know if Corot is not greater than Delacroix. Corot is the father
of modern landscape. There is no landscape painter of to-day
who--knowingly or not--does not derive from him. I have never seen a
picture of Corot's which was not beautiful, or a line which did not mean
something.
Among modern painters it is Corot who as a colourist has most in common
with Rembrandt. The colour scheme is golden with the one and grey with
the other throughout the whole harmony of tones. In appearance their
methods are the opposite of each other, but the desired result is the
same. In a portrait by Rembrandt all details melt into shadow in order
that the spectator's gaze may be concentrated on a single part, often
the eyes, and this part is handled more caressingly than the rest.
Corot, on the other hand, sacrifices the details which are in the
light--the extremities of trees, and so on--and brings us always to the
spot which he has chosen for his main appeal to the spectator's eye.
_Dutilleux._
CCIII
Landscape has taken refuge in the theatre; scene-painters alone
understand its true character and can put it into practice with a happy
result. But Corot?
Oh that man's soul rebounds like a steel spring; he is no mere landscape
painter, but an artist--a real artist, and rare and exceptional genius.
_Delacroix._
CCIV
TO VERWEE
There is an International Exhibition at Petit's now, and I am showing
some sea-pieces there with great success. The exhibition is made up,
with one or two exceptions, of young men. They are very clever, but
all alike; they follow a fashion--there is no more individuality.
Everybody paints, everybody is clever.
[Illustration: _Raphael_ THE MASS OF BOLSENA (Detail) _Anderson_]
We shall end by adoring J. Dupre. I don't always like him, but he has
individuality.
Too many painters, my dear fellow, and too many exhibitions! But you
see, at my age, I'm not afraid of showing my pictures among the young
men's sometimes.
Yet I hate exhibitions; one can hardly ever judge of a picture there.
_Alfred Stevens._
ITALIAN MASTERS
CCV
There is something ... in those deities of intellect in the Sistine
Chapel that converts the noblest personages of Raphael's drama into the
audience of Michael Angelo, before whom you know that, equally with
yourself, they would stand silent and awe-struck.
_Lawrence._
CCVI
My only disagreement with you would be in the estimate of his
comparativ
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