at the lungs; the hard and unattractive landscape; the
proud, cruel, and impassive people who cannot even feign an interest in
such affairs as art or letters, all served to leave their impression
upon the painter's work. We cannot imagine that any artist who worked
in Madrid in the seventeenth century could become a colourist after the
manner of the Venetians; he would not see the colour unless he went to
Catalonia or Andalusia and entered into their stirring national life.
Then again Spain was influenced by the Moors, and eastern art is more
concerned with harmony than colouring, more concerned to blend neutral
tints than present rich tones.

The writer has seen many pictures in the studios of modern Madrid that
are inspired directly by the Italians, for nowadays Spanish artists
flock to Italy, where they learn to imitate the Venetian colour
schemes, and to become third-rate echoes of old masters. There are a
few men who paint interesting pictures in Spain to-day--Pradilla and
Carbonero are among the best; but Spain does not hold a great artist.
The last of all died in exile in Bordeaux in the early days of the last
century, and left his gifts to the French School of Manet.

Velazquez could never have become a flamboyant colourist. A few of the
pictures in the Prado have some reds and pinks; for example, "Las
Hilanderas," in which there is a red curtain, and the picture of Philip
on horseback, in which the king wears a pink scarf. There are high
colours in "The Coronation of the Virgin" and a few others, but as a
rule Velazquez wrought with a subdued palette, and sought to weave
harmonies in grey and silver. Bright colours are an expression of the
joy of life, and this was unknown to the Spaniards of Castile. Murillo
has colour, but then he was always an Andalusian. Just as Velazquez
borrowed very little from his sitters and gave a great deal, so he
claimed next to nothing from the primary colours, and he gave a colour
sense that is indescribably beautiful to silver and grey. This was his
deliberate choice and judgment, but it is impossible to forget that
surroundings and associations must have had a great deal to do with it.
Men who live lives that are complete in the fullest sense of the term
have a natural craving for glowing hues, and may find Velazquez dull if
they come to the Prado from the Academy of Venice; but unless their
tastes have become wholly vitiated, unless their eyes are suffering
from a surf