X sea^13 - Villanova University Digital Library

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glass, marine,—all stand in the like relation of superior acuteness in detecting beauties, nay,
obscurity to me. I don't see, however, why all masterpieces, even, to which the "eyed" world
this is going to prevent me from distinguishing has hitherto been blind.
a good picture from a poor one. For instance, I deny not that upon first entering an art
there is a picture of a dog, and it looks just gallery I have experienced something akin to
exactly as I should expect a dog to look. Yet, pleasure. But, afterwards, followeth the lanwhen
I call it a good picture, my initiated friend guor and oppression. It is then, that acting upon
smiles,—he smiles that exasperating smile of my own higher cultivated and rarely surpassed
pity, with the subjoinder, "You have no eye." instincts of art, I fly to Foxy Grandpa, Mutt and
"Now why haven't I any eye? Can't I tell a Jeff, and all the rest. I take refuge in those
dog from a tree, or a derrick?" But the smile unpretending assemblages of common-life repre-
only broadens. sentations; and thus, the Purgatory of the
Alas! poor me^and my eye! It is hard, in- Enraged Artist becomes my Paradise,
deed, to stand alone, in an age like this (con- Something like this change have I experienced
stituted to the quick and critical perception of during evening parties at the house of my good
all harmonious combinations, I verily believe, friend "A.," who, himself a finished artist, has
beyond all preceding ages) to remain, as it were, converted his drawing-room into an art gallery,
singly unimpressible to the magic influence of an When my friend launches into one of those
art which is said to have such an especial power exhaustive expatiations on the wonders of this
at soothing, elevating and refining the passions, or that favorite, I am for the time,
Yet, rather than break the candid current of
my confessions, I must avow to you that I have
received a great deal more pain than pleasure
" ^^^^^ ""^"^^ «^^^^' ^«^ ^^"^" J^^ «^^ Promised
at my oirtn.
from this so cried-up faculty. But, when this master of the spell, not content
I have visited an art gallery with a friend to have laid a soul prostrate, goes on to inflict
possessed of the "eye," and heard him descant more bliss than lies in her capacity to receive,
upon "technique," "detail," "theme," and the
rest. And all the while— yes, it is but too true
still pouring in fresh inundations from that sea
of oil, and water and paint,—or from that Roman
all the while I have been longing for a good old and French, Flemish, Holland, Dutch, English,
"funny sheet." I must confess even to a full- and what not ocean of painting combined, above
length representation of Slim Jim in my den. which, in triumphant progress, dolphin-seated
My friend does well to point out the beauties ride those Arions,—Raphael, Da Vinci, and the
of some stolid-faced ancient. But give me old rest with their attendant Tritons, Millet, Mu-
"Slim" dancing his capers to the consternation rillo. Van Dyke, Reynolds, and a countless
of the Dingville "force." And then "de vay tribe, whom to attempt to reckon up would
dem doo blasted Hans and Fritz can fool mit der but cast me again into the depths, I stagger
old Cap!" These are real pictures, within the under the weight of beauty, reeling to and fro
compass even of a child^. They need no accom- at my wit's ends, and finally take refuge once
panying title and explanation. But—may I pre- again with Little Nemo, or the Newlyweds, and
fer a Katsenjamer Kid to Landseer's "Alone," acknowledge for the nonce that there is some
or to Dunerger's "Naughty Child"? Woof! probability, very slight mind you, that for
A mortal sin in aesthetics! But, no! It is my painting,— I have no eye.