The Gentle Art of Making Enemies Part 26

_Philanthropy and Art_

The _Sat.u.r.day Review_ has not thought it disgraceful to once more justify its t.i.tle to be called the "Sat.u.r.day Reviler." This time it is not to break upon the wheel some poor b.u.t.terfly of a lady traveller or novelist, but to scoff at an aged painter of the highest repute--Mr.

Herbert--upon his retirement to the rank of "Honorary Academician,"

after a career such as few, if any, painters living can boast. This it pleases the "Reviler" to congratulate artists upon as "good news,"

without a word or a thought of what the retiring Academician has done in art, except to utter the contemptible untruth that "his resignation means that he has found out that he is beaten," _not_ by the natural failing of old age, but because he failed to impress such a writer as this with the special exhibition of the works of his long life, that was made some few years back to mark the completion of his last great picture for the House of Lords, "The Judgment of Daniel." That exhibition, which most people, who know anything about painting in its highest style of religious and monumental art, thought a most interesting display of a painter's career, is described by this most genial of critics as "acres of pallid purple canvases, with wizened saints and virgins in att.i.tudinizing groups."

Whether that collection of Mr. Herbert's works had merit or not is matter of opinion which I am not concerned to dispute; but, as a matter of fact, there were only _three_ small pictures in which the virgin or any saints appeared; the other pictures, besides the two large works of "The Delivery of the Law" and "The Judgment of Daniel,"

painted for the nation, being historical subjects, such as the "Lear Disinheriting Cordelia," a fresco of which is in the House of Lords; "The Acquittal of the Seven Bishops," which the Corporation of Salford purchased for their gallery of art; and several fine works of his youth, such as the "Brides of Venice," a "Procession in Venice, 1528,"

and others, which won for him his election to the Academy forty-five years ago, when he had to compete with such men as are, unfortunately, not to be found now among the candidates--Etty--Maclise--Dyce--Egg--and Elmore.

But the "_Sat.u.r.day's_" art critic, if he ever saw this exhibition at all, didn't go to see these pictures. As Goethe says, "the eye sees what it came to see," and he went to see the "acres of purple canvases, with their wizened saints," which were not there. No matter--it suits his purpose to declare that they were, just as it does to cram into a paragraph more ignorance, insolence, and false a.s.sertions combined than is often to be met with even in this locality of literature, where the editor seems to be surrounded with all the prigs, and the pumps, and the sn.o.bs of the literary profession.

_Truth_, Aug. 19, 1886.

"_Nous avons change tout cela!_"

[Sidenote: _Truth_, Sept. 2, 1886.]

Hoity-toity! my dear Henry!--What is all this? How can you startle the "Constant Reader," of this cold world, by these sudden dashes into the unexpected?

Perceive also what happens.

Sweet in the security of my own sense of things, and looking upon you surely as the typical "_Sapem_" of modern progress and civilization, here do I, in full Paris, _a l'heure de l'absinthe_, upon mischievous discussion intent, call aloud for "_Truth_."

"_Vous allez voir_," I say to the brilliant brethren gathered about my table, "you shall hear the latest beautiful thing and bold, said by our great Henry--'_capable de tout_,' beside whom '_ce coquin d'Habacuc_'

was mild indeed and usual!" And straightway to my stultification, I find myself translating paragraphs of pathos and indignation, in which a colourless old gentleman of the Academy is sympathized with, and made a doddering hero of, for no better reason than that he _is_ old--and those who would point out the wisdom and comfort of his withdrawal into the wigwam of private life, sternly reproved and anathematized and threatened with shame--until they might well expect to find themselves come upon by the bears of the aged and irascible, though bald-headed, Prophet, whom the children had thoughtfully urged to "go up."

Fancy the Frenchmen's astonishment as I read, and their placid amus.e.m.e.nt as I attempted to point out that it was "meant drolly--that _enfin_ you were a _mystificateur_!"

Henry, why should I thus be mortified? Also, why this new _pose_, this cheap championship of senility?

How, in the name of all that is incompetent, do you find much virtue in work spreading over more time! What means this affectation of _navete_?

We all know that work excuses itself only by reason of its quality.

If the work be foolish, it surely is not less foolish because an honest and misspent lifetime has been pa.s.sed in producing it.

What matters it that the offending worker has grown old among us, and has endeared himself to many by his caprices as ratepayer and neighbour?

Personally, he may have claims upon his surroundings; but, as the painter of poor pictures, he is d.a.m.ned for ever.

You see, my Henry, that it is not sufficient to be, as you are in wit and wisdom, among us, amazing and astute; a very Daniel in your judgment of many vexed questions; of a frankness and loyalty withal in your crusade against abuses, that makes of the keen litigator a most dangerous Quixote.

This peculiar temperament gives you that superb sense of right, _outside the realms of art_, that amounts to genius, and carries with it continued success and triumph in the warfare you wage.

But here it helps you not. And so you find yourself, for instance, pleasantly prattling in print of "English Art."

Learn, then, O! Henry, that there is no such thing as English Art. You might as well talk of English Mathematics. Art is Art, and Mathematics is Mathematics.

What you call English Art, is not Art at all, but produce, of which there is, and always has been, and always will be, a plenty, whether the men producing it are dead and called ----, or (I refer you to your own selection, far be it from me to choose)--or alive and called ----, whosoever you like as you turn over the Academy catalogue.

The great truth, you have to understand, is that it matters not at all whom you prefer in this long list. They all belong to the excellent army of mediocrity; the differences between them being infinitely small--merely microscopic--as compared to the vast distance between any one of them and the Great.

They are the commercial travellers of Art, whose works are their wares, and whose exchange is the Academy.

They pa.s.s and are forgotten, or remain for a while in the memory of the worthies who knew them, and who cling to their faith in them, as it flatters their own place in history--famous themselves--the friends of the famous!

Speak of them, if it please you, with uncovered head--even as in France you would remove your hat as there pa.s.ses by the hea.r.s.e--but remember it is from the conventional habit of awe alone, this show of respect, and called forth generally by the casual corpse of the commonest kind.

PARIS, Aug. 21, 1886.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

_The Inevitable_

[Sidenote: _Truth_, Sept. 9, 1886.]

When I suggested you as the "Sapeur of modern progress," my dear Henry, I thought to convey delicately my appreciation, wrapped in graceful compliment.

When I am made to say that you are the "Sapem" of civilisation--whatever that may mean--I would seem to insinuate an impertinence clothed in cla.s.sic error.

I trust that, if you forgive me, you will never pardon the printer.--Always,

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"_n.o.blesse oblige_"

[Sidenote: _The World_, Dec. 31, 1884.]

Atlas, look at this! It has been culled from the _Plumber and Decorator_, of all insidious prints, and forwarded to me by the untiring people who daily supply me with the thinkings of my critics.

Read, Atlas, and let me execute myself:

"The 'Peac.o.c.k' drawing-room of a well-to-do shipowner, of Liverpool, at Queen's Gate, London, is hand-painted, representing the n.o.ble bird with wings expanded, painted by an a.s.sociate of the Royal Academy, at a cost of 7000, and fortunate in claiming his daughter as his bride, and is one of the finest specimens of high art in decoration in the kingdom. The mansion is of modern construction."