W. M. HUNTS TALKS ABOUT ART.*

Tins little book of aphorisms will be looked upon as a very clear and hearty enunciation of the principles that guide the best of the painters whose works are essentially modern,—typified in England by the painter who is pre-eminently their leader, Mr._ Millais. Now by this we do not for an instant mean to assert that their appreciation of the masters of old is inadequate ; on. the contrary, Mr. Hunt's favourite master is Velasquez, and next- to him Titian and Da Vinci, to which view, doubtless, Mr.. Millais would in the main assent. But what we do assert is that,. nevertheless, their practice is not at all guided by or based on the practice of these painters, who always remain to them as essen- tially the "old masters." Let it not be thought that objection is taken to this view. It is needless to say here—it is not a matter of opinion—that Hogarth, Gainsborough, Millais will ever be ranked. among the highest names in English art. Still it is necessary to re- member this distinction of schools when we turn to the American, artist's Talks about Art, the notes taken by one of Mr. Hunt's. pupils of his verbal advice and art-chat amongst the students,. which, though sometimes flavoured with marked Americanisms. (" wouldn't I give all my old boots to see Velaaquez paint for one week,—one hour I") abounds in vitality and love of art, in keen and delicate discrimination, and chief of all, complete kindliness,—indeed, we do not remember a single expression of disagreement in the book that is not expressed entirely without bitterness. This quality amongst artists, whether in music or painting, is unfortunately rare.

We seriously doubt, however, whether this book will be of quite so much value to those who are students of the older schools and of their exponents in these days. To make our meaning clearer as to the distinction between the two. methods of procedure, they may be broadly suggested thus :.. —Supposing a young girl is going to be painted by a member of each school. Gainsborough or Millais would select some delicate, characteristic type of face, attend carefully to the disposition of hair, whether it be in a net or flowing curls, paint the purple dress and golden bracelet in all importance—we do not say undue importance—notice with the instinct of an ideal habit-maker the " sit " of the drapery, show us how an ormolu table or much-

* W. M. Hunt's nib about Art. With s, Lotter from J. E. Millais, B.A.

chased secretaire can be painted without being vulgar, and throw intense energy into the grace of the pose and expression, so , as to let us know at once that the young lady is a member of social humanity.

But turn to Leonardo da Vinci. Ceaselessly and unerringly on the watch for beauty, he is not contented until he finds the love- liest head he has ever seen ; next he watches every subtle change in that face until he has decided which look is the finest, or appeals the most, possibly even deciding in what year the model- ling of form was at its acme, and so paints us the gentle, steadfast smile, modelled as if in marble, with curves of eye and mouth— that are indicated only (however powerfully), and absorbed in the general effect, by Millais or Gainsborough—rendered in all their completeness, and dwelt upon as by the Greeks. In place of the graceful disposition of the hair for society, he only allows a tress or two of golden ringlets to relieve themselves on the modelled cheek ; and these silken threads he makes im- portant in their values, even compared with the dress, or the ribands, or the bracelet. In short, by a refining process of selection, he makes exhaustive choice from the lavish and diverse-valued beauties of nature until he obtains her essence, whereas Millais indicates for us the broad aspect of those vast stores in nature whence the older schools gleaned their material. Millais would enter an orchard flushed with its spring pinkness, and resolve to record it for us, painting those figures on the grass in beautiful, subordinate elaboration. Leonardo would feel that orchards will always be at hand, with their spring beauty ; but of the figure seated there beneath the blossom, that smile will fade and that graceful form decay. Next year even the specific moulding of face and ripple of eyebrow will be changed, so on their behalf will he devote his strength. Indeed it appears that the most wonder- ful use of art is to record the things that are transient, and which are nearly always, too, our loveliest, leaving the vision of nature herself to be the staple art for man.

In the English art of to-day—without pretending in this notice to do more than appreciate a few signs of what is, of course, a com- prehensive theme—we cannot fail to see that the traditions of the older schools of art are well grounded. In Mr. Leighton's work will be found the serene power over every modulation of curvature, and deep, pure colour, combined with delicacy of pearly tone, such as would once have been seen in Greece. Mr. Poynter gives severe rendering of the sculpturesque beauty that is in dark, clearly-made forms, without much depth of colour, of such character as Michel- angelo first showed the appealing power ; and with this quality also Mr. Watts, who at times has rivalled the Venetians, usually elects to sympathise, though always with a certain strange melody of colour thatis absent in the Michelangelesque. The combination of great delicacy both of form and colour, as in Botticelli or John Bellini, is marvellously resuscitated in the works of Mr. Burne Jones. But the power of passionate colour is left mainly in the hands of the painter who, nevertheless, will be ranked in quite a different realm of art,--Mr. Millais. (It is needless to say that we refer to those pictures into which he chooses to put his strength.) The field of art in which he works, this modern English school, is essen- tially a "historical" school. It records incidents, narrates anecdotes, photographs landscapes, with noble addition of intellect, of poetry. Amongst figure-painters it has not reached such perfection as amongst landscape-painters, with of course notable exceptions. The spirit—sympathy with the ways of humanity—that animates Millais or Frederick Walker is completely different from that which crowds our exhibitions with crudities of figure-painting, professing to tell us similar things, often pushing by brute force earnest endeavours after the truth of the older schools either into dark corners, or high skylight, or back to the garrets whence they came, and deceiving ingenuous British folk as to even the conditions on which they may gain a ray of light—and true delight—in art.

But much of the landscape work of the modern school is such as indeed to be valued. We believe that the day will come, say, in a century or so, when Alfred Hunt, the Fripps, North, Hook, Mason, Walker, Poole, and happily, not a few more, will be joined in brotherhood of Art, of our peculiarly English school, with Hogarth, Gainsborough, and Millais.

A good deal of the matter in this book is either gained from Mr. Ruskin, or is the mutual agreement of two men who can

see. And so we notice with regret that though, of course, much

respect is given to Mr. Ruskin's writing, exceptions are taken to his theory where we should least expect them. For instance,

• comes this astonishing dictum :—" John Ruskin's receipts make a book, but never made a painter, and never can make a picture." The sense (or indeed nonsense) in this is curiously surrendered to its epigrammatic form. Those must, indeed, be singularly miraculous receipts that may succeed in making a painter, but yet never can make a picture. The fact is, Mr. Ruskin's " re- ceipts " are based on Titian, Velasquez, and Turner ; he has ever reiterated that no writing can make a painter, who must first of all be one. Yet Mr. Ruskin's writing will always be looked upon as the one vitalising force that has knit together into some shape the endless threads of art procedure, and bequeathed for ever to-

artists whatever hope and stimulus can come from external sources. Of the importance of the internal powers of an artist Mr. Ruskin has written with far greater power and penetration than has Mr. Hunt. Says Mr. Hunt :— " Trying to add truths has nearly ruined English art_

WhenEnglish artists paint their impressions, their art has weight. When they accumulate facts, their pictures are like

dictionaries. John Ruskin's receipts make a book, but never- made a painter, and never can make a picture. Scientific scrutiny may take things to pieces, but it can't put them together again_ Itdissolves diamonds, and obtains,—gas !" Which process "the great American painter" applies to the thoughtful words of Ruskin, naturally obtaining the result he apparently expected. Alas ! Mr. Hunt's receipts, had they all been of this quality,

would never have made even" a book. Trying to add " truths " has nearly ruined English art ! A truly noble plea for honesty

and ingenuousness in our art workmen. Unfortunately, the oppo- site principle of trying to subtract " truths " had once nearly ruined American financial character. But seriously, Mr. Hunt, though quite exceptionally, is in complete confusion as to what he means by "impressions," and what Mr. Ruskin means by

" truths " and "facts." The ultimate rhythm of the perfectly modelled cheek, that is the "added truth" that Mr. Ruskin calls "finish," not the particular hair or fold in the skin. The sweeps of remembered mist, and curvature of mysterious foliage, carried to perfection of form,—these are the "facts ;" not the chalky, wishy-washy " effects " and dotted green bundles that are sometimes supposed to be " Ruskinite " for clouds and trees. The grey gloom of Velasquez and sublime solemnity of Titia,nesque twilight, the grace and beauty of Leonardo and Luini, and the grand tones of the "Last Judgment" of Tin- toretto,—these, with far re-echoing Turnerian sunset silences, these are Mr. Ruskin's receipts. The truth is, that men who have-

great work to do, especially painters, have not always margin of energy to devote to reading ; but the more is it necessary for them to restrain, at any cost, a too decided opinion, just as they would discipline and restrain their own freedom of touch into severe rectitude. Wherever the least shade of meaning is given up to the structural form of the sentence, so far the criticism becomes- as bad as a picture in which sense is sacrificed to manipulation.

Mr. Hunt has been untrue to his own plea, "We ask that critics should put as much care into their work as a painter into.

his work." This severe restraint—valuing, weighing, deciding— and then expressing, with infinite velocity and endless polish, if need be, is the sign-manual of all the best art, whether in Shake- speare or Da Vinci, and should especially exercise control over art-criticism. But allowing for one or two instances of further contradiction (which Mr. Millais has at once noted in his letter), this little book is a very valuable one. It will interest all. But

its best service will be to young artists. We never before remember to have seen so openly stated the encouragements that a young artist much needs in the time of his or her struggles of training. The following passages, that are very wise and good, deserve to be written up in all our art-schools :—

"If you would get stone out of the quarry, keep cool, use gun- powder, and get the big Irishman to help you. Then clear everybody out of the way, and do your fine work. If you had 'finished' it before. the blasting ?"

" Leonardo da Vinci, one of the greatest, would pass months drawing that cheek."

"I tell you it's no joke to paint a portrait ! I wonder that I am not more timid when I begin ! I feel almost certain that I can do it. It seems very simple. I don't think of the time that is sure to coma when I almost despair, when the whole thing seems hopeless. Into the painting of every picture that is worth anything there conies, sometime, this period of despair."

"Hercules may have strangled a serpent when he was a baby, but there was a time when he couldn't. No master worked in his own way at first. Raphael after Perugino, Vandyke after Rubens. If Albert Diirer had lived in Venice, he would have been a Venetian painter. As it was, he worked as tho old German artists had worked, and we cannot but feel that when he came to see the Venetians, he wished that he could have seen them earlier, and modified his work by their influence.'

Equally wise and very delightful are the following :— "You can't even see a hair on a cat without losing sight of pussy!" "When the tree throws off its leaves, it doesn't give up the right to

appear in one simple form or mass against the sky, except to the squirrel, who only deals with one branch at a time."

"The Greek sculptors did not spend any more time than we do on the hair of their dogs and horses, and yet— ! !" "You must take for granted the experience of people who have had experience, and who knew what they were about. Paul Veronese will always be known as a great painter, and until we get to be greater than he, we must believe that he was right. So with Michelangelo ! You may inty that he distorted the muscles, that he exaggerated certain parts at the expense of others. He, like Veronese, never made a touch that he didn't need ! You must see his pictures in the place in which they belonged."

"Paint that little girl's face as you would a tea-rose."

"I want to see you work as hard to draw as I do to _find fault, and you'll do tip-top things !" "This is the age of the tongue and the oar! We listen with hollow, gaping awe to a description of the Parthenon ; build our temples by -contract, pay for them in greenbacks, and send to England for stamped -Johnny-cake ornaments and prizes, and pocket the difference! We learn a great deal about everything, and a very little about anything ! Nothing is too thin for us ! There is a market for more skim-milk than we can produce. The cream sours, and is given to the cat !" "If art depended upon literature, there would never be much ! The artist needs help. The critic should come to him in love, and ask to help him."

Young artists might also take courage from this, not in order to stimulate their rebellion, but to .give them a thread to cling by while trying to be loyal under what is too often most poignant pain, at the time when all the steep road and desert is before them :—

"Your parents don't like your work ? Of coarse they don't ; they haven't been through enough. Don't mind what your friends say of your work. In the first place, they all think you're an idiot ; in the next place, they expect great things from you ; in the third place, they wouldn't know if you did a good thing."

The following is very quaint and fine :— " Ah, those great men ! their life was one prayer. They did nothing but their work ; cared only for what they were doing ; and how little the world knows of them! There was Poussin, a lovely old chap. How the critics were down on him when he painted 'Moses Striking the Rock!' The owner wrote him, I don't like it. Here's a lake made in a single moment ! You've been trivial. I don't want your picture !' To which came the calm reply,-4 Don't worry. I thought at Moses were going to strike a rock, he might as well strike where there had once been a fountain. He knew what he was about !' "

This little book may be especially salutary in affording food for thought to the phalanx of painters whose essentially crude work much needs refining. Perhaps, however, there may be some fear

lest the qualities of the finest modern landscape art be ignored by those who work in the traditions of classic art. These,

with all their greatness and power, are but driving along • grand grooves, when they refuse to recognise the value of fine poetical records of nature as we see her, and do not honour with recognition the patience and endurance that will enable a landscape-painter who is far away from the gay rooms and thoughtful art Societies of London, at much

-cost of personal comfort and risk of health, to record for us some lovely effect of rainy twilight, whose tender, fading glow touches with a dreamy sadness the leaf of Whatman on which it is drawn, that his eye alone has seen, and otherwise must have faded unseen.

It is to be feared also among the lesser brethren of the Classic school lest some should be included in Mr. Hunt's saying, 4' There are so many people looking back into the past, that they would not see great things that might happen to-day. If Homer were to come here and sing, they would say, Hold on ! You're in our way ! iVe're looking Lack into the past!'" Yes, the -exclusively classic enthusiasm, fine as it is, is as though the minds that dwell much upon Sophocles and Homer should not allow the value of the work of Wordsworth and Tennyson. For strange as this sounds, it typifies only too truly a rather widespread incontinence of twisted art-criticism to-day. But, to turn to writing that needs but careful study to reveal its treasure, it is fortunate that Mr. Ruskin's final treatise on drawing, The Laws of Fesole,* is now beginning to appear. While not ignoring what is best in the truths of our modern school, this work will supply what is most sorely needed,—help to those who wally wish to understand, or follow, the perfect practice of the great masters.