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Edward Everett Hale, and ex-Mayor Seth Low, of Brooklyn, are to be named next. Mr. Chase has also painted a portrait of Wilhelmje upon the back of a violin. He made also a crayon portrait of the musician for the Century, then Scribner's Magazine. He has etched a portrait from a photograph of the poet, Longfellow, for the series of "American Etchings", he has painted also John D. Cleaver and Mr. Orlando Cheeks, a rising young artist and pupil of Mr. Chase. Of artists whom he has painted are to be mentioned besides Duveneck and Lenback, H. Herkimer and Whistler. For the Academy of Design he has painted portraits of T. W. Dewing, Walter Palmer and Robert Bloom, as well as a second portrait of the latter to be owned by the artist.

T is interesting also to mention the artists who

have painted portraits of Mr. Chase; they come in the following order: an early portrait by J. O. Eaton, then one by Duveneck painted at the same time that Chase was painting his portrait, then one by Whistler painted under the same circumstances; the bronze relief by St. Gaudens, an illustration of which appears in this month's Harper's Magazine, and Mr. T. W. Dewing is now at work upon a portrait of the artist.

OF

F Mr. Chase's ladies' portraits may be mentioned besides that of Mrs. Scott, a picturesque seated figure of Mrs. Harriet Hubbard Ayer, the portrait of Miss Dora Wheeler, which received a second class medal in the last International Exhibition at Munich; Mrs. F. H. Howel [Mr. Chase has also painted Miss and Master Howell, the lady's two children]. He has painted Mrs. Leslie Cotton in three different poses, one half length portrait with pink bodice was in the last spring's Academy Exhibition, a second one a figure in black in the fall exhibition, and a very

effective portrait, full length, is now upon the artist's easel, which will go to the Academy exhibition. In last year's Academy was also a portrait of Mrs. Grier. To this list is also to be added portraits of Miss Rosalie Gill and Miss Lydia Colt. Mr. Chase has also painted the actress, Miss Deitz, and he is now just commenc

ing a standing figure of Elsie Leslie as Little Lord Fauntleroy. Ernest Knaufft.

THE WATER COLOR EXHIBITION. II.

DELICACY is a quality greatly to be desired

in a water color. But when making one

for an exhibition artists know that unless they strive for the "white" decorative delicacy, which is not true to nature ( a figure for example as a white piece of paper without a back ground is a very incomplete rendering of nature,) they know that it is better to sacrifice delicacy for strength because otherwise there are nine cases out of ten that their pictures will be killed by some loud colored work hung close by.

A public exhibition is then likely to contain more strong works than fine ones. And we have to pick out the quiet unobtrusive composition by that artist who did not care so much for public applause as for poetic feeling.

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'VER thine, Celia," by John A. McDougall, is a large yet modest picture of this kind which we would single out as deserving special attention. A young girl in a white long trained gown is seated in a colonial chair at a colonial cabinet, her back turned toward us while she writes the words which gives the picture its title. The painting of the picture throughout is very honest and true.

Threading the Needle," by Robert Lumley, has a little too much the atributes of a lithograph so nice and slick is every inch of the painting, but there is a delicacy about the whole work that is commendable.

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few years? We suppose this improvement dates from a few seasons ago when Mr. Smith exhibited his striking "Mid Ocean," that showed our young artists what could be done in water color in the way of getting transparent effects.

As

S these notes were crowded out of last week's paper, and since the exhibition closes March 2nd, we shall cut them short with the mention of a few attractive works not heretofore spoken of. Albert E. Sterner's, "Tottie," in the south gallery; "At Meeting;" by Mrs: Alice Hischberg, "Bubbles Light as Air;" by J. Wells Champney, in the south gallery, where we also find two very fine landscapes by W. Merritt Post," Winter" 412 and "A Gray Day" 420, pictures fit to hang near the brilliant "Winter Twilight," by Bolton Jones. W. Hamilton Gibson "Upland Meadows," is a trifle cold in color but extremely picturesque. The same artist has many lovely little studies throughout the galleries, as has Mr. Henry Farrer. Wm. J. Whittermore's "Near the Light' House;" in the east gallery, is very good, so is "Spring Morning," by DeLancey W. Gill; while J. C. Nicoll surely never did better than in his Spring on the Salt Meadows," No. 225.

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A QUARTETTE OF THEATRICAL TRIUMPHS.

JOHN STUART MILL, in a very character

istic part of his writings, says: "Success in life may be compared to what we see at every crossing in a large city. At the crossing one man arrives just in time to pass to the other side before one or, it may be, more carriages block up the way; but another man equally as smart comes up a second later and has to wait till the roadway is cleared of the obstruction. The first of these men, it may be, has caught the train which shall carry him to the scene of some lucky business transaction; whilst the lat

ter, through the delay, may have missed the best opportunity ever presented to him in life." On such a simile it is quite possible for many minds to enlarge, or even criticise; but on the whole, Mill's illustration is a very true one, for it is the lesson of experience.

All professions fall within the circumference of Mill's illustration; but none lies so near the centre as the profession of an actor. The stage, as a rule, presents to its votaries more blanks than prizes; and yet the boards are always crowded with men and women eager to rival a Garrick or a Siddons. Whence arises this constant supply? The answer may be inferred from the following facts. The actor in the course of his profession meets his fellow-men face to face; the author may write, but the praise due to his merits comes to him second-hand. Not so with the actor, for he can feel the enthusiasm of applause, which is meted out to him by a delighted and admiring audience. Hence it is that so many from behind the footlights challenge the verdict of their fellows; and one chance of success is eagerly laid against a thousand chances of failure. Such is human nature.

Failure is a term of frequent occurrence in the annals of the actor; and to those who know all the realities of stage life, it is pitiful to see and to meet men who have clung to their "profession" for a lifetime without making the least advancement. It is not our intention at present to speak of these, but rather to recall some instances of great and marvellous success.

And first, there is Garrick, who made his debut in Goodman's Field Theatre, London, in October, 1741. A worse time could not have been chosen, for during the previous month an Act had been passed regulating stage plays. The result of this Act was that many theatres were closed and hundreds of men and women deprived of their occupation. Many plans, however, were tried for the purpose of evading the statute, and it was under the shelter of one of these that Garrick commenced his professional On the 19th of October, 1741, placards announced that a concert of vocal and instrumental music would be given in Goodman's Field Theatre. The music was to be divided into two parts, and between the parts a representation of King Richard III. was to be given

career.

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"FAUST." From the White and Allen (New York) edition of Goethe's "Faust," from the German by John Anster, LL. D. Illustrated by Frank M. Gregory. With colored plates.

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Crowds

by a gentleman who was to act for the first time. The statement was not altogether correct, for Garrick had once acted at Coventry. An average audience was gathered when the curtain rose. Garrick acted splendidly; and this was noted by two admirable actors and critics-Macklin and Smith. Next morning, the Post gave the young actor a glowing criticism, which tended to raise the public curiosity. Pope heard Garrick the second night, and pronounced him "the first actor of the day." flocked to Goodman's Field; the western places of amusement were neglected; and before the performance began, nobles, bishops and legislators might have been seen struggling with each other for the empty seats. His first real venture was a success; he received thirty pounds a night, besides many benefits. But Garrick's triumphs do not end here. Pitt lauded him to the skies; and Murray, Halifax, Chesterfield and Sandwich thought it an honor to count Garrick amongst the number of their friends. Fortune continued to smile upon him; and he continued acting till the year 1776. When he pronounced his "Farewell," and made his final bow from the stage of Drury Lane on the 10th of June, there was not a dry eye in the theatre. The whole audience re-echoed the word "farewell," which had fallen from the gifted actor's lips; and in this way ended a true dramatic scene-a scene only dramatic in the sense that it was touchingly real.

Six months previous to Garrick's "farewell," there appeared on the same boards another aspirant Sarah Siddons. Her part was that of Portia in the "Merchant of Venice;" and she failed. Her delicate and fragile form clothed in a faded dress did not captivate the audience. Sarah was the protegee of Garrick, who was greatly disappointed at his apt pupil's discomfiture, for nervousness had entirely overpowered her. But Garrick did not despair; and another chance was given to the young actress. This time she was to appear as Lady Anne in "Richard III.;" but in the love scene she forgot the directions given her in the morning, and Garrick's look was so terrible at a certain part in the play that she fainted. Failure was now her reward; Melpomene was not propitious.

Seven years passed; and by the end of this

time the provinces were ringing with the fame of Sarah Siddons. The proprietors of Drury Lane, on the strength of this new popularity, re-engaged her. Two weeks before the advertised date, Sarah was minus a voice and was again afflicted with her old nervousness. Isabella in "The Fatal Marriage" was her role, and when the curtain rose she soon displayed her powers. The sweet tones of her voice melted men into tears, and her tragic acting threw women into hysterics. She had at length triumphed, and the theatre-goers of London were at her feet. "When I reached my own fireside," she thus graphically writes, "from that scene of reiterated shouts and applause, I was half dead; and my joy and thankfulness were of too solemn and overpowering a nature to admit of words, or even tears."

The first night was a prelude of what followed. Fox and Sheridan might have been seen weeping in their seats; and when great men weep, what of those who are not accounted great? The engagement brought her fifteen hundred pounds, and her two benefits each amounted to fourteen hundred and fifty pounds.

Her second visit to Edinburgh was a remarkable one; two thousand five hundred and fiftyseven applied for seats in a theatre which could only accommodate six hundred and fifty persons; and it was quite common for footmen to retake on the same night the places newly vacated by their masters. Audiences are fickle, for when Sarah Siddons first visited Modern Athens she was very coldly received; and the only praise she got was from a man in the gallery, who called out to the actress at the end of one of her best parts, "That's no sae bad." Our readers may not be aware of the strange coincidence which marked the second visit. While the actress was representing the heroine (Isabella) where she calls out, "My Biron ! my Biron!" a lady was seized with hysterics, and had to be removed. The unfortunate lady was Miss Gordon of Gight, afterwards the mother of Lord Byron.

Sarah Siddons took her leave of the public on the 29th of June, 1812, in her great character of Latly Macbeth. She never acted better; and when the sleep-walking scene was finished, the audience demanded that the play should termi

nate, this being in those days the highest form of showing approval. Subsequently, she occasionally consented to reappear on the stage for charitable ends.

Another remarkable theatrical success was that of the boy Henry West Betty. Born of Irish parents in the year 1791 at Shrewsbury, he very early displayed histrionic powers. His parents wisely resolved to cultivate these latent possibilities; they took him first to hear Sarah Siddons, then acting at Dublin; thereafter, they entrusted him to the Dublin manager, and he in turn handed him to the prompter, Hough, who saw in the boy a something which he thought would yet do credit to his instructor. He, therefore, set about training Betty, who made his debut at Belfast in the year 1803. The boy was only twelve years of age, yet he played the parts of Rollo, Douglas, Romeo and Hamlet; and so popular did he become, that although it was the days of the United Irishmen, when it behoved every one in Belfast to be within doors by nine o'clock, P. M., special permission was given to theatre-goers returning from Betty's performance.

From Belfast he crossed over to Scotland, and made his first appearance in Edinburgh. Jackson, his employer, left no plan untried to herald the youthful Roscius' fame. "Douglas' was the first play acted. Home, its author, was present, and declared he had never before seen it done so well. Glasgow received Betty with open arms; and so intense was the popular regard for him, that a journalist who ventured to criticise the "idol" had to flee the city.

Macready, father of the great William, engaged Betty for his theatre in Birmingham; the sum guaranteed was ten pounds per night, plus his benefits. When the youthful actor made himself known to Macready, the latter was so disappointed that he wished to cancel the engagement. Betty was agreeable, and only asked that his expenses to Edinburgh might be paid; however, Macready relented, and promised to remunerate according to the success of the venture. The engagement proved remunerative, for Betty received on an average sixty pounds per night.

The proprietors of Drury Lane wished to engage him, but they were of opinion that fifty

pounds per night was an exorbitant demand, and so refused to employ him. What Drury Lane would not do Covent Garden did, and the speculation proved a literal mine of wealth. During the summer, Betty visited the provinces at Liverpool he cleared fifteen hundred and twenty pounds, and so great was the demand for seats, that crowds of all sexes might have been seen standing at the box-office at seven o'clock in the morning!

In the winter, he returned to London; and his popularity was greater than ever. The street in which Covent Garden Theatre stands was lined with soldiers; and so great was the crowd, that Drury Lane, from the overflow of its neighbor, drew three hundred pounds, and this in the afternoon. The play was one of Voltaire's, and Betty had to appear as Achmet, the boy-slave. Mrs. Inchbald was one of the audience, and in her eyes the actor made a sorry appearance; indeed, she regarded the whole affair as the offspring of a popular whim. But her criticism stood for little, because was not the popular fancy tickled? Public taste is very erratic, for while Betty was drawing crowds, Kemble and Mrs. Siddons, Cooke and Mrs. Gordon, were acting to empty benches. But the "feeling" had never on any other occasion run so high; Bonaparte was entirely forgotten; and the aristocracy vied with each other in having the company of the Irish boy. Pitt on one occasion moved the adjournment of the House of Commons in order that the members might see Betty act a certain part. When the actor suddenly took ill, bulletins were issued at intervals; and after he reached the stage of convalescence, Charles James Fox read by his bedside.

Three nights a week he was at Covent Garden, and on the off-nights he acted in Drury Lane. For his frst three appearances he received fifty pounds; and for the remaining five, one hundred pounds, besides benefits, each of which was worth one thousand pounds. The total receipts for the twenty-eight nights at Covent Garden amounted to seventeen thousand two hundred and ten pounds; the average nightly drawing was six hundred and fourteen pounds; the largest ever reached was seven hundred and fifty

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