Original Letters and Biographic Epitomes — Inside the Classic

Art Criticism and Technical Vocabulary

The first excerpt reveals Slater's architectural training. He uses terms like "linear perspective," "aerial perspective," and "juxtaposition of individual figures" to dissect the painting. His critique is methodical: he praises "masses of harmonious tones" but laments the absence of "repose" and the crowded canvas. The letter is signed with his full list of credentials—Premium Holder in Design, Silver Medallist of the Royal Academy—which underscores his authority. Readers should note how Slater's professional eye governs his judgments, even when he admits the theme is "onerous."

Swimming as a Measured Pursuit

Later excerpts shift abruptly to accounts of long-distance swims. In a letter from the Exmouth Journal (September 6, 1902), Slater describes a swim from Exmouth to Starcross, covering two and a quarter miles in twenty-three minutes. He notes the aid of the flood tide and the challenge of choppy waves "too small for the swimmer to time." Another piece recounts a swim around St. Michael's Mount in Cornwall, where he comments on the elegance of the "mid, or half stroke" as a criterion for a first-class swimmer. These reports are factual, yet they reveal Slater's analytical approach to physical performance.

Cross-Channel Ambition: Mont St. Michel

The most ambitious feat appears in a letter to the Western Daily Press (September 15, 1903), where Slater describes three attempts to swim around Mont St. Michel in Normandy. He compares the tides there to those at Cornwall, noting that the Norman sea is "more insidious and taxing" but less buoyant. He details his strategy: pre-arranging the direction to counter adverse currents. The account is precise about dates and times, and he signs from Albi, France, suggesting he was traveling. This section shows Slater applying the same methodical planning to swimming as to art criticism.

A French Perspective on the Artist-Swimmer

A French newspaper, the Patriote Albigeois (September 29, 1903), offers an external view. It describes Slater as an artist who had previously drawn a perspective of Sainte-Cécile cathedral and exhibited at the Royal Academy. The article notes that he is "encore fort nageur"—still a strong swimmer—and reports his Mont St. Michel swim. This piece, written in French, adds a layer of cultural distance and confirms that Slater's dual identity as artist and athlete was noteworthy enough to be reported abroad. It also hints at his travels through France, admiring Gothic cathedrals.

The collection's juxtaposition of art criticism and swimming reports may seem incongruous, but both reflect Slater's disciplined, analytical mind. Readers should approach the letters as primary documents of a late-Victorian polymath, not as a unified narrative. The excerpts are best read sequentially, noting how Slater's voice remains consistent whether he is judging a painting or timing a stroke.

There’s something about J. Atwood Slater’s letters—the way he measures a river’s cold against a gallery’s hush—that lingers. I found myself thinking of his patient eye while turning through The Works of the Emperor Julian, Vol. 1 — Inside the Classic, where old pages hold a similar, quiet dignity. Both feel like company for slow afternoons.