"PRIVATE VIEWS."
IVE have heard a "private view" defined as an occasion on which large crowds of people meet by invitation to pre- vent each other from seeing a collection of pictures. The author of this definition would not deny that pictures were to be seen on such days, if you went early enough, but would say —and here we agree with him—that the true notion of a private view involves the idea of a crowd,—a crowd more or less select, as the case may be, but generally composed of the same ingre- dients and interested in itself as much as in the pictures ex- hibited. There is always a sprinkling of the Upper Ten, a larger one of literary, political, and scientific notables, and a strong dash of self-made men, with good balances at their bankers, who are, in point of fact, the buyers of most of the pictures, and whose brisk flitting to and fro between the pictures on the walls and the Secretary's desk is in strong contrast to the languid loitering of the great folks. These last are apt to be just as much pleased with the bad work as with the good, and are often refreshingly ignorant of " reputations " and great names. The buyers, the dealers, and the critics know a little more, but are sometimes wildly astray in their readings of the artist's intentions, especially in regard to landscapes, and are sur- prised to hear that what they have been praising as a first-rate representation of a sunset over a stormy sea represents, so far as the artist's effort is concerned, the rising of the harvest-moon over a barley-field. The "culture critic" is better informed; and less likely to confuse things, and to mistake for a Joan of Arc leaning on her sword, what is meant for a Cinderella with a kitchen poker ; but he is disdainful, and can see no beauty in any picture which is not "decorative,"—i.e., will not hang well with china plates. Then there are the dealers, full of com- plaints of the badness of the times, and the impossibility of buying, but buying all the same, and taming over large sums, while) appearing to look apathetic or dismal at the pictures. Buyers and critics and connoisseurs are useful—they are things which no private view can do without—but they are not beau- tiful; while the ladies who haunt such gatherings are beautiful, and wonderful, too, sometimes. Of late, we have not seen so many strange figures in sap-green crewel-worked garments, with big bunches of buttercups in their hands, or so many in- stances in which the mournful decay of Morrisian colouring has been pushed into mere mildewed mouldiness and the most degraded of " teints degrades." But we may still now and then have the pleasure of looking at ladies who play, as it were, at stepping out of old pictures, or of seeing the beauties whose portraits grace the walls, and who are kindly walking about in the very dresses and necklaces in which the artists have painted them. We have said nothing of the artists, of whom there will be many interspersed here and there. Such days are rarely days of enjoyment to them. We remember a picture of Mr. Alma Tadema's, repre- senting, we believe, the first admission of the Athenian public to view the sculptures which adorned the newly-built Parthenon. We wondered which, among the living figures, represented Phidias himself, when an artist-friend pointed out the most un- happy-looking member of the group, and said, "That is he,—it is a private view." Successful or unsuccessful, no artist can ever thoroughly enjoy a private view, if his own work forms part of the show. Success will not make him do anything but dislike the look of his picture, when he can no longer work upon it,— the want of success will certainly make him a very embarrassed looker-on, while its fate is, perhaps, being decided. On the other hand, it must be said that the private view which he really cares for has come and gone,—the day, namely, when the hang- ing is completed, and the painters flock in to varnish, and touch- up, and hear the criticisms of their brethren. Hardly any in- genuity will prevent artists' real opinions of each other's work being known to each other. Given the school, the "set," or, in other words, the kind of excellence which the artist, in common with the "set," whether large or small, to which he belongs, is aiming at, the merit of the work is estimated at once, and perfectly. Whether opposite schools are apt to see each other's merits fairly, is another matter ; but within the limits we have named, there will be absolute and chival- rous fairness, and a keenness of perception which no outer critic can pretend to. No one is so hearty in his admira- tion of a bit of good work, especially if it be the work of a rising man, as an artist ; but no one, on the other hand, is so quick to see when a promising painter is using up old impulses, instead of getting new ones, beginning to paint for money, or from what- ever cause, not "going on." They know, too, how difficult their art of painting is, and are in the main tender in their judg- ments. They are respectful in their handling of pictures pro- duced by men who have done good work in their time, although theisee, long before the rest of the world, when the deft hand is beginning to lose its cunning and the eye its keenness ; but for the sake of what has been done, how often a picture in which failing power is only too evident, appears on the line ! The world outside the profession may sigh for a sterner reading of duty, and whisper the words "retiring pension." Unhappily, however, retiring pensions are not provided for all whose best days are over, and we find ourselves sighing for the prompt and vigorous action of Vivien. In our mind, no character of a bygone age is more misrepresented than she is. We are taught to believe, even by a great poet, that she was a crafty and treacherous creature, who over-reached Merlin by her beauty and subtlety, and for merely selfish ends shut him away for ever from the sight of all. It is, however, much more probable that she loved and worshipped him, and only acted as she did from the very highest motives. He was old, and she saw that he was about to ruin his reputation by working his wonders in a less wonderful and noble way than before, and for his own sake she closed his career ; she did it while his fame was still high, and would that there were more like her!
But when all is said and done, let artists be ever so tender to each other and the world ever so sympathetic, all this glory of exhibitions and excitement of private views, coming as they do after months of intense labour, make up only another form of sharp competitive examination. There will always be competi- tors who, after straining for the first place, have to listen to the glib compliments of those who have just seen their "highly in- teresting" picture, which has found its pictorial level below or much above the wished-for line. How can such unlucky mortals enjoy the spring P It is just as if the chief torment of the "Schools " at Oxford came on you (as, for aught we know, may be the case now) in the summer term. In reading "The New- comes," it is impossible not to be struck by the difference be- tween the picture of artist-life drawn by Thackeray, and that which a draughtsman of equal power would give in these days. Did artists care as much for exhibitions then, or were fame and fortune either less attractive or more easily grasped? We cannot answer these questions, but in Thackeray's day, artists, we are told, sang at their work ; we could more easily imagine them groaning over it, now.
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