Claude's success raised a host of imitators. He was accustomed, on sending home the works which he had been commissioned to paint to make a drawing of each, which he inscribed with the name of the purchaser, as a means by which the originality of his productions might be traced and authenticated. He left six volumes of these drawings at the time of his death, which he called his Libri di Veritá. One containing two hundred designs is in possession of the Duke of Devonshire; these have been engraved by Earlom, and published by Boydell under the title of Liber Veritatis. Another of these books was purchased a few years since in Spain, and brought into this country; where it came into the possession of Mr. Payne Knight, and was bequeathed by him to the British Museum. Some of Claude's pictures have been finely engraved by Woollet. There are twenty-eight etchings extant of landscapes and seaports, by Claude's own hand, executed with the taste, spirit, and feeling which we should naturally expect.

England is rich in the pictures of Claude, some of the finest of which were imported from the Altieri Palace at Rome, and from the collection of the Duc de Bouillon at Paris. There are ten in the National Gallery; the two to which we have adverted, that of St. Ursula especially, he has perhaps never surpassed. The little picture of the Death of Procris is also singularly beautiful. The Earl of Radnor's Evening, or Decline of the Roman Empire, is one of the most exquisite of Claude's works. The Marquis of Bute's collection at Luton is also enriched by some of the finest specimens of this artist in England.

His private history is entirely devoid of incident. From the time of his arrival in Italy he never quitted it; and though claimed by the French as a French artist, he was really, in all but birth, an Italian. lived absorbed in his art, and never married, that

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his devotion to it might not be interrupted by domestic cares. His disposition was mild and amiable. He died in 1682, aged eighty-two.

For more detailed information we may refer to Sandrart Academia Artis Pictoriæ.' It is extraordinary that in Felibien's elaborate work, "Sur les Vies et sur les Ouvrages des plus excellens Peintres anciens et modernes," Claude is entirely omitted. The English reader will find the substance of the information given by Sandrart in Bryan and Pilkington.

THE Spanish school may be said to hold a middle place between the schools of Italy and Flanders. The most natural and the most indigenous style it can boast is, unquestionably, that of Murillo, who was never out of Spain; and although it is true that he formed his manner, in a great degree, from the study of Ribera and Vandyck, the principles of those painters are so different, that it would be difficult to recognise either model in a union of the two. But Murillo superadded much that was his own, and much that was immediately, and somewhat too indiscriminately, derived from the observation of nature. The artists of the school of Seville, of which Murillo is the chief, were generally called naturalistas, as opposed to those who followed the Italian purity of taste in de

sign, invention, and imitation. Although it is hardly safe to class all the professors of one province under a particular designation, the earlier school of Valencia may be considered the rival of the naturalistas: its Italian character is to be traced from Vincent Juanes, who was compared by Palomino to Raffaelle; in Ribalta, a work by whom, it is said, was mistaken in Rome for a performance of Raffaelle's; in Jacinto Gerónimo di Espinosa, by Cean Bermudez called a second Domenichino; and in Pedro Orrente and Luis Tristan, who imitated Bassano and Titian. The appearance in Italy of the fac-similists and tenebrosi (corresponding with the Spanish naturalistas, with whom they are connected by Ribera's imitation of Caravaggio) is considered, with some reason, to have hastened the decline of painting in that country; in Spain and Flanders, on the other hand, the art which had before been a feeble or mannered imitation of the best Italian works, then only began to be great when the style of the naturalistas was introduced. The practice of the Sevillian painters in copying objects of still life as a preparatory study, was probably derived from the Netherlands, and this style again, which was ominous of degradation and decay in Italy, was the cause of much of the excellence of the Andalusian painters. The taste of these painters, in short, was for individual nature; a taste which was in some degree, and in spite of themselves, corrected by their being almost exclusively employed in painting for churches. The arts in Spain, from their earliest introduction, have been devoted to religion; nor is it to be wondered that this should be the case in a country which seems to have considered itself in an especial manner the representative of Catholicism, a natural consequence, perhaps, of its defending the outposts of Christendom from the infidels. The representation of the human figure is strictly forbidden

by the Koran, and there can be no doubt that the spirit of opposition was manifested in this point, as in every other, by the antagonists of the Moors. The conquest of Granada at the close of the fifteenth century happens to correspond with the beginning of the great æra of art in Italy, but the demand for altarpieces in Spain, before and after that time, is proved by a constant influx of Italian, Flemish, and even German painters; a fact which is commonly explained by the wealth which flowed or was expected to flow into the country by the discovery of America about the same period. However this may be, so late as the seventeenth century, when painting may be supposed at length to have been appreciated for itself, and to have been applied to the ends of general cultivation, as the handmaid of history and poetry, it is a curious fact that neither Roelas, Castillo, nor Murillo, not to mention earlier names, ever painted a mythologic or merely historic subject. From the sublimest mysteries of the church, and from themes demanding more than ordinary elevation, the Sevillian painters turned with eagerness to the homely materials of modern miracles, and from these descended only to indulge their fondness for indiscriminate imitation. The pictures of Beggar Boys by which Murillo is perhaps most known in this country, come under the class of subjects and display the mode of treatment which a school of mere copyists of nature would prefer. Some works of this kind, however, attributed to Murillo, and possessing great merit, are said, with probability, to be the work of Nuñez de Villavicencio, his pupil. It was, however, precisely such studies as these, which enabled Murillo and his contemporaries to infuse into their religious subjects that powerful reality which was among the means of naturalising the art in Spain, and which thus produced a new style, uniting sometimes the dignity of