One of the gems of the whole series is the representation of Blanchefleur, sitting in her dove-gray wedding gown; rose-wreathed and holding roses in her lap; gazing before her with a look of surrender, so infinitely spiritual. In her as in the Virtues the painter has made purity adorable; neither ascetic nor ecstatic, not at variance with the humanity of womanhood, but represented as its choicest flowering. Again, in his rendering of the angels he helps us to realize that they are creatures of the imagination; especially in the last picture, where their form is vague and they are felt rather as presences. And to this detachment from mere humanity spiritualized corresponds the expression of their faces; the rapt adoration of beings raised above the stir of human passion, in an atmosphere of calm where passivity is action. However, judged as a series of decorations, following around the frieze of a room, these pictures are less satisfactory. They count as units, rather than in progression. One fails to find a rhythmic continuity or periodic emphasis of movement and colour, they vary conspicuously in size and colour and in character of composition and motive, and make their impression separately, instead of being in consecutive accord. But if from a decorative standpoint these canvases are open to adverse criticism, let it not divert attention from their essential merit. Such big and serious effort is none too usual in painting--the opportunity for it, one must add in fairness, too infrequently occurs--so that, when one meets it, one’s heart goes out in appreciative acknowledgment. Within the scope of Abbey’s primary intention of commemorating a great theme in a series of noble pictures and of reinvesting old truth with present force, he has achieved a triumph that will win the admiration of all to whom seriously imaginative work appeals. VII GEORGE FULLER When Fortune is apportioning qualities to the artistic temperament, she does not always include character. I mean that unflinching rectitude of purpose which at once answers “Adsum!” to the call of duty, and is not of the kind that says, “‘I go, sir,’ and went not.” Sacrifice to the call of art is by comparison a slenderer quality. It is not so difficult to suffer for the sake of an ideal, especially when a man is young, or even when he is old, if he keeps his heart young within him, a faculty which is often rather an incident of the artistic temperament than a matter of personal effort. But sacrifice to the call of duty, a duty outside of the art ideals, represents a much higher quality, demanding the exercise of personal force and the maintenance of a quite unusual endurance; the quality, in fact, which one sums up as character.