working in Antwerp, and endeavoured to assimilate in as great a degree as possible the golden luminosity and subtle handling of the mighty Venetians. It is probable that Titian held the first place in his estimation, for it is rather upon his method that all his subsequent developments in technique are based. But perhaps full justice has not been done to the influence Moroni had in moulding his youthful genius. One has only to compare, for example, the full-length portrait of an Italian nobleman, No. 1316 in the National Gallery, with that marvellous representation of Philip le Roy in the Wallace Collection, reproduced in this volume, to see the connection between the two painters. There is the same air of distinction in each portrait, and in silveriness of colouring and elegance of pose there is much in common. These are not isolated examples in the life-work of the two masters, but are rather representative of a whole series of portraits in which their genius runs on nearly parallel lines.

We cannot wonder that Van Dyck was not much impressed by such of the Umbrian painters as he came in contact with. There was still left in these men the remains of that mysticism which was born of the intimate contact with religion in relation to life that had originally brought it into being. The religious art of the Netherlands—I am speaking now of that which arose after the middle of the sixteenth century—was built upon a purely human and materialistic basis. If a scriptural scene was represented it was brought before us as a subject from everyday life; a martyrdom with all its brutality, a crucifixion with all its physical horror, and a madonna and child simply as a peasant girl with a child, set in homely surroundings. Our artist, endowed with the same temperament as the men who had created such works, and who moreover was perhaps the best exponent of this school of painting, with the possible exception of Rubens himself, could not be expected to be touched with the subtleties of Botticelli or Filippino Lippi. Further, it is not unlikely that he found he could learn little from the technique of Raphael or Andrea del Sarto. But with the Venetians it was quite otherwise. From the early days of Giovanni Bellini they seem to have treated religious subjects in just as materialistic a manner, if less grossly and repugnantly, than the Flemings themselves. One has but to contemplate the life-work of Titian to see how little religious feeling, in the Florentine or mystical sense of the term, there was in his art. Even the two most impressive religious pictures he ever painted, the "Entombment," in the Louvre, and the "Christ crowned with Thorns," at Munich, would certainly not have pleased the patrons of Ghirlandajo or Pollaiuolo. But Titian and his contemporaries constitute the zenith attained by Italian materialistic art, at any rate in point of technique.

PLATE V.—PHILIPPE LE ROY, SEIGNEUR DE RAVEL

(In the Wallace Collection)

The masterpiece of Van Dyck's second Flemish manner. In it we see the culmination of the influences he had brought away with him from Italy sobered by a renewed contact with the productions of his illustrious master. The dignity of pose, probably derived from Moroni and Titian, united with the fact that his immense technical powers are brought into play in an unsurpassed degree, certainly proclaim it as one of the greatest portraits in the world. Van Dyck executed an etching of Philippe le Roy, probably based upon this portrait which ranks very high amongst his productions in this way.

Plate V.

It is more than probable that Van Dyck found certain points in his master's method crude compared with that of the Venetians, and although, as we shall see later, he endeavoured after his return to Flanders to retrace his steps in a measure, the influences he brought away with him from Italy remained during his whole life.

He went from Venice to Genoa, and there his style created such an impression that he found many of the nobility eager to have their portraits painted by him. Formerly, his Italian manner, as it is called, was to be best studied in that city, but as years have rolled on many of the finest examples have become scattered over Europe and America. The two fine portraits recently added to the National Gallery date from this period, and although, owing to their condition, they do not set forth his talents at their best, will give a good idea of the changes his method had undergone since he left Antwerp. Two of the noblest portraits of the Genoese period were formerly in the collection of Sir Robert Peel, but, after being sold at auction in London some few years ago, finally found a permanent home in the Berlin Gallery.

From Genoa he went to Rome, and, his reputation having preceded him, he was soon loaded with commissions for both historical subjects and portraits. It is said, however, that his residence here was rendered unpleasant by a number of artists persecuting him by reason of his not wishing to fall in with their methods of life. Be this as it may, he returned to Genoa, and after some time departed for Palermo; but the plague breaking out, some time after his arrival, he determined to return to Flanders. Van Dyck had reason to congratulate himself, not only upon the amount of benefit which he had received from his sojourn in Italy, but also on account of the flattering manner in which he had been received everywhere. His complete success in these two respects was calculated to infuse confidence in him for the future. He was now fully equipped in every way, and his good luck in the matter of patronage, so lavishly bestowed upon him in Italy, was destined to pursue him in his future career, until finally the immense amount of work he undertook in consequence had an adverse influence upon his later productions.

III

THE SECOND FLEMISH MANNER

The reputation of Van Dyck, great as it was prior to leaving Antwerp, had materially grown during his absence in Italy. From time to time reports reached his fellow-townsmen of the brilliant success he was achieving there, the high personages with whom he was mingling, and the flattering praise accorded to his productions. We may be sure that returning travellers would relate the astonishing progress he was making, and consequently his friends would await with eager anticipation the proofs of all they had heard. There could be no doubt that Rubens would be amongst those who would be most interested in his progress, and he would be curious to see the influence the Italians had exercised upon his technique.

His talents were soon put to the essay in the form of a commission for a large picture representing St. Augustine in ecstasy, surrounded by angels and saints, for the Church of the Augustines in Antwerp. As a result of this first effort, both his patrons and the public were delighted, and commissions for works of a similar character flowed in upon him from every side.

Rubens had fairly early in his career instituted an ingenious method for making his works widely known. He employed, under his own direction, a number of engravers whose names have become household words. Technically considered, they were as well equipped as any who have ever lived. The names of Paul Pontius, Lucas Vorsterman, the two Bolswerts, Peter de Jode are held in reverence by every admirer of engraving. Their remarkable fidelity in transcribing the works of Rubens render it frequently unnecessary to see the originals themselves in order thoroughly to study them. I am perhaps not going too far when I say that they understood the art of translating colour effects into black and white