Subtitled, “British Artists and Collectors, 1800s to 1930s”, this exhibition at the National Galleries of Scotland in Edinburgh looks like a real feast for the eyes, despite the introduction to Richard Dorment’s review in the Telegraph.

“I hate Edinburgh. Loathe it. Whatever the time of year, no city centre in Europe – not even Amsterdam’s – is anything like as sordid, but during the festival, which starts this week, it turns into my idea of hell-on-earth. From the instant you step off the train at Waverley station, the awfulness of the place hits you between the eyes: the teeth-clenching whine of bagpipes played for a surging tide of moronic tourists; the aggressive young beggars and organised gangs of down-and-outs assailing you at every corner; the no-talent street performers, the grubby outdoor cafes, the noise, the dirt, the bad hotels, and the awful food.

“This year, a month-long strike by sanitation workers has added yet another reason to avoid Edinburgh at all costs: garbage. There are mounds of it piled up in the streets and silting up the gutters, blowing in your face and whipping at your heels. Everywhere you look you see plastic bin bags gnawed by rats or split open by seagulls, their foul contents spilling out over pavements and onto streets already rendered impassable by the ubiquitous road works. How the Daily Telegraph’s music, dance and theatre critics can hold out for three weeks in this mini-Srebrenica I can’t imagine.”

Despite that start, and after a fair review of a show which features works of international importance by Velázquez, El Greco, Murillo and Zurbarán,  he concludes,  “With pictures like these – and believe me, I’m only skimming the surface – you have reason enough to visit this show.”