ble Philistine--a sort of
Sir John Gilbert. Poor Basil Hallward's death was no great loss to art,
I surmise: his portrait of 'Dorian Grey, Esq.', from all accounts,
resembled the miraculous picture exhibited in Bond Street a short while
ago. I am not surprised that its owner, whose taste improved, I suspect,
with advancing years, destroyed it in the ordinary course after reading
something by Mr. D. S. MacColl. It is distinctly stated that Dorian read
the _Saturday Review_! Frenhofer, Hippolite Schimier, and Leon de Lora
were probably chocolate-box painters of the regular second-empire type.
Theobald, we know from Mr. Henry James, was a man of ideas who could not
carry out his intentions. It must have been an exquisite memory of
Theobald's failures which made Pater, when he wished to contrive an
imaginary artistic personality, take Watteau as being some one in whose
achievements you can believe. No literary artist can persuade us into
admiring pictures which never existed; though an artist can reconstruct
from literature a picture which has perished we know, from the 'Calumny
of Apelles' by Botticelli. It was, therefore, wise to make Claude
Williamson Shaw a failure as a painter. In accordance with my rule he
was an excellent fellow, nearly as charming as his author, and better
company in a picture-gallery it would be difficult to find--and you
cannot visit picture-galleries with every friend: you require a
sympathetic personality. It is the Claude--the Claude Phillips in him
which I like best: the Dr. Williamson I rather suspect. I mean that when
he was at Messrs. Chepstow, the publishers, he must have mugged up some
of the real Dr. Williamson's art publications. Whether in the Louvre, or
National Gallery, or in Italian towns, he always goes for the right
thing; sometimes you wish he would make a mistake. Bad artists, of
course, are often excellent judges of old pictures and make excellent
dealers, and I am not denying the instinct of C. W. S.; but I cannot
think it all came so naturally as Mr. Hind would indicate.

The reason why Claude Williamson Shaw discovered 'that he would not find
a true expression of his temperament' in painting readers of this
ingenious book will discover for themselves. Assuming that he had any
innate talent, I do not think he went about the right way to cultivate
it. His friend Lund gave him the very worst advice; though we are the
gainers. It is quite unnecessary to go out of E