addressed him in these words—“Vous aimez la botanique, Monsieur”—and on the other’s replying in the affirmative, added—“Et ma femme aussi!” This has been found fault with as a piece of brutality and insolence in the great man by bigoted critics, who do not know what a thing it is to get a Frenchwoman to agree with them in any point. For my part, I took the observation as it was meant, and it did not put me out of conceit with myself or the picture that Madame M{{{1}}}— — — liked it as well as Monsieur l’Anglois. Certainly, there could be no harm in that. By the side of it happened to be hung two allegorical pictures of Rubens (and in such matters he too was “no baby[1]”)—I don’t remember what the figures were, but the texture seemed of wool or cotton. The texture of the Paul Veronese was not wool or cotton, but stuff, jewels, flesh, marble, air, whatever composed the essence of the varied subjects, in endless relief and truth of handling. If the Fleming had seen his two allegories hanging where they did, he would, without a question, have wished them far enough.
I imagine that Rubens’s landscapes are picturesque: Claude’s are ideal. Rubens is always
- ↑ “And surely Mandricardo was no baby.”
