Rouen Cathedral, the towers of which fill the whole of the picture,
leaving barely a little space, a little corner of the square, at the
foot of the enormous stone-shafts which mount to the very top of the
picture. Here he has no proper means to express the play of the
reflections, no changeful waters or foliage: the grey stone, worn by
time and blackened by centuries, is for seventeen times the monochrome,
the thankless theme upon which the painter is about to exercise his
vision. But Monet finds means of making the most dazzling atmospheric
harmonies sparkle upon this stone. Pale and rosy at sunrise, purple at
midday, glowing in the evening under the rays of the setting sun,
standing out from the crimson and gold, scarcely visible in the mist,
the colossal edifice impresses itself upon the eye, reconstructed with
its thousand details of architectural chiselling, drawn without
minuteness but with superb decision, and these pictures approach the
composite, bold and rich tone of Oriental carpets.

[Illustration: CLAUDE MONET

POPLARS ON THE EPTE IN AUTUMN]

Monet excels also in suggesting the _drawing of light_, if I may venture
to use this expression. He makes us understand the movement of the
vibrations of heat, the movement of the luminous waves; he also
understands how to paint the sensation of strong wind. "Before one of
Manet's pictures," said Mme. Morisot, "I always know which way to
incline my umbrella." Monet is also an incomparable painter of water.
Pond, river, or sea--he knows how to differentiate their colouring,
their consistency, and their currents, and he transfixes a moment of
their fleeting life. He is intuitive to an exceptional degree in the
intimate composition of matter, water, earth, stone or air, and this