ABSTRACT
719 Should the spirit of reform ever extend to a revision of the Almanac, we may expect to find a unanimity of opinion as to the proper position for New Year’s day between two very antagonistic classes. Lawyers would vote for the beginning of November, legislators for February, sportsmen for the twelfth of August, epicures probably for the commencement of the whitebait season. But two sections of the community—the artists, and those who, by way of mild protest against worldliness, call themselves ‘the religious world’—would be of one mind that May is the natural and proper month to count from. In May their year has its beginning and ending; for then it is that the results of their labours during the past twelve months are laid open to inspection, and the progress they may have made towards their respective objects noted by those who take any interest in the matter. At first sight it may seem strange that there should be this link between two sets of people who have otherwise little in common—between High Art and Low Church—between the painters and sculptors and those who look upon pictures and images as, if not abominations, at least vanities, having a most suspicious connexion with the Scarlet Lady and her doctrines. But if we look into the matter a little more closely, we see that after all there is not such a wide difference between the Trafalgarsquare and Pall Mall exhibitions and those in Exeter Hall. They have the same object in view, and depend upon the same principles for their success. In May, town is full, which implies the presence of a larger number than usual of persons who can afford and are willing to pay for luxuries. Therefore in May there is an increased chance of finding the individual who, mil loose his purse-strings on sufficient cause shown, whether that cause be the darkness of the Fejee Islands or ‘Sunrise on the Lake of Geneva.’ This we know will be considered by many a degrading and sordid way of looking at art, and it is just for that reason that we suggest it. There is nothing more prejudicial to the true interests of art than the transcendental view of the artist’s position which some zealous sticklers for his dignity are fond of taking. They would treat his vocation as one altogether independent of the rules which govern others, and free him from all the obligations which exercise a salutary control over the actions of other men. According to them, he plies his calling by a sort of divine right, and needs no guide but the light of his own genius. The idea of his art being also his profession is one which, they studiously avoid; and the fact thlit he sells his work for a price they thrust into the background as much as possible, evidently regarding it as an ugly truth, which ought to be suppressed as much as possible. The natural tendency of such a doctrine is, in the first place, to foster self-conceit and wilfulncss; and in the next, to make mere eccentricity pass for genius.
