GARDENS OF CELEBRITIES 
sought after the secret of painting air and sunshine, looked to 
Turner rather than to Constable. 
It is, however, a cardinal doctrine of my artistic faith—that 
every sincere painter—be he pigmy or giant, unconsciously gives 
us in his picture, his personal “impression” of the things he 
paints, and of their relative value in his eyes—and that, therefore, 
‘‘ impressionism ” in its wider sense, is nothing new; for as long 
ago as the days of Titian, Tintoret, and Rembrandt (I am leaving 
Velasquez out of count, because he is always claimed by the 
avowed Impressionists)—all great artists recognized more or less 
the vast importance of selection and emphasis in Art, of the just 
subordination of the lesser to the greater, and were therefore 
‘“‘ Impressionists,” though they did not entirely eliminate all 
detail. 
The happy result of all this was, that, by the time Frederick 
Leighton was established in London, there had already been a 
slow but steady broadening of Academic sympathies, and a welcome 
slackening of Academic rules—shown not only in a wider tolerance 
of new styles and methods—but in the admission of women to the 
training in the Fine Arts given in the schools at Burlington House 
—those schools in which Lord Leighton’s interest was always 
great. I think it is right here to pause to express the gratitude 
that all women artists ought to feel to the courageous lady, Laura 
Herford by name—whose act had first led to the opening of the 
door of the Academy Schools to her sex. Aware that a woman 
was then ineligible as a student, she sent in the required specimen 
of work, concealing from the authorities that it was not by a 
man. It was accepted—and although I am ignorant of the details 
of the story—I know that she so urged her claim that she was 
admitted as a probationer, and in due time, as a student. I have 
often thought that she, the only woman in that place—must have 
endured a good deal of discomfort and ridicule, and perhaps of 
veiled opposition—for, as I found out to my cost, a good many 
years later—young men—even embryo artists—are not always 
chivalrous. Iam not aware that she even made her mark in a 
profession which it is possible that she never seriously intended 
to follow--her aim may have been merely to prepare the way for 
others—but her niece, Helen Paterson—better known as Mrs. 
Allingham, has most certainly done so. 
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