till it retires, or fades away, as a ray of natural light does in exhibiting the forms of realities to us, into a negativeness of colour or shade. If the half lights get charged with more than the proper quantity of opaque colour, the rounding of the form is defective. By this method it is possible to imitate the subtle gradations of Nature; by the one commonly employed, impossible; because the degrees of gradation cannot be mixed in separate tints, for they cannot be detected, and so cannot be mixed, and then laid on in their places. The strongly-marked opposition of warm and cold colours that is to be seen in the "cleaned pictures" was obtained in this way. These cold or 66 gray" tints sometimes appear positive blue, from the absence of the final glazing which made them of the true degree of neutrality. This last process in the use of colours is then as important as the first and second; it serves the same purpose for pictures that Nature's external surfaces do for her works,—is intended from the beginning of the work (by those who understand how to do it) to be the end and completion —is the skin, through which the stronger colours below are seen, and by it modified to that gentle harmonious opposition resulting in unity, through and by the variety of constituents. Painting in oil-colours is really modelling in exquisitely low relief upon the ground, never losing it, and the value its quality communicates to the colours laid upon it affecting equally the thickly impasted opaque light, the semi-opaque half-light, and the transparent shadow. It is reported that Rubens said, "If white lead were costly, like silver, then my pupils would colour better." The prodigal use, or misuse of it, leads invariably to flatness and many bad qualities. I have said enough, I hope, to indicate that the delicate form of modelling in well-coloured pictures, since it is so delicate, is the more easily damaged by the use of spirits of wine and the stronger solvents at times resorted to in the process of "cleaning."

I will now briefly mention a few of those operated upon in 1852. Let any one stand in the doorway of the room from which can be seen two Claudes. The one has both dirt and dirty varnish still over its surface; from the other it was "cleaned" off thirteen years ago. I believe that a healthy eye will unhesitatingly prefer the first-named, not indeed for the dirty varnish, which is a defect, but that it is in harmony with itself, and so distinct that all its parts (visible enough) subserve its general effect. Not so the last. This is separated into parts, and the separate colours employed made visible; the sun itself is no longer the source of colour, and is now cheerless, cold, and chalky, looking as though it were done in fresco. The St. Bavon, by Rubens, has still the same patchy appearance that was objected to at the time it was spoilt. The action of the piece is now confused by reason of the patchwork aspect of its surface, its motley assemblage of colours which once were in harmonious and brilliant relation. Another fine Rubens, the brightest I ever saw at the time the nation bought it, is now dull, far darker, and as near to monotony in colour as can well be. A small Rembrandt, "The Adoration of the Shepherds," has grown so dark that it can now scarcely be seen, because of the employ

ment of the "gallery varnish" on it, from the foolish notion that it needed lubricating, like a piece of machinery. I do not stay to notice the rest cleaned at that time-they are many-but a few others done since. A "Holy Family" by Titian, parts of which are in very good condition, except the figure of the Virgin, her blue dress, the blue of the sky, the yellow dress of the St. Catherine, are entirely stript of their glazings, which remain on some places in the picture, and may be taken for dirt, but a form of dirt that makes these places of far greater richness than the rest. The face of the St. Catherine looks as though the blood circulated in her veins still, but that of the Virgin is bloodless and inanimate, so far as colour goes. A woman's portrait hanging near, with her arm akimbo, -a fine specimen of Venetian work once,-is most pitifully scoured. Her face and neck look as though she had got out of her frame, being then alive, as the Painter left her, and with hot water and soap given herself so hard a scrub as to leave blotches of red on her over-" cleaned" skin; while the richness and glory of her hair, dress, and background are all taken away. A portrait of a lawyer, by Moroni, has the glazing taken. entirely from every part, showing the state this work was in before it was glazed at all. The cleaner ought to be perfectly satisfied, having done his work so completely in this instance. In worse plight is the picture by Correggio, "Christ Praying in the Garden." I scarcely know what term to employ that will express its state. It is as though the cleaner got frightened and stopped, though too late, in his destruction of its rich harmoniousness. All its dignity of expression is gone, and the hanger of it, as if conscious of the damage done, has put it into a corner. The Rubens landscape, also put through this terrible process, with others by Poussin and Salvator Rosa, is quite skinned, and shocks the eye almost in the same degree that the flayed body of a dead animal does. There is the sun, with the lightest parts of the picture, now only so much yellow pigment: the glorifying power its previously undisturbed rays cast over the whole, is now taken away by the cleaner along with the dirty varnish, the half tints in some places robbed entirely, and now offer false, coarse, sudden contrasts to the shadows; and this sun

No longer stays in his course and plays the alchymist,

Turning, by splendour of his precious eye,

The meagre cloddy earth to glittering gold.

It is pitiful that such errors can be committed, and by men who profess, and after a fashion have, a regard for art. This glazing, then, is, I maintain, removed in parts entirely, along with the dirt and discoloured varnish; hence the patchy appearance of all the cleaned pictures, and, so far, their resemblance to modern paintings, which invariably want that unity or completeness these very pictures had prior to "cleaning." Let any visitor to the Royal Academy Exhibition recall the observations he overheard last made upon the paintings (excepting only those by partisan admirers of certain artists, who, through being partisans, cannot see any merit in the works of others). All such observations go to one point,

and truly, that of incompleteness. In a portrait, either "It is too red!" "Too white!" "Too dirty!" These defects are the positive and obvious ones; in addition to them, defects beyond the definition of the unskilled commentators are summed up always in one way:-"I don't know what it is, but I do not like it at all." It is incomplete-this is the simple fact -and incomplete, I maintain, because executed without any fixed principle to guide the several processes which the employment of oil-colours necessitates. Every pigment is in modern works, without exception, as distinctly shown as on the palette of the painter, and any objector to this fact is always answered "that time will mellow and also harmonize these raw pig. ments into the pleasant unity" that even the uneducated eye unconsciously demands. Now, I simply ask, are the painters who so excuse the deficiency of their own works likely to be proper judges of the old masters' performances? If they really believe that time will do for theirs that which they admit (by the form of excuse they offer) they cannot do them. selves, does it not seem absurd, on their own argument, to take away all that time is supposed by them to have done to the old pictures? Ought they to be allowed to exercise their will in this wholesale way, to the manifest detriment of such noble works? The nation bought them for what they were at the time of purchase, and did not contemplate further charges for reducing them by this baneful process, called "cleaning," to what they now are, disorganized remains. I should desire above all things that dirt should be removed, and dirty varnish too; but as the transparent colours are mixed with varnish more or less, and are laid on the last thing previous to subsequent varnishings, the solvent which takes off the one also takes off the other, and ignorant practitioners cannot distinguish between the value of glazing colours (which, I grant, are deepened by time, but nevertheless serve the intention for which they were originally put,) and the dirt on the outside surface of them. Evidently, then, they do not know the art of using colours; equally shown by their own works, "which need the help of time to mellow," &c., and by their treatment of those which cannot for any sum of money be replaced. I feel so strongly that I am not exaggerating the evils of this proceeding, and also so confident that I can demonstrate, if I have not adequately described, the cause of it, that I very gladly offer to do so to the trustees, if they will attend at my studio for the purpose. Meantime, I hope, for the true interest of art, and the honour of their trust, they will not sanction further injury to national property, but will order that none but the simplest form of cleaning shall be used,-I would suggest such as can be accomplished by most carefully rubbing the surface with bread one day old at certain intervals. Those who have not seen the efficacy of this simple agent in removing dirt will be greatly surprised at its sufficiency.

SAMUEL LAURENCE

231

Spain and the Spaniards.

Ir is curious to take note of the ebb and flow of interest in Spain, and all that concerns it, which has of late influenced English opinion, and to contrast in some detail the ups and downs of its past and present hold on the public mind. Fifty years ago Spain was cast up, as it were, on our shores, as a subject of the keenest personal interest to every family in the kingdom. by the resistless wave of war. After its subsidence, and the slow dropping off of individual lives, the silence of the very lowest ebb-tide seemed to have closed over her; for the interest we took in Spanish politics during the George the Fourth period was altogether abstract, impersonal, and lifeless. In the days of the Carlist wars and Evans' legion, we certainly came under another, but a far feebler wave, of personal, leading to ultimate political, interest in Spain; but this soon passed away. Then came Ford and his Handbook, by which the nature and character of our interest was completely changed, and since which, we may say, that we have been halfdrowned in the new wave of touristic travel. Perhaps it is not altogether unpleasant; but still we are floating chin-deep in a regular sea of things about Spain: Spanish tours, Spanish books, Spanish photographs, Spanish everything except Spanish cash payments, and perhaps Spanish wines, which the present generation, confidently presumptuous, and not knowing what is before it, seems to be abandoning for Greek. Half one's acquaintance are planning a tour in Spain, or have just returned from a few weeks in that newly-favoured country. The pity is that, after all, so few of these same tourists ever stay more than a few weeks, and a very few weeks too. One would think that some among the now daily increasing list might find leisure for something better than the mere hasty " vacation tour." A quartette of Members of Parliament were in Spain within six months of each other; Peers, Scotch Baronets, Alpine Clubmen, and even solitary Peeresses have added the graces of their names within the last three or four years. Some studious burrowers in old MSS. and some highstepping" own correspondents" fill up the goodly list. From these we have derived some half-dozen works, of various degrees of value, and we may reasonably expect two or three more in process of time.

The most recent of these, Lady Herbert of Lea's heavy octavo, perhaps claims precedence, from its having rather better illustrations than usual; though for ourselves we should have preferred to have fewer in number and better in kind. Her ladyship's work is more an itinerary of devout

* How infinitely preferable would have been a few good photographs of the glorious buildings she gives in rather poor woodcuts, with ridiculous figures, apparently taken from opera choruses, stuck in the foreground.

pilgrimage than anything else, and will, after a few weeks' run, be only interesting to her co-religionists, and those who wish to feed a certain Christianized Arabian Nights' view of Spain, derived from a jumble of Washington Irving's stories and the biographies of Spanish saints. Mr. O'Shea's laboriously produced volume will be of unquestionable value to the tourist, although very unlikely to supersede that crabbed, cross-grained, dogmatic, and most valuable old Ford. Of course, as an example of excellent things packed in small parcels, Mr. Grant Duff's "Study," in his recently published volume, is the very best of all; but then he deals with the political history almost only. It is an essay of unsurpassed trustworthiness, and very interesting besides. In fact, it is not a little curious to observe the remarkable accuracy with which the Spanish character and the present condition of the country have been gathered together, without, we imagine, any very lengthened personal experience of Spain; but then it is not every "vacation tourist" that can do this. From our own point of view-a very different one from his, chiefly confined to one province, and from joining only in the society of one class, viz. the financial or middleclass-we confess to a certain surprise at Mr. Grant Duff's accuracy; and we even believe that we could impart to him a few facts which would make him feel that he had come nearer the truth than he knew at the time; or, at least, that some things on which he has touched but lightly might have been very seriously emphasized. For instance, Mr. Grant Duff remarks that "Spain retains less of the real spirit of Christianity than any other country." Taking morality to be of the essence of Christianity, he might have said that the immorality of the Spaniard, more especially one particular form of immorality, among the upper and lower classes of society, and of the priests, is far beyond that of any other European country. As one slight testimony of this, we may bring the sorrowful but solemn acknowledgment of the archbishop of one of the largest provinces in Spain, that he only knew of two priests in his whole diocese, besides himself, who led decently chaste lives! While it is also worthy of note, that no country in Europe, we believe, can show so enormous a proportion of foundlings and foundling hospitals.

For ourselves, we should say that the very chief and foremost characteristic of the Spaniard, only slightly touched upon by Mr. Grant Duff, is the utter want of mutual good faith in the country. From the Queen and Cabinet downwards to the very lowest individual, there is the same perfect indifference to any engagement, however solemnly made (matrimony included). Whether among Ministerial promises of direct assistance in encouraging the improvements of the country-roads, bridges, canals, schools, colleges, hospitals, &c.-or the more indirect connivance at the slave-trade; whether as regards the promulgation of a new constitution, or the payment of national debts-promises are alike as pie-crust. Even in such smaller circumstances as the taking a place in a conveyance, hiring a servant, a house, even a bed in an inn (and in these matters of course we mean among themselves, for a foreigner is fair game all the