Some time ago, I was introduced to a very interesting and engaging man, a sort of modern-day Lorenzo de’ Medici, who, like his distinguished Florentine predecessor, is an accomplished (and published) poet, a major supporter of poetry, a force in the world of international finance, and a passionate, eclectic collector of recent art. Curious about his choice of artists, I asked “Why do you collect?” Since the poet-financier’s manner is notably modest, even shy, I was a little surprised when he replied “Arrogance. I believe my taste is better than anyone else’s and I have the means to prove it.” My surprise quickly changed to admiration. What better description of the dedicated collector’s motivation?

I thought of this conversation as I made my way through “‘Bonjour, Monsieur Courbet!’: The Bruyas Collection from the Musée Fabre, Montpellier,” the summer exhibition at the Clark Institute.[1] The title refers to the nickname of one of the best known and, in its day, controversial works in the collection, otherwise known as The Meeting—Gustave Courbet’s 1854 tribute to his sometime friend and patron, Alfred Bruyas, presented as an encounter between the two men (and Bruyas’s servant) at a Montpellier crossroads. It’s a stunning, peculiar picture, as remarkable for its light-drenched landscape as for the unnerving relationship of its protagonists. The Meeting—not to mention Bruyas’s eight other spectacular Courbets, some choice Delacroix, and a dazzling, disquieting Géricault—are reason enough to visit Williamstown and to buy the informative, handsome catalogue.

But