The Third Stage.=--In the third stage, which is exhibited by later
painting, the background is brought into living relation with the
figures of the foreground,--a relation suggested not merely by the
exigencies of art but rather by the conditions of life itself. Thus
the great Dutch _genre_ painters, like the younger Teniers, show their
characters in immediate human relation to a carefully detailed
interior; or if, like Adrian van Ostade, they take them out of doors,
it is to show them entirely at home in an accustomed landscape.

This stage, in its modern development, exhibits an absolutely
essential relation between the foreground and the background--the
figures and the setting--so that neither could be imagined exactly as
it is without the presence of the other. Such an essential harmony is
shown in the "Angelus" of Jean-Francois Millet. The people exist for
the sake of giving meaning to the landscape; and the landscape exists
for the sake of giving meaning to the people. The "Angelus" is neither
figure painting nor landscape painting merely; it is both.

=Similar Evolution of Setting in the History of Fiction: The First
Stage.=--In the history of fiction we may note a similar evolution in
the element of setting. The earliest folk-tales of every nation happen
"once upon a time," and without any definite localization. In the
"Gesta Romanorum," that medieval repository of accumulated narratives,
the element of setting is nearly as non-existent as the element of
background in the frescoes of Pompeii. Even in the "Decameron" of
Boccaccio the stories are seldom localized: they happen almost
anywhere at almost any time. The interest in Boccaccio's narrative,
like the interest in Giotto's painting, is centred first of all in the
element of action, and secondly in the element of character. But his
stories are all foreground. When the scene is out of doors, it is set
vaguely in a conventional landscape: when it is indoors, it is set
vaguely in a conventional palace. Because of this, his narrative is
lacking in visual appeal. Most of his _novelle_ read like summaries of
novels,--setting forth an abstract synopsis of the action rather than
a concrete representation of it. He _tells_ you what happens, instead
of _making_ it happen before the eye of your imagination. His
characters are drawn in outline merely, instead of being livingly
projected in relation to a definite environment. The defect of his
narrative, like the defect