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120 time promoted to the life ; and lie goes his way at last, having learned what he is capable of assimilating. That the bulk of the studies done are hopelessly bad, and that the majority of the men have niistai<en their profession, liimself perhaps among the number, will most likely become increasingly apparent to him. His undoubting zeal in the conviction that art is simply a matter of so many years" study will become a myth, but that a man gifted with real artistic capacity does not learn much in the routine of work in an atelier is an invention of those who are too lazy or too conceited to take advantage of it. To the student of human nature the nondescript gathering of nationalities and ' types ' will be ever interesting. Thejlanem; who looks in occasionally to see what is being done by others, and ' la basse rrCembete'' ; the blageur who has always some tomfoolery in hand ; the jeune homme ar?-ive, who had a third-class medal in last Salon, and gives himself airs accordingly — these are met in every atelier, while no less conspicuous will be the pet of the studio, whose studies it is openly hinted surpass the work of the maitre, who has nearly attained the Grand Prix de Rome, and will most probably con- tinue to produce accomplished technical studies which may become fashionable, but can never be- come real art. The days on which the patron visits the studio are marked by unusual quiet and preter- natural application, for his time of call is uncertain, and he is ever treated with the greatest deference. His services are as a rule entirely gratuitous, and rendered for the good of art. After many false alarms the inaitre really appears, and all rise to their feet. In perfect silence he commences the round of the students. A man of few words, he criticises, condemns, gives a word of encouragement, seldom absolute praise, and passes to the next. On his departure all again rise, and the babel of noise is resumed, many leaving the studio at once. Tuesday is a usual visiting day, and again Satur- day, when a longer stay is made. After the usual round, the patron is provided with a seat and a cigarette, while the men place successively on an easel in front of him compositions of which the subject may have been specified the week before. Surrounded by the entire atelier, Mons. Z. discusses the general treatment, makes suggestions, asks questions, then the inevitable enfin produces another esquisse, as they are called, till all are shown.

The foregoing is a general description of what goes on in an atelier serieux, and, with slight variations, it represents the life at most of the more celebrated ateliers, past and present. Each has its spcciaUte : some are credited with devotion to form at a sacrifice of colour ; others have a reputation for coloiu- while drawing is neglected, and the disputes among the students of rival studios when they meet at the restaurants are endless and unedifying.

A wrong impression would be conveyed if it were thought that all studying art in Paris go through this routine. Many mock at systematic training, talk much of originality, and burn incense to an unknown god in a temple of their own. There is little doubt that the grind can be overdone, but the man who errs in the direction of excessive technical training is generally fit for little else. The general reader having arrived at this point may possibly complain that this is not what he expected. He has read somewhere of velvet coats, long hair, fantastic pipes, rosy wine, lovely woman, and bacchanalian song. These delights, or their prosaic counterparts, may no doubt be found, and are more picturesque than dry details of studio routine. The ready writer, more concerned in being entertaining or pathetic than in giving authentic details of study, weaves his web with the warp, disdaining or ignoring the no less necessary woof, and the result is that the popular idea of an art student's life is as nearly related to fact as the peasants of Watteau to the real rustics of the country.

To those who hold without qualification that the painter is born and not made, that genius ab- hors leading-strings, that a work of art can never be produced according to any given recipe, the foregoing remarks may suggest thought.

Each of these axioms may be frankly accepted ; but, at the same time, it is well to bear in mind that no profession makes greater demands on the qualities of concentration of energy and loving application than any one of the arts, and the period of systematic training described above is but an introduction to what may or may not be work that will live.

James Paterson.