nergy.

The management of the pigment in this picture as in many of the others
can be called neither learned nor subtle. Apparently the artist had in
mind two intentions, the one to represent motion, the other to represent
light, and he set about his task in the simplest way possible, with such
simplicity, indeed, that the extraordinary character of the result would
easily be missed by a pedant. It has not been missed by the public, who
have entered with enthusiasm into the painter's mood, perceived the
originality of his vision and the joyousness of his art, and have
radiated their own appreciation of this vitalized, healthful world of
happy people until they have increased the distrust of the pedant for an
art so helplessly popular.

[Illustration: In the Metropolitan Museum of Art.

THE BATH--JAVEA

_From a painting by Sorolla_]

The distrust is not unnatural. To follow the popular taste would lead us
into strange errors in our judgments of art, and only rarely would
produce a predilection capable of lasting over a generation. How is it,
then, that we fearlessly may range ourselves on the side of the public
in admiration of Sorolla's art? Because the painter has cast off the
slavery of the conventional vision. He sees for himself, the rarest of
gifts, and thus can well afford to paint like others. He spends,
apparently, but little thought upon his execution, letting it flow
easily according to his instinct for the appropriate. It is not a safe
example to follow for painters who do not see with unusual directness.
Often in searching out refinements of execution the eye discovers
refinements of fact in the scene to be portrayed and makes its selection
with greater distinction than would be possible at first sight. But
Sorolla's prompt selective vision flies to its goal like a bee to a
honey-bearing flower. He takes what he wants and leaves the rest with
the dew still on it. His forces are neither scattered nor spent. His
freshness is overmastering, and with our eyes on his creations we have
that curious sense of possessing youth and health and freedom which we
get sometimes from the sight of boys at their games. We are cheated into
forgetfulness of the world's great age and our own lassitudes and
physical ineffectiveness. This illusion is agreeable to the most of us,
hence our unreserved liking for Sorolla's art which produces it.

The art of Ignacio Zuloaga, on the contrary, produces the opposite
impression of