From 1908—­I choose that year to avoid all risk of ante-dating—­there existed side by side, and apparently in alliance, with the Fauves a school of theoretical painters.  Of Cubism I have said my say elsewhere:  if I have some doubts as to whether, as a complete theory of painting, it has a future, I have none that what it has already achieved is remarkable.  Also, I recognize its importance as a school of experiments, some of which are sure to bear fruit and leave a mark on history.  Of the merits of many of its professors I say nothing, because they are manifest and admitted.  Picasso stands apart:  he is the inventor and most eminent exponent, yet I refuse to call him Cubist because he is so many other things.  Braque, who at present confines himself to abstractions, and to taste and sensibility adds creative power, is to my mind the best of the bunch:  while Leger, Gris, Gleizes, and Metzinger are four painters who, if they did not limit themselves to a means of expression which to most people is still perplexing, if not disagreeable, would be universally acclaimed for what they are—­four exceptionally inventive artists, each possessing his own peculiar and precious sense of colour and design.

But besides these pure doctrinaires there were a good many painters who, without reducing their forms to geometrical abstractions, by modifying them in accordance with Cubist theory gave a new and impressive coherence to their compositions.  Of them the best known, in England at all events, is Jean Marchand, whose admirable work has been admired here ever since the Grafton Galleries exhibition of 1912.  Lately he has moved away from Cubism, but has not become less doctrinaire for that.  Indeed, if I have a fault to find with his grave and masterly art it is that sometimes it is a little wanting in sensibility and inspiration.  Marchand is so determined to paint logically and well that he seems a little to forget that in the greatest art there is more than logic and good painting.  It is odd to remember that Lhote, who since the war has been saluted by a band of young painters (not French for the most part, I believe) as chief of a new and profoundly doctrinaire school which is to reconcile Cubism with the great tradition, stood at the time of which I am writing pretty much where Marchand stood.  His undeniable gifts, which have not failed him since, were then devoted to combining the amusing qualities of the imagiers (popular print-makers) with the new discoveries.  The results were consistently pleasing; and I will here confess that, however little I may like some of his later preaching and however little he may like mine, what Lhote produces in paint never fails to arrest me and very seldom to charm.  Herbin, who was another of those who about the year 1910 were modifying natural forms in obedience to Cubist theory, has since gone all lengths in the direction of pure abstraction:  his art is none the better for it.  Valloton, so far as I can remember, was much where Herbin was.  Now apparently he aims at the grand tragic; an aim which rarely fails to lead its votaries by way of the grand academic.  Perhaps such aspirations can express themselves only in the consecrated formulae of traditional rhetoric; at all events, the last I saw of Valloton was furiously classical. [D] And for all that he remains, what he was in the beginning, an Illustrator.