. 

278-279 ; viii. 73. 
German modern painting, viii. 

129, 204, 207, 278. 
Germala, viii. 285. 
Gerome, Jean Leon, viii. 148. 
Gessi, iii. 36. 
Gessner, Salomon, iv. 145. 
Gheeraerts, Marcus, the Elder, vii. 

Mark, the Younger, iv. 72 ; 

vii. 32-33. 35. 4S-. 
Ghiberti, Lorenzo, i. 76, 77, 78, 

Ghirlandajo, Domenico, 1. iii- 

114. Refs. i. 106, 107, 110, 

127, 136, 141, 188, 206, 207, 

221, 252 ; ii. 29, 115 ; vi. 14. 

Ghislandi, Vittore, iii. 69. 

Giambattista. See Rossi. 

Giambono, Michele, ii. 51. 

Gianai, viii. 286. 

Gianpetrino, i. 162. 
Gianuzzi, Peppi di. See Romano. 
Gibb, Robert, viii. 185. 
Gibson, C. Dana, viii. 293. 

Hamilton, viii. 290. 

Richard, vii, 64. 

Thomas, vii. 97. 

Gilford, viii. 290. 
Gignous, viii. 286. 
Gilarete, Mateo, iii. 228. 
Gilbert, Graham, viii. 68. 

Sir John, viii. 79, 265. 

Gillot, vi. Ill, 116, 117, 127, 

Gillray, James, vii. 246, 248. 
Gilsoul, viii. 286. 
Giltinger, Gumpolt, iv. 139. 
Giolfino, Niccolo, ii. 23, 45, 47. 
Gioli, viii. 287. 
Gione, Andrea di, i. 71. 
Giordano, Luca, iii. 62, 63, 66, 

75. .'44. 226. 
Giorgione, ii. 94-112. Refs. i. 

243 i ii- 45. S'h 75. 76. 87. 90, 
9'. 92. 95. 96, 112. 114, "6, 
119, 122, 123, 150, 152, 153, 
158, 161, 162, 167, 168, 169, 
171, 192, 205, 231 i vi. 125. 

Giottesques, The, i. 71, 72, 80, 86, 
99, 160. 

Giottino, i. 71. 

Giottism in Spain, iii. 88. 

Giotto, i. 68-71. Refs. i. 16, 
63. 72. 79. 80, 82, 86, 89; ii. 
1%, 19, 24, 27. 

Giovane, Palma, ii. 147, 158, 

Giovanni, Giovanni da S., iii. 46. 

Giusto di, ii. 25. 

Matteo di, i. 167. 

Giovenone, Girolamo, i. 166. 

Girodet, A. L., vi. 268, 273. 

Girtin, Thomas, viii. 7-8. 

Giulio Romano, iii. 12, 13, 20. 

Glabbeck, Jan van, v. 108. 

Glasgow School, The, viii. 226» 

Glass-painting, Gothic, i. 21. 
Glauber, Jan Gottlieb, v. 235. 
Glehn, von, viii. 249. 
Gleichen-Russwurm, viii. 209. 
Glover, John, vii. 243. 
Gobbo dai Frutti, II, iii. 39. 
Godin, viii. 274. 
Goes, Hugo van der, iv. 37, 43- 

Goff', Colonel, viii. 265. 
Gogh, Vincent van, viii. 221-224, 

237, 300. 
Golchis, Peter, vii. 35. 
Goltzius, Heinrich, iv. 76. 
Gomez, Sebastian, iii. 227. 
Gonzago, Family of Mantua, The, 

ii. 37, 71. 

Federigo, i. 193. 

Gonzales, Bartolom^, iii. 114, 126, 



Gonzales, Eva, viii. i68. 

Gordon, Sir J. Watson, vii. 127; 
viii. 68. 

Gortzius, Gualdorp. See Geldoqj. 

Gossaert, Jan. See Mabuse. 

Gotch, viii. 141. 

Gothic art, i. 21. 

in England, vii. 3, 4, 5. 

in France, i. 31. 

in Italy, i. 26. 

in Middle Ages. See Pre- 
face, vol. iv. 

Gourdelle, Pierre, vi. 36. 

Govart, iv. 37. 

Gower, George, vii. 34. 

Goya, Francesco Josi, iii. 231-249. 

Goyen, Jan van, v. 59-61, 149, 

Gozzoli, Benozzo, i. 90-91. ReJ}. 
i. 76, 99, 114, 172 ; ii. 29, 66, 

Graber, viii. 289. 
Graf, viii. 282, 284. 

Anton, iv. 144. 

Graham, John, vii. 219. 
—— Peter, viii. 184. 

Tom, viii. 184. 

Granacci, Francesco, i. 114, 206, 

208, 219. 
Grandi, Ercole di Giulio, ii. 36, 


Grandville, viii. 82. 

Grasset, viii. 275, 296. 

Gravesandc, Van, viii. 296. 

Graziosi, viii. 287. 

Grebber, Frans Pieter de, iv. 76 ; 

V. 33, 236. 
Grecian art, i. 1 1-16. 
Greco, El, iii. 115.119. Refs. Hi. 

127, 130, 131, 137. 164- 
Green, Charles, viii. 210, 265. 

Elizabeth Shippen, viii. 293. 

Greenaway, Kate, viii. 141. 
Greenhill, John, iv. 227 ; vii. 79- 

Gregory, E. J., viii. 210. 
Greiffenhagen, Maurice, viii. 253- 

254, 266. 
Greiner, viii. 282. 
Gr^sy, Prosper, viii. 152. 
Greuze, Jean Baptiste, vi. 21S-224. 
Grier, Wyly, viii. 293. 
Griffier, Jan, v. 63, 220. 

Robert, v. 220. 

Griggs, viii. 266. 
Grimaldi, Francesco, iii. 39. 

William, vii. 238. 

Grimmer, Jacques, iv. 77. 
Grimou, Jean Alexis, vi. 103. 
Grison, vi. 1 18. 

Grobau, Anton, iv. 233. 

Gros, A. J., vi. 271, 273, 277-278. 

Grosso, viii. 286. 

Groth, vii. 102. 

Groux, Charles de, viii. 285. 

Grun, Hans Baldung, iv. 92-93. 

Griinewald, Matthias, iv. 91-92. 

2 S 


Guard-room pictures, v. 147. 
Guardi, Francesco, iii. 77, 78. 
Guelf and Ghibelline feuds, i. 47, 

49. 5°- 
Guercino da Cento, iii. 36-38, 58. 
Guerin, Charles, viii. 299. 

P. N., vi. 268. 

Guido Reni. See Reni. 
Guidobaldo, Duke of Urbino, i. 

186, 187. 
Guillaiime, viii. 272. 
Guillaumet, Gustave, viii. 149. 
Guillaumin, Armand, viii. 197. 
Guillon-Lethicre, viii. 91. 
Guiot, Laurent, vi. 41. 
Guisoni, Fermo, iii. 14. 

Rinaldo, iii. 14. 

Guthrie, J. J., viii. 142. 

Sir James, viii. 226, 227. 

Guyard, Mme., vi. 257. 
Guys, Constantin, viii. 86. 
Gyssent, Peter, iv. 78. 

Haard, viii. 274. 

Haarlem, School of, iv. 30, 65 ; v. 

9, 14, 32, 212, 213. 

Siege of, v. 1 1. 

Hacker, viii. 293. 

Hackert, Jacob Philip, iv. 145. 

Jan, v. 215, 225, 233, 234. 

Haden, Seymour, viii. 265. 
Haite, viii. 247. 
Hall, vi. 257. 

Oliver, viii. 247. 

Peter Adolf, viii. 287. 

Halle, Claude, vi. 98, 141. 

Isaac de, iii. 98. 

Hals, Dirk, v. 32. 

Frans, v. 10-33. R'fi- >• 

228 ; iii. 183, 184 ; iv. 213 ; v. 

4, 68, 69, 70, 159, 211, 254. 

the Younger, v. 32. 

Hamburg, School of, iv. 88. 
Hamilton, Emma, Lady, vii. 194, 

195, 196, 197. 

Gavin, vii. 89, 200. 

Hugh Douglas, vii. 202. 

William, vii. 217. 

Hammershoj, viii. 288. 
Hammond, Miss, viii. 265. 
Hampel, Walter, viii. 283. 
Hankey, Lee, viii. 247. 
Hanneman, Adriaen, iv. 226 ; v. 

8 ; vii. 47, 63. 
Hanseman, Jacob, vii. 88. 
Hansen, Hans, viii. 227, 289. 
Hapsburg Kings of Spain, The, 

iii. 85, 86, 106, 123, 228. 
Hardie, Charles Martin, viii. 185. 
Harding, James Dufiield, viii. 63. 
Hardy, Dudley, viii. 254. 
Harpignies, viii. 78. 
Harris, viii. 293. 
Harrison, Alexander, viii. 267,291. 

Miss Florence, viii. 142. 

Hartmann, Johann Jacob, iv. 144, 


Hartrick, viii. 251, 266. 
Harvey, Sir George, viii. 70, 183. 
Hassail, vii. 129 ; viii. 266. 
Hassam, Childe, viii. 290, 291. 
Hawker, Edward, vii. 80. 
Hawkwood, John, i. 53 j ii. 9. 
Hay, Jean, vi, 9. 
Haydon, viii. 67. 
Hayls, John, vii. 79. 
Hayman, Francis, vii. 124, 168. 
Hayter, Sir George, viii. 67. 
Hazlehurst, Thomas, vii. 238. 
Heame, Thomas, vii. 239. 
Hubert, Ernest, viii. 87, 146. 
Heda, Willem Klaasz, v. 32, 246, 

Hecm, Comelit de, v. 248. 

Jan Davidsz, v. 49, 192, 


Heemskerk, v. 52. 

Heer, de, v. 51. 

Heere, Lucas de, vi. 32, 33 ; vii. 

Heerschop, Hendrick, v. io8, 141. 
Hegcnbart, viii. 282. 
Heine, viii. 264, 298. 
Hcintsch, Johann Georg, iv. .42. 
Hejda, viii. 284. 
Helle, Isaac de, iii. 98 
Helleu, viii. 267, 274. 
Helmont, Mathys van, iv. 232. 
Hels, viii. 275. 

Heist, B. van der, v. 3-5, 34, 35. 
Hemessen, Catherina van, iv. 71, 

Jan van, iv. 58, 73, 74. 

Hemy, Napier, viii. 88. 
Henderson, Joseph, viii. 123, 185. 
Hendricksen, Johann, v. io8. 
Hennequart, John, iv. 36. 
Henner, iii. 46 ; viii. 105. 
Henrique de las Marinas, iii. 228. 
Henry, George, viii. 226, 228,250. 
Henry 11. of France, vi. 22. 
Henry IV. of France, vi. 34-36J 

death of, vi. 44, 45 ; encourage. 

ment of School ot Fontainebleau, 

vi. 39. 
Henry vu.. Emperor of Germany, 

i. 50, 51. 
Henry vin. of England, iv. 132. 

painting during reign of, 

vii. 14. 

relations with Holbein, iv. 131. 

vogue for miniature portraits, 

vii. 24-25. 
Herdman, viii. 182. 
Herkomer, Sir Hubert von, viii. 

210, 265. 
Herle, Meister Wilhelra von, iv. 

83, 84. 
Herlin, iv. 96. 
Herrera, Francisco de, iii. 134- 

136. Re/j. iii. 127, 132, 133, 

171, 20+, 221. 
Francisco, the Younger, iii. 

136, 221, 223-224. 
Herring, vii. 313. 

Hesse, viii. 102. 
Hemic, Nicolas, vii. 90. 
Heuscli, Jacob dc, v. 234. 

Wiileni (ie, v. 234. 

Hieronyiiius, vii. 35. 
Highmore, Joseph, vii. 98. 

Thomas, vii. 96. 

Hill, Raven, viii. 265. 

Thomas, vii. 95. 

Hillestroms, viii, 287. 
Hiliiard, Lawrence, vii. 40. 

Nicholas, vii. 35, 38-40, 45. 

Hilton, William, viii. 61. 
Hind, Lewis, viii. 304, 305, 306. 
Hispano-Flemish art of Spain, iii. 

Hitchcock, George, viii. 291. 
Hoare, William, vii. 124, 171. 
Hobbema, Meindert, v. 217-219. 

Rejs. v. 191, 203, 215, 220, 231. 
Hockert, viii. 287. 
Hockgeest, C, v. 237. 
Hoecke, Carl van, iv. 233. 

Jan van den, iv. 197. 

Robert van, iv. 233. 

Hoefnagel, Jooris, iv. 79. 
Hott'man, viii. 297, 298. 
Hofman, Liidwig von, viii. 278. 
Hogarth, William, vii. 96, 105, 

I 22. Refs. iii. 235. 
Hohenberger, viii. 2S5. 
Holbein, Hans, the Elder, iv. 1 1 5, 

116, 117. 
^— the Younger, iv. 117- 

139; at Court of Henry viii. 

in England, vii. 9, 13, 17-21. 

Refs. iv. 89, 1 15 J V. 79. 
■ Sigmund, iv. 116. 

Hole, William, viii. 185. 
Holiday, viii. 142. 
Holland, James, viii. 63. 
Hollander, Jan de, iv. 77. 
Holroyd, Sir Charles, i. 237. 
Hcilzel, Adolf, viii. 278. 
Homer, Winslow, viii. 290. 
Hondecoeter, Gisbert, v. 244. 

Melchior de, v. 192, 244. 

Hondius, Abraham, v. 243. 
Hondt, de, iv. 232. 
Hone, Horace, vii. 237. 

Nathaniel, vii. 102. 

Honnet, Gabriel, vi. 40. 
Honthorst, Gerard, iii. 58; v. 6-7, 

91 ; at Court of Charles i. of 

England, vii. 49. 
Honthurst, William, v. 7. 
Hooch, Pieter de, v. 178-181. 

Refs. V. 82, 116, 131, 153, 154. 
Hoogstraaten, Samuel van, v. 139, 

Hook, viii. 66. 
Hope, viii. 294. 
Hopkinson, viii. 290. 
Hoppner, John, vii. 276-286. 
Hopwood, viii. 247. 
Horebout, Lucas, iv. 130; in Eng- 
land, vii. iS. 


Horebout, Susanna, iv. 130. 

Horemans, Jan Joseph, iv. 235. 

Hornian, viii. 283. 

Horncl, E. A., viii. 229, 250. 

Horowitz, viii. 283. 

Horst, G., V. 141. 

Schuize, viii. 282. 

Hoskins, John, vii. 66-67. 

John, the Younger, vii. 67. 

Houghton, Boyd, viii. 181, 265. 
Houseman, Jacob, vii. 88. 
Housman, Lawrence, viii. 141, 

Houten, Mesdag van, viii. 286. 
Hovenden, viii. 293. 
Howard, Henry, vii. 295. 
Huard, viii. 275. 
Huber, Wolf, iv. 93. 
Huchtenburgh, Joon van, v. 198. 
Hudson, Thomas, vii. 124, 140, 

Huet, vi. 147. 
Hughes, Arthur, viii. 120. 
Humbert, Ferdinand, viii. 144. 
Humphrey, Ozias, vii. 231-232. 
Hunt, Alfred Williams, viii. 64. 

W., viii. 61, 62. 

William Holman, viii. 114- 

115, 118, 120, 122. 
Hunter, Colin, viii. 185. 

J. Young, viii. 123. 

Hurter, vii. 102. 

Hussey, Giles, vii. 124. 

Hutin, vi. 1 18. 

Hutt, viii. 293. 

Huys, iv. 77. 

Huysman, Jacob, v. 252, 253 ; in 

England, vii. 88. 
Huysmans, Cornells, iv. 229, 233. 


\. D. C, vi. 41, 43. 

Ibbetson, Julius Caesar, vii. 

Illumination of Manuscripts, 

5, 6, 7. 8. 
Illustrative painters, English, 

210, 245, 249. _ 
Image, Selvfyn, viii. 141. 
Impressionism, broken-colour, 


Dutch, viii. 285. 

of Giorgione, ii. 95, 

modern development in, 

215. z+i- _ 

romantic, viii. 252. 

round-spot method, viii. 

of Velazquez, iii. i8o-i8( 

Ince, John Murray, viii. 64. 
Inchbold, viii. 123. 
Independents, The, viii. 299. 
Inness, George, viii. 290. 
Ingres, Jean Marie Joseph, 

269-276 ; viii. 87. 
Innocente, viii. 287. 
Iriarte, Ignazio de, iii. 227. 


V- 3. 




Isenbrandt, Adrian, iv. 50, 51, 

Isenmann, Kaspar, iv. 89. 
Israels, Joseph, viii. 198, 199. 
Italian painting, modern, viii. 286. 
Italian Renaissance, The, i. 37. 

centres of art, i. 37. 

Church influence upon, i. 38, 


decline of, iii. 3-7, 8-1 1. 

early painting, i. 63. 

influence in Holland, iv. 66, 

68 j influence in France, vi. 14. 
secularisation of an, i. 38. 

Jackson, John, vii. 295, 313. 

Jacobsz, Lambert, v. 136. 

Jacopo da Empoli, iii. 45. 

Jacque, Charles, viii. 95-96. 

James, viii. 250. 

James i. of England, Court 
painters of, viii. 45. 

Jamesone, George, iv. 197, 226 j 
vii. 61-62. 

Janet, vi. 14-17. 

Janez, Hernando, iii. 97. 

Jank, viii. 28 r. 

Jansen, Cornelius, iv. 73 j vii. 48. 

Jansson, viii. 288. 

Jarnefelt, viii. 289. 

Jean of Bruges, vi. 4, 5. 

Jeanniot, viii. 270. 

Jeffreys, viii. 294. 

Jeronimo de Espinosa, iii. 129. 

Jervas, Charles, vii, 97. 

"Jesuit" style, iii. 9, 32. 

Jeaurat, Etienne, vi. 140. 

Jettel, viii. 284. 

Jettmar, Rudolph, viii. 285, 397, 

Joannovits, viii. 284. 

Johannot, Tony, viii. 80. 

Johansen, viii. 2S8. 

John, Augustus, viii. 250. 

John du Chateau, iv. 37. 

Johnson, Eastman, viii. 290. 

Jones, viii. 290. 

Garth, viii. 266. 

Jong, De Josselin de, viii. 289. 

Jongh, Lieve de, v. 35. 

Jongkind, Johann Berthold, viii. 

Jordaens, Hans, the Younger, iv. 

Jacob, IV. 194, 195 ; y. 13. 

Joseph, George Francis, vii. 290. 

Jouvenet, Jean, vi. 88, iii. 

Juanes, Juan de, iii. 104-105. 

Julien, viii. 82. 

Julius II., Raphael's patron, i. 
192, 193; relations with Michel- 
angelo, i. 215-221. Refs.'ii. 73, 
133, 191, 194, 221. 

Justus of Ghent, iv. 46. 

Juvenal, Nicholas, iv. 142. 

Paul, iv. 142. 


Kalf, Willem, v. 153, 192, 

Kamphuysen, Govert, v. 207. 

Raphael, v. 207. 

Kappes, viii. 290, 291. 
ICautFmann, Angelica, iv. 148-149; 

vii. 216. 
Kaulbach, viii. 207. 
Keene, Charles, viii. 169-170, 

Keith, Bernard, v. 108. 
Kemble, viii. 293. 
Kent, William, vii. 97-98. 
Kersebaum, Friedrich, vii. 80. 
Kessel, Ferdinand, iv. 77. 

Jan van, v. 220. 

Ketel, Cornelius, iv. 72; vi. 33; 

vii. 33-34. 
Kettle, Tilly, vii. 203. 
Key, William, iv. 72. 
Keyser, Thomas de, v. 9, 77, 79. 
KhnoptF, Fernand, viii. 145, 232, 

285, 286. 
Kick, V. 158. 
Kidd, viii. 70. 
Kierings, Alexander, iv. 78. 
Killiegrew, Anne, vii. 80. 
Kinderen, Der, viii. 297. 
King, Jessie, viii. 142. 
Kleys, viii. 2S2. 
Klimt, Gustav, 297, 298. 
Klinger, Max, viii. 277, 282. 
Klomp, Albert, v. 207, 208. 
Knapton, George, vii. 123. 
Kneller, Sir Godfrey, vii. 70, 77, 

83-86. Refs. iv. 141, 227. 
Knight, viii. 291. 
Knoller, Martin, iv. 145. 
Knupter, Nicolas, v. 149. 
Kobke, viii. 2S8. 
Koeck, Peter, iv. 75. 
Kollwitz, Kathe, viii. 282. 
Koner, viii. 207. 
Koninck, David de, iv. 198. 
Philipps de, V. 92, 


Salomon, v. 142, 143. 

Konopa, viii. 285. 
Koppay, viii. 284. 
Korovine, viii. 289. 
Koster, viii. 286. 
Kowalski, Wierusz, viii. 285. 
Kramer, viii. 284. 
Krausz, viii. 283. 
Krell, Hans, iv. 95. 
Kronberg, viii. 2S7. 
Kroyer, viii. 288, 289. 
Krijger, viii. 123. 
Kruseman, viii. 199. 
Kulmbach, Hans von, iv. 113. 
Kupetzky, Johann, iv. 143. 
Kustodieif, Boris, viii. 289. 
Kuylenberg, C, v. 8. 

Labbe, Jean, vi. 37. 
Lacoste, Charles, viii. 268. 


Ladbrouke, J. li., the Younger, 

viii. 5 I, 54. 

Robert, viii. 3. 

Laer, Pieter van, v. 39, 193, 197, 

Laermans, Eugene, viii. 286. 
La Farge, viii. 290, 298. 
Lafitte, viii. 274. 
Latrensen. See Lavreince. 
Laguerre, vi. iii; vii. 86, 87. 
Lahyre, Laurence de, vi. 46. 
Lairesse, Gerard de, iv. 200 ; v. 

124, 125, 186, 187, 235. 

— Regnier de, iv. 200. 

Lallemand, Georges, vi. 47. 
Lallement, vi. 9. 
Lambert, viii. 294. 

George, vi. 47 ; vii. 129. 

Lambke, Johann Philip, iv. 142. 
Lance, George, viii. 67, 79. 
Lanchares, Antonio, iii. 126. 
Lancret, vi. 117, 134-137. 
Landauer, Meister Berthold, iv. 

Landi, Neroccio di, i. 167. 
Lando, Michel, i. 54. 
Landscape painting, British, vii. 

128, 239. 
Dutch, iv. 30; V. 55, 56, 


Italian, iii. 28, 30. 

modern realistic, viii. 40. 

Scottish, vii. 234. 

Landseer, Sir Edwin, viii. 66. 
Lane, William, vii. 204. 
Lantranco, iii. 38. 
Lange, Olaf, viii. 288. 
Langhammer, Arthur, viii. 279. 
Lanini, Bernardino, i. 166; iii. 13. 
Lantara, vi. 199-200. 
Lanzani, ii. 153. 
Lanzet, viii. 230. 
Lanziani. See Veneziano. 
Laprade, Pierre, viii. 299. 
Largilliere, Nicolas, vi. 47, 89, 90, 

95-99,111; in England, vii. 81. 
Larssons, Carl, viii. 287. 
Las Cuevas, Pedro de, iii. 212. 
Lastman, Peter, iv. 76, 78 ; v. 71, 

91, 142. 
L'Art Nouveau, viii. 241, 296. 
Laszlo, Philip, viii. 284, 285. 
Latenay, de, viii. 274. 
Latham, James, vii. 124. 
La Thangue, viii. 24S, 249. 
Lathem. Livin van, iv. 36. 
Lathrop, viii. 290, 293. 
La Touche, Gustave, viii. 217, 

La Tour, Maurice Quentin, vi. 

Latour, Ignaz Henri Fantin, viii. 

Lauder, Scott, vni. 70 ; toUowers 

of, viii. 184. 
Laurens, Jean Paul, viii. 143. 
Laurent, Ernest, viii. 230, 267. 

Laurenti, viii. 286. 

Lauri, Filippo, iii. 69. 

Lautrec, Henri de Toulouse, viii. 

167, 270-272. 
Laval, viii. 300. 
Lavery, viii. 226, 228. 
Lavreince, Nicolas, vi. 146 ; viii. 

Lawless, Matthew James, viii. 123. 
Lawranson, Thomas, vii. 125. 
Lawrence, Thomas, vii. 279, 291- 

Lawson, Cecil Gordon, viii. 185. 
Lazzarini, Gregorio, iii. 70. 
Lazzaro, iii. 14. 
Leandre, viii. 272. 
Le Bus, vi. 146. 
Leblond, Nicolas, v. 38. 
Lebourg, Allien, viii. 197. 
Le Brun, Charles, vi. 78, 80-81, 


Vigee, vi. 251-257. 

Le Chalier, vi. 257. 
Ledigne, Nicolas, vi. 43. 
Leemput, Remigius van, iv. 226. 
Letebvre, vi. S9, 90. 

Jules, viii. 145. 

Lefevre, Claude, vi. 47. 

Lefler, viii. 2S4. 

Legrand, Louis, viii. 270. 

Legros, Alphonse, viii. 156, 265. 

Leheutre, viii. 274. 

Leighton, Lord, iii. 149; viii. 139- 

140, 265. 
Leistikon, viii. 2S2, 298. 
Leitch, viii. 69. 
Lejalde, Antonio de, iii. 221. 
Lelienbergh, C, v. 252. 
Lely, Sir Peter, vii. 68, 73-79. 

Refs. iv. 141, 227 ; vi. 97. 
Lemannier, Germain, vi. 26. 
Lemborch, Hendrick van, v. 187. 
Lemmen, viii. 297. 
Lemoyne, Fran9ois, vi. 165, 168- 

Le Naln, Antoine, vi. 51. 

Louis, vi. 51. 

Matthew, vi. 51. 

Lenbach, Franz von, viii. 206-207, 

Le Neve, Cornelius, vii. 49. 
Lenfesty, viii. 247. 
Lens, Andries Cornelis, iv. 235. 

Bernard, vii. Si, 82. 

Leo X., i. 221-222 ; ii. 73. 

Leoni, Leone, ii. 144. 

Lepage, Bastien-. See Bastien- 

Lepere, Auguste, viii. 270, 274. 
Lepici^, Nicolas Bernard, vi. 199, 

245, 251. 
Leprince, vi. 200. 
Leonardo, Jose, iii. 212. 
L^rambert, Henri, vi. 36, 41. 
Le Roux. See Rossi. 
Le Sidauer, Henri, viii. 266. 
Lesire, Paulus, v. 92. 

Leslie, Charles Robert, viii. 79. 

G. D., viii. 123. 

Le Sourii, vi. J2. 

Le Sueur, Eustace, vl. 57. 

Leu, Thomas dc, vi. 36. 

Lcupenius, v. 108. 

Le Valentin, vi. 51. 

Levecq, Jacobus, v. 108, 141. 

Lewis, John Frederick, viii. no. 

Leyden, Lucas van, v. 55, 66, 72. 

Leydcn, School of, iv. 65. 

Leys, Jean Auguste Henri, viii. 

L'Hermitte, Leon, viii. 198. 
Liberale da Verona, ii. 23, 45, 46. 
Llberi, Pietro, iii. 68, 69, 74. 
Libri, Girolamo dai, ii. 47. 
Licinio, Bernardino, ii. 92. 
Liebenwein, viii. 285. 
Liebermann, Max, viii. 207-209, 

Liebl, Wilhelm, viii. 204. 
Liemakere, Nicolas de, iv. 196. 
Lievens, Jan, v. 49 ; in England, 

v. 77, 142 i vii. 49. Refs. v. 

72, 186. 
Limbourg, Pol de, vi. 6, 7. 
Limousin, Leonard, vi. 25. 
Lindner, MotFatt, viii. 247. 
Lindsay, Norman, viii. 266, 294. 
Lingelback, Johann, iv. 142; v. 

232, 288. 
Linnell, John, viii. 62-63. 
Linton, Sir J. D., viii. 123. 
Lion, A., v. 9. 
Lionne, viii. 286. 
Liotard de Geneve, vi. 257. 
Jean Etienne, vi. 142-144. 

— ; — .J- ^■< V- '44- 

Lippi, Filippino, i. 115-118. Refi. 

i. 88, 101, 102, 121, 127, 141, 

252; ii. 115. 
Fra Filippo, i. 86-89. Rejs. 

9'; 99. "5. '4>. 252; "• »6. 
Lippincott, viii. 290. 
Lippo, Memml, i. 65. 
Lis, Joan van der, v. 8. 
Lissandrino, iii. 65. 
Little, viii. 247. 
Lloyd, viii. 247. 
Lobre, Maurice, viii. 267. 
Lochner, Stephen, iv. 84, 85. 
Lockey, Richard, vii. 35, 41. 
Lockhart, viii. 185. 
Lodi, Calisto Piazza da, ii. 172. 
Logan, vii. 81. 
Loir, Alexis, vi. 214, 215. 
Lomazzo, iii. 13. 
Lombard, Lambert, iv. 68. 
Lombardy, School of, i. 159. 
Lomi, Orazio, iii. 39. 
Lomont, Eugene, viii. 266. 
Longhi, Alessandro, iii. 74. 
^— Luca, iii. 21, 22. 
— — Pietro, iii. 73. 
Lonsdale, James, vii. 295. 
Loos, viii. 297. 



Looten, Jan, v. 220. 
Lopez, Vicente, iii. 248. 
Lorenzetti, Ambrogio, i. 6j, 66, 

Pietro, i. 65, 66. 

Lorenzo, Fiorenzo di, i. 172, 173, 


San, i. 207, 208. 

Lori, viii. 286. 

Lorimer, viii. 226. 

Lorrain, Claude, vi. 61-74. R'fi. 

iii. 28 ; v. 55, 91, 203, 218. 
Lotti, Carlo, iii. 69. 
Lotto, Lorenzo, ii. 87-90. Rtfs. 

ii. no, 161, 162, 173, 174. 
Loubon, Emile, viii. 152. 
Loudan, Mouat, viii. 246. 
Louis XIII. of France, vi. 48, 50. 
Louis XIV. of France, vi. 76-79. 

France under, vi. 103-106. 

private life and character of, 

vi. 90, 91, 187, 188-189. 
relations vrith James II. of 

England, vi. 96. 
Lound, viii. 55. 
Loutherbourg, Philip James, vii. 

Low, viii. 290. 

Luca Fa Presto, iii. 66, 75, 144, 

Lucas, David, viii. 47. 

van Leyden, v. 55, 72. 

Luchetto da Genova, ill. 16. 
Luciani. See Piombo, Sebastiano 

Lucldel, Nicholas, iv. 71, 114. 
Luini, Bernardino, i. 161, 163-164. 
Luis de Dalmau, iii. 92. 
Luis, Fernandez, iii. 134. 
Lundberg, vi. 257 ; viii. 287. 
Lutero, Giovanni di. See Dossi. 
Luther, i. 108. 
Luti, Benedetto, iii. 69. 
Lyne, vii. 35. 
Lysippus, i. 14. 
Lyzarde, Nicholas, vii. 21. 

Maas, Arnold van, iv. 232. 

Gerrit, v. 134. 

Nicolas, v. 131, 163-165. 

Refs. V. 108, 131, 163, 180, 181. 
Mabuse, Jan, iv. 62-63. 
Macall, Edward, vii. 68. 
Macalium, Hamilton, viii. 185. 
Macbeth, Robert W., viii. 185. 
M'Culloch, Horatio, viii. 69. 
Macdougall, viii. 142. 
MacGeorge, viii. 250. 
M'Gillivray, viii. 226. 
M'Gregor, Robert, viii. 185. 
Macgregor, W. Y., viii. 126, 251. 
Machiavelli, Zenoble, i. 91. 
Mackay, Charles, viii. 185, 226. 
Mackenzie, viii. 68. 
M'Lachlan, Hope, viii. 185. 
MacLaughlan, viii. 293. 
M'Leay, viii. 68. 

Maclise, Daiiiel, viii. 70-71, 110. 

M'Nicol, Bessie, viii. 251. 
M'Taggart, William, viii. i2j, 

184, 185. 
Macwhirter, John, viii. 184. 
Maddersteg, Michiel, v. 229. 
Madrid, Carducci School at, iii. 

Maella, Mariano Salvador, iii. 229. 
Maes, Gerrit, v. 134. 

Nicolas, v. 108. 

Magagni, Giacomo, iii. 19. 

Magaritone, i. 24-26. 

Maggi, viii. 286. 

Magnano, i. 24. 

Magnatco, Alessandro, iii. 65. 

Mahoney, J., viii. 210, 265. 

Malnardi, Bastlano, i. 114. 

Maitland, viii. 249. 

Maitre de Flemalle. See Cantpin. 

de Moulins, vi. 7, 9, 10. 

Majani, viii. 286. 
Makart, Hans, viii. 283. 
Maldonado, Bernardo Arias, iii. 

Maler, Hans, iv. 93. 
Mallavine, viii. 289. 
.Malisse, Henri, viii. 201. 
Malton, Thomas, vii. 239. 
Malouel, Jan, vi. 6. 
Manby, Thomas, vii. 80. 
Mancini, Antonio, viii. zi9-2zo, 

Mander, Carel van, iv. 62, 76 ; 

V. 14. 
Manet, Edouard, viii. 103, 150, 

■57. i58-'64. .>9^-... 
Manetti, Domenico, iii. 19. 
Manfra, Maxime, viii. 268. 
Manfredi, Bartolommeo, iii. 58. 
Mann, Alexander, viii. 226, 251. 

Harrington, viii. 226, 251. 

.Mannerists, The, ii. 12. See eds» 

Carracci's attacic on, iii. 23, 

in Rome, iii. 43 ; in Spain, 

iii. 95, 96, loi, 103. 
Manni, Giannicola, i. 181, 1S2. 
Manozzi, iii. 46. 
Manson, viii. 185. 
Mansueti, ii. 68. 
Mantegna, Andrea, ii. 23-31. 

Refs. ii. 34, 35, 38, 41, 45, 48, 

5^. 54, 56, 62, 70,8s. »'5> i?*. 

178, 179. 
Francesco, the Younger, ii. 

32, 33- 
Mantua, Duke Vincenzo Gonzago 

of, iv. 160, 162. 
Manuel, viii. 265. 
Maratta, Carlo, iii. 3t-jz. 
Marcette, viii. 286. 
March, Esteban, iii. 130, 20a. 
Marconi, ii. 73, 76. 
Marees, Hans von, viii. 130. 
Maria, De, viii. 287. 


Mariani, viii. 286. 
Marieschi, Jacopo, iii. 7S. 

Michelc, iii. 78. 

Marilhat, viii. 78, 147. 
Maris, Jacobus, viii. 200. 

Mathys, viii. 200. 

Willem, vii. 201. 

Marlow, William, viii. 2J9. 
Marmion, Simon, of Valenciennes, 

iv. 53; vi. 14. 
Marmolejo, Pedro Villegas, iii. 

Marold, vii!. 282, 284. 
Marshall, vii. 90, 247. 
Marstrand, viii. 288. 
Martel, Eugene, viii. 144. 
Martellange, vi. 32. 
Martin, David, vii. 126, 204. 

Nabor, iv. 46. 

Hardie, Charles, viii. 185. 

Henri, viii. 268. 

Martineau, Robert, viii. 123. 
Martinez, Josef Lujan, iii. 221, 

231, 232. 
Martini, Simone, i. 65, 167. 
MaruUo, Giuseppe, iii. 63. 
Marziale, ii. 77. 
Masaccio, i. 75-90. Refs. i. 99, 

III, 116, 141, 142, iS8, 208, 

251 ; ii. 27, 99. 
Mascall, E., vii. 68. 
Masolino, i. 78, 79. 
Mason, George Heming, viii. igo. 
Masse, vi. 142, 257. 
Massi, Gentile di Niccolo di 

Giovanni. See Fabriano. 
Massys, Quentin, iv. 56. 
■"Master of the Amsterdam 

Cabinet," iv. 91. 
" Master of the Bartholomew 

Altar," iv. 86. 
■« Master of the Death of the 

Virgin," iv. 87. 
■" Master of the Female Half 

Figures," iv. 67. 
" Master of the Glorification of 

Mary," iv. 85. 
■" Master of the Holy Kinship," 

iv. 86. 
"Master I. D. C." vi. 43. 
•" Master of Kappenberg," iv. 87. 
" Master of Liesbom," iv. 87. 
" Master of the Life of Mary," iv. 

■" Master of the Lyversberg 

Passion," iv. 86. 
" Master of St. Severin," iv. 86. 
■" Master of the Tucher Altar," 

iv. 97. 
■" Master of the Ursula Legend," 

iv. 86. 
Maton, Bartholomeus, v. 134. 
Matsys, Cornelis, iv. 58. 

Jan, iv. 58, 76. 

Quentin, iv. 56-58. 

Matteis, Paolo de, iii. 75. 
Maurier, George du, viii. 170. 

Mauve, Anton, viii. 200. 
May, Phil, viii. 264-265. 
Mayner, Alessamclro, iii. 95, 

Mayno, Fray Juan Bautista, iii. 

Mayr, Ulric, v. loS. 
Mazo, del, iii. 197. 
Mazzola, Filippo, i. 162 ; ii. 190. 
Mazzolo, Francesco Maria. Sec 

Mazzolino, ii. 39. 
Mecarino. Sec Beccafumi. 
Mecuccio, iii. 19. 
Medici Family, The, i. 42, 46, 55, 

1 19, 120, 145. 
Catherine de, vi. 27. 

t'osimo de, i. 55, 56, 88. 

Giovanni de, i. 55. 

Giuliano de, i. 57, 103, 145, 

Lorenzo de,i. 56, 57, 58, 91, 

103, 104, 206. 

Luigia de, i. 208, 210. 

Mary de, iv. 177, 178, 182, 


Piero de, i. 56. 

the second, i. 59, 209, 

^^— Salvestro de, i. 54. 
Medina, Pedro de, iii. 221. 

Sir John Baptist, vii. 91. 

Mee, Mrs., viii. 67. 
Meek, Matthew, vii. 80. 
Meere, Gerard van der, iv. 46. 
Meersch, Passchler van der, iv. 

Meert, Peter, iv. 233. 
Mehoffer, Josef, viii. 284. 
Mein, Will, viii. 142. 
Meissonier, Jean Louis Ernest, 

viii. 142. 
Melchers, viii. 291. 
Meldolla, Andrea. i'« Schiavone. 
Melozzo da Forli, i. 131. 
Melville, Arthur, viii. 227. 
Meizi, i. 162, 163. 
Memlinc, Hans, iv. 27, 30, 36- 

42- . . 
Memmi, Lippo, i. 65. 

Manageot, vi. 263, 264. 
Menaid, Rene, viii. 267. 
Menendez, Luis, iii. 212. 
Mengs, Anton Raphael, iv. 145- 
148; in Spain, iii. 78, 229, 

233. 234- 
Mennebroer, Frans, iv. 77. 
Menzel, Adolph von, viii. 129. 
Mercier, Philippe, vi. 140. 
Merian, iv. 226. 
Merson, Olivier, viii. 140. 
Meryon, viii. 105-106. 
Mesdag, Hendrick Willem, viii. 

Messina, Antonello da, ii. 72, 78- 


oil painting introduced to 

Venice by, iv. 21. 22. R</>, '•^. 

54. 77. 85- 
Messkirch, Meistcr von, iv. 93. 
Mctcalf, viii. 290. 
Mctsu, Gabriel, v. 166-170. Rtjt, 

V. 131, 134, 149, 154, 166, 167, 

169, 185. 
Metsys, (Quentin, iv. 56. 
Mcttling, Lo^li^, viii. 203. 
Meulen, Frederick Pieter Ter, viii. 

Meunier, Constantin, v. 39 ; viiL 

106, 201, 286. 
Meusnier, Philippe, vi. 139. 
Meyer, Jeremiah, vii. 102. 
Meyering, Albert, v. 235. 

Frederick v. 235. 

Mcyron, Anton, iv. 78. 
Michallon, viii. 75. 
Michau, Thicbald, iv. 235. 
Michel, Georges, viii. 74, 91. 

Louis, iii. 228. 

Michelangelesques, The, iii. ix> 

1 7, 20. See Chart. 
Michelangelo, i. 205-240. Rtfi, 
i. 127, 128, 133-141, 155, 167, 

169. '74. 175; ''■ 27. 73. 'S'f 

152, 156, 181, 182, 183, 184, 

189, 192, 202-253; iii. 3, 4, J, 

6, 7, 12, 17, 27 ; iv. 91. 

delle Battaglie, iii. 65. 

Michele da Verona, ii. 47. 
Michie, Coutts, viii. 185. 
Middeleer, viii. 2S6. 
Middle Ages, English Art during^ 

vii. 8, 9, 10. 
— —in Italy, i. 33-35. 
Miehl, viii. 274. 
Miel, Jan, iv. 64. 

Hans. iv. 63. 

Mielich, Hans, iv. 93. 
Mienlandt, Willem, iv. 78. 
Mierevcit, Michael Janse, iv. 73. 

Peter, v. 3. 

of Delft, V. 3, 4, 46. 

Micris, Frans van, v. 134, 149, 

152, 169, 1S2, 1S3, 188. 

the Younger, v. 188. 

Willem, V. 1S8. 

Migliaro, viii. 287. 

Mignard, Nicolas, of Avignon, vL 

82, 85. 

Pierre, vi. 79, 81, 82-85. 

Mignon, Abraham, v. 24S. 
Miguel de Tobar, Alonso, iii. 227. 
Mijtens, Daniel, vii. 47. 
Milan, School of painting under 

Foppa, i. 154, 159, 160. 
Eclectic School of painting 

under the Procaccini, iii. 41. 
Milano, Giovanni da, i. 71. 
Millais, John Everett, viii. 115- 

1 17, 122, 265. 
Millet, F. D., viii. 290. 
Jean Francois, iv. 234;viii.95- 

101 ; followers of, viii. 198, 201. 
Milne-Donald, viii. 183. 



Mini, Antonio, i. 233, 237. 
Mini^iture painting, French, vi. 

. in reign of Queen Elizabeth, 

vii. 38. 

■ in reign of Henry viii., vii. 

in reign of Charles l., vii. 

— ^— late sixteenth century, vii. 

81, lOI, I02. 

^— of eighteenth century, vii. 

of nineteenth century, vii. 


ivory introduced, vii. 82. 

Minnebroer, Frans, iv. 77. 
Minns, viii. 294. 
Miranda, Carreno, iii. 199. 
Mirian, Mathaeus, iv. 226. 
Miss, viii. 289. 
Mitchell, Cai7)pbell, viii. 251. 
Miti-Zanetti, viii. 287. 
Modersohn, viii. 282. 
Modcna, Pellegrino da, iii. 15. 

School of, ii. 176. 

Moeyart, Nicolas, v. 142, 205, 

Moir, viii. 68. 

Moira, Gerald, viii. 142. 

Mol, P. van, iv. 197. 

Mola, Giovanni Battista, iii. 31. 

Pier Francisco, iii. 31. 

Molenaer, Claes, v. 183. 

. Jan Miense, v. 32, 183. 

Moll, Carl, viii. 284. 

Molyn, Pieter, v. 33, 158, 159, 

Mommers, Henrick, v. 183, 232. 
Momper, Josse de, iv. 78 ; v. 59. 
Monaco, Lorenzo, i. 71, 75, 87. 
Monet, Claude, viii. 150, 190-193, 

>9+. >95...|97- 
Monnier, viii. 82. 
Monnoyer, Jean Baptiste, vi. 87. 
Monogrammist, E. S.; iv. 91. 
Monrealese. See Novelli. 
Monsted, viii. 289. 
Montagna, Bartolommeo, ii. 85- 

Montalba, Clara, viii. 247. 
Monticelli, Adolphe, viii. 152-154. 
Monvel, Bernard de, viii. 274. 
Maurice, Boutet de, viii. 272, 

275, 296. 
Mony, Lodowyck de, v. 188. 
Moor, Karel de, v. 134, 149, 187- 

Moore, Albert, viii. 141. 

■ Henry, viii. 123. 
Morales, Luis de, iii. 98, 99. 
Moran, viii. 293. 
Morando, Paolo, ii. 47. 
Morans, The, viii. 290. 
More, Antonio, iv. 63, 67-71, 

in England, vii. 27-28. 

— in Spain, iii. 107, 108. 
Moreau, Gustave, viii. 144. 


Moreau, Louis Gabriel, v. 248. 
Moreelse, Paul, iv. 73; v. 4-5, 77. 
Morel, viii. 286. 
Morclli, iii. 10. 

viii. 287. 

Moret, viii. 300. 

Moretto, ii. 171, 172-174, 175. 

Morgan, Mrs. de, viii. 141. 

William de, viii. 136. 

Morgenstem, Ludwig Ernst, iv. 

Morisot, Berthe, viii. 167. 
Morland, George, vii. 298-312. 

Henry, vii. 298-299. 

Momer, viii. 287. 

Moro, Antonio, iii. 107, 108. 

Morone, Domenico, ii. 46-47. 

Francesco, ii. 46. 

Moroni, Giovanni Battista, ii. 

Morot, Aime, viii. 143. 
Morren, viii. 285. 
Morrice, Wilson James, viii. 268, 

Morris, Edmund, viii. 293. 
William, viii. m, 119, 120, 

135, 13^. 
Mosaics, Byzantine, i. 23, 24. 
Moser, viii. 297. 

George Michael, vii. 102. 

Lucas, iv. 96. 

Mosler, viii. 291. 
Mostyn, Tom, viii. 253. 
Mostaert, Jan, iv. 59, 67. 
Moucheron, Frederick, v. 225, 

231. 233- 
Isaac, V. 233. 

Mouncey, viii. 250. 
Mowbray, viii. 290. 
Moya, Pedro de, iii. 207, 214. 
Mucha, viii. 284. 
Muckley, viii. 142. 
Muirhead, David, viii. 251. 
Muller, Victor, viii. 132. 

William James, viii. 50. 

Mulready, William viii. 61, 62, 

70, 1 10. 
Multscher, Jans, iv. 96 
Munch, viii. 288. 
Mundo, El. See Navarette. 
Munich, realistic painters of, viii. 

Munkacsy, Michael von, viii. 205, 

209. 283. 
Munor, Sebastian, iii. 226, 227. 
Munthe, Gerhard, viii. 298. 
Munzer, viii. 281. 
Murand, Emanuel, v. 237. 
Murillo, Bartolome Esteban, iii. 

213-222. Refj. iii. 133, 172, 

207, 208. 
Murray, David, viii. 185, 247. 

Fairfax, viii. 141. 

— — Thomas, vii. 89. 

Muscher, Michiel van, vi. 185, 

Mutner, vi. 22, 23. 

Myron, Anton, iy. 78. 

Myrtil, v. 235. 

Mytens, Daniel, iv. 73 ; vii. 47. 

Nairn, viii. 251. 
Naiveu, Mathijs, v. 134. 
Naldini, Battista, iii. ig. 
Nanteuil, engraver, vi. 47 

Celestin, viii. 80. 

Naples, Cabal of, iii. 56, 60, 62, 

Realist School of, iii. 16, 52, 

60, 61. 
Naples, Dukes of, i. 45, 46, 47. 
Nardi, iii. 166. 
Nasmyth, Alexander, vii. 126, 

143- '44, 204, 243; viii. 68, 69. 

Patrick, viii. 68, 69. 

Nason, Pieter, vi. 35. 
Natoire, vi. 171. 

Nattier, Jean Baptiste, vi. 149. 

Marc,vi. 148, 149-150. 

Marc, vi. 149. 

Naturalists, The, iii. 33, 39, 42, 52- 
54, 60, 61, 62. 

Caravaggio, leader of, iii. 


influence -on Spanish art, iii. 

Navarette, Juan Fernandez, iii. 

" Nazarenes, The," viii. iii, 118. 
Neef, Pieter, the Elder, iv. 78, 

234, 236. 

the Younger, iv. 78, 


Neer, Van der, v. 65-66, 183. 
Negron, Carlos de, iii. 221. 
Nelli, Oleaviano di Martino, L 

Nelson, Sagar, viii. 288. 

Townsend, viii. 266. 

Neroni, Bartolommeo, iii. 19. 
Netherlandish art. See Preface, 

vol. iv. 

character of, iv. 4-5. 

Italian influence on, iv. 66, 


landscape painting, iv. 77, 

portraiture, iv. 5. 

Netherlands, The, historical sum- 

mory. See Preface, vol. v. 
Renaissance in, iii. 6, 7 ; iv. 3. 

struggle against Spain, iv. 

Netscher, Caspar, iv. 142; v. 184. 
Nettis, de, viii. 225. 
Neufchatel, Nicholas, iv. 71. 
Neuhuys, Albert, viii. 199. 
New, viii. 266. 

New English Art Club, viii. 248, 
Newlyn School, The, viii. 248. 
Newton, viii. 67. 
Nicholls, Miss, viii. 290. 
Nicholson, Francis, vii. 241, 


Nicholson, P. Walker, viii. 185. 

William, viii. 68, 256-257. 

Nickelen, Isaac van, v. 237. 
Nicol, Erskine, viii. 182. 

J. Watson, viii. 185. 

Nieulandt, Willem van, iv. 78. 
Nieuwenkamp, viii. 286. 
Nibbet, R. B., viii. 185. 
Niss, viii. 2S9. 
Nixon, James, vii. 237. 
Noble, Campbell, viii. 185. 

Robert, viii. 185, 22S. 

Nocci, viii. 287. 

Noel Paton, Sir Joseph, viii. 182. 
Noire, Maxime, viii. 149, 269. 
Nollekens, Jean Fran9ois, vi. 142; 

vii. 124. 
Nomellini, viii. 287. 
Nooms, Remegius, v. 222. 
Noort, Adam van, iv. 159; v. 12. 
Northcote, James, vii. 265-267. 
Norstedt, viii. 287. 
Norwegian artists, viii. 288, 298. 
Norwich School of painting, viii. 

Nottij Gherardo delle, iii. 58 ; 

v. 6. 

Novelli, Pietro, iii. 65. 

Novo Castello. See Lucidel. 

Nunez de Villaircencio, iii. 227. 

Juan, iii. 90. 

Nuremburg, school of, iv. 97. 

Nuyssen, Jansens, iv. 196. 

Nazi, Allegretto, i. 170. 

Oberlaender, viii. 282. 

Obregon, Pedro de, iii. 126. 

Occleve, vii. 14. 

Ochtman, viii. 291. 

Ochtervelde, Jacob, V. 178, 181. 

Oderigo, i. 170. 

Oderisi, i. 170. 

Odoni, Andrea, ii. 89. 

Oeser, Adam Friedrich, iv. 143. 

Oggiono, Marco d', i. 152, 162, 

Oil Painting, Introduction of, i. 

81, 84. 

Messina's work in, iv. 21. 

PoUaiuolo's work in, i. 96. 

Van Eyck's work in, iv. 

Oldbrick, viii. 297. 

Olgyai, viii. 185. 

Olivarez, Count of San Lucar, iii. 

157 ; favourite of Philip iv., iii. 

160, 161, 162. Re/j. 169, 172, 

Oliver, Isaac, vii. 35, 40-41, 46. 

Peter, vii. 41, 65-66. 

Ollivier, Michael Barthelemy, vi. 

Ommeganck, Baithasar Paul, iv. 

Oost, Jacob van, iv. 200. 
Oostsanan, Cornelis van, iv. 66. 

Opie, John, vii. 287-290. 

Opsorner, viii. 285. 

L'Orbetto. See Turchi. 

Orcagna, i. 71-72. 

Orchardson, Sir William Quiller, 

viii. 184. 
Oriolo, Giovanni, ii. 22, 23, 36. 
Orley, Bernard van, iv. 63, 64, 

108, 109. 

Valentin van, iv. 64. 

Orlik, viii. 285. 

Orpen, William, viii. 246, 250. 

Orr, the Brothers, viii. 158. 

Orrente, Pedro, iii. 130, 202. 

Orrock, viii. 69. 

Orsi, Lilio, ii. 190. 

Orsini, House of, i. 48. 

Ortolano, ii. 39. 

Osorio, Francisco Meneses, iii. 

Ostade, Adriaen van, v. 32, 51, 

52-53, 131, 148, 151, 153, 185, 

214, 220. 
Ostade, Isaac van, v. 33, 53-54, 

149, 191. 
Ostendorfer, Michael, iv. 93. 
Osterwych, Maria van, v. 248. 
Oudry, Jean Baptiste, vi. 101-102. 
Ouwater, Albert van, iv. 30-31 j 

v. 55. 
founder of Dutch School of 

Landscape, iv. 65. 
Ovens, Juriaen, v. 108, 141. 
Overbeck, Fritz, viii. iii, 282. 
Owen, William, viL 291. 

Pacchiarotto, Jacopo, i. 167. 
Pacheco, Francesco, iii. 132, 155, 

156, 157, 204. 
relations with Velazquez, his 

son-in-law, iii. 156, 157, 166. 
Padova, Antonio di, ii. 25. 

Giovanni di, ii. 25. 

Padovanino, iii. 68, 69. 

Padua, School of, i. 159; ii. 37, 

38, 52. See Chart, ii. 2. 
Pagani, Gregorio, iii. 44. 
Palamedes, the Brothers, v. 192. 
Palma Giovane, ii. 163 ; iii. 67, 


Jacope. See Vecchio. 

Palmer, viii. 290. 

Samuel, viii. 61. 

Palmerucci, Guido, i. 172. 
Palmezzaiio, Marco, i. 131. 
Palomino y Velasco, iii. 228. 
Panetti, Domenico, ii. 36. 
Panini, Giovanni Paolo, iii. 76. 
Pantoja de la Cruz, iii. 109-1 10. 
Papa, Simone, iii. 16. 
Papacy, decline of, i. 45. 

exile in Avignon, i. 48. 

Papal States, The, i. 47, 52. 
Pape, A. de, v. 188. 
Papendrecht, van, viii. 286. 

Parcellis, Jan, v. 221. 

Julius, V. 221. 

Pareja, Juan de, iii, 197, 198, 199. 
Paremeut de Narionne, vi. 3, 5. 
Park, Carton Moor, viii. 266. 

Stuart, viii. 226. 

Parma, School of, ii. 176. See alio 

Chart, ii. 2. 
Parmcniicr, vi. 1 1 1. 
Parmigiano, ii. 189-190. Refs. iL 

172 ; iii. 24, 25. 
Parrish, Maxfielil, viii, 293. 

Stephen, viii. 293. 

Parrocel, Joseph, vi. 87, 118. 
Pars, William, vii. 239. 
Parsons, Charles, viii. 265, 290. 
Partridge, Bernard, viii, 265. 
Passeri, Giambattista, iii. 30. 
Passerotti, Bartoloinnieus, iii. zz, 
Passignano, Domenico da, iii. 44. 
Pastellists, French School of, vi. 

203, 257. 
Pasture, Rogier de la. See Van 

der Weyden. 
Patel, Pierre, the Elder, vi. 74. 
Pierre Antoine, the Younger, 

vi. 7+- 
Patenir, Joachim de, iv. 56, 58, 

59-60, 108, 
Pater, Jean Baptiste, vi. 119, 123, 

Paterson, James, viii. 226, 251. 
Paton, David, vii. 90. 
Sir Joseph Noel, viii. 122, 


Waller, viii. 123. 

Patin, Jacques, vi. 37. 

Patterson, viii, 293. 

Pau de St. Martin, Alexander, 

viii. 91. 
Paudiss, Christopher, v. 98, 108, 

Paul III., i. 225, 226, 227 i ii. 


Bruno, viii. 282. 

Paulsen, viii. 288. 

Pazzi conspiracy against the 

Medici, i. 57, 145.^ 
Pcake, Sir Robert, vii. 35, 48-49. 
Pearce, viii, 291. 
Pedro de Cordoba, iii. 91. 
Peel, Paul, viii. 293. 
Pegram, Fred, viii. 266. 
Peinemen, viii. 199. 
Pellegrino, Antonio, ii. 90 ; iii. 

15. 75- 

Peregrino, iii. 96. 

Pencz, Georg, iv. 114. 
Pennachi, Pier Maria, ii. 86, 87. 
Pennell, viii. 293. 
Penni, Gianfrancesco, i. 192, 298 ; 

iii. 14, 15, 58. 
Penny, Edward, vii. 125. 
Pepi, Giovanni Cenni de. Set 

Pepin, Martin, iv. 196. 
Peploe, S. J., viii. 250, 258-259. 


Peppercorn, viii. 147. 

Pepys, onSir Peter Lely, vii. 76, 77. 

Pcreda, Antonio, iii. 211-212. 

Perez de Herrera, Alonso, iii. xzi. 

Pericles, i. 13. 

Perreal, Jean, vi. 9. 

Perrier, vi. 46. 

Perronneau, Jean fiaptlste, iii. 75; 

vi. 21 5-216. 
Perugini, C. E., viii. 241. 
Perugino, i. 118, 135, 145, 166, 

172-180, 186, 191, 232 ; ii. 29, 

36, 37, 41, 55. 
Peruzzi, Baldassare, i. 167, 168, 

191 ; iii. 17, 19. 
Pesaro, Jacopo, ii. 128, 129. 
Pesellino, Francesco, i. 91. 
Pesello, Giuliano, i. 91. 
Pesne, Antoine, vi. 140, 147. 
Peters, Bonaventura, iv. 78. 

Jan, iv. 78. 

Rev. Matthew William, vii. 

Peterssen, viii. 288. 

Petitot, Jean, the Elder, vii. 66. 

the Younger, vii. 66. 

Petrarch, i. 77. 

Petro, Giovanni di. Set Spagno, 

Pettenkofen, viii. 283. 
Pettie, John, viii. 184. 
Phidias, i. 12, i 3. 
Philip II. of Spain, decorations of 

the Escorial, iii. 95. 
■ encouragement of Navarette, 

iii. 112. 

and Morales, iii. 99. 

. Moro and Coello, his Court 

Painters, iii. 107, 108, 109. 

Pantoja's portraits of, iii. 1 10. 

Titian's portraits of, ii. 147. 

Philip IV. of Spain, and Count 

Olivarez, iii. 157, 169, 172, 173. 
^-^ death of, iii. 151, 179, 224. 
•^-^ patron of art, iii. 106. 
pedantic character of, iii. 

— ^ portraits by Rubens, iv. 180. 
protection of Alonso Cano, 

iii. 206. 

and Herrera, iii. 135. 

— — and Juan de Pareja, the 

Moor, iii. 199. 
relations veith Velazquez, iii. 

107, 123, 163-164, 166,173,193. 
— — and Ribera, iii. 140. 

. and Zurbaran, iii. 149, 150. 

Philips, Charles, vii. 124. 
Phillip, John, viii. 182-183. 
Phillips, Thomas, vii. 295. 
Philpot, viii. 250. 
Piagnoni, The, i. 107. 
Piazza da Lodi, ii. 172. 
Piazzetta, iii. 70. 
Picard, Louis, viii. 267, 
Picasso, viii. 301. 
Pickenoy, v. 34. 

Picknell, viii. 291. 
Pietersen, Aert, v. 8, 9. 
Pietersz, Aert, v. 8. 

Hercules, v. 57. 

Pietschmann, viii. 286. 

Pigal, viii. 82. 

Pilen, Hans, iv. 78. 

Pilo, viii. 287. 

Pilon, Germain, vi. 36. 

Pine, Robert Edge, vii. 201. 

Pino, Marco, iii. 19. 

Pintoricchio, i. 168, 177-181. Refs. 

i. 173, 182, 186, 191 i ii. 115 ; 

iii. 19. 
Piombo, Sebastianodel,ii. i J5-157. 

Rf/j. i. 240; ii. 110, 112, 114, 

116, 137, 139, 156, 157, 162. 
Pinwell, George John, viii. 181, 

Pippi, Giulio. Sfe Romano. 
Pine, George, viii. 226. 
Pisa, City State of Tuscany, i. 48. 
Pisanello, ii. 20-23. Reji. i. 171 ; 

ii. 34, 36, 45, 53, 59, 60, 70. 
Pisano, Andrea, i. 72. 

Giovanni, i. 69. 

Pissarro, Camille, viii. 190, 193- 

194, 280. 
Pistoia, II, iii. 15, 59. 
Pitate Bonifazio. See Veronese. 
Pitman, Miss, viii. 266. 
Pitti, Luca, i. 56. 
Piatt, viii. 290, 293. 
Platzer, Johann Victor, iv. 145. 
Pleydenvfurff, Hans, iv. 97. 
Plimer, Andrew, vii. 238. 

Nathaniel, vii. 237-238. 

Poccetti, Bernardino, iii. 18. 
Poelembergh, Komelis, v. 7, 8. 
Point, Armand, viii. 144. 
Pointelin, Auguste, viii. 225-226. 
Pointillists, The, viii. 194, 215, 

229, 241. 
Poison, Louis, vi. 43. 
Poitiers, Diane de, vi. 8, 9. 
Pol of Limbourg, iv. 10, 11. 
Polancos, the Brothers, iii. 228. 
Polidoro, Caldaro, iii. 59. 
Polidoro da Caravaggio, iii. 15-16. 
Poliziano, Angelo, i. 208. 
Pollaiuolo, Antonio, i. 95, 96, 98, 

121, 132, 142, 172, 252; ii. 

Polo, Diego, iii. 226. 
Polonius, Thomas, iii. 15. 
Pompadour, Madame de vi. 188, 

189, 190-195, 209-210, 228, 

Poncet, vi. 86. 
Pond, Arthur, vii. 124. 
Ponte, Jacopo da. See Bassano. 
Pontormo, i. 245-249 ; iii. 18. 
Poole, viii. 110. 
Poorter, Willem de, v. 92, 140, 

Pordenone, Giovanni Antonio da, 
ii. 90-92, 93 ; rivalry with 

Titian, ii. 136. Rejj. ii. no, 

170. >7»- 
Post-Impressionism, viii. 300, 305. 
Pot, Hcndrick Gerritz, v. 32. 
Potter, Paul, v. 191, 193, 195, 

Pieter, v. 32, 204. 

Pouget, Didier, viii. 268. 
Pourbus, Frans, the Elder, iv. 63, 

64, 72; in France, vi. 43; in 
England, vii. 34. 
Jan, iv. 71. 

Peter, iv. 71-72. 

Poussin, Gaspard, vi. 74-75. 
Nicolas, vi. 53-56. Refj. iii. 

28, 29, 177. 
Poyet, Jean, vi. 9. 
Poynter, Sir Edward J., viii. 141. 
Prado, Bias del, iii. 98, 127. 
Prag, Hugo Steiner, viii. 282. 
Praxiteles, i. 13, 14. 
Predis, Ambrogio da, i. 147, 148, 

Preller, viii. 282. 
Preisler, viii. 283. 
Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood, The, 

viii. 118, 121. 
Pre-Raphaelites, The, viii. 109, 

no, 114, 122, 123, 125. 

Scottish group of, viii. 182. 

Preshun, viii. 281. 

Preti, Mattia, iii. 62. 

Previtali, Andrea, ii. 76, 77. 

Prevost de Mons, John, iv. 53. 

Priest, viii. 55. 

Prleur, vii. 66. 

Prikker, Joan Thorr, viii. 297. 

Primaticcio, iii. 14, 25 ; vi. 20, 

2>. 22. 23, 37- 
Primitive - Academisn, Modem, 

viii. 232, 299. 
Prince Eugene of Sweden, viii, 

Prinsep, Val, viii. 123. 
Procaccini, Camillo, iii. 41, 42. 

Ercole, iii. 41. 

Giulio Cesare, iii. 41. 

Prout, Samuel, viii. 36. 
Prud'hon, Pierre, vi. 259-263. 
Pryde, James, viii. 227, 255-256. 
Puligo, Domenico, iii. 18. 

Jacone, iii. 18. 

Puritanism and Art, i. 7. 

Putter, Plcter de, v. 251-252. 

Puttner, viii. 2S1. 

Putz, viii. 28 1. 

Pyle, Howard, viii. 290, 291, 293. 

Pynacker, Adam, v. 235. 

Pyne, James Baker, viii. 50. 

QuAST, Der, v. 51. 
yuellin, Erasmus, iv. 197. 
Querfurt, Augustus, iv. 144. 
Quesnels, Francois, vi. 42, 

Nicolas, vi. 42. 

Pierre, vi. 24. 

Qiiillard, Pierre Antoine, vi. 144. 

Qiiillerier, vi. 86. 

Quillert, Pierre Antoine, vi. 144- 

'45- ... 
Quin, viii. 294. 

Rabel, Jean, vi. 43. 
Rackhaiu, Arthur, viii. 266. 
Racborn, Henry, vii. 269-275. 
Rartaelino del Garbo, i. 117. 
Rart'aelli, Jean Francois, viii. 196- 

197, 275- 

Rattet, viii. 80, 82. 

Raibolini, Francesco di Marco. 
See Francia. 

Railton, viii. 265. 

Raimondi, Marcantonio, ii. 44. 

Ralston, William, viii. 185. 

Ramsay, Allan, iv. 226 ; vii. 126. 

Ranc, Jean, iii. 228. 

Ranft, viii. 274. 

Ranlcen, viii. 247. 

Raoux, Jean, vi. 103. 

Raphael, i. 185-203; imitators and 
pupils of, iii. 12, 13-14, 20, 22, 
58; position in Umbrian School, 
i. 169, 183; pupil of Perugino, 
i. 176, 178, 182 ; School of, i. 
167. Refj. i. Ill, 114, 128, 
131, 139, i6i, 166, 176-189, 
230, 232, 235, 24s, 248, 252 ; 
iii. 3, 6, 9, 19, 27, 39, 13S, 

Raphaelesques, The, ii. 21, 22 ; 

iii. 13. 
Rauscher, viii. 185. 
Rave, Jean, vii. 21. 
Ravenna, Byzantine art in, i. 19, 

Ravesteyn, Jan van, v. 4, 8. 
Read, Catherine, vii. 204. 
Recouvrance, Antoine de, vi. 43. 
Redon, Odilon, viii. 144. 
Reformation, The, influence on 

art, vii. 3, 4. 
in Holland. See Preface, 

vol. V. 

in Italy, i. 108 ; iii. 8, 9. 

in northern countries of 

Europe, iii. 8-9. 
Regence period of French Art, vi. 

109-1 1 1. 
Regnault, Henri, vi. 263, 264; 

viii. 149. 
Rcicher, viii. 2S6. 
Reid, Alexander, vii. 232. 

E. T., viii. 266. 

Sir George, viii. 185. 

John R., viii. 185. 

Ogilvy, viii. 185. 

Reinagle, Philip, vii. 126. 
Reiner, Wenzel Lorenzo, iv. 143. 
Reinhart, viii. 291, 293. 
Reisen, viii. 281. 
Rembrandt van Ryn, v. 69, 70- 

130 ; pupils and followers of, v. 

2 T 


131-143, 163. KeJ's. ii. 32 ; iii. 

7, 54, 153, 183, 194 i iv. 141 i 

V. 171, 216, 249. 
Renaissance, The, art-awakening 

in Italy, i. 26. 
-Byzantine art preceding, i. 

decline of, iii. 12-20. 

in Flanders, i. 37. 

in Florence, ii. 231, 252, 


in France, v. 5, 6. 

in Germany, iv. 83. 

Greek ideals, i. 32. 

humanistic origin of, i. 22, 


in Italy. See Italian Renais- 

literature, revival of, i. 42, 43. 

in Netherlands, iii. 6, 7 ; 

»v. 3- 

in Spain, iii. 7. 

in Venice, ii. 231. 

Renesse, C, v. 108. 

Reni, Guido, iii. 32-36, 58. 

Renoir, viii. 194, 196. 

Renouard, Paul, viii. 270, 275. 

Ress, viii. 283. 

Restoration, Painters of the, vii. 73. 

Restout, Jean, vi. 170. 

Rethel, viii. 144. 

Rever, viii. 286. 

Reyn, Jan van, iv. 222, 226. 

Willem van, v. 232. 

Reynolds, Sir Joshua, vii. 137-165; 

rivalry with Gainsborough, vii. 

'73> '7''> 181; rivalry with 

Wilson, vii. 134, 135. Refs. iii. 

21, 74i vii. 192, 193, 194, 207, 

Reysch, Rachel, v. 252. 
Rhead, the Brothers, viii. 142. 
Riabuskine, viii. 289. 
Ribalta, Francisco de, iii. 127, 128- 

130. Rejs. iii. 137, 138, 201. 

Juan de, iii. 129. 

Ribera, Guiseppe, iii. 60, 61-62. 
Jusepe de, iii. 137-144. ReJs. 

iii. 30, 62, 63, 129, 153, 16S ; 

V. 69. 
Ribot, viii. 105. 
Ricard, Gustave, viii. 152, 154. 
Ricci, Sebastiano, iii. 69. 
Ricciarelli, Daniele. See Volterra. 
Riccio, Domenico del, ii. 193. 
Rice, Miss Estelle, viii. 261. 
Richardson, Jonathan, vii. 95. 
Richelieu, Cardinal, policy of, vi. 

48-50 ; relations with Rubens, 

iv. 155. 179- 
Richmond, George, viii. 141. 

Sir William, viii. 141. 

Richter, Christian, vii. 102. 
Ricketts, Charles, viii. 142. 
Rico, viii. 287. 
Ridolfi, Carlo, iii. 68. 
Riedinger, Elias, iv. 144. 

Riegh, viii. 281. 

Rictschoof, Jan Claasi, v. 229. 

Kigaud, F., vii. 203. 

Hyacinthe Francois, vi. 89, 


Largilliere, vi. 47. 

Riley, John, vii. 81. 
Rincon, Antonio, iii. 92, 

Fernando del, iii. 92. 

Ring, Hermann Tom, iv. 87. 

Ludwig, iv. 87. 

Riviire, viii. 272, 275. 

Rizi, Francisco, iii. 226. 

Fray Juan, iii. 211. 

Robbia, Andrea delta, i. 188. 
Luca, i. 18S. 

Robert, Hubert, vi. 200, 228, 241, 

Roberti Grandi, Ercole, ii. 37. 
Roberts, David, vii. 244 ; viii. 69. 

Tom, viii. 294. 

Robertson, Andrew, vii. 238 ; viii, 


Graham, viii. 227. 

Tom, viii. 251. 

Robinson, Cayley, viii. 124. 

Douglas, viii. 246, 291. 

Hugh, vii. 286. 

John, vii. 125. 

William, vii. i2l>. 

Robson, George Fennel, viii. 64. 
Robusti, Domenico, ii. 212. 

Jacopo. See Tintoretto. 

Roche, Alexander, viii. 226, 22S. 
Rochegrosse, viii, 144. 
Rochetel, vi. 22, 23. 
Rode, Christian Bernard, iv. 143. 
Roelas, Juan de las, iii. 113-114, 

126, 145, 146. 
Roepel, Conrad, v. 253. 
Roestraeten, Picter, v. 33, 246. 
Rogel, Maestro, iii. 89. 
Rogery, Roger de, vi. 36. 
Roghman, Roelandt, v. 62-63, '°3» 

Rokes, Hcndrick Martenz, v. 54. 
Roll, Alfred Philippe, viii. 215. 
Roller, viii. 297. 
Romagnuoli, School of, i. 131. 
Romako, viii. 283. 
Roman Art, i. 17. 
Byzantine influence on, i. 17, 

Greek works of art in Rome, 

i. 17. 

painting and sculpture, 1. 17. 

Romanesque art. See Preface, 

vol. iv. 
Romanelli, Gianfrancesco, iii. 69. 
Romanino, iii. 90, 110, 171, 172, 

'74- . 
Romano, Giacomo, vi. 36. 
Giulio, i. 203-204. Refs. u 

192, 198, 230; ii. 45 ; iii. 12, 

13-14, 20. 
Romantic movement, modern, viii. 




Romberg, viii. 286. 

Rombouts, I. van, v. 220. 

Solomon, v. 219. 

Theodor, iv. 196. 

Rome, School of, iii. 20. 

Romney, George, vii. 185-199. 

Roncalli, Cristofero, iii. zi. 

Ronilinelli, ii. 73, 75. 

Rooke, viii. 141. 

Rooker, vii. 239. 

Roos, Heinrich, iv. 142. 

Pliilip, iv. 14.2. 

Roose, iv. 196. 

Rops, Felicien, viii. 106-108, 232. 

Rosa, Salvator, iii. 62, 63-65, 144., 

Rosalba, Carriera, vi. 129. 

Roselli, Cosimo, i. 121, 126, 169. 

Rosen, von, viii. 287. 

Rosiin, Alexandre, vi. 216. 

Madame, vi. 257. 

Ross, Sir William Charles, viii. 68. 

Rosselli, Matteo, iii. 45-46. 

Rossetti, Dante Gabriel, viii. 117- 
121, 135, 144, 265. 

Rossi, Rosso, i. 245-249 ; iii. 14, 
16, 18 ; in France, vi. 19, 20. 

Rotari, Pietro, iii. 69. 

Roth, viii. 2S3. 

Rottenhammer, iv. 141. 

Roualt, viii. 144. 

Rougemont, vi. 22, 23. 

Rouquet, vii. 102. 

Rousseau, Theodore, viii. 91-93. 

Roussel, K. X., viii. 249, 299. 

Roux, Maitre. See Rossi. 

Rovere, Duchess della, i. 187. 

Francesco della, Duke of 

Urbino, ii. 133, i 34. 

Rowlandson, Thomas, vii. 245- 

Royal Academy, The, foundation 
of, vii. 150, 207. 

Roybet, Ferdinand, viii. 202. 

Roymerswaele, Marinus van, iv. 

Rubens, Peter Paul, iv. 156-193; 
vii. 51-52; collaboration with 
Snyders, iv. 178; early paint- 
ings, iv. 159 5 landscapes, iv. 
174, 189, 190 ; mythological 
subjects, iv. 169, 173 ; portrai- 
ture, iv. 169; pupils of, 197; 
second, or Antwerp, period, iv. 
166, 167 j at Spanish Court, iii. 
166, 167; third, or Great Steen, 
period, iv. 186; Van Dyck, his 
pupil, iv. 171, 172, 192, 204, 
205, 207, 208, 209. Refs. 9, 
10, 152; iv. 56 ; V. 12, 13, 44, 
46, 68, 69, 79. 

Rubiales, Pedro, iii. 97. 

Rucellai Madonna, The, i. 25, 63; 
attributed to Duccio, i. 64, 65. 

Rugendas, George Philip, iv. 144. 

Runciman, Alexander, vii. 215. 

John, vii. 215. 

Rusinol, viii. 275. 

Raskin on Dutch sea-painters, v. 
239 ; on Giorgione's Castel- 
franco altirpiece, ii. 100 ; on 
Prout's architectural painting, 
viii. 56 ; on Rembrandt's art, v. 
1 30 ; on Rossetti, viii. 119; on 
'I intoretto's art, ii. 209, 210, 
229 ; on Turner's art, viii. 32. 

Russell, John, vii. 203. 

W. W., viii. 249, 294. 

Russian artists, viii. 288. 

Russwurm, Gleichen, viii. 209. 

Rustico, Lorenzo, II, iii. 19. 

Ruthard, Carl, iv. 142. 

Ruysdael, Isack van, v. 62. 

Jacob van, v. 62, 211-219. 

Rejs.w 191, 199, 203, 214, 219, 
221, 231. 

Solomon van, v. 61-62, 212. 

Ryckaerts, Daniel de, iv. 36, 37, 
202 ; v. 51. 

David, iv. 216, 228, 232. 

Martin, iv. 202, 228. 

Rycke, Daniel, iv. 37. 

Ryder, viii. 291. 

Ryland, viii. 142. 

Rysbraek, Peter, iv. 234, 235. 

Rysselberghe, Theo van, viii. 231, 


Saavedra, Antonio, iii. ijfi, 

2C0, 216. 

Sabbatini, Lorenzo, iii. 22. 
Sacchi, Andrea, iii. 31, 69. 
Sadler, Thomas, vii. 80. 
Saftleven, Cornells, v. 51, 54. 

Herman, v. 220. 

Sagar-Nelson, viii. 288. 

St. Dominic, i. 34, 35. 

St. Francis, i. 34, 38, 73, 205. 

St. Jans, Gaerten van, iv. 31, 65; 

v. 55. 
St. Luke, Academy of, i. 131. 

Scottish School of, vii. 99. 

St. Martin, Alexander Pau de, 

viii. 9 1 . 
St. Martin. See Primaticcio. 
Salaino, i. 162, 163. 
Salario, Antonio da, i. 162. 
Salimbeni, Ventura, iii. 19. 
Salmeggia, Enea, iii. 42. 
Salmson, viii. 2S7. 
Salvi, Giovanni Battista. See Sas- 

Salviati. See Rossi. 

Francesco, iii. 18. 

Salzmann, viii. 2S1. 
Sambourne, Linley, viii. 265. 
Sammachini, Orazio, iii. 22. 
Sanchez de Castro, Juan, iii. 90. 
Sandby, Paul, vii. 130-131. 

'Thomas, vii. 1 30-1 31. 

Sanders, viii. 68. 

Sandrart, Joachim, iv. 142 ; vi. 64. 

Sandvoord, D. D., v. 141. 

Sandys, Frederick, viii. 138, 139, 

Sangallo, Antonio da, i. 228. 
San Leocadio, Pablo, iii. 104. 
Sanredam, Pieter Janszoon, v. 236. 
Sanseverino, Giacomo, i. 170. 
San Severino, Lorenzo da, i. 170, 

171, 172; ii. 131, 146. 
Santacroce, Francesco da, ii. 86. 

Girolamo da, ii. 86. 

Santerre, Jean Baptiste, vi. 88. 
Santi, Giovanni, i. 131, 185. 

Raphael. See Raphael. 

Sanzio, Ratiaelo. See Raphael. 

Saraceno, Carlo, iii. 58. 

Sargent, John S., viii. 218-219, 

249, 290. 
Sarto, Andrea del, i. 241-244. 

Refs. i. 125, 181, 184, 194 J iii. 

16, 18. 
Sassetta, i. 167. 
Sassoterrato, iii. 39-40. 
Sattler, viii. 144, 282, 298. 
Sauter, viii. 246. 
Savelli Family, The, iv. 148. 
Savery, Roelandt, iv. 77, 78. 
Saville, Lady Dorothy, vii. 98. 
Savoldo, ii. 171-172, 173. 
Savonarola, i. 43, 106, 107, 119, 

120, 208, 210, 239. 
Saxon, James, vii. 295. 
Scala Family of Verona, The, ii. 

7, 8. 
Scattola, viii. 286. 
Schaak, J. S. C, vii. 201. 
Schaffner, Martin, iv. 96. 
Schalken, Godfried, v. 134, 182. 
Schartf, viii. 284. 
Schattenstein, viii. 284. 
Schauffelein, Leonhard, iv. iij. 
Schedone, Bartolommeo, iii. 39. 
Scheffer, Ary, vi. 279; viii. 87, 

92, 122. 

Henri, viii. 199. 

Schiavone, Gregorio, ii. 169-170. 

Refs. ii. 32, 33, 144, 153, 213. 
Schindler, viii. 283. 
Schlichten, Jan Philip van, v. 187. 
Schlittgen, viii. 282. 
Schmid, viii. 284. 
Schmutzer, viii. 285. 
Schoenfeldt, Heinrich, iv. 142. 
Schongauer, Martin, iv. 89, 90-91. 
Schooten, Joris van, v. 8. 
Schriek, Otto Marsens van, v. 252, 
Schuchlin, Hans, iv. 96. 
Schulze, Horst, viii. 282. 
Schut, Cornells, iii. 221 ; iv. 197. 
Schute, John, vii. 38. 
Schutz, Christian George, iv. 145. 
Schwabe, Carlos, viii. 144, 275. 
Schwarz, Martin, iv. 97. 
Scipion, Jean, vi. 26. 
School of St. Luke, vii. 99. 
Scopas, i. 13, 14, 15. 
Scorel, Jan, iv. 66. 
Scott, David, viii. 71. 


Scott Samuel, vii. 129. 

William Bell, viii. 138, iSz. 

^— ■ Lauder. See Lauder. 
Scottish Academy of Painting, 

vii. 127. 
Scottish Painting: in eighteenth 

century, vii. 99, 204. 
foreign artists in Scotland, 

vii. 90. 

historical, vii. 215. 

•^— home-life scenes, vii. 218. 
landscape art, vii. 243 ; viii. 

miniaturists of eighteenth 

century, vii. 232. 

modern, viii. 250. 

in nineteenth century, viii. 68. 

portrait painters, vii. 269 ; 

viii. 68. 
Pre-Raphaelite group, viii. 

Scougall, David, vii. 89, 90. 

John, vii. 90. 

Screta, Carl, iv. 142. 
Sebastiani. See Bastiano. 
Secession School of Berlin, The, 

viii. 207. 

of Vienna, viii. 297. 

Seddon, viii. 133. 
Seew, Marinus de, iv. 58. 
Seganti, Guiseppe, viii. 220. 
Segantini, Giovanni, viii. 284, 287, 

Segar, Francis, vii. 35. 

William, vii. 35. 

Segers, Daniel, iv. 201. 

Peter, iv. 201. 

Seghers, Gerard, iv. 196. 

Hercules, v. 57-59, 2i6. 

Joris van, v. 8. 

Segna, i. 167. 
Seguin, viii. 301. 
Seibold, Christian, iv. 144. 
Sellajo, Jacopo del, i. 91. 
Seloir, viii. 275. 
Selvatico, viii. 286. 
Sem, viii. 275. 
Semenza, iii. 36. 
Semini, Andrea, iii. 16. 

Ottavio, iii. 16. 

Semitecolo, Niccolo, ii. 51, 52. 

Seroff, viii. 289. 

Senisier, Paul, viii. 300. 

Seurat, viii. 229-230. 

Sesto, Cesare de, i. 162, 163. 

Severino, Lorenzo di San. See 

San Severino. 
Sevilla, Escalente de, iii. 210. 
Seville, Hispano-FIemish painters 

of, iii. 91. 

School of, iii. 132, 133. 

Sforza, Francesco, Duke of Milan, 

i 56; ii. II, 12, 13, 14. 
Ludovico, Duke of Milan, i. 

146, 151, 152, 153. 
Shackleton, John, vii. 125. 
Shannon, C. Hazlewood, viii. 141. 


Shannon, J. J., viii. 292. 
Shaw, Hyaui, viii. 123. 
Slice, Sir Martin Archer, vii. 295. 
Shelley, Samuel, vii. 237. 
Shepherd, William, vii. So. 
Sheriff', Charles, vii. 232. 
Shields, Frederick, viii. 138, 265. 
Shirlaw, viii. 290. 
Short, Frank, viii. 265. 
Sibereclus, Jan. iv. 142. 
Sickerts, Tlie, viii. 249. 
Sicolanteda Sermoneta, Girolamo, 

iii. 20. 
Sidaner, Henri Le, viii. 266. 
Siena, Benvenuto da, i. 167. 

Marco da, iii. 19. 

State of Tuscany, i. 48. 

School of, i. 63-67, 167-168, 

Signac, Paul, viii. 230. 

Signol, viii. 87. 

Signorelli, i. 132-134; ii. 29. 

Simbrecht, Matthias, iv. 142. 

Sime, Sidney H., viii. 252, 266. 

Simon, Lucien, viii. 216, 283. 

Simpson, Joseph, viii. 257-258. 

Slmson, William, viii. 69. 

Singleton, Henry, vii. 218. 

Sirani, Elisabetta, iii. 36. 

Giovanni, iii. 36. 

Sisley, Alfred, viii. 194. 

Sixtus IV., i. 106, 131 ; ii. 14, 16. 

Skirving, Archibald, vii. 232. 

Slaughter, Stephen, vii. 98. 

Slingelandt, Comelis van, v. 134. 

Sluter, Claes, iv. 10. 

Small, viii. 265. 

William, viii. 185. 

Smart, John, vii. 220. 

Smedley, viii. 290, 293. 

Smibert, John, vii. 100. 

Smissen, Domenicus van der, iv. 

Smith, Bellingham, viii. 266, 290. 

Colvin, viii. 68. 

George, of Chichester, vii. 1 29. 

Jessie Wilcox, viii. 293. 

George, vii. 129. 

William, vii. 129. 

Smythe, Montague, viii. 247. 

Snaphaan, A. D., v. 188. 

Snayers, Peter, iv. 200, 214, 235. 

Snyders, Frans, iv. 197-198 ; col- 
laboration vpith Rubens, iv. 170, 

Snyers. See Snayers. 

Soderini, Gonfaloniere Pietro, i. 
187, 221. 

"Sodomo, II." Sf^ Bazzi. 

Soest, Gerard, vii. 80. 

Konrad van, iv. 87. 

Sogliani, Giovanni Antonio,!. 136. 

Solario, Andrea da, i. 162. 

Antonio da, i. 167. 

Solemaker, J. F., v. 231. 
Solimena, Francesco, iii. 75. 
Solis, Virgilius, iv. 114. 

Solomon, Simeon, viii. 141. 
Somer, Paul van, iv. 72, 209; viL 

Somotf, Constantin, viii. 252, 289. 
Sorgh, Hendrick, v. 51, 54. 
Sorolla y Bastida, viii. 275, 276. 
Southall, viii. 142. 
Spada, Leonella, iii. 39. 
Spadaro, Micco. See Gorgiuoli. 
Spagna, Lo, i. 182. 
Spagnoletto, Lo. See Ribera. 
S])agnuolo, Giovanni, iii. 97. 
Spanish painting, iii. 83-87. 
achievement in sixteenth 

century, iii. 123-124, 127. 

decline of, iii. 223-229. 

early Gothic art, iii. 88, 89, 

9°- . . 
Flemish artists at Court, iii. 

89> 93 

Ilapsburg family as patrons, 

iii. 85, 86, 106. 

influence on modem French 

art, viii. 202. 
Italian influence on, iii. 88, 

94, 95- . 

Naturalists or Tenebrosi, in- 
fluence of, iii. 124. 

present day, viii. 275. 

Renaissance influence, iii. 6. 

tyranny of the Church, iii. 

Venetian influence, iii. iii. 

Spanzotto, i. 165, 166. 

Spare, viii. 266. 

Sparre, viii. 289. 

Spencer, Gervase, vii. 102. 

Spiegel, viii. 2S2. 

Spilberg, Joannes, v. 35. 

Spinelli, The, i. 71. 

Spinelli of Arezzo, iv. 38. 

Spoede, vi. 202. 

Spranger, Bartholomew, iv. 76. 

Squarcione, Paduan School of, 1. 

159, 160; ii. 25-27, 52,53. Refs. 

ii. 23, 25, 27, 28, 31, 32, 34, 40, 

52, 57, 59, 70, 87, ]!(>■ 
Standaart, Peter van, iv. 233. 
Stanfield, George Clarkson, vii. 

244 ; viii. 65. 

William, viii. 65. 

Stanhope Forbes, Mrs., viii. 294. 
Stanhope, Spencer, viii. 141. 
Stanton, Hughes, viii. 247. 
Stanzioni, Massimo, iii. 62-63, 144. 
Stark, James, viii. 5, 55. 
Stamina, Ghirardo, iii. 78, 88. 
Staufter, viii. 2S4. 

Staveren, Johan A. van, v. 134. 
Steen, Jan, v. 52, 148-156. 
Steenwyck, H. van, the Elder, iv. 

H. van, the Younger, iv. 78, 

Steele, Chriitopher, vii. 186. 
Steer, Wilson, viii. 249. 
Steiner-Prag, Hugo, viii. 28a. 


Stfinlcn, viii. 167, 272-274.. 

Stephens, F. G., viii. 121. 

Sterner, viii. 290, 293. 

Stetson, viii. 293. 

Steuben, viii. 102. 

Stevaerts, Antony Palamedess, v. 

33. '92- 
Steve, Jean, !ii. 74. 
Steven, Ernst, v. 188. 
Stevens, Alfred, viii. 105, 127-128. 

. Palamedess. See Stevaerts. 

. Richard, vii. 35. 

Stevenson, Macaulay.viii. 226,251. 
Stewart, viii. 292. 

Anthony, viii. 68. 

Still-Life Painting, Dutch, v. 192, 

Stillman, Mrs., viii. 141. 
Stilwell, Sarah, viii. 29J. 
Stoc, Francis, iv. 36. 
Stohr, viii. 284, 285. 
Stone, Henry, iv. 226 ; vii. 63. 
Stoop, Dirk, v. 193. 
Storey, viii. 123. 
Stork, Abraham, v. 228. 
Stotliard, Thomas, vii. 217-218. 
Stott, Edward, viii. 248. 

William, viii. 226. 

Stradanus, iv. 76. 
Straet, Johannes, iv. 76. 
Strang, viii. 251, 265. 
Strathmann, viii. 298. 
Streater, Robert, vii. 81, 
Streeton, viii. 294. 
Stremel, Max, viii. 209. 
Stretes, Guillim, vii. 14, 21, 22. 
Stretti, viii. 283. 
Strigil, Bernhard, iv. 96. 
Strozzi, Bernardo, iii. 62. 
Striidwick, viii. 1 1 1. 
Stuart, Gilbert, vii. loi, 268. 
Stubbs, George, vii. 297-298. 
Stuck, viii. 277, 282, 298. 
Stucrbout, Dierick, iv. 31. 

Hubert, iv. 35. 

Sturmio, iii. 103. 
Suardi, Bartolome, i. 161. 
tjiibleyras, Pierre, vi. 103. 
Suess, Hans, iv. 113. 
Sullivan, E. J., viii. 266. 

Luke, vii. 238. 

Sumner, Heywood, viii. 142. 
Sustermans, Lambert, iv. 68. 

Justus, iv. 196, 205. 

Suvee, vi. 264. 

Svabinsky, viii. 283. 

Swan, John Macallan, viii. 226. 

Swanenbuergh, Jacob van, v. 71, 

Swanewelt, Herman van, v. 233. 
Swedish artists, viii. 287. 
Swiss artists, viii. 289. 
Sydney, Sir Henry, vii. 75, 76. 

Sir Philip, vii. 35. 

Syme, John, viii. 68. 

Symonds, J. A., i. 247, 24.8, 249. 

Szekely, viii. 285. 




Tacconi, The, i. 62. 

Tadema, Sir Lawrence Alma, viii. 

88, 140. 
Tamagni, Vincenzo, iii. 16. 
Tamm, Franz Werner, iv. 142. 
Tannock, viii. 68. 
Taquoy, Maurice, viii. 274.. 
Taraval, Hugues, vi. 196. 
Tardieu, vi. 202. 
Tarkholf, Nicolas, viii. 289. 
Tassi, Agontino, vi. 62, 63. 
Tattegrain, viii. 14.4. 
Taunay, Nicolas Antoine, vi 147, 

Tavarone, Lazzaro, iii. 95. 
Taylor, John, vii. 64. 
Tegner, Hans, vlli. 289. 
Tempel, Abraham van, v. 35, 

Tempera Painting, ii. 78. 
Temple, viii. 284. 
Tenebrosi, The, iii. 52-54, 60, 6t. 
influence on Spanish art, iii. 

85. '2+- 
lesser painters, iii. 62. Re/s. 

iii. 37, 4.2, 61, 71, 72, 138, 142, 

'43. '52. 'S3. '68, 170, 180, 

201, 249; v. 5. 
Tenlers, Abraham, iv. 232. 

David, the Elder, iv, 


the Younger, iv. 

201, 292-232. Ke/j. iv. 

188 ; v. 51. 
Tenniel, viii. 265. 
Ter Borch, the Elder, v. 157, 158. 
Gerard, v. 131, 157-162. 

Re/s. V. 153, 166, 169, 184. 

Gesina, v. 157. 

Terling, Lavinia, vii. 14, 21. 
Ter Meulen, Frederick Pieter, 

viii. 200. 
Testelin, Pasquier, vi. 40. 
Thangue, La, viii. 248, 249. 
Thanlow, Fritz, viii. 267, 288. 
Thayer, viii. 290, 291. 
Theodorich, Meister, iv. 97. 
Theotocopuli, Domenico. See 

Greco, El. 
Thiele, Alexander, iv. 143, 145. 
Thielens, Jan Philip van, iv. 201 ; 

V. 45. 

Johann Alexander, iv. 145. 

Thirtle, viii. 55. 

Thoma, Hans, viii. 205-206, 282. 
Thomas, Jan, iv. 197. 
Thompson, Elizabeth, viii. 143. 
Thomson, Henry, vii. 289. 

Hugh, viii. 265. 

John, of Duddingston, vii. 

244; viii. 68. 

Leslie, viii. 185. 

W. J., viii. 68. 

Thony, viii. 279, 2S2. 
Thorburn, R., viii. 67, 68. 
Thornhill, Sir James, vii. 87, 96. 
Thulden, Theodore van. iv. 197 

Thys, Peter, iv. 227. 

Tiarini, Alessandro, iii. 3J. 

Tibaldi, iii. 35, 96. 

Tichy, viii. 285. 

Tidemand, viii. 288. 

Tielens. See Thielens. 

Tiepoletto, iii. 73. 

Tiepolo, Giovanni Battista, iii. 

70-73. 229. 233- 

Tiffany, viii. 290, 298. 

Tilborgh, Egidiusvan, iv. 232. 

Tilson, Henry, vii. 80. 

Tinelli, Tiberio, iii. 68. 

Tintoretto, ii. 206-230. Refi. i. 
251 ; ii. 33, 91, 107, 115, 150, 
152, 153, 163, 167, 191, 204, 
205 ; iii. 4, 5-6, 116, 145, 167. 

Tischbein, Johann Heinrick, jv. 


Tisi, Benvenuto, ii. 39. 

TisBot, viii. 88. 

Titi, Santo, iii. 18, 20. 

Titian, ii. 95-154. 

pupils of, ii. 167-173. Re/s. 

'• 243-247, 25' i "• 45. 54, 74i 
75. 87. 89, 90, 91, 95,155, 158, 
161, 170, 171, 173, 175, 185, 
191, 205, 206, 207, 208, 210, 
226, 227, 228, 231 J iii. 4, 5, 

25. 39. "6. '67- 
Tito, viii. 287. 
Tivoli, Rosa da, iv. 141. 
Tocque, Louis, vi. 151. 
Tol, Dominicus van, v. 134. 
Toledo, Hispano-Gothic School of, 

iii. 91, 100. 
Tommasi, viii. 287. 
Toms, Peter, vii. 200. 
Tonks, viii. 249. 
Toorop, Jan, viii. 286, 296, 297. 
Topographical drawings, vii. 130, 

Torbido, Francesco, ii. 45, 191. 
Tornabuoni, Lorenzo, i. 112, 113. 
Torrigiani, Bartolommeo, iii. 65. 
Torregiano, Piero, iii. 208, 209 ; 

in England, vii. 12. 
Toto, Anthony, vii. 21. 
Toulouse-Lautrec-Monfa, Henri, 

viii. 167, 270. 
Tournieres, vi. 168. 
Tours, School of, vi. 9. 
Touche, Gustave, La. See La 

Towne, Francis, vii. 239. 
Townsend, viii. 266. 
Traquair, Mrs., viii. i4». 
Traut, Wolf, iv. 1 1 j. 
Travies, viii. 82. 
Trick, v. 249. 
Trinquesse, vi. 147. 
Tristan, Luis, iii. 131. 
Troili, viii. 287. 
Troost, Comelis, vi. 141. 
Troy, Jean Francois, vi. 103. 
Troyon, Constant, viii. 95. 
Trubetskoj, Prince Paul, viii. 289. 


Triibner, Wilhelm, viii. 206. 

Truffin, Philip, iv. j6. 

Trustees' Academy of Scotland, 

The, vii. 127. 
Tucci, Giovanni Maria, iii. 19. 
Tuke, vii. 249. 
Tura, Cosimo, ii. 32, 34-35, 40, 

Tiirchi, Alessandro, I'Orbetto, iii. 

Turner, J. M. W., viii. 9-39, 189. 

Kefi. ii. 107, 149, 228; vi. 73. 
Tuscan Painters, i. 25. 
Tuscany, The Renaissance in, 

Twachtman, viii. 291. 
Typrus, Peter, iv. 227. 

Ubbelohde, viii. 282. 
Ubertini, Francesco, i. 183. 
Uccello, i. 81, 82, 89, 95, 99, 131, 

142 ; ii. 26. 
Uden, L. van, iv. 197, 199. 
Udine, Giovanni da, iii. lo. 

Martino da. See Pellegrino. 

Ulin, Pierre de, vi. 134. 

Ulm, School of, iv. 96. 

Umbrian School, The, i. 169. See 

also Chart, p. 178. 
Raphael's position in, i. 183 ; 

Sienese influence on, i. 168, 

170, 171; Venetian influence 

on, i. 171, 184. 
Unger, viii. 285. 
Urban, viii. 284. 
Urbino, Francesco, i. 229. 

Pietro, i. 222. 

Utrecht, Adrian van, iv. 200 
Uylenborch, Hendrick van, v. 136. 
Uyt-den-Brock, Moses, v. 8. 

Vadder, Lodewyck de, iv. 233. 
Vaccaro, Andrea, iii. 62. 
Vaenius, Otto, iv. 76, 163. 
Vaga, Perino del, i. 198; iii. 13, 

14, 16, 19, 102. 
Vail, viii. 267. 
Vaillant, Bernard, iv. 234. 

James, iv. 233. 

Wallerant, iv. 233. 

Valdes, Dona Luisa, iii. 209. 

Dona Maria, iii. 209. 

Leal, Juan de, iii. 207-209, 


Llanos y, iii. 150, 205. 

Lucas, iii. 209. 

Valencia, School of, iii. 88, 90, 91, 

92, 103, 104, 127, 128. 
Valenciennes, School of, vi. 14. 
Valentin, Jean, vi. 52, 53. 

Moses, iii. 58. 

Valkenburg, Frederick van, iv. 77. 

Lucan van, iv. 77. 

Martin van, iv. 77. 

Valkenburg, Theodor, v. 244. 
Vallotin, viii. 301. 

Valois, House of, vi. 13. 

Van Aeken, Hieronymus Bosch, 

iv. 65. 

Aelst, Evert, v. 252. 

Willem, V. 252. 

]lalen, Heinrich, iv. 76 ; 

V. 13. 

Bassen, Bartholomew, iv. 79. 

Bcijeren, Abraham, v. 251. 

Bergen, Dirk, v. 227. 

Beyeren, Cornelis, v. 92. 

L. C, V. 14 

Bloemen, Jan Frans, iv. 235. 
Peter, iv. 233. 

Boonen, v. 188. 

Bredael, Jan Frans, iv. 235. 

Ceulen, Cornelis Jansen, iv. 

202 ; vii., 47 
the Younger, iv. 203 ; 

vii. 48. 

Cleef, Hendrick, iv. 77. 

■ Joos, iv. 60, 69. 

Coxcyen, Michael, iv. 64. 

Craesbeck, Joos, iv. 232; v. 

45. 5'- 

de Capelle, v. 139, 217. 

Delen, Dirk, v. 33, 236. 

der Bank, Jan, vii. loi. 

der Bossche, Balthasar, iv. 


der Does, Jacob, v. 230. 

Simon, v. 232. 

der Faes, Peter, iv. 227. 

der Goes, Hugo, iv. 43-45. 

Refs. i. 136 i iv. 35, 37. 

der Hagen, Joris, v. 220. 

der Heist, Bartholomeus, v. 

33. 34- 35> 104- 
der Heyden, Jan, v. 225, 


den Hoccke, Jan, v. 197. 

der Leeuw, Picter, v. 227. 

der Lis, Joan, v. 8. 

der Mast, vi. 38. 

der Meer de Jonge, Jan, v. 


der Mere, Gerard, iv. 46. 

der Meersch, Passchier, iv. 

+ 2. 
der Meulen, Adam Francois, 

vi. 85-86. 

Anton, iv. 200, 232. 

der Myn, Frans, v. 188. 

Gerhart, v. 18S. 

Herman, v. 188. 

der Neer, Aert, v. 63-66, 

1 8;. 

Eglon Henri, v. 183, 186, 

225, 238. 

der Poel, Egbert, v. 184. 

— der Smissen, Dominicus, iv. 

— den Straeten, vi. 38. 

derTempel, Abraham, v. 187. 

der Ulft, Jacob, v. 238. 

der Veen, v. 213. 

de Velde, viii. 297. 

Van de Velde, Adriaen, v. 222, 
223-226. Refs. v. 116, 191, 

'94. '95. »'4. 2'5. »'9. 220, 


der Velde, Eiias, v. 56, 192. 

Peter, vii. 35. 

Willem, the Elder, v. 

192, 222. 

the Younger, v. 


der Venne, Ailrienne, iv. 76. 

P., V. ,92. 

der Vinne, Vincenziui, v. 33. 

der Vliet, Willem, v. 4. 

der Wertf, Adrian, v. 186. 

Pieter, v. i 87. 

der Weyden, Roger, Iv. 23, 

24-28. Refs. i. 171 i ii. 79; 

iii. 100; iv. 3, 30, 63, 85. 
Dorst, Jacob, v. 108. 

Dyck, Anthony, iv. 204- 

227; vii. 52-60; English phase, 
iv. 217; vii. 52-60; first, or 
Rubensesque, manner, iv. 205 ; 
second, or Genoese, phase, iv, 
210; third, or Antwerp, phase, 
iv. 212; Venetian manner, iv. 
213. Refs. iii. 39, 154, 207} 
iv. 56, 175, 192, 197; V. 13, 
21, 22, 79. 

Dyk, Philip, V. 187. 

Dyke, Peter, vii. 200. 

Eecke, Jan, iv. 53. 

Es, Jacob, iv. 200. 

Eyck, Hubert Jan, iv. 8, 10- 

14. Ref. i. 171. 
Jan, iv. 14-20. Refs. 

ii. 78, 79 ; iii. 89 i iv. 3, 8, 9, 

II, 12 ; V. 55. 

Lambert, iv. 20. 

Margaret, iv. 19. 

Glabbcck, Jan, v. 108. 

Gogh, Vincent, viii. 221-224, 

237, 300. 
Goyen, Jan, v. 59, 60, 61, 

Gravesende, viii. 286. 

Haarlem, Cornelis, iy. 76. 

Haaken, Joseph, vii. loi. 

Helmont, Matthys, ir. 232. 

Hemessen, Catherina, iv. 71. 

- — Jan, iv. 78. 

. Jan Sanders, iv. 74. 

Hoecke, Carl, iv. 233. 

Robert, iv. 233. 

Hoogstraaten, v. 139. 

Huchtenburgh, Joon, v. 198. 

Husyum, Jan, v. 252. 

Justus, V. 252. 

Kessel, Jan, v. 220. 

Kessell, Ferdinand, iv. 77. 

Laar, Peter, iii. 68 ; v. 39, 

Lathem, Livin, iv. 36. 

Leemput, Remigius, iv. 226. 

Lcyden, Lucas, iv. 66; v. 55. 

Liniborch, Hendrick, iv. 187. 


Van Loo, Carle, vi. 154, 171, 

. Jean Baptiste, vi. 172, 

174; in England, vii. loi. Refi. 

vi. 13+, 251. 

Maas, Arnold, iv. 232. 

Mander, Karel, iv. 42, 43, 

76; V. 14. 
. Mieris, Frans.v. 134, 182, 188. 

Mol, iv. 197. 

Moor, V. 187. 

Muscher, v. 187. 

Nickelen, Isaac, v. 237. 

. Jan, V. 237. 

. Nieulandt, VVillem, iv. 78. 

. Noort, Adam, iv. 159 j v. 

12, 13. 
. Nuyssen, Jacob, iv. 200. 

Oostsanan, Cornelis, iv. 66. 

. Orley, Bernard, iii. 100 ; iv. 

63, 64. 

. Valentin, iv. 64. 

Os, Jan, V. 8. 

Ostade, Adriaen, v. 32, 51-53. 

Isaac, V. 33, 53, 149. 

Osterwych, Maria, v. 248 

Ouwater, Albert, iv. ^o, 31. 

Papendreclit, viii. 286. 

Ravesteyn, Jan, v. 4, 8. 

Reyn, Jan, iv. 226. 

Roymerswaele, Marinus, iv. 


Ruysdael, Isack, v. 62. 

Solomon, V. 62, 21 1-219. 

Rysselberghe, Theo, viii. 231. 

St. Jans, Geerten, iv. 31. 

Schlichten, v. 187. 

Schooten, Joris, v. 8. 

Schrieck, Otto, v. 252. 

Slingelandt, Cornelisz, v. 134. 

. Somer, Paul, iv. 72, 209 ; 

vii. 46-47. 
— Staveren, Johann Adriaen, 

V. 134. 
Steenwyck, Hendrik, iv. 78. 

Swanenbuergh, Jacob, v. 71. 

Swanevelt, Herman, v. 233. 

Tempel, v. 35, 185. 

Thielen, Jan Philip, iv. 201. 

Thiilden, Theodore, iv. 197. 

Tilborgh, Egidius, iv. 232. 

Tol, Dominicus, v. 134. 

Uden, L., iv. 197, 199. 

Uylenborch, Hendrick, v. 78. 

Valkenburg, Frederick, iv. 77. 

Lucas, iv. 77. 

— ^ Martin, iv. 77. 

Veen, Otto, iv. 76, 96, 159. 

Verendael, Nicolas, iv. 201. 

Vliet, Hendrick, v. 237. 

Jan Joris, v. 141. 
Vanni, Francesco, iii. 19. 
Vannucci, Pietro. See Perugino. 
Vans Agnew, vii. 6. 
Varatori, Alessandro, ii. 204. 
Varela, Francisco, iii. 1 14. 
Vargas, Luis de, iii. ioi-io». 

Varin, Quintin, vi. 53. 

Varlcy, John, viii. 56, 61. 

Vasari, Giorgio, iii. 17-18; on 
Antonello da Messina's use of 
oils, ii. 78, 79 ; artist friends of, 
i. 245, 247; on Bellini's paint- 
ing, ii. 6i; on Bordone, ii. 167; 
on Botticelli, i. 107 ; on Fra 
Angelico, i. 74 ; on Francia- 
bigio, i. 245 ; on Giorgione, ii. 
98 ; on Mona Lisa, by Da 
Vinci, i. 154; on Perugino's 
master, i. 172; pupil of Michel- 
angelo, i. 205 ; on Rucellai 
Madonna, i. 25, 65 ; on Signor- 
elli's frescoes, i. 133; on Tin- 
toretto, ii. 227 ; on Titian, ii. 
122, 137. Refs. i. 133, 227, 
245' 247; ii- 36, 89, 97; iii. 60, 
74, 88, 97 ; iv. 76. 

Vaslet, L., vii. 237. 

Vasquez, Alonso, iii. 103. 

Juan Bautista, iii. 103. 

Vecchia, Pietro dello, iii. 69. 

Vecchietta, i. 167. 

Vecchio, Palma, ii. 158-161. Refs. 
ii. 75, 76, 89, 91, 92, 95, loi, 

114. "7, '53. '58. ■59> ifi^j 
171 ; iii. 67. 

Vecelli, Tiziano. See Titian. 

Vedder, Elihu, viii. 291. 

Veen, Otto van, iv. 76, 159. 

Vegetti, viii. 287. 

Velasco, Luis de, iii. 98. 

Palomina y, iii. 228. 

Velazquez, iii. 151-196. Refs. ii. 
122, 151, 164, 165; iii. 7, 54, 
107, 117, 123, 127, 131, 135, 
140, 141, 142, 147, 149, 215, 
223, 224, 228 ; V. 18, 30, 67, 
245 ; viii. 202. 

Antonio, iii. 229. 

Zacaria, iii. 229. 

Venetian School of Painting, ii. i. 
See also Chart. 

baroque phase, iii. 67-79. 

Byzantine tradition, ii. 18, 

comparison with Florentine 

School, ii. 231. 
Giotto's influence on, ii. 18, 

influence on Milanese School, 

i. 162. 
influence on Paduan School, 

ii- 37- 
influence on Spanish art, iii. 

influence on Umbrian School, 

i. 184. 
Mannerists of Later School, 

iii. 67. 

pageant pictures, iii. 63-68. 

Veneto, Bartolommeo. See Vene- 

Veneziano, Antonio, i. 71, 81-84, 

99, 131, 14Z ; ii. 51, yi. i iiL 88. 

Veneziano, Bartolommeo, ii. 67-68. 
Domenico, i. 8 i, 99, 142, 

Lorenzo, ii. 51. 

Polidoro, ii. 170. 

Venice, State of, ii. 3-17. 

constitution and government 

of, ii. 3-4. 
— — plague of 1575, ii. 147, 148. 

Renaissance in, ii. 57, 58. 

war with Genoa, ii. 3, 5-6. 

war with the Turks, ii. 13, 

>4, '5- 
wealth and magnificence of, 

ii. 61. 
Venitien, Georges, vi. 32. 
Venne, Adrienne van der, iv. 76 ; 

V. 192. 
Ventura, Luca d'Egidio di. Set 

Venusti, Marcello, i. 240. 
Verbeck, Pieter Cornelis, v. 193. 
Verboom, Abraham, v. 220, 225, 

Verdoel, Adriaen, v. 108, 141. 
Verelst, P., v. 51, 141. 

Simon, vii. 88. 

Verendael, Nicholas van. iv. 201. 
Verestschagin, viii. 288. 
Verhaecht, Tobias, iv. 159. 
Verhanneman, John, iv. 42. 
Verkade, viii. 300. 
Verkolie, Jan, v. 186. 

Nicolas, v. 187. 

Verlanghen, Daniel, v. 8. 
VermeerofDelft,v. 171-177. Rtfs. 

V. 131, 153, 154, 169, 2n. 

of Haarlem, Jan, v. 177. 

of Utrecht, Jan, v. 177. 

Vemansal, vi. 118. 
Vernet, Carle, vi. 199. 

Horace, vi. 199. 

Joseph, vi. 160, 198-199. 

Verona, Francesco da. See Bon- 


Liberale da, ii. 23, 45. 

Michele da, ii. 47. 

School of, ii. 18-23. 

Veronese, Bonifazio, ii. 162, 163, 

Paolo, ii. igi-205. Refs.n. 

46) 47. 93. 107. 115. '44. 150. 
152, 153, 174, 206, 226, 227, 
230, 231 ; iii. 4, 5, 27, 69, 167- 

Verrio, vii. 86, 87. 

Verrocchio, Andrea de, i. 93, 94, 
96, 97, 98, 115, 121, 126, 135, 
136, 142, 145, 173, 252. 

Verschuring, Henrik, v. 198. 

Verschuur, Lieve, v. 228. 

Verspronck, Jan Cornells, v. 32. 

Vertanghen, Daniel, v. 8. 

Verwilt, Frans, v. 8. 

Vespucci, Marco, i. 103. 

Vestier, Antoine, vi. 217. 

Vianci, Francesco da, iii. 95. 

Victors, Jacob, v. 244. 

Jan, V. 92, 135, 140, 141. 

Vien, Joseph Marie, vi. 171, 258- 

Viere, Daniel, viii. 270. 

Vierge, viii. 276. 

Vigan, vi. 270. 

Vigri, Beata Caterina, ii. 40. 

Viladoinat ot Barcelona, iii. 231. 

Villacis, Nicolas de, iii. 228. 

Villavicencio, Pedro Nunez, iii. 

221, 226, 227. 
Villoldo, Jtian de, iii. 97. 
Vincent, vi. 2S4. 
— — George, viii. 5, 55. 
Vinci, Leonardo da, i. 141-158. 

Re/s. i. 37, 80, 97, 106, 121, 

125, 127, 128, 135, 139-167. 

188, 203, 214, 221, 224, 241, 

243, J+S. 252. 253 ; ii- 27. 29, 
38, 98, 127, 150, 171, 179; iii. 

,'3, 25- 
Vincidore, Tommaso, iii. 15. 
Vinckerboons, David, iv. 77, 78. 
Vinne, Van der, v. 33. 
Visconti Family of Milan, The, i. 

46. Sp. S'. SZ > ii- 7-'o. >2- 
Vitali, ii. 40. 
Vitelli, i. 40. 
Viti, Timoteo, i. 185, 186, 203; 

ii. 42, 44. 
Vivarini Family, The, ii. 48, 51, 

Alvise, ii. 54-55, 77, 83, 

Antonio, ii. 52, 53. 

Bartolommeo, ii. 53, 55, 


Giovanni, ii. 53. 

Vlengels, Nicolas, vi. 124, 128. 
Vlieger, Simon de, v. 221. 
Vliet, Hendrick van, v. 237. 

Jan Joris van, v. 141. 

William van der, v. 4. 

Vogel, viii. 282. 

Vogeler, Heinrich, viii. 282. 

Vois, Ary de, v. 183. 

VoUon, Antoine, viii. 105. 

Volteranno, Giovane, iii. 46. 

Volterra, Daniele da, i. 225, 226, 

240 ; ii. 16-17 ) iii- 16. 

Francesco da, i. 71. 

Voltigeant, Josse de, vi. 40. 
Von Aschenhoff, Simon, iv. 95. 
der Smissen, Dominicus, iv. 


Glehn, viii. 249. 

Herkomer, Sir Hubert, viii. 

2 10. 

Hofman, viii. 298. 

Kulmbach, Hans, iv. 193. 

Marees, Hans, viii. 130. 

Soest, Konrad, iv. 87. 

Uhde, Fritz, viii. 209. 

Wertlingen, Hans Schwarz, 

iv. 93. 

Wesel, Hermann W., iv. 84. 

Vos, Comelis, iv. 195.196. 
Martin de, ii. 217 ; iv. 69. 


Vos, Pieter de, iv. 197, 198, 199, 

Vouet, Simon, iii. 58 ; vi. 46, 52. 
Vrancz, Sebastian, iv. 77 j v. 13. 
Vriendt, Frans de, iv. 68. 
Vries, Jan Friedemann, iv. 78. 

Koelof de, v. 220. 

Vromans, Nicolaus, v. 252. 
Vroom, Cornelis, v. 213. 

Hendrick Cornelius, iv. 78. 

Vuillard, Edouard, viii. 267, 299. 

Wael, Cornelis de, iv. 201. 

Jan de, iv. 201. 

Wagemans, viii. 285. 

Walilberg, viii. 287. 

Wait, vii. 90. 

Waldmiiller, viii. 283. 

Wales, James, vii. 232. 

Walker, Frederick, viii. i8i, 265, 


Robert, iv. 226 ; vii. 68. 

Walhs, Henry, viii. 123. 
Walls, William, viii. 251. 
Walscapelle, Jacob, v. 248. 
Walton, E. A., viii. 226. 
Ward, Edward Matthew, viii. 183, 


James, vii. 312-313. 

WiUiam, vii. 312. 

Wars of the Roses, The, vii. 

Water-colour, the British medium, 

vii. 128. 
development of painting in, 

vii. 239. 
as medium for landscape, vii. 

Sandby's work in, vi. 130, 

Waterlow, Sir Ernest, viii. 247. 
Watson, C. J., viii. 247, 265. 

George, vii. 290 ; viii. 68. 

Homer, viii. 293. 

J. D., viii. 123. 

W. Smellie, viii. 68. 

Watt, Fiddes, viii. 251. 
Watteau, Francois, vi. 147. 
Jean Antoine, vi. 114, 133. 

Re/s. ii. 95, 99 i iii. 74, 236 ; 

iv. 187 ; vi. III. 

Joseph, vi. 147. 

Watts, George Frederick, viii. 

Wauters, viii. 286. 
Webbe, W. J., viii. 123. 
Webster, Thomas, viii. 70. 
Weenix, Jean Baptist, v. 6, 232, 

Weir, Harrison, viii. 290, 291. 
Weisgerber, viii. 282. 
Wels, Jan, v. 231. 
Wenckebach, viii. 286. 
Werenskiold, Hans Schwarz von, 

iv. 93. 

Wesel, Hermann Wynrich van, 

iv. 84. 
West, Benjamin, vii. 205-208. 
Wery, Emile, viii. 216. 
Westall, Richard, vii. 218. 
Westphalia, School of, iv. 87, 
Wet, Jacob de, v. 92, 140, 148, 

197 ; vii. 90. 
Wetherbee, viii. 247. 
Weydcn, Roger van der, iv. 24-28. 
Wheatley, Francis, vii. 217. 
Whibtler, James Abbott M'Neill, 

viii. 1 19, 170-179, 265, 290, 293. 
White, viii. 185. 
Wierusz-Kowalski, viii. 285. 
Wigstead, Henry, vii. 246. 
Wilde, Oscar, viii. 295, 296. 
Wildens, Jan.iv. 197, 199, 206,207. 
Wilhelm, Meister, iv. 83. 
Wilhelmson, viii. 288. 
Wilkie, viii. 2S2. 
Sir David, vii. 127 ; viii. 69- 

70; followers of, viii. 182. 
Willaerts, Adam, iv, 78. 
Wille, vi. 147. 
Willebarts. See Boschaerts. 
Willemans, Michiel, v. 108. 
Willette, viii. 272, 275. 
Williams, viii. 69. 
Williamson, viii. 293. 
Willison, George, vii. 204. 
Wiilumsen, viii. 298. 
Wilson, Andrew, vii. 244 ; viii. 69. 

Benjamin, vii. 125. 

George, viii. 141, 185. 

Richard, vii. 132-136. 

Wimperis, viii. 247. 

Windus, William Lindsay, viii. 123. 
Wingate, Lawton, viii. 185. 
Winstanley, Hamlet, vii. 123. 
Winterhalter, viii. 146. 
Wint, Peter de, viii. 59-61. 
Wintour, John Crawford, viii. i8j. 
Wirgman, Blake, viii. 265. 
Wissing, William, vii. 87. 
Wit, Jacob de, v. 187. 
Withoos, Matthew, v. 252. 
Witt, James de, vii. 6. 
Witte, Peter de, iv. 76. 
Witz, Conrad, iv. 89. 
Woensani, Anton, iv. 87. 
Wolif, viii. 2S2. 
Wolgemut, Michael, iv. 97, 98, 

Wood, viii. 290. 

William, vii. 238. 

Woodville, Caton, viii. 14J. 
Woolaston, John, vii. 95. 
Woolner, viii. 121. 
Wootton, vii. 129. 
Wouters, Francz, iv. 197. 
Wouverman, v. 191, 196, 197, 

198, 202, 214, 232. 
Wouvermans, Philippe, v. 33, 195- 

Wright, Andrew, vii. 11. 
John Massey, viii. 7. 

Wright, John Michael, vii. 69-70. 
— ^ Joseph, of Derby, vii. 202. 

Thomas, vii. 132. 

Wulthagen, Frans, v. 108. 
Wurmser, Nicolas, iv. 97. 
Wycic, Jan, v. 198. 

. Thomas, v. 232. 

Wynant, viii. 290. 
Wynants, Jan, v. 193, 194, 224. 
Wynrich, Hermann von, iv. 84. 
Wytsman, Juliette, viii. 285. 
—— Rodolphe, viii. 285, 286. 

Yanez, Hernando, iii. 97. 
Yule, viii. 250, 251. 

Zamora, Juan de, iii. 228. 


Zampiri, Domenito. Ste Dom- 

Zanetti, Miti, viii. 287. 
Zanetti-Zilla, viii. 286. 
Zarinenas, the Brothers, iii. 202. 
Zarzosa, Antonio de, iii. 231. 
Zeeman, Remigius, v. 222. 
Zegers. See .Segars. 
Zeitblom, Bartholomaus, iv. 96. 
Zenale, Bernardo, i. 161. 
Zelotti, Battista, ii. 47, 193, 194, 

Zevio, Stefano da, ii. 22. 

Ziegler, Jorg, iv. 93. 

Ziem, Felix Francois Georges 

Philibert, viii. 147. 
Zimbrecht. See Simbrecht. 

Zingaro, Lo., i. i6z. 

Zinclce, vii. 102. 

Zoff, viii. 285. 

Zoppo Marco, ii. 40-41. 

Zolfany, Johann, vii. 200. 

Zorg, v. 54. 

Zorn, Anders, viii. 288, 289. 

Zuccaro, Federigo, iii. 20, 96 ; viL 


Taddeo, iii. 20, 125. 

Zuccato, Sebastian, ii. 113. 
Zucchero, Federigo, vii. 34. 
Zugel, Heinrich von, viii. 278. 
Zuloaga, Ignacio, viii. 275-276. 
Zurbaran, Francisco, iii. 145-15OJ 

pupils of, iii. 228. Rejj. iii. 

69, 70. "35. '7» 

Printed by T. and A. Constable, Printers to His Majesty 
at the Edinburgh University Press 

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