spleasing; rendering flesh ivory,
and, in that master, ivory without its true and pleasing colour. This
branch of the subject ends with remarks on touch, which completes the
list of the parts that contribute "to make a good picture." The manner
of a painter is in nothing so distinguished as in his touch. There
must, then, be great variety in the touch of painters. To be a judge
of masters, it is necessary, as the first step to connoisseurship, to
be acquainted with this executive part of their art. "Since it is
correct to say that without a good touch there cannot be a good
picture, one may say likewise, that he is not a good master who has
not a good touch, and _who does not know how to avoid using it too
much_." It is a mark of a defective mind, when the painter is too much
pleased with the dexterity of his hand. Many however, require this
hint; their pictures are so overlaid with touch, that the autographs
supersede the subject.

The incipient connoisseur will do well to read the chapter in this
volume which will tell him "how to judge pictures well." It will tell
him even in what position to see a picture. He disapproves of the use
of the mirror, in which the picture is reflected as giving a softness
and harmony not genuine; but as it was the practice of Giorgione and
Correggio, "in order to learn the effect of the colours, of the
masses, and of the work as a whole," he recommends it to _the
painter_. He expects, however, from the amateur an impartiality almost
impossible to attain, when it is expected to reach such a point that
"all schools, all masters, all manners, and all classes of pictures
will be a matter of indifference to him." We fear that an amateur who
could reach this indifference, would be rather a general admirer than
a good lover. The amateur thus advanced, "will soon be able to weigh
impartially the grounds of the dispute between the partisans of ideal
beauty on the one hand, and the beauty which exists in nature on the
other." But here is a mistake _in initio_; for is not the Ideal, too,
Nature? We should have rather expected a disquisition to elucidate
this point; but our author prefers passing away from the real question
to indulge in a little severity on the admirers of the Ideal, which
Ideal we are persuaded he never understood; for he considers evidently
that the "ideal beauties," with the "magic truth" of the Dutch school
in execution, would be perfection. He would view a work painted under