It has been said that our painters merely continue tendencies that have
had their origin in Europe, and just as English and French painters are
abandoning theories which they have exhausted, we are entertaining those
theories as new discoveries, and repeating a discord that abroad has
been outgrown. There is some truth in the charge, and we are not always
well enough informed to anticipate the next development in the artistic
world. While we are overrun by the maggots that have crawled out of the
literary body of John Ruskin, the English painters, already emancipated
from the bondage of that powerful sectarian, are working under new
influences, and showing tendencies that, without subverting the truths
so eloquently expounded by Ruskin, supplement them. Under the form of a
continuation of the work begun by the great sectarian of English Art
criticism, we have a literary exponent of the reaction; and the pictures
of Mr. Whistler, an American almost unknown on this side of the
Atlantic, have been taken by the late "London Fine Arts Quarterly
Review" as examples of this reaction in practice. Mr. Whistler has been
called the man of highest genius and most daring eccentricity in the new
school; and Tom Taylor amiably writes that he is equally capable of
exquisite things and gross impertinences. We give place to Mr.
Whistler's name merely to indicate that artists anticipate critics. In
the latest literature of Art we do not find positive reaction, but
continuation. Mr. Philip Gilbert Hamerton, however, meets conditions and
covers ground not treated by Ruskin, and more practical, but less
eloquent, defines the relation of the painter to Nature and the
limitations of imitation. Ruskin splendidly opened the campaign for
modern Art, and he has found servile and ignorant executive officers;
but Hamerton is an independent officer, who crosses the enemy's country,
beats his foe in detail, and according to his own method. Ruskin is
superb in his combinations; Hamerton exact in his method, and careful to
protect his rear. Therefore the most _useful_ books that could be placed
in the hands of the American Art public at present are Hamerton's
"Painter's Camp" and "Thoughts about Art." The latter volume is most
carefully considered, and is the result of unwearied practice in the
study of Art and Nature. For Mr. Hamerton has studied Nature as a man
indoctrinated with the ideas of Ruskin; he has generalized about Art as
one who has emancipated himself from a master in thought; and he has
enlarged his views by varied reading and familiarity with ancient and
modern painting. In some respects Mr. Hamerton's books may be taken as
the literary proof of a school which is said to include "many men of
rare gifts and uncommon culture," and which, profiting by the reform
introduced by Millais, Hunt, and Rossetti, yet also supplements that
reform with a more catholic taste and a less ascetic manner than were
shown by the immediate agents of the first great revolution in English
Art. It follows that some account of Mr. Hamerton's writings is called
for, and will be welcomed. He is at once able, useful, and
representative of the latest tendencies of Art criticism.
Mr. Hamerton's first volume, entitled "A Painter's Camp in the
Highlands," we regret to say, is not a felicitous introduction to the
valuable "Thoughts about Art," which give the title to the second. It is
unpleasantly inlaid with egotism and enamelled with self-consciousness.
Mr. Hamerton's critics cannot withhold attention from so prominent a
feature of his book. The obtrusiveness of his personality invites
attention. He seems not to have learned the art of existing fully in his
work, without dreaming to speak of himself. True, any account of a
painter's camp necessarily solicits much consideration of its occupant;
but it does not follow that we should be bored with trivial details, and
anecdotes simply flattering to the personal appearance of the painter.
If Mr. Hamerton proposed to write a book of gossip, if he were ambitious
of the honors of a Montaigne, he might tell us how he ties his
shoe-strings and how he shapes his moustache; but since we know that Mr.
Hamerton is a cultivated gentleman and serious student, we regret that
he exposes himself to the charge of being an English snob. Our simple
American Thoreau was endowed with better taste; for, though he wrote a
very detailed account of his hermit-life on the shore of Walden Pond,
his book is entirely free from vulgarity. Thoreau knew how to elevate
the trivial and confer dignity on the meanest. But Mr. Hamerton, hearty,
healthful, self-reliant Englishman that he is, contrives to let us know
that he is also a very elegant fellow even in camp. The personality
revealed in Mr. Hamerton's "Painter's Camp" is very English; and when we
have said this, we have said all. But let no one be deterred from making
the acquaintance of Mr. Hamerton even in his "Painter's Camp"; for he is
young, he is hearty, he is interesting, and he is manly.
We know of no books which are the result of more faithful study and
practical consideration of the painter's function, and which, at the
same time, are so free from technical jargon. Mr. Hamerton is
preeminently a useful writer on Art; he is certainly accurate and
comprehensive. Carefully going over the ground which he occupies with
his "Thoughts about Art," we have been surprised and delighted by the
seriousness and conscientiousness of his expositions. He spares no pains
to make his reader understand the present condition of Art, and he
fairly states and answers some of the most puzzling questions that have
agitated modern painters and confused simple students. He at all times
escapes cheap rhetoric and that facile enthusiasm begotten in some by
the very name of Art. He leaves all that to the _dilettanti_, and
addresses in a simple business-like style men who are not less serious
and earnest than himself. Yet Mr. Hamerton does not write a bald and
meagre style, nor is he insensible to the poetic and imaginative
elements of his theme. He can quicken a glow and arouse an emotion, when
he writes of the mighty poetry of Turner's Temeraire, or of the
mysterious, the melancholy charm of a portrait opposite the great
Veronese in the Louvre. Mr. Hamerton's literary skill is considerable;
but he does not abound in verbal felicities, nor has he any affluence of
style. He is at all times clear, he is at all times exact, and he is
often a vigorous writer. Common-sense, patience, and no ordinary talent
for analysis are manifest in every chapter of his "Thoughts about Art."
If we were asked where the most intelligent, the most trustworthy, the
most practical, and the most interesting exposition of modern Art and
cognate subjects is to be found, we should point to Hamerton's writings.
As a critic he is not seduced by novelty, and he is free from the
exaggerations of Ruskin; but he does not attain the eloquence and power
of exposition of John Ruskin. Mr. Hamerton is an admirable critic, but
Ruskin is a great advocate. The former is a man of talent; the latter is
a man of genius. In the consideration of Art Mr. Hamerton is as fair,
serious, and exact as is Matthew Arnold in his "Essays in Criticism,"
and, like him, faithfully represents the modern spirit. He does not show
the artistic skill and nicety which distinguish Mr. Arnold; he is not
witty, like Edmond About; he is not concise and masterly, like Eugene
Fromentin; but he is honest, and he covers his ground. We repeat,
therefore, that Mr. Hamerton's writings on Art are useful books, useful
even to artists, and sure to instruct a serious public. Ruskin's
writings aroused attention; they made people think. He stimulated many
to profitable study; but he also created prejudices, and he has
subjected quite as many minds as he has emancipated. Great men are great
tyrants. We escape the great man and the great writer in Hamerton. We
have in him an instructor, not a dictator. John Ruskin came, and, like
John the Baptist, cried, "Repent! repent!"--but Hamerton comes to us as
the apostle of a doctrine that needs exposition more than enunciation,
and he speaks the words of truth and soberness. Those who did not follow
Ruskin laughed and railed at him, and literary executioners hastened to
lay violent hands on him. Hamerton's public was prepared by a powerful
forerunner, and he is therefore neither assailed nor neglected. Mr.
Hamerton's reception in England reflects the nature of his books. He
enters the world of letters not as a great and daring rival, not as an
irresistible iconoclast, not as an affluent and unhesitating
genius,--but as a hearty, cultivated, earnest gentleman who has
something worth communicating. He comes to increase knowledge; he comes
to throw a light on the obscurity and bring order into the chaos of
English Art. For the splendid and misty Turner, the exact and terrible
photograph, the great and inconsistent Ruskin, and the vagaries of
modern English painters provoked questions and excited conflicts in the
world of Art; they seldom reconciled anything among painters, critics,
and connoisseurs, too often incapable of a generalization, and therefore
incapable of a philosophy of Art. Neither Ruskin nor Hamerton has
created a philosophy of Art; they have but contributed invaluable
materials. Ruskin, like Buckle, indicated a plan for which no single
life is adequate.
The drift of Hamerton's Art criticism will best be appreciated in his
chapter on "The Relation between Photography and Painting," and that
which treats of transcendentalism in painting. We cannot forbear quoting
a few paragraphs from the former chapter. The force of the following is
obvious.
"Photography represents facts isolated from their natural companions,
and without any hint of their relation to the human mind.
"Now it is only the _unity of relation_ that can satisfy the artistic
sense, not isolated fragments; and therefore, so long as the artistic
sense remains in the human organization, the demand for pictures will
certainly continue.
"I wish I could make perfectly clear what is that _unity of relation_
which is so satisfactory to the artistic sense; but that, in these
limits, is impossible. It is enough to say here that any perfect "whole"
in a pictorial representation of Nature must include delicate colors and
beautiful forms, _all helping each other to the utmost_, like a chorus
of well-trained singers, and that in the arrangement of it all a great
human soul must manifest itself, just as the soul of Handel does in a
chorus from the 'Messiah.'
"But in the photograph we have only a fact or two clearly stated, but
not in their natural connection with other facts; far less their deeper
and more mysterious connection, which the genius of great imaginative
artists is alone able to apprehend.
"Therefore the division of labor likely to take place between
photography and painting is this: photography will record _isolated
facts_, of which an infinite number always need recording; painting will
concern itself with the _relations_ of associated truths and beauties.
"And let each keep to its own task. The photograph can never
successfully encroach on the province of painting; and henceforth let us
hope that painters will never again commit the rash imprudence of
attempting to intrude upon the peculiar domain of the photograph.
"In the few instances where photographers have attempted to produce
something resembling historical pictures, by arranging models and
furniture, and photographing the _tableaux vivants_ so obtained, the
effect produced on the spectator was always the simple fact that he was
looking at a photograph of dressed-up models and carefully arranged
furniture. Anything farther from a true picture it would be impossible
to conceive. The _naivete_ of the mistake on which this spurious Art was
founded is really amusing. The photographers fancied that the painters
merely copied their models, and so thought it easy to rival them. Why,
even the very severest and most rigid pre-Raphaelites use the model as
little more than a stimulus, an authority, or a suggestion. Copy the
model, indeed! I should like to know where on earth Hunt could have
found a woman capable of assuming and retaining that marvellous
expression of beatitude that illuminates the sweet face of Mary when she
finds Jesus in the temple. That expression which is the most mighty
thing in the whole picture--the mightiest, I mean, over the hearts of
all men and women who can really feel anything--was gotten out
of the painter's own soul, not from any hired model whatever. And
the other intense expression of maternal love in the 'Rescue,' by
Millais,--whence came it? From the model, think you, or the mind of the
painter?"--_Thoughts_, p. 230.
"And what a lamentable waste of labor it is, when artists forget all
about the mutual relation of things, to copy unmeaning details in long
months of labor, which any good photographer would obtain in infinitely
greater perfection with an exposure of as many minutes! The mere fact
that photography does this sort of work so unapproachably well should be
enough of itself to warn our young painters from engaging it. Anybody
who wants a plain fact about a piece of cliff or castle-wall can get it
in a photograph for a few shillings; then why should he spend pounds for
a picture which will give him nothing more? But the relation of the
castle or cliff to the heaven above or the water beneath, and to the
minds of men,--the significant stains of color upon it, the grandeur of
its enduring strength, the deep human feelings that it ought to kindle
in the spectator's heart,--these things are the exclusive domain of the
painter, and he should never sacrifice the least of these to mere
literal fidelity of detail."--_Thoughts_, p. 232.
To our purely literary readers we may say, that Mr. Hamerton is sure to
interest them with his chapter on "Word-Painting and Color-Painting,"
and that on "The Painter in his Relation to Society." Mr. Hamerton shows
himself to be an acute and manly essayist in the treatment of these
subjects. His chapter on "Word-Painting and Color-Painting" is fresh and
direct in treatment, and therein he breaks new ground. He presents the
truths of his subject so felicitously, that, as in reading Emerson's
essays, we are surprised it has not occurred to another to say the same
things equally well.
But even here we are disposed to find fault with Mr. Hamerton. In
mentioning the masters of the much-abused art, the much-discredited art
of word-painting, he forgets Robert Browning! Can Mr. Hamerton find any
poet more decisive, more exact, more rapid and effective in suggestion
of Nature than Browning? In the development of this very happy essay, we
have examples or characterizations of the peculiar talent of Scott, of
Wordsworth, of Coleridge, of Keats, of Byron, of Shelley, and of
Tennyson, among poets,--of George Sand, of Lamartine, of Charlotte
Bronte, of Marian Evans, and of John Ruskin, among prose-writers. In
this essay, while awarding to Tennyson among poets, and to Ruskin among
prose-writers, the honor of good preeminence in the art of
word-painting, he at the same time subjects the latter to a criticism
perhaps unexpected, certainly effective. Mr. Hamerton points out Mr.
Ruskin's poetic fallacies, and forcibly demonstrates the crushing power
of common-sense,--that is to say, unimpassioned sense,--when acting upon
whatever has grown out of an emotion. It is somewhat cruel, if not
brutal, to cry havoc over Mr. Ruskin's tender "lichens that lay quiet
finger on the trembling stones, to _teach them rest_."
Mr. Hamerton's essay is not artistic or symmetrical, but it is the
direct expression of much thought. Yet it certainly lets him escape
being classed among masters of style. He tells us that Ruskin was
annoyed because people paid no attention to his arguments, but were
always admiring his language. Has Mr. Hamerton avoided the affluent and
felicitous of written words, has he disowned arrangement and proportion,
that he might secure a public to regard his thought as more than its
medium of communication? Very well; we discover that he is never
obscure, that he is no word-monger, that he is seldom seduced by the
example of writers whose literary talent overrides their honesty. Among
Art writers, among all writers, we welcome him, and we hope to see the
best of his book, which is its thoughts, appropriated by the large and
restless class of critics, connoisseurs, and patrons of Art, which has
multiplied so rapidly in this country during the last four years. Our
patrons of Art will find matter of great importance to them in the
chapter entitled, "Picture Buying, Wise and Foolish." It is true that
they will be taught to correct some errors, that they will be convicted
of mistakes of judgment, and forced to admit that they own much
worthless Art-work in pictures that have come from the easels of famed
painters; but they will also be made to know certain general truths
which will profit them, whenever applied. In our examination of the
nature and quality of Mr. Hamerton's writings about Art we have had
frequent occasion to observe an absence of taste in its most just
measure, and the dominance of the conversational in the style and tone
of his communications. This is so striking a characteristic, that we
might almost say that he is often caught in undress. He makes us sure
that he has no mental toilette and robes for great or public occasions.
We do not reproach Mr. Hamerton that he is so frank; we do not regret
that he is honest, and scorns literary padding and stilts and stays,
when he appears in public. We simply regret that he does not care to add
to his clearness and force of statement a literary artist's appreciation
of the appropriate and beautiful. A more just taste would have removed
much matter purely personal; and more artistic skill would have made the
same more agreeable, if retained. In reading the chapter called
"Transcendentalism in Painting," which is a very skilful and convincing
application of the matter of Emerson's essay on that subject to Art and
artists, we were impressed with the downright earnestness and force of
exposition of the writer. The chapter is a sufficient explanation of the
inactivity of great, and of the extravagant demand and unrest of young
painters, and it contains superb tributes to Ruskin and Holman Hunt. Mr.
Hamerton also shows that the transcendental tendency belongs necessarily
to all men, in some stage of their career, who have reached
commanding eminence. He briefly glances at the life and works
of the great Leonardo, and declares that he is the prince of
transcendentalists,--that, unhappily, he always remained more or less in
subjection to the transcendental tendency. He mourns that Leonardo never
wholly escaped that tendency, that he never attained the intelligently
practical. He establishes that the only salutary action of
transcendentalism is an intermittent one, and by epochs; that it is
always critical; that it is necessary to progress; that, abused, it is
disastrous to the mind, and, like sensual excesses upon the body,
produces lassitude and debility. We cordially commend this admirable
chapter to the attention of thinkers and workers. In treating of the
three stages of "all labors, the mechanical or imitative, the
transcendental or reflective, and the _intelligently_ practical," we are
entertained with great, brilliant, and yet mournful illustrations; and
the thoughtful and exact language of our own Emerson is returned to us
from over the seas. And here we may remark, that Emerson is the most
frequently quoted, except Ruskin. Mr. Hamerton seems to have a genuine
appreciation of Mr. Emerson's contributions to a department of
literature which is not occupied, and which represents a mental
condition that has scarcely found expression in English literature since
Wordsworth.
In the course of our remarks we have mentioned Mr. Hamerton's chapter on
"The Painter in his Relation to Society." In that admirable paper Mr.
Hamerton starts with the assumption that society respects nothing but
_power_, or that which leads to power; and because the artist does not
represent power in an obvious sense, therefore he is considered of
little consequence. Mr. Hamerton enforces his statements by
illustrations taken from the works of novelists who have treated of the
artist in his social relations. He makes his chapter interesting and
ingenious by quotations from, or references to, the works of Scott,
Thackeray, Tennyson, Goethe, Balzac, Ponsard, and Edmond About. In the
course of a masterly synopsis and partial analysis of one of Balzac's
novels, he writes,--"Though Balzac shows how much he loves artists by
describing the artistic nature with tenderness and kind feeling, yet he
also plainly declares that people generally cannot understand a painter,
and do not respect him, unless he is famous." Mr. Hamerton also gives us
the saying of Thackeray about Reynolds,--"I think, of all the polite men
of that age, Joshua Reynolds was the finest gentleman." Also Ruskin's
remark about Rubens,--"Rubens was an honorable and entirely
well-intentioned man, earnestly industrious, simple, and temperate in
his habits of life, high-bred, learned, and discreet."
Taken as a whole, Mr. Hamerton's two volumes have very much the
character of an autobiography, which explains at once the striking
merits and faults of the writings considered as contributions to the
literature of Art. The plan of his work is well understood. The first
volume very truly represents Practice, and the second represents
Reflection. The first concerns "the active life of a landscape-painter";
the second contains reflections that naturally occurred to that painter,
or were suggested by his work. The first chapter of the second volume of
his essays is a conclusive statement of the necessity "that certain
artists should write about Art."
We hope our introduction of Mr. Hamerton will increase the number of
serious and patient readers, and that the American Art public will make
haste to profit by his thoughts. He is a landscape-painter, and one of
the ablest contributors to the "London Fine Arts Quarterly Review." W.
M. Rossetti has paid a tribute to his worth as a painter and critic, and
even the "Saturday Review" greeted him as a writer of ability. Certainly
we take his book to be the latest and best contribution to the
literature of Art published since Ruskin's "Modern Painters." Mr.
Hamerton's writings are the work of a man who does not decline the free
expression of his opinions before accredited masters in Art or
Literature. He relies upon himself, when those masters contradict the
teachings of his own experience. In this we have the proof of mental
manhood, which, among writers, is sufficiently rare, unknown even, to be
remarked, and at all times welcomed.