The picture of Corot sketching in shorthand shows him when the long and close study of Nature had enabled him to generalise with confidence, and when a memory, always retentive, had been trained to a pitch that made it far more reliable than any sketchbook memoranda. Although he always expressed impatience with the idea that anything worth doing could be done merely by taking pains, Corot was the least apt of men to spare any pains that were essential to his purpose; and nothing could be farther from the truth than the suggestion sometimes made, that he was wanting in this respect. To generalise as he generalised is not to be careless of detail, but the very reverse: it implies a knowledge so complete of every element in a landscape that those belonging to a particular view of it can be selected with an unerring judgment, and what is non-essential eliminated. "Put in as much as you like at first, and afterwards efface the superfluity," is a bit of advice that comes from Corot himself. It was not a strikingly original remark, but it could not have been made by other than a conscientious worker. It is certainly a mistake to suppose that Corot was careless of details in the sense that he did not give them due consideration; but he always realised that details were details after all. "I never hurry to the details of a picture," he said; "its masses and general character interest me before anything else. When those are well established, I search out the subtleties of form and colour. Incessantly and without system I return to any and every part of my canvas." There is a note in Mr. George Moore's _Modern Painting_ that seems to throw some illumination upon Corot's manner of looking at his subject. Mr. Moore came upon the artist, an old man then, "in front of his easel in a pleasant glade. After admiring his work, I ventured to say: 'What you are doing is lovely, but I cannot find your composition in the landscape before us.' He said, 'My foreground is a long way ahead.' And sure enough, nearly two hundred yards away, his picture rose out of the dimness of the dell, stretching a little beyond the vista into the meadow." I think Corot's foreground had a habit of being a considerable way ahead. [Illustration: PLATE IV.--LE SOIR "My 'Soir,' I love it, I love it! It is so firm," said Corot, standing before his picture in the exhibition gallery in company with an appreciative friend. It is "firm" enough beyond question, and the sky especially is a marvel of delicate, palpitating colour. But it is much more, a moment of magic beauty, evanescent as the reflected picture on a bubble-bell, seized and made permanent; an emotion of pleasure cast into a material shape.]