Evening star., 1936-04-25
By Mary.Carter Roberts.

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REcoLLEcTIoNs OF A PICTURE
DEALER. BY Ambrose Vollard.
Translated from the French by
Violet M. Macdonald. Boston:
Little, Brown g. Co.
THIS book has that flavor Of rich
- ness which must pertain to any
story Of life spent in single-minded
pursuit of beloved idea. Its title is
self-explanatory and, while M. Vollard
does give one brief opening chapter
to his childhood, he early plunges into
his career as picture dealer and the
rest of his more than 800 pages are
devoted to adventures into which that
career led him. The names in these
adventures are both too illustrious and
too numerous to mention. M. Vollard
lived in Paris through the great day
Of modern painting.
Wisely. he does not 60 into criticism.
He tells rather Of the stream OF life
into which he was drawn by his oc-
cupation. His book is anecdotal al
most altogether, and the anecdotes
are pungent and good. He devotes
several chapters to descriptions OF col
lectors and connoisseurs, strange crea-
lures ridden by cravings which too
often they did not understand. He
tells of the relations which existed
among the painters themselves, their
curious aversions and afdnities. Most
amusing are his stories Of the wan
derings of certain pictures and the
contradictory critical opinions that
have existed concerning them at diff
ferent periods. For example, he tells
how he once allowed scene by Ce-
zanne to 60 into a frame bearing the
label Diana and Acteon.' 1t was
highly priced as an Interpretation of
the classic myth. Later. with the
label removed he sent the same pic
ture to an exhibition which had been
expecting "The Temptation of st. An
thony." The work was then praised
in excellent reviews as a realistic
treatment of that theme. Finally M.
Vollard asked Cezanne what his real
subject was. The artist replied 1T has
no subject. was merely trying to
render certain movements"
Carrying on his "reminiscences
through the war period, M. Vollard
writes sadly of post war times. Like
many veterans, he regrets the past. He
has reproduced that past with living
warmth and hustle, but he feels now
definitely that a new day has come.
"Snobs and proflteers," he says, have
"gone in" for art. THE new Montpar-
nasse was a Babel, where painters for
the most part talked in dollars, pias-
tres, pesetas, kroner, pounds sterling.
What a contrast with their elders, who
painted simply for the joy Of paint
ing"
This has, somehow, a familiar sound,
and while one accepts it, it still must
be taken as the word of man who
knows that he has seen a great day.
What a day, indeed! Those who may
be called art lovers will want this
book, as they must treasure all SYM
pathetic records. And those who want
to improve their acquaintance with
the artists will also do well to pur-
chase it.
The work is illustrated with many
reproductions of the work of great
moderns. including portraits Of the
author by Picasso Cezanne, Bonnard
and Penoir.
MONT-SAINT-MICHEL AND CHAR
TRES. BY Henry Adams: Boston:
Houghton Mif1in Co.
HARDLY more than an announce
ment is needed of the publica-
ton at last in popular edition of
this classic, for long a collectors item
In privately printed and limited edi-
tions. It appears now with the fore
word written by Raph Adams Cram
for the 1913 edition sponsored by the
American Institute of Architects. The
great story of the thirteenth century,
which the author wrote for his niece's
education and which has become both
an authoritative work on the period
and a literary classic. is thus made
generally available. More than that
scarcely needs to be said of book so
1llustrious.
COsMOPoLITANS. BY w. Somerset
Vaughan. Garden City: Double
day Doran & Co.
THERE Is a story about a vrtuoso
of the violin-that sometimes he
played a little out of tune, just for
luxury. Just, perhaps, to show that he
could. Someday Somerset Vaughan
may write badly. And one will know
why. It will be for the same reason.
1t will be for luxury.
In the meantime, Somerset Vaughan
writes like an angel, even when he
has almost nothing to say. In his
present collection, some of his stories
say little, indeed. But with beguilingly
diabolical skill, Vaughan contrives.
even in the least significant of them,
to imply that there is something there.
could you but be clear-eyed enough
to see it. So suave is he about 1t that
1t becomes crude to mention that the
something is only prose style Of
perfect finish.
However, not all of the tales In
this book are such delicate shells. In
some Of them there is substance. That
substance seldom goes beyond an
ironical humor, butts not ironical
humor, conveyed in angelic prose,
enough? What do you want for your
money, anyway?
There are 20 stories in the collec-
tion, all technically perfect. Among
them are several which linger espe-
cially in the reviewers memory; they
linger because they produced a sort
Of deferred laughter; that Is, one read
them, one finished them, one was
about to pass on, when one found
oneself Unexpectedly laughing and the
cause Of ones laughter was nothing
more particular than irresistible SYM
pethy With an ironical mind. That,
now, b trfnute. The stories are "A
Friend In Need" Portrait of a Gen.
tleman," Straight Flush" and "The
Verger."
But, you may object, we have read
these stories before, Vaughan has
done them over and over again. To