A VISIT TO "SHERIDAN'S RIDE."
PHILADELPHIA, March 26, 1870.
DEAR PUNCHINELLO:
Taking my way along Chestnut Street a few days since, I found my progress arrested at Tenth Street by a great current of humanity, that swept with resistless force into the entrance to the Academy of Fine Arts.
I, too, entered, and, passing around the familiar group of the "Centaurs and Lapithæ," which stands beneath the dome, was hurried breathlessly onward by the throng, until I found myself face to face with that chef-d'oeuvre of modern art, T. BUCHANAN READ'S painting of "SHERIDAN'S Ride."
Give the reins to your imagination, now, (a little horse-talk is appropriate here,) and behold one thousand men and women, of refined and cultivated tastes, doing tearful homage to the genius of the great Poetaster—pardon me, Mr. T.B.R., Poet-artist was what I meant to have said.
From these my critical orbs now wandered to the painting; from the painting to PUGH, (the astute "engineer" of the "show,") and then to the painting again. "What drawing!" remarked I. (PUGH smiled, and glanced approvingly at the audience.) "There is much freedom and boldness in it," continued I. "It is very broad, rich in color, and—" "In a word," interrupted a friend of mine, whose grandfather was a Frenchman, "full of chic!" (PUGH blushed.)
Admirable and truthful, indeed, is the expression imparted by the artist to the fleet General who suddenly became famous by being Twenty Miles away from the Post of Duty!
The flashing eye; the close-cut military style of the hair; the fierce moustache; the row of three buttons marking exalted grade; the vigorous yet graceful movement of the sword-arm, and the cap disappearing in the distance, indicative of the remarkable time making by the "horsenman"—all these are admirable points in the picture, and worthy of being closely studied by the student of Art.
As I gazed, a shock-headed young man, with a very red nose, whom I at once recognized as a student of the Life Class, sneeringly observed that the "flourish of the sword smelt a little of the foot-lights." (Artists are ever jealous.)
It is easy to see that the clever painter of "SHERIDAN'S Ride" has meaning in the flourish of the sabre. It indicates that his fleet hero uses the weapon, not to "fright the souls of fearful adversaries," but to accelerate with frequent whacks the speed of his heroic charger. The horse has observable points, too, and especially one that might be called by the superficial critic "faulty drawing." I refer to the extraordinary fore-shortening—if the expression is in this case allowable—of that part of the animal which extends from the saddle backward. In this, again, there is a touch of nature that genius only can impart. For what is more conceivable than that the hinder parts of the heroic steed might have been cut away by an unlucky slash with the edge of the sabre? There is precedent for this. Every schoolboy can recall a similar accident which befell the horse of MUNCHAUSEN as he dashed beneath the descending portcullis. And, as from that famous steed's hind-quarters there sprang an arborescent shelter, so, also, as a result of SHERIDAN'S "scrub race," do laurels shade that hero's brows.
My views of the cause of this fore-shortening are enforced when I state that there is a fine atmospheric effect about the horse's tail, which seems to indicate that it was considerably in the rear.
There can be no greater tribute to the powers of the artist, or the worth of the heroic "horsenman," than the crowds which daily, in these heretofore silent and hallowed precincts, "wake the echoes with sounds of praise."
Yonder is "Death on the Pale Horse." As I gazed, Death smiled with approval at "SHERIDAN'S Ride," and the stony figure of GERMANICUS "leant upon his sword and wiped away a tear."...
Suddenly a pistol-shot rang through the vaulted aisles, and, amid the shouts of men and shrieks of affrighted women, I ascertained that a daring rebel, (one EARLY,) moved by the wondrous fidelity of the picture, had drawn a revolver, and fired at the "counterfeit presentment" of the man who had humbled him at Winchester.
Amid the confusion, a manly voice shouted, "Three cheers for the Hero of Winchester!"
"That's Wright!" yelled the shock-headed young man with the red nose....
Then I left the scene, pondering as I went, "What manner of painter is this, who can so deftly limn the features of a hero as to draw tears from his worshippers and bullets from his foes?" And, as I pondered, that abstruse conundrum of CHURCH, the artist, came to my mind: "What if, after all, READ, your brush should steal the laurels from your pen?"
"What," indeed?
CHROMO.
CHARLEY, WHO HAS HAD HIS HAIR DRESSED AT THE BARBER'S, SHOWS HIS LITTLE BROTHER, WITH THE AID OF THE CRUET-STAND, HOW IT IS DONE.
A Long Look-out.
The dome on the new court-house is expected to be completed by Domesday.
Appropriate.
Lester Wallack has his "Tayleure" travelling with him during his "starring" trip.