Studio: international art (9.1897)

Reviews of Recent Publications

His figures are full of character, and his women
are especially attractive. On the other hand, he
pays too little attention to "values," and his lights
are often tricky and false. The example which we
are here permitted to reproduce upon a smaller
scale is thoroughly typical of his style. A little of
the sparkling quality of Mr. Wenzell's work infused
into the insufferably dull and lifeless wash-work of
which we see so much in the popular magazines of
the day, would effect a very wholesome and welcome
change in their appearance.

The Pageant. Edited by C. Hazlewood
Shannon and J. W. Gleeson White. (Lon-
don: Henry & Co.)—In format this second
volume of Messrs. Henry & (!o.'s artistic Annual
follows closely its predecessor. Its binding, de-
signed by Charles Ricketts, its outer wrapper,
which serves to show that the literary editor,
Mr. Gleeson White, is as ingenious with the
pencil as with the pen, its end-papers, due to
the decorative ingenuity of Mr. Lucien Pissarro,
combine to make its outward semblance agreeably
attractive. If Mr. Dobson's "Postscript to Re-
taliation,'' is a little obvious and perfunctory. Mr.
Edmund Gosse has rarely been more graceful in
his manner or more tactfully appreciative in his
matter than in his little study of that flamboyant
literary fop—Jules Barbey I )'Aurevilly. Maeter-
linck's "The Seven Princesses,'' translated by Mr.
Alfred Sutro, is " for those who like this sort of thing
just the sort of thing they like," as President Lin-
coln said about something quite otherwise. Mr.
Laurence Housman's fairy story, "Blind Love,"
handles a difficult situation without offence. Mr.
White himself contributes an exceedingly thought-
ful appreciation of Gustave Moreau, who, though he
is somewhat insistently termed the " French Burne-
Jones," claims, as Mr. White points out, but distant
kinship with the English painter. The impertinent
divagations of Mr. Max Beerbohm could well have
been spared, but Mr. D. S. Mac( 'oil adds pleasantly
to our knowledge of that little known engraver
Giulio Campagnola, who has some faint interest
for others than the mere collector, in that by the
employment of an ingenious stipple wrought by
the burin, he obtained almost the semblance of
mezzotint a century before that infinitely finer
technique was invented.

Life and Letters of Frederick Walker, A.R.A.
By J. G. Marks. (London: Macmillan.) 3™. 6d.
net.—In this portly volume a rough estimate reveals
about 150,000 words, or, granting that such a
figure does not allow for the space occupied by one
hundred or more illustrations in the text, at least
2 98

too,000. Now, a life which can be profitably
treated on so voluminous a scale must contain
many incidents and much individuality of charac-
ter, otherwise the result is a family chronicle of
little interest. Fred. Walker, the man, was a fairly
commonplace, if quite interesting personality, but
Mr. Marks' anxiety to do full justice has defeated
his own purpose. He has added nothing to our real
knowledge of his hero, and tended to obscure the
previous definite image by a crowd of irrelevant
detail. Each page reads well enough, and an
editor of drastic views, armed with a blue pencil,
would scon shape the book to become a really per-
manent biography. This is the only point for
adverse criticism. The narrative is well-sustained,
good taste is preserved throughout, the things
which were best left unsaid are not told, and the
loyal admiration of an enthusiast rarely, if ever,
descends to merely blind adoration. The pictures
are excellently reproduced, especially the thirteen
photogravures, ar.d in number they well-nigh ex-
haust the iconography. So complete a record of
any painter is rare. Walker's place in the history
of British painting is secure, and this presentation
of his claims advances none which may not be
allowed. But Walker's place in the art of the world
is quite another matter. That he will always hold
a position of honour among the lesser artists is as
certain as most prophecies ; but to imagine that he
evolved a new art in genre, as Constable created a
new art in landscape, were folly. His peculiar
effort to embody the beauty of the Greek ideal in
English peasants, and to make a picture of common
life rhythmical and idyllic, was not gained without
some loss. As Tennyson, in sublimating the
Arthur of Sir Thomas Mallory, came perilously near
depicting a prig instead of a blameless king, so
Walker was at times not far off a sentimentalism
which is fatal to great art. But, nevertheless, the
lovable qualities of his work, its graceful form, its
pleasant colour, and its delightful simplicity of
motive, have endeared themselves to us all. It is
because we love his work so well that it becomes
needful to explain that the admiration is not mere
infatuation, but that we recognise the short-
comings and the limitations, and yet abate no jot
of reverence for the creator of so many beautiful
pictures. Messrs. Macmillan deserve special praise
for the good taste bestowed upon every detail of
one of the most interesting art-volumes of the
year.

Wymps. By Evelvn Sharp. With eight
coloured illustrations by Mrs. Percy Dfarmer.
(London and New York : John Lane.)—Pleasant