362 Picture- Notes. — The Royal Academy. 



be desperate indeed. Every Shakespearian reader recollects 

 with delight the exquisite scene in the avenue to Portia's 

 house., where Lorenzo and Jessica enjoy their pretty talk under 

 the bright moon, and Jessica shows wit, culture, and fancy 

 deliriously combined. Mr. C. W. Cope, E.A., has bestowed 

 none of these qualities upon his Jessica, who looks rude as a' 

 milkmaid, is dressed in vile taste, and has a chignon behind ! 

 It would be the most useless thing in the world to tell such a 

 Jessica that 



" The floor of heaven 

 Is thick inlaid with patines of bright gold ;" 



or to expect her to respond to the statement — 



"There's not the smallest orb which thou behold' at, 

 But in his motion like an angel sings, 

 Still quiring to the young-eyed cherubins." 



The earthy solidity of Mr. Cope's Jessica is proof against such 

 fancies ; she has the countenance of a fish girl, and in reply to 

 her lover's poetry might tell him the price of sprats. 



The colouring of this picture is ugly, as is its failure in 

 sentiment. Shylock's snuff-coloured gaberdine is not pleasant 

 to look at, and Jessica's dressmakery would put Houndsditch 

 to shame. She is trimmed out in a blue speckly sort of gown, 

 touched up with yellows and reds, and the whole effect is harsh 

 and displeasing. 



Another B.A., Mr. S. A. Hart, has sinned ' against the 

 harmonies of colour in a big picture, representing the sub- 

 mission of Barbarossa to Pope Alexander the Third. The 

 succession of incongruous reds in great patches, including 

 the sprawling emperor, are very disagreeable, and the corpse- 

 coloured pope makes the matter worse. Such a piece may, 

 however, be useful to young , colourists, as showing them 

 exactly what they ought not to do. We hope it will operate 

 effectually, and pass it by. 



We intended to have said something about the u Hooks- 

 capes" — all clever, all mannerized, and all alike in the same 

 sort of red-faced boys, opaque green seas, and impossible cliffs 

 and shores. The best and the worst is called " Mother Cary's 

 Chickens," and will be a favourite with many, though the sea 

 lacks the transparency of water, and the waves are nearly 

 destitute of those innumerable cross lines and curved surfaces 

 in various glittering planes which real waves always present ; 

 but we are sick of grumbling, and must look to something 

 we can praise. 



Taking the good pieces in the order of the catalogue, we 

 must pay our first tribute to the fine drawing and remarkably 



