me frankly lay bare the thoughts I have in
my mind. I tell you, Salvator, I have never honoured any master from
the depths of my soul as I do you. What I am amazed at in your works is
the sublime greatness of conception which is often revealed You grasp
the deepest secrets of Nature: you comprehend the mysterious
hieroglyphics of her rocks, of her trees, and of her waterfalls, you
hear her sacred voice, you understand her language, and possess the
power to write down what she has said to you. Verily I can call your
bold free style of painting nothing else than writing down. Man alone
and his doings does not suffice you; you behold him only in the midst
of Nature, and in so far as his essential character is conditioned by
natural phenomena; and in these facts I see the reason why you are only
truly great in landscapes, Salvator, with their wonderful figures.
Historical painting confines you within limits which clog your
imagination to the detriment of your genius for reproducing your higher
intuitions of Nature."

"That's talk you've picked up from envious historical painters," said
Salvator, interrupting his young companion; "like them, Antonio, you
throw me the choice bone of landscape-painting that I may gnaw away at
it, and so spare their own good flesh. Perhaps I do understand the
human figure and all that is dependent upon it. But this senseless
repetition of others' words"----

"Don't be angry," continued Antonio, "don't be angry, my good sir; I am
not blindly repeating anybody's words, and I should not for a moment
think of trusting to the judgment of our painters here in Rome at any
rate. Who can help greatly admiring the bold draughtsmanship, the
powerful expression, but above all the living movement of your fingers?
It's plain to see that you don't work from a stiff, inflexible model,
or even from a dead skeleton form; it is evident that you yourself are
your own breathing, living model, and that when you sketch or paint,
you have the figure you want to put on your canvas reflected in a great
mirror opposite to you."

"The devil! Antonio," exclaimed Salvator, laughing, "I believe you must
often have had a peep into my studio when I was not aware of it, since
you have such an accurate knowledge of what goes on within."

"Perhaps I may," replied Antonio; "but let me go on. I am not by a long
way so anxious to classify, the pictures which your powerful mind
suggests to you as are those pedantic critics who t