WHAT THE METROPOLITAN MUSEUM NEEDS

Frederick James Gregg

THE Metropolitan Museum of Art has lately been in the mind of the public to an extraordinary degree. This is due, among other causes, to the wonderfully rich gifts of the Altman Collection of paintings, and of the Riggs Collection of Arms and Armor. It is also due to the withdrawal of certain loan collections, which our people, because they had enjoyed the privilege of seeing them for a period of years, had come almost to regard as their own.

It may be stated, on high authority, that there is no truth in the report that the Museum intends to change its established policy of not making known the prices which it pays for works of art out of moneys derived from the Rogers Fund, the Marquand Fund, the Dodge Fund, the Curtis Fund, the Wolfe Fund, the Amelia B. Lazarus Fund, the Avery Memorial Fund, the Egleston Fund, the Hewitt Fund, the Kennedy Fund, the two Hearn Funds, and the Leland Gift, all of which sources of revenue have made the Metropolitan the terror of European galleries and the richest institution of the sort in the world.

In 1888, when the Henry G. Marquand paintings, 53 in number, were received, the real growth of the Museum began. But this growth was only through gifts. It was only as late as 1905, the year of the Rogers Fund—the first fund which could be used to purchase paintings without restriction as to "school"— that the Museum's regular buying of works of art began on a large scale.

Resources and acquisitions increased with dazzling rapidity. The general public, always impressed by whatever is rich and big, observed that building was being added to building, and gallery to gallery, and most people were satisfied that it was all a splendid indication of New York's growing power, cultivation and magnificence.

There were, however, some critical souls— artists, for the most part—who were not entirely satisfied. They complained that the Board of Trustees and the Committees appointed by the Board, contained too many laymen and too few experts in the field of art. Their point was that successful lawyers, bankers, and business men, though they might be of inestimable value to the Museum, in a legal, financial or business way, were hardly likely to possess the flair for the beautiful—whether exemplified in objects ancient or modern— that was essential when the question, "To buy or not to buy?" called for an answer.

A REFERENCE to the latest Museum Report shows that even now the lay character of the Appointive Committees is ridiculously predominant. The eight most important Committees, "On Paintings," "On Sculpture," "On Egyptian and Classical Art," "On European Decorative Art," "On American Decorative Art," "On Oriental Art," "On Casts and Reproductions" and "On Purchases," contain the names of but two men in any way directly or professionally connected with the fine arts. One of these is John W. Alexander, the painter and overworked President of the National Academy of Design—now in his sixtieth year—and the other is Daniel Chester French, the sculptor—now in his sixty-fifth year—one of the busiest and most public-spirited men in his exacting profession.

Complaints used frequently to be made that, though the Museum had many experts on its Executive Staff, when it came to buying, the lay trustees went their own way. When, for instance, many private collectors were acquiring the works of the French Impressionists the institution lost—because of this tendency—great opportunities which never offered themselves again. The faultfinders contended, too, that it was bad policy for the Museum, which was steadily growing richer, and so more and more independent of the givers of gifts, to refuse to buy an important painting simply because it was hoped that some New Yorker would acquire the work, iend it to them during his lifetime, and leave it to the Museum at his death.

THAT the Museum does occasionally shake itself free from academic influences was notably shown in the case of the "Boy with a Sword" and the "Woman with a Parrot," two paintings by Edouard Manet, which are now regarded as very proud possessions. They were both given to the Museum by Erwin Davis—acting on the wise advice of J. Alden Weir. At first there was no enthusiasm displayed towards these two paintings by the trustees. The museum catalogue of 19011902, page 248, thus describes the great genius who painted them: "An eccentric realist of disputed merit: Founder of the school of 'Impressionites.' His pictures were several times rejected by the Salon." But, by 1905, a significant change had taken place in the official view of these pictures. The catalogue of that year, page in, had this to say about Manet: "Genre painter . . . He was the founder of the school of Impressionistes. His pictures were several times rejected by the Salon, but later he was better understood and received."

That greater caution is now evident in the catalogue is shown by the recent case of Paul Cezanne. In reference to his landscape, 11 La Colline des Paumes"—purchased through the Wolfe Fund, after the International Exhibition of 1913—it is said of this much discussed painter, the founder of Post Impressionism, that he "Studied at the Academie Suisse in Paris. Early work influenced by Manet and the Impressionists." No doubt the compilers of the records of the future will be equally cautious when there is a Van Gogh, a Gauguin, a "blue" or a "red" Picasso, or a Matisse to be dealt with. For the present the Museum knows not Van Gogh, Gauguin, Picasso or Matisse, though their works are well represented in all the important museums of France, Germany and Russia.

THE catalogue of the Museum, under the head of "Desiderata, " contains a long listof names of dead American painters and sculptors who are not represented or who are "represented inadequately" in its galleries. It is desired to show "historically" the course of American art. But, while on this idea of historical continuity, why should not the Museum be equally solicitous about our great men who are still alive? It would be possible to name at least ten American painters of first importance in contemporary art who are not represented in any way in the Museum.

That mistakes can be made is shown by an official statement, in the introduction to the catalogue. Here it is pointed out that of the pictures given in the early days the popularity of some has not survived, and many of them are "no longer on exhibition, while certain others, on the contrary, now numbered among the most precious, were not considered so highly at the time they were given."

But, to sum up.

What does the Metropolitan Museum need to do if it would escape the prejudice against museums which is growing everywhere abroad and which, to a certain extent, is already being felt at home?

FIRST, it should create a museum within a museum, a sort of Luxembourg, in which the works of living men might be purchased and hung, so that Time might take toll of them, and weed out the grain from the chaff.

Second, it should take the public, or the knowing part of the public, into its confidence in the matter of purchases. Why should we not know what was paid for "The Wolf and Fox Hunt" by Rubens; or for Tintoretto's "Miracle of the Loaves and Fishes"? (One of the interesting features of the Louvre is its room of new accessions and the published official list of the prices paid for them.)

Third, it should follow the fine example of the Chicago Art Institute, and arrange, in some special gallery, exhibitions of recent modern art, whether borrowed or acquired.

Fourth, it should cultivate in its trustees the spirit always shown by Joseph H. Choate, the sole survivor of the original incorporators, who, though he has placed his great legal gifts at the service of his colleagues, has refused to interfere in the matter of artistic selection.

Fifth, a goodly number of artists and art experts (including some of the younger men, if possible) should be added to its eight (above mentioned) important committees.

Sixth, it should remember that just as "bad money keeps out good" so "bad art keeps out good." It is often not what goes into a gallery which is of importance, but what is kept out.