Reynolds.

Conversely the criticism of some writers tends towards depreciation because
of their predilection for objective as opposed to subjective criticism. The
late P.G. Hamerton, writing upon Rembrandt, says, "The chiaroscuro of
Rembrandt is often false and inconsistent, and in fact he relied largely on
public ignorance. But though arbitrary, it is always conducive to his
purpose."

"Conducive to his purpose!" There is much virtue in those four words.
Rembrandt probably knew as well as anybody that his lighting of a picture
was not a facsimile of the lighting of nature, or rather not the
chiaroscuro as seen by the average eye; but he had an aim, a vision before
him, and he did not hesitate to interpret that vision in his own way. Who
dares to say that Rembrandt was disloyal to nature? Our concern is not what
we should have done, but what Rembrandt did, seeing with his own eyes. And
the questions we should ask ourselves are:--Is the interpretation of the
world as seen through his eyes beautiful, suggestive, profound, and
stimulating? Does the statement of his personality in paint add to our
knowledge, educate our æsthetic perceptions, and extend our horizon by
showing us things that our imperfect vision does not see except through
him?

[Illustration: A YOUNG WOMAN IN A RED CHAIR HOLDING A PINK IN HER RIGHT
HAND

1656. The Hermitage, St. Petersburg.]

Comparisons are not only odious, but foolish. No sensible critic attempts a
comparison between Titian, Velasquez, and Rembrandt. He accepts them as