ce of this single face giving fresh life and
inspiration in the form of a new artistic ideal.

As regards Hester Grazebrook's dresses, the first was a dress whose grace
depended entirely on the grace of the person who wore it. It was merely
the simple dress of a village girl in England. The second was a lovely
combination of blue and creamy lace. But the masterpiece was undoubtedly
the last, a symphony in silver-grey and pink, a pure melody of colour
which I feel sure Whistler would call a Scherzo, and take as its visible
motive the moonlight wandering in silver mist through a rose-garden;
unless indeed he saw this dress, in which case he would paint it and
nothing else, for it is a dress such as Velasquez only could paint, and
Whistler very wisely always paints those things which are within reach of
Velasquez only.

The scenery was, of course, prepared in a hurry. Still, much of it was
very good indeed: the first scene especially, with its graceful trees and
open forge and cottage porch, though the roses were dreadfully out of
tone and, besides their crudity of colour, were curiously badly grouped.
The last scene was exceedingly clever and true to nature as well, being
that combination of lovely scenery and execrable architecture which is so
specially characteristic of a German spa. As for the drawing-room scene,
I cannot regard it as in any way a success. The heavy ebony doors are
entirely out of keeping with the satin panels; the silk hangings and
festoons of black and yellow are quite meaningless in their position and
consequently quite ugly; the carpet is out of all colour relation with
the rest of the room, and the table-cover is mauve. Still, to have
decorated ever so bad a room in six days must, I suppose, be a subject of
respectful wonder, though I should have fancied that Mr. Wallack had many
very much better sets in his own stock.

But I am beginning to quarrel generally with most modern scene-painting.
A scene is primarily a decorative background for the actors, and should
always be kept subordinate, first to the players, their dress, gesture,
and action; and secondly, to the fundamental principle of decorative art,
which is not to imitate but to suggest nature. If the landscape is given
its full realistic value, the value of the figures to which it serves as
a background is impaired and often lost, and so the painted hangings of
the Elizabethan age were a far more artistic, and so a far more ration