THE DRAMATIC ANNUAL.
On Vivid's return home, his gratification was soon diminished by the recollections of "existing circumstances," and these caused him to sink into a gloomy and desponding state; when Sam Alltact, rather malapropos, entered with a black-edged card, inviting his master to the funeral of a deceased acquaintance, an eminent young artist, named Gilmaurs, who, never having been an R.A., but simply an engraver of extraordinary genius, was not to be buried under the dome of St. Paul's, but in a village churchyard.
Vivid could not help remarking to a brother mourner, that, in his opinion, the profession of a painter was as much overrated as that of an engraver was underrated: "for," he added, "what real and unprejudiced connoisseur, while contemplating Woollett's Roman Edifices from Claude, and Sir Robert Strange's Titian's Mistress from Titian, with many others, would not acknowledge, that the copy in many instances so rivalled, if not surpassed, the original, that it became a decided question, which artist ought to carry off the palm?"
"Or, at any rate," cried an odd accordant theatrical companion, "the connoisseur might say, with Shakspeare—
'Which is the merchant here, and which the Jew?'"
"There is no doubt, that in any school of painting," continued our hero, "such men as Reynolds, West, and Lawrence, cannot be too much upheld whilst living or lauded and regretted when dead. There is likewise Wilkie—another Hogarth——"
"I beg your pardon," rejoined the theatrical gentleman; "but till I can forget the blunderbuss fired from the upsetting coach, the cobweb over the poor's-box, and the gay parson and undertaker at the harlot's funeral, I cannot allow of the comparison. Besides, I admire Hogarth for another reason: did he consider an engraver's to be an infradig. profession? No, for he was the engraver of his own works."
"True," replied Vivid; "and other painters have been engravers. But to the point: look at the variety of the exquisite engravings in the Annuals; and having compared them with the large, coarse, mindless pictures in—what may be called another annual—the Exhibition of the Royal Academy, then say, whether you do not prefer the distinct delicate touches of a well-directed burin, to the broad, trowel-like splashings of an ill-directed painting-brush?"
"I do; and whilst I bow down to the excellence of such a portrait as that of Charles the First, by Vandyke, or that of Robin Goodfellow, by Sir Joshua, cum multis aliis by painters of the same pre-eminent description—ay, and also whilst I greatly admire numerous pictures still annually exhibited by highly talented living artists, I ask, if I am not to speak my mind relative to that class of painting, which might pass muster outside the inns at Dartford, or Hounslow, or ——. However, 'the lion preys not upon carcasses,' and, therefore, I will leave these canvass-spoilers to the judgment of those, who will show them in their proper light—viz. the hanging-committee."
The funeral being concluded, they return to town, Vivid agreeing with his odd companion in leaving the canvass-spoilers to the hanging committee.
