ART AND ARTISTS.

Otago Witness, Issue 2817, 11 March 1908, Page 86

ART AND ARTISTS.

GEORGE MORLAND. — DM He Paint Four Thousand Pictures? — George Morland's was a wasted life. He was born in 1763, and died in 1804-, at the age of M, but in that short period he is said to have executed 4000 works, an amazing total for 20 years, which was practically Morland's working life. His industry and the rapidity with which he worked were truly wonderful, but as 4000 means nearly four a week for 20 years, this estimate cannot be accepted, unless every pencil sketch and study is included. During these 20 years, moreover, his labours were incessantly interrupted by country excursions, by flights from- creditors, and latterly by illness. Morland was a. type of what used to be looked upon as the artistic Bohemian ; he worked prodigiously, but spent money as fast as or even faster than, he made it ; he was a "horsey" man, and lov«d to dress as a jo^Key ; he had a oraze for pugilism ; and was always fleeing from his creditors, to die at last, worn out, in a sponging- house in Hatton Garden, as he was trying to draw a landscape. But in spite of all his eccentricities and irregularities, his wife never really left him; the two were sincerely attached, and Mrs Morland died of convulsive fits on the day of her husband's funeral. "Hit, love of children," says Sir Walter Gilbev, in his "Life of Morland," published the other day by the Messrs Black, "is th«s redeeming feature of a character in which there ia only too much to condemn. Unprincipled fie was in money matters, and entirely devoid of gratitude. With rare powe v of engaging the affection of his contemporaries, he soems to have been incapable o- returning it. "But let us do him justice. It is said, and with truth, that the man who loves children and animals cannot be a bad man ; and, tried by this test, Morland, if not a good one, had much of good in him — greater possibilities of good than circumstances served to develop." — Globe. THE WHISTLER LETTERS. — Alma-Tadema : Oscar Wilde. — It is good to read, in the report of an address delivered to art students by Sir Lawrence Alma-Tadema, a quotation which implies the recognition of at least the wit' of Whiitler. "I paint what I see," said an apologetic painter to the master, who replied, "I wish you could see what you paint." Sir L. Alma-Tadema's spirit is one, we must suppose, of forgiveness, for he can hardly have forgotten the exchange of persona.hti'es that parsed between him, the Academician, and Whistler, the outsider. The Academician called the master a decorator, and alluded to the ill effect that the yellow wails of his studio, had upon his painting. Then you have the retort re'evant: "Sly Alma! Hjs Romano-Dutch-St. Johns-Wooden eye has never looked upon them, and the fine jaundice of his flesh is none of the running of my yellows. Tadema-boom-de-ay !" And more of the same sort, hardly worthy of Whistler. Yet such letters, we suppose, are included in Miss Birnie Philip's appeal. She i» collecting, as sole executrix and 1 legatee under Whistler's will, his correspondence, which she intends to publish. Can she expect those who have been assaulted, like Sir L. Alma-Tadema, by Whistler's furious fun to produce and hold up to public laughter the instruments intended for their torture? Few of Whistkr's letters are amiable ; few, then, we think will be very cheerfully forwarded to Miss Birnie Philip. • i Whistler's boastful declaration, as he called it. that before leaving England, somewhere in the early 'nineties, he had completely rid himself of "that abomination— the 'friend.'" will not make those who possess pleasant epistles from him reluctant to bring forward the proofs of friendship. But these are comparatively few, and the snlt of Miss Philip's book ie likely to be ot the smarting kind. And Time, before it fulfils Whistler's description — '"the healer of all the wounds I have inflicted"' — will have to brinjr to du«t the "Letters of James M'Neill Whistler." t ' May wo suggest that the "Letters" may also include the telp 2 ?ams of the master? Miss Philip must not forget tho famous exchange of "wires" that thrilled from Exeter to Tito street, and from Tite street to Exeter, about a supposititious conversation that had appeared in Punch in November, 1883. Tlie telocrram ran ill us : _ "From Oscar Wilde, Exetsr. to J. 31'NeiU Whistler, Tito street.— 'Punch too ridiculous.

When you and I are together we nevel talk about anything except ourselves.' " "From Whistler, Tite street, to Oscar Wilde, Exeter. — 'No, no, Oscar, you forget. When you and I are together we never talk about anything except me.' " — Sketch. — A recent writer on art speaks of the great technical excellence of certain modern. artists— namely, Rousseau, Corot, Daubigny, Segantini. and Millais. Corot, I grant him. His technique is certainly beautiful and expressive. Rousseau and Segantini seem to me to have been artists of great power who were always hampered by a defeotive technique. One can see how much they are trying to express, and one admires them for their sincerity, as one admires Walt Whitman : hut surely they can no more bo compared, for mastery, with Titian or "Veronese than Whitman can be compared with Milton. Daubigny, again, often failed to make his technique expressive ; and his work, though less laboured than the work of Rousseau and Segantini, is still deficient in beauty of execution compared with the work of the great masters. As for Millais, he was certainly a great painter in his youth. But then something happened to him. He gave up trying to express anything-, and his technique gradually grew ugli«r ac it grew lees expressive.— A. Clutton-Brock, in the Tribune.