The canvas is sombre, notwithstanding its high lights and the extraordinary whiteness of the winding-sheet.  In spite of its reliefs, the painting is flat.  It is a picture of blackish grounds on which are disposed broad strong lights of no gradations.  The colouring is not very rich:  it is full, well-sustained, and clearly calculated to be effective from a distance.  It makes the picture, frames it, expresses its weakness and its strength, and makes no attempt to beautify it.  It is composed of an almost black green, an absolute black, a rather heavy red, and a white.  These four tones are placed side by side as frankly as is possible with four notes of such violence.  The contact is brusque and yet they do not suffer.  In the great white, the corpse of Christ is drawn with a delicate and supple line and modelled by its own reliefs without any effort of nuances, thanks to deviations of imperceptible values.  No shining, no single division in the lights, and scarcely a detail in the dark parts.  All that is of a singular breadth and rigidity.  The outlines are narrow, the half-tints limited except in the Christ, where the under layer of ultramarine has worn through and to-day forms blemishes.  The pigment is smooth, compact, flowing easily and thoughtfully.

At the distance from which we examine it, the work of the hand disappears, but it is easy to guess that it is excellent and directed with full confidence by a mind broken into good habits, that conforms to them, applies itself, and wishes to do well.  Rubens remembers, observes, restrains himself, possesses all his forces, subordinates them, and only half makes use of them.

In spite of these drawbacks, this is a singularly original, attractive, and strong work.  Van Dyck will derive his best religious inspirations from it.  Philippe de Champagne will not imitate it, I am afraid, except in its weak points, and from it will compose his French style.  Otto Van Veen should certainly applaud it.  What should Van Oort think of it?  As for Jordaens, he is waiting for his fellow student to become more distinctly and expressly Rubens before following him in these new ways.

    Les Maitres d’ Autrefois (Paris, 1876).

BACCHUS AND ARIADNE

(TITIAN)

CHARLES LAMB

Hogarth excepted, can we produce any one painter within the last fifty years, or since the humour of exhibiting began, that has treated a story imaginatively?  By this we mean, upon whom has subject so acted that it has seemed to direct him—­not to be arranged by him?  Any upon whom its leading or collateral points have impressed themselves so tyrannically, that he dared not treat it otherwise, lest he should falsify a revelation?  Any that has imparted to his compositions, not merely so much truth as is enough to convey a story with clearness, but that individualizing