Reactionaries

 Monday, December 7th., Rue de Grenelle, Paris.

I have written to the Nation in protest at a recent letter by Mr. Robert Morley, a painter of landscapes and animals. He refers to the post-impressionist exhibition currently staged at the Grafton Gallery by Roger Fry. He says of the pictures: "It is impossible to take them seriously". What justification can he possibly offer for a statement so contrary to the facts? Hundreds of the most cultivated minds in Europe take them seriously. One thinks at once of Mr. Bernard Berenson whose position as the greatest living art critic is not often challenged. He takes them seriously  and, in particular, has professed a profound admiration for Matisse. Mr. Morley's assessment of the post-impressionists says rather more about him than it does about the artists in the exhibition.

Regrettably Morley is not a lone voice. Mr. Michael Sadler demands: "Did Van Gogh burn with the same passion when he painted his boulevard as Cimabue when he painted his madonna?" The answer is most emphatically "Yes!" Even a cursory examination into the life of Van Gogh reveals passion as its central motif. Sir William Blake Richmond, another reactionary voice, uses the word 'daub'.  This is simply offensive and I said so in my letter. We shall see if they have the spirit to enter into debate with me (and others - I am not alone) on this subject. 

In the meantime I can only congratulate Roger Fry for assembling this exhibition at the Grafton Gallery and bringing these great artists to the attention of the discerning public. For myself, if I have the opportunity to acquire one or two of the paintings in the exhibition I will feel confident in having made a safe investment, but that feeling will be secondary to the satisfaction of having great art in my home.

I had to take a good long walk this morning to cool down and was successful physically and metaphorically. A cold and misty day. But a pleasure to be out when adequately wrapped against the elements. I particularly enjoy seeing figures and vehicles emerging from and fading back into the mist; they have an intangible, dreamlike quality which might be captured by a post-impressionist!

Bathing in ideas

Monday, April 30th., Comarques, Thorpe-le-Soken.

Today, in accordance with time-table, I finished my novel "The Roll Call" at 4 p.m. 114,000 words. It is goodish I think, but that is it for the Clayhangers, unless I go further with my idea of writing an alternative ending to "Clayhanger" itself. It has been in my mind for a few days now and would be interesting to do. I don't think it's been done before and would generate some interest I think. And make a few bob! Probably write to Pinker about it.

I went to the Russian Exhibition today, not for pleasure but to put the sacred autograph into books and to answer questions by Lady Muriel P. and other toffs about how to make these enterprises hum. It is in aid of the Anglo-Russian Hospital.  The Russian theatre in the basement of the Grafton Galleries is most excellent. Plays by Tolstoy and Tchekoff. To see a play with ideas in it was like having a bath. It made me want to sit down and write more plays at once. The Russian pictures were terrible. It would have been better to have had none. I haven't tried the Russian restaurant, but I shall.