Spain is familiarly spoken of as a country of distinctive character, and is so not only because of its geographical situation, which has kept it somewhat apart from frequented routes, but because it aspires to such a reputation. At the present time it is incessantly productive of art, its output exhibiting a specific character of its own, obvious and intelligible to those who examine it with sufficient care. Undoubtedly it has been influenced at certain periods by extraneous currents, but during the sixteenth century, when the true Spanish school was created, it was notably independent and unique. Its productions, these national qualities which above all determine that which is called a school, possess a character of their own, a special determinative essence, which can only be explained by metaphysical processes. But at the same time they display external manifestations, an ultimate expression, a speech, an idiom, so to speak, peculiarly national. And this speech in art is quite as fundamental as the spirit which determines the nature of the creation. All-powerful, or at least very great, is the spiritual capacity for creating mighty works _in mente_. But the various schools of art came into being not only because they enshrined an idea, but because they were able to give it form. The characteristics of the expression, not of the idea, of form, not of essence, these it is to which the critic should address himself in the first instance when he desires to differentiate between the works of one school and another, and when trying to distinguish the work typical of one artist from that of others of the same school, who have been less successful in following a common master. The creative idea, the spirit which animates every work, is distinct, according to the period of its origin, even in the case of the productions of the same race at different periods; but in expression its form is always similar, its ideas the same. As in literature writers of one nationality have to employ a common tongue, so in painting an expression equally conclusive, a palette, a technique, an idiom quite as definitive, determines the compositions typical of each race. If we find scattered throughout a museum where there are examples of all schools, a Saint by Greco, an ascetic figure by Ribera, a portrait by Velázquez, an image by Zurbarán, a visionary subject by Valdes Leal, a Virgin by Murillo, and a woman by Goya, it is probable that these works will contrast with one another too forcibly, or at least will not blend harmoniously. Each of them belongs to an epoch, and possesses a distinct creative and æsthetic spirit. But, even so, we will find that although the works belong to different schools, and variations and dissimilarities abound, all have one speech, one ultimate idiom in common; in a word, all have been painted in Spanish.