"Nothing will ever come out of England until his influence is
discounted. He was a primitive, a Preraphaelite. He understood nothing of
form, of composition. He was a poet who wandered into the drama as a
sheep strays into the pasture of the bulls, a colorist who imagines he
can be a sculptor. The influence of Victoria sentimentalized the whole
artistic movement in England, made it bourgeois, and flavored it with
mint sauce. Modern portraiture has turned the galleries into an
exhibition of wax works. What is wrong with painting to-day--do you
know?"
"_Allons_, tell us!" cried two or three, while others, availing
themselves of the breathing space, filled the air with their orders:
"Paul, another bock."
"Two hard-boiled eggs."
"And pretzels; don't forget the pretzels."
"The trouble with painting to-day is that it has no point of view,"
cried Rantoul, swallowing an egg in the anaconda fashion. "We are
interpreting life in the manner of the Middle Ages. We forget art should
be historical. We forget that we are now in our century.
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