thinking done for one and the license of proceeding fancifully,
whimsically, even freakishly, once the lines and limits of one's action
have been settled by more laborious, more conscientious philosophy than
in such circumstances one feels disposed to frame for one's self. There
is no break with the Louis Quatorze things, not a symptom of revolt;
only, after them the deluge! But out of this very condition of things,
and out of this attitude of mind, arises a new art, or rather a new
phase of art, essentially classic, as I said, but nevertheless imbued
with a character of its own, and this character distinctly charming.
Wherein does the charm consist? In two qualities, I think, one of which
has not hitherto appeared in French painting, or, indeed, in any art
whatever, namely, what we understand by cleverness as a distinct element
in treatment--and color. Color is very prominent nowadays in all writing
about art, though recently it has given place, in the fashion of the
day, to "values" and the realistic representation of natural objects as
the painter's proper aim. What precisely is meant by color would be
difficult, perhaps, to define. A warmer general tone than is achieved by
painters mainly occupied with line and mass is possibly what is oftenest
meant by amateurs who profess themselves fond of color. At all events,
the Louis Quinze painters, especially Watteau, Fragonard, and Pater--and
Boucher has a great deal of the same feeling--were sensitive to that
vibration of atmosphere that blends local hues into the _ensemble_ that
produces tone. The _ensemble_ of their tints is what we mean by color.
Since the Venetians _this_ note had not appeared. They constitute, thus,
a sort of romantic interregnum--still very classic, from an intellectual
point of view--between the classicism of Lebrun and the still greater
severity of David. Nothing in the evolution of French painting is more
interesting than this reverberation of Tintoretto and Tiepolo.

By cleverness, as exhibited by the Louis Quinze painters, I do not mean