One only of Peter de Hooch’s pictures is reproduced in this book—­“The Store Cupboard”.  This is partly because there are, I think, better paintings of his in London than at Amsterdam.  At least it seems to me that his picture in our National Gallery of the waiting maid is finer than anything by De Hooch in Holland.  But in no other work of his that I know is his simple charm so apparent as in “The Store Cupboard”.  This is surely the Christmas supplement carried out to its highest power—­and by its inventor.  The thousands of domestic scenes which have proceeded from this one canvas make the memory reel; and yet nothing has staled the prototype.  It remains a sweet and genuine and radiant thing.  De Hooch had two fetishes—­a rich crimson dress or jacket and an open door.  His compatriot Vermeer, whom he sometimes resembles, was similarly addicted to a note of blue.

No one has managed direct sunlight so well as De Hooch.  The light in his rooms is the light of day.  One can almost understand how Rembrandt and Gerard Dou got their concentrated effects of illumination; but how this omnipresent radiance streamed from De Hooch’s palette is one of the mysteries.  It is as though he did not paint light but found light on his canvas and painted everything else in its midst.

Rotterdam has some excellent pictures in its Boymans Museum; but they are, I fancy, overlooked by many visitors.  It seems no city in which to see pictures.  It is a city for anything rather than art—­a mercantile centre, a hive of bees, a shipping port of intense activity.  And yet perhaps the quietest little Albert Cuyp in Holland is here, “De Oude Oostpoort te Rotterdam,” a small evening scene, without cattle, suffused in a golden glow.  But all the Cuyps, and there are six, are good—­all inhabited by their own light.

Among the other Boymans treasures which I find I have marked (not necessarily because they are good—­for I am no judge—­but because I liked them) are Ferdinand Bols fine free portrait of Dirck van der Waeijen, a boy in a yellow coat; Erckhart’s “Boaz and Ruth,” a small sombre canvas with a suggestion of Velasquez in it; Hobbema’s “Boomrijk Landschap,” one of the few paintings of this artist that Holland possesses.  The English, I might remark, always appreciative judges of Dutch art, have been particularly assiduous in the pursuit of Hobbema, with the result that his best work is in our country.  Holland has nothing of his to compare with the “Avenue at Middelharnis,” one of the gems of our National Gallery.  And his feathery trees may be studied at the Wallace Collection in great comfort.

Other fine landscapes in the Boymans Museum are three by Johan van Kessel, who was a pupil of Hobbema, one by Jan van der Meer, one by Koninck, and, by Jacob van Ruisdael, a corafield in the sun and an Amsterdam canal with white sails upon it.  The most notable head is that by Karel Fabritius; Hendrick Pot’s “Het Lokstertje” is interesting for its large free manner and signs of the influence of Hals; and Emmanuel de Witte’s Amsterdam fishmarket is curiously modern.  But the figure picture which most attracted me was “Portret van een jongeling,” by Jan van Scorel, of whom we shall learn more at Utrecht.  This little portrait, which I reproduce on the opposite page, is wholly charming and vivid.