Our portrait painters reflect pretty accurately the | to the merit of the work. This rule obtains to the wishes of their sitters, who would shudder if they present day, and the sooner it is abolished the better were represented otherwise than as acting their it will be for artists and sitters alike. If a portrait parts properly, according to the conventional ideas be a good portrait, it is not made one whit more attached to them. A portrait painter who would valuable by being printed on a bishop's half-length paint men, and especially women, honestly, as Hol- instead of on an ordinary half-length canvas: it may bein did, would be likely enough to starve. Lines be advisable to make the picture larger or smaller, must be softened, expression must be modified, ac- but the question of a few inches on one side or the tion must be decorous, colors must be subdued, or other should have nothing to do with price. In the prevailing taste of the fashionable world would design or execution, a small whole-length is equal be offended, and its patronage withdrawn. Those to the same picture set forth on a larger canvas, who have cultivated an acquaintance with the prin- and there is only a small appreciable difference of ciple and practice of the old portrait painters pro- labor; yet by the present system of prices adopted test rightly against the modern violation of them, - by portrait painters, there is a natural tendency to against that subserviency to the fashionable affecta-paint on large and inconvenient sized canvases, for tions of the day which in the last generation vitiated the splendid talent of Lawrence, and now-a-days spoils many a promising painter. An artist of transcendent ability might indeed reclaim the school; but short of this there seems little hope of any great advance at present: we can but point out and applaud honest effort wherever we find it, and continue to protest against affectation and weak ness. the sole reason of claiming a higher price for the work. The old masters rarely had any canvas to let, and their portraits can generally be displayed in the rooms of an ordinary English mansion. No one would dream that they would be more valuable for being so large that they could only be properly hung up in a town-hall. It is, however, more easy to point out deficiencies which are universally admitted, and to object to the Another and a very important element of the criticism which the deficiencies call forth, than to weakness of modern painters is that lack of techni- indicate the direction from which we may derive cal knowledge which indeed is common to all mod- hope of any great improvement in the school; but ern schools. A Venetian picture was not only an it is impossible to overlook the influence which, for expression of great mental power, but the trium- good or evil, is now being exercised, and probably phant chemical result of a thoroughly understood will be exercised through all future time, by the process. We do not know how Titian and Bellini marvellous discovery of photography, and its applipainted, but we know that in all the acres of canvas cation to the ends of painting. It is at least a quescovered in the nineteenth century, not a single tion whether what is called pre-Raphaelitism in square inch could be found that in the slightest de- England is not due to this discovery, acting upon gree resembles their work in quality. All true a few minds unconsciously impressed by the clear painters of later times have sought and sighed for manifestations of important truths hitherto smoththe attainment of a similar result. Rubens, who ered under broad conventionalisms. The geology was one of the most brilliant painters in the world, of landscape, for instance, was but little appreciated was fascinated by the perfection of Venetian color- by painters, before they were taught by photography ing, and it was during his Italian travel, and when that the stratification of a rock cannot be expressed he was under the influence of the impression made by a few vague and ignorant touches. No painter upon him by the great works around him, that his ever taught us so much about the Alps as the phofinest portraits were painted; and they were paint-tographs of Bissot or the small stereoscopic slides ed with an evident intention to inform himself of with which we are all so familiar. the process commonly practised by the Italians of Let us readily grant that photography is not a the previous century. Reynolds sacrificed, or at fine art itself, neither can it possibly take the place least endangered, his future reputation by his con- of any intellectual work; that it can exercise no tinual experiments to attain the technical knowledge power of selection, modify no expression, raise no of painting which was possessed by the Italians, and emotion, evoke no sympathy; but although it can the recovery of which he felt to be of such great never raise us to the contemplation of any spiritual importance. Earnest painters of our own day, sick truth, it reproduces accurately the aspect of the maof, and disgusted with, the leathery flesh-painting of terial universe. Its effect upon the art of our genthe last generation, are ever intent upon the acqui-eration has been great, not perhaps altogether good. sition of that technical knowledge which alone can enable them to determine the value of grounds, the qualities of colors, and the action of oils and varnishes upon the surfaces on which they paint. It is difficult to overestimate the consequence of accurate knowledge on these points; but if we could place a Lawrence in juxtaposition with a Titian, we should immediately appreciate the immense importance of a right process of work, and the apparent inability of all modern painters to acquire the skill which the Venetians possessed, and which in their hands led to most harmonious and agreeable results. So far, it has certainly given an undue impulse to the merely imitative faculty, while the noblest of human faculties, the imagination, has been in abeyance; but we cannot but think that its influence will tend in the long run to strengthen the latter, by endowing it with a more accurate and enlarged experience. We may at least be grateful that it has displaced a great deal of bad art. A photograph of the Coliseum or of Notre Dame is better worth hav ing than the incorrect lithographs that used to stand for them; and the sun gives us a better idea of Vesuvius than the execrable guache drawings that were Other drawbacks of a less appreciable kind are un- formerly exposed in the Neapolitan print-shops. doubtedly damaging to the art of portrait painting as And although we may regret the temporary eclipse, at present practised in England. Among these may for such we trust it is, of miniature painting, we be mentioned the scale of prices and sizes. Certain have little reason to deplore the annihilation of that conventional and often inconvenient sizes were set- cheap art of portraiture to which Mrs. Lirriper was tled by Lawrence, and his prices were fixed according sacrificed, and to the professors of which, as she to the size of the canvas, and without any reference | says, " you paid your three guineas, and took your chance as to whether you came out yourself or some- | greater difficulties of his art, will recognize in phobody else." But while the influence of photography may be clearly traced in the more careful study of form and detail which distinguishes our living subject painters from their immediate predecessors, our portrait painters have refused to profit by a discovery which might be to them an invaluable handmaid, while it never could become a successful rival. Want of strong individuality is the characteristic of nearly all modern portraiture, - not only in the countenance, but in the action and build of the figure. The old masters were all alive to the importance of making a portrait an absolute fact in the first place; and although Titian and Vandyke, each in his different way, by surpassing knowledge of treatment, ennobled the aspect of their sitters, they never sacrificed an iota of character. With modern portrait painters it is a common practice to sacrifice their strong faculties of observation to the prevailing taste of the day, or to the requirements of family affection and prejudice. Against this weakness photography bears witness in a hundred ways. Harsh, black, unpleasant, and ugly as you please, and utterly contemptible as a work of art, a photograph sets before us a true representation of the construction of the cranium, the exact set of the features, and the general build of the body, with a marvellous accuracy that it is out of the power of any human hand to rival. No child will mistake it, the dullest clod will recognize it; yet it is but a dead image, lacking the spark of human intellect which gives life to the meanest work of the hand, and we have more sympathy with the work of a sign painter than with it. But by the intelligent portrait painter, surely the representation which conveys the exact conformation of the skull, the air and custom, as it were, of the man in his bodily presence, rendered so faithfully by this wonderful agent, should be received thankfully and modestly; he should use it as Vandyke or Reynolds would gladly have used it, as a valuable aid, not as a base trammel.. Only an accomplished painter can so use it; only he can translate its meaning. At present it is, for the most part, neglected by those who might well profit by its help, and debased by the modifications of sixth-rate miniature painters, so that many of our portrait painters are half afraid to make use of it, and altogether afraid to acknowledge its value. That it must eventually be the means of raising the art of portraiture to a more subtle and higher rendering of truth, we firmly believe. As yet our contemporary portraiture shows very little evidence of this; but we may mention the admirable portraitbusts of Mr. Woolner in illustration of the effects produced by this wonderful discovery upon an active and sensitive mind. Mr. Woolner is probably wholly unconscious how many of the really valuable results of photography he has appropriated and embodied in his work. No portrait painter has yet seen or felt the true use of it, or we should have less reason to complain, year after year, of the portraits that are said to disfigure the walls of the Royal Academy. The infusion of that hard, stern reality which we so greatly deprecate in a photograph is more than all else needed in modern portraiture, and though a second-rate painter may fear to become the slave of the process, and is ever ready to dread that his work may be superseded by its mechanical results, the truly accomplished artist, who has mastered the tography the most valuable of those mechanical aids which from time to time have been placed at his disposal by the discoveries of science. It is not, however, by the aid of photography, or by any special education, or by any acquired knowledge of technical processes, that any man can become a great portrait painter. A man of genius like Reynolds takes his position with the greatest certainty, though all our highly prized means and advantages have never been placed at his disposal. Such a man alone can make a right use of them, because he is so independent of them. Reynolds had no better teaching than that of a sixth-rate painter, and no greater opportunities of study and travel than such as are open now, at infinitely less trouble and cost, to the great majority of students; yet he turned to wonderful account all his opportunities, while he did not scorn the meanest help:. he derived the breadth and vigor of his style from the study of the Venetian and Flemish masters; but he never parodied their works: he made use of the mechanical assistance of his drapery-men, and gave life to their work by the faculty which enabled him to make it his own. His light was reflected by his immediate successors, and finally went out with Jackson, the last of our luminous flesh-painters. No painter since his day, not even Turner, whose highest ambition was to lie beside him in St. Paul's, has made so great a mark, or exercised so large an influence on the English school. The present school of portraiture needs above all things the direction and presence of a man of similar genius, if only to teach our painters how to throw aside the weakness which makes them the slaves of fashionable caprices, and to instruct them how to make use of the advantages, discoveries, and highly increased means of study, which of late years have been added to the general sum of their resources and experience. STAGE IMPROMPTUS. "LET those that play your clowns, speak no more than is set down for them: for there be of them, that will themselves laugh, to set on some quantity of barren spectators to laugh too; though, in the mean time, some necessary question of the play be then to be considered: that 's villanous; and shows a most pitiful ambition in the fool that uses it." True, O Shakespeare! Gagging is a pitiful vice; but it has kept the stage, and will keep it, protest as we may. Some of the funniest bits in the Critic, as acted, are not to be found in any printed copy of that admirable burlesque; and we are vastly mistaken if that popular nobleman, my Lord Dundreary, is not almost entirely a creature of gag. When O'Neill's company played at Dundalk, an influential patroness commanded Pizarro, and the manager was compelled to engage a Rolla from Dublin for the occasion. He did not think it necessary to make the "star" aware that the state both of treasury and wardrobe forbade the employment of the usual force of supernumeraries; so, when the representative of Ataliba's army appeared on the scene, Rolla was paralyzed with astonishment, and stopped short in his invocation. Quickly recovering himself, however, he exclaimed: "What! all slain but thee? Come, then, my brave associate," &c., a piece of gag pardonable under the circumstances. Hardly so excusable was that perpetrated by Emery in the same play at Drury Lane. The rising of the curtain had been delayed beyond the usual time; the audience grew impatient, and Kemble, in no very good temper, informed the house that they were only waiting Mr. Emery's arrival to go on with the performances, - he being the sentinel of the evening. At length the tardy actor came, and easily made his peace by explaining that he had been detained at home by an interesting domestic event. The well-known prison scene came, and the following colloquy took place between Rolla and the soldier: "Hast thou a wife?" "I have." "Hast thou children? "I had two this morning. I have got three now!" Exit Rolla in a passion, amid loud and prolonged laughter. For that night at least Emery was the hero of the play. Equally successful in bringing down the house by illegitimate means was an actor who, playing Barbarossa at a seaport, appealed to the sympathies of his nautical listeners by explaining: "Did not I, By that brave knight, Sir Sydney Smith's assistance, "Let me play Catesby to your Richard," said a Hence, babbling dreams; you threaten here in vain. Nor did the marring of Shakespeare's text stand in 66 Some of the most comical interpolations have come from the audience itself. When Spranger Barry's Romeo drew all the town to Covent Garden, Garrick, in defence, took to playing the same character at Drury Lane. On the first occasion of his doing so, upon the love-lorn Juliet exclaiming, "O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou Romeo?" a good-natured auditor saved Garrick the necessity of replying, by calling out, "Because Barry is gone to the other house." Bernard, in his Autobiography, relates a good story of Haydon the painter. "One evening I was playing Sharp in the Lying Valet, at Plymouth, when my friend Benjamin Haydon and his little son (B. R. H.) were in the stage-box, and on my repeating the words, I have had nothing to eat since last Monday was a fortnight,' young Haydon exclaimed, in a tone audible through the house: What a whopper! You dined at my father's house this afternoon."" actor is also responsible for the following: "Our principal actress, a Mrs. Kirby, playing Queen Anne, inquired very piteously, 'O, when shall I have rest?' The same A ruthless grocer started up in the pit and shouted out, Not till you have paid me my one pound one An interpolation of Quin's brought him into seri- and tenpence, ma'am.'" Quite as matter-of-fact in ous trouble. Playing Cato at Drury Lane, Wil- his way was the Yankee who, strolling into a thealiams, who acted the messenger, in delivering the tre on the evening of the arrival of the news of the sentence, "Cæsar sends health to Cato," gave such fall of the Crimean stronghold, could not hear Hama peculiarly ludicrous pronunciation to the last let's complaint, word, that Quin indignantly replied, “Would he "I die, Horatio; had sent a better messenger!" This so enraged The potent spirit quite o'ercrows my spirit; I cannot live to hear the news from England," the Welshman, that he challenged Quin, who tried to laugh him out of his passion. Williams, however, without easing his mind by shouting across the pit, was determined to revenge his outraged dignity, and "Die away, old hoss! Sebastopol's taken!". -a attacked Quin as he was leaving the theatre. The piece of gratuitous information that probably sur latter was obliged to draw in self-defence, and the prised the representative of the Danish prince, as hot-headed Welshman paid for his folly with his life. much as an English Othello was astonished by a Prologues are never heard now-a-days, but play-girl tumbling from gallery to pit as he pronounced goers used to resent their omission, and it took some time to reconcile them to the new fashion. When Cato was revived at Covent Garden some years ago, it was resolved to dispense with the prologue. Mr. Wignell, as Portius, was suffered to pronounce his opening lines, "The dawn is overcast; the morning lowers, And heavily in clouds brings on the day," and then cries of " Prologue, prologue!" rang through the house. Unaffected by the uproar, the actor, without pausing or changing his voice, went on, "Ladies and gentlemen, there has been no Prologue spoken to this play these twenty years. - which so tickled the fancy of the audience, that they the words, "'Tis like she comes to speak of Cassio's death." Stage-managers are often nearly driven out of their wits by perverse supers, who will misunderstand their instructions, like the stage centurions who received Quin as Coriolanus with a succession of grave bows, because he had told them to lower their fasces when he appeared; and Mr. General-Utility is apt to bring down curses, not loud but deep, upon his unlucky head by marring the leading actor's most effective scene. At a rehearsal of the banquet scene in Macbeth, the "first murderer," spite of Macready's adjurations, persisted in walking down to the centre of the stage, and thereby entirely hiding Macbeth from the audience. The tragedian impatiently called for a carpenter, a brass-headed nail, and a hammer. The carpenter came. you see that plank there? Drive the nail into that spot." It was done. Now, you sir," (this to the 'murderer,") "look at that nail. Come down to 66 66 "Do Every STAGE IMPROMPTUS. that spot, not an inch farther, and wait there till | I come." Mr. Utility did as he was desired, and Macready's mind was easy. Night came, and with The "first murderer" enters, it the banquet scene. walks down the stage, stops suddenly, then turns round and round, apparently looking for something he had dropped. The audience begin to titter. Macready stalks to the man's side: "In Heaven's "Sure," exclaims name, what are you about?" "ain't I looking for that blessed the murderer," nail of yours!" The effect of this speech upon the audience may be imagined. The "first murderer" had to give his royal employer a wide berth for the rest of the evening. The most experienced actor is apt to find his tongue unruly at times, and playing strange tricks with the text. The following curious colloquy took place between Quin as Balance and Peg Woflington as Sylvia in the Recruiting Officer: "Sylvia, how old were you when your mother was married?" What, sir?" "Pshaw, I mean, how old were "I regret, sir, you when your mother was born?" I cannot answer your questions; but I can tell you how old I was when my mother died!" Peg was not so stupid as the actor who persisted in sticking to his text, when Elliston as Richmond blunderingly asked, "Is young George Stanley slain?" and replied, "He is, my lord, and safe in Leicester town!" An Aberdeen actress having to ask if somebody retained his influence at the India House, from some extraordinary confusion of ideas, actually inquired, "Does he still maintain his infants at the India House?" Sometimes tongue-tripping proves catching, as when Mrs. Davenport exclaimed, "I protest, there's a candle coming along the gallery with a man in its hand"; and Mrs. Gibbs directly afterwards declared, "Betty has locked the key, and carried away the door in her pocket." The art of apologizing is well worth the study of any actor who hopes and what actor does not?to be a manager. To be able to put folks in a good humor who have reason to be in a bad one is a valuable accomplishment, and one or two comeBut dians we wot of are adepts in the art, melting the anger of the gods as sunshine melts the snow. some ludicrous apologies have been made from the stage. have been done more neatly; the malecontents were One of his auditors at least must have appreciated and Taking advantage of a momentary cessation, Elliston proceeded: "Anxious for your gratification, Jack Johnstone, being called upon to sing the I entered into correspondence with the faithless Sprig of Shillelagh, stepped forward to do so; but foreigner, who was this day to have appeared. when he should have commenced, stood silent and The correspondence, ladies and gentlemen, is in At length, when the audience showed my pocket; I'll read it to you." As Elliston coolly confused. signs of impatience, Jack astonished them by ad- produced a packet of letters, the uproar broke out dressing them thus: "Ladies and gentlemen, I as-again with tenfold violence; he waited patiently till Does any gentleman present read German? sure you I have sung the song so often, that, by my they were tired, and then went on: "Here they soul, I cannot recollect how it begins!" Quin, who are. despised and detested theatrical dancers, had thrust If so, would he honor me by stepping forward?" "Am I left alone? Then I'll translate upon him the disagreeable task of excusing the non- This was too much; peals of laughter rang through appearance of a popular danseuse, and executed it the house. by saying: "I am desired by the manager to inform it for you." (Cries of "No, no; go on, Elliston.") you that the dance intended for to-night is obliged "I obey; the correspondence shall not be read; but, You shall yet be satisfied! You are my to be omitted, on account of Madame Rollan having ladies and gentlemen, the stone is here, you shall dislocated her ankle. I wish it had been her neck!" see it! went the band again, up went the curtain, and there This was bold, but not so bold as the speech made patrons, and have a right to demand it!" Crash by a certain actress, who, in consequence of some scandalous story flying about town, was received was an immense piece of sand-rock, labelled, "This with a storm of hisses. As soon as they subsided is the stone!" That was something, at any rate; sufficiently for her voice to be heard, the undaunted the audience cheered; Elliston bowed, and disapdame advanced to the front, courtesied, and said: peared. "Ladies and gentlemen, I appear before you in my public profession of an actress, in which character shall ever exert my utmost endeavors to please. As to the rest I beg to be excused." Nothing could In after years, he had often to employ his eloquence upon his rough friends on the other side of the water. Surrey audiences, as least in those days, were somewhat of the noisiest; how he talked to them may be judged from the following speech, delivered when the crowded state of the gallery rendered the gods more uproarious than usual. Ladies and gentlemen, I take the liberty of addressing you. It is of rare occurrence that I deem it necessary to place myself in juxtaposition with you. When I said juxtaposition, I meant vis-à-vis. When I uttered the words vis-à-vis, I meant contactability. Now let me tell you that vis-à-vis (it is a French term) and contactability (which is a truly English term) very nearly assimilate to each other. Gentlemen! gentlemen! I am really ashamed of your conduct. It is unlike a Surrey audience. Are you aware that I have in this establishment most efficient peace-officers at my immediate disposal? Peace-officers, gentlemen, mean persons necessary in time of war. One word more. If that gentleman in the carpenter's cap will sit down, the little girl in red ribbons (you, my love, I mean) will be able to see the entertainment." Elliston's style may seem a cavalier one for a manager to adopt towards his patrons, but we have known modern audiences to be treated in even more supercilious fashion, and bear it with profound equanimity. CONCERNING STORIES. THE bewildering number of new magazines, and the amount of material, such as it is, which goes to fill them, is not the least wonder of our time. Besides the leading tale, the piece of poetry, the column of jokes, or the solid article, which nearly all contain, there is usually a short sketch or story, and it is with this branch of periodical catering that we have to deal. If examined closely, these stories indicate a great deal more than would appear on their own showing. First, on the score of antiquity, they can claim priority over the big novel itself, which precedes them in order of place, and is being slowly conducted upon an illustrated career under the direction of a popular author. Before the novel came the novelette, homunculus before homo. Stories are probably as old as speech, but your novel (we use the word in its ordinary acceptation) always, from its length, required to be booked. The Greeks told stories, and very good ones. Antoninus Diogenes went in for a regular romance, - the loves of Dinias and Dyrcyllis; but it possesses nothing in common with our works of fiction, except, of course, the element of tender passion, without which nothing of the kind could move. But the Greek tales were excellent. Even in the Greek Christian times, when Pan was dead, capital adventures were struck out, which, if they dealt rather freely with sacred subjects, one is inclined to condone for their offences on the ground of no harm done. In the Middle Ages these tales were re-echoed along with others, and enriched, too, with marvels brought from the East, monsters from the North, and plenty of devils from the monastic legends. Then there were the jongleurs, minnesingers, and troubadours, who travelled on the strength of a popular taste for verse stories; but if report speaks true concerning the jongleurs, they added to their répertoires an attraction similar to that which brings nightly crowds to the ballet music halls of London. Italy is regarded as the direct source of our novels and novelists. Boccaccio's tales were known under the latter title, and to some Italian stories we are said to be indebted for "The Merchant of Venice and the "Two Gentlemen of Verona." The Middle Age narratives were all pretty nearly of one color, and of rather a high flavor for our generation, but many of them were both clever or caustic. L fellow gives an excellent imitation or adaptation of one in his "Martin Franc, or the Monk of St. Antony." Our English tales of the Elizabethan are singularly dull and pointless. After the Be toration they were livelier, when, to paraphrase a hackneyed quotation, -finical "The taste became more Gallic and less nice"; but in the days of Queen Anne, under the direction of Mr. Addison, the stories were mere galvanized abstractions, thinly-disguised allegories, in whi Greeks and Romans imparted elegant precepts 22 the full-bottomed wig of the "Spectator's" penal Nor was the great lexicographer a good story-tele. In the " Rambler," men and women are made to speak language as fine and as improbable as the speeches which the worthy doctor prescribed for h Tory favorites in the House of Commons. Goll smith, however, was a delightful narrator; the Itory of the Philosophic Vagabond" is a gem in tha way. Fielding had a heavy manner of going abor a story; but Smollett was a master in the craf When the Della Cruscan gushing spoiled our pe etry, stories in that strange tongue appeared a "Amulets" and "Souvenirs." The plates in the books used to be Della Cruscan too, nerveless, and emasculate. A great improvemes took place in the palmy days of "Blackwood" "Fraser," and "Bentley." A sort of Hogarth an humor pervaded the shorter tales, -a humor a which the contemporaneous artists caught a f share of the spirit. Maginn, Thackeray, Barban and Lockhart were seldom better than when or fined to chapters instead of volumes. It is remark able, indeed, that as stories first gave rise to noves, we may notice that every romantic writer of on nal power sends up a few pilot balloons, fashione in his own peculiar style, before venturing the grand ascent. Mr. Dickens felt his ground with Boz; an the author of "Vanity Fair" intrusted Michael As gelo Titmarsh with samples of his ware, previous D making his own proper appearance. Here we cla an argument for our plea, that stories precede book In the late Professor Aytoun's hands the art of story telling did not degenerate; but for occasional blo of "wut," they would be perfect of their kil There is real fun in his tales, and fun is the prie characteristic of them. To add another feather to the story-cap, it is sul that Poe's wild inventions contain the germs d more than one sensation novel, and that a very clever author who works the sensation department made the discovery at an early period of his literary career. There is some truth, we believe, in th but not at all enough to make out the least pretest for a charge of plagiarism. It is not easy to met with a good story now; such a one as Tom Hood Jerrold could write, such a one as was wont to light up the pages of magazines which erst were disagre ably tinged with political war-paint. Every wees tons of periodicals are carted from the news-agents and sown broadcast over the land, and nearly a contain something in the shape of a novelette. It is well for the makers of those literary confections that our artificial society, with its complicated war's and new passions, supplies them with an inexhaust ble quantity of raw material. They have fifty plans for serving the crumpled rose-leaf which interiors with the sybaritism attributed in penny and ha penny papers to the upper classes. They can pl |