The canvas is sombre, notwithstanding its high lights and the
extraordinary whiteness of the winding-sheet. In spite of its reliefs,
the painting is _flat_. It is a picture of blackish grounds on which are
disposed broad strong lights of no gradations. The colouring is not
very rich: it is full, well-sustained, and clearly calculated to be
effective from a distance. It makes the picture, frames it, expresses
its weakness and its strength, and makes no attempt to beautify it. It
is composed of an almost black green, an absolute black, a rather heavy
red, and a white. These four tones are placed side by side as frankly as
is possible with four notes of such violence. The contact is brusque and
yet they do not suffer. In the great white, the corpse of Christ is
drawn with a delicate and supple line and modelled by its own reliefs
without any effort of _nuances_, thanks to deviations of imperceptible
values. No shining, no single division in the lights, and scarcely a
detail in the dark parts. All that is of a singular breadth and
rigidity. The outlines are narrow, the half-tints limited except in the
Christ, where the under layer of ultramarine has worn through and to-day
forms blemishes. The pigment is smooth, compact, flowing easily and
thoughtfully.

At the distance from which we examine it, the work of the hand
disappears, but it is easy to guess that it is excellent and directed
with full confidence by a mind broken into good habits, that conforms to
them, applies itself, and wishes to do well. Rubens remembers, observes,
restrains himself, possesses all his forces, subordinates them, and only
half makes use of them.

In spite of these drawbacks, this is a singularly original, attractive,
and strong work. Van Dyck will derive his best religious inspirations
from it. Philippe de Champagne will not imitate it, I am afraid, except