OPHELIA.
The points which are particularly to be noticed are the amazing accuracy of the drawing of every leaf and twig in the background, the truth with which the floating draperies and the river weeds lying beneath the surface of the water have been rendered, and the brilliant vivacity of the colour, which, strong and insistent as it is, entirely avoids garishness and rankness of quality. There is, too, a delightful tenderness of sentiment which suits to perfection a subject full of sympathetic suggestion. Not a trace of affectation is to be perceived; the sincerity and good faith of the artist cannot for an instant be doubted, and his understanding of the dramatic meaning of the incident chosen is perfectly judicious. It would not be easy to find a picture which marks more truly the difference between the finish that comes from learned study, and the mere surface elaboration by which an uninspired artist seeks to hide his insufficiency of technical knowledge. The imitative painter is satisfied if he can deceive the eye by tricks of handling, cunningly managed, and cares little for the broad effect of his canvas as a whole; but Millais, who was a man of genius, could never have contented himself with the cheap popularity attainable by such devices. He took a far larger view of his artistic responsibility, and even in his most prolonged and assiduous labour he never forgot that the part which every touch had to play in the general pictorial scheme had to be considered. That he should never have lost the unity of effect of his Ophelia, though he spent many weeks painting the landscape setting of the figure, in a quiet corner on the Ewell River, near Kingston, may be regarded as a convincing proof of his rare fitness for dealing with some of the greater problems of open air painting.
AUTUMN LEAVES
As an example of his use of poetic and tender sentiment this picture is now rightly admired as the most fascinating of all the works which he produced during his life. It is neither a great composition nor an amazing illustration of minute patience in technical performance; but it has a spontaneous charm of manner that puts it among the few modern masterpieces. When it was first exhibited it was not properly understood by the general public, but expert observers even then appreciated its delicate symbolism, and saw in it qualities of the noblest kind. Mr. Ruskin praised it with generous enthusiasm, and not only ranked it as one of the monumental canvases of the world, but declared that not even to Titian could be assigned a place higher than that which Millais had reached by this triumphant achievement.
AUTUMN LEAVES.
Judged as a piece of painting it is surprisingly free from all those little artifices which a less thoughtful artist would have used to increase the strength of his appeal to the attention of the public. It is studiously quiet in manner and formal in composition, an arrangement of severe lines and simple masses, which might easily have been made blankly inexpressive if they had been managed with less subtle perception of the deeper possibilities of the subject. But this very reserve gives the picture much of its strangely sympathetic beauty, and increases its hold upon the feelings of all people who are not satisfied with the superficialities of pictorial art. The attitudes of the figures, the expressions of the faces, the bareness of the landscape against which the group of children is set, and the solemn stillness of the autumn twilight which pervades the whole composition are all of value in the carrying out of the artist's intention. The lingering sadness of autumn is throughout the idea which was in his mind, and the way in which this is symbolised in every touch and every detail is well-nigh perfect.
The picture is also remarkable because it is practically the first in which Millais showed that masterly understanding of the character and ways of children, which was so often and so delightfully displayed in his later production. The young girls who are grouped round the fire of faded leaves are painted with inimitable grace and tenderness. Their unconscious naturalness is wholly charming, their unstudied ease of gesture is extraordinarily well rendered; and there is in the purity of the delicate little faces a suggestion of the innocence of childhood which is exquisitely fresh and attractive. Yet no impossible idealisation spoils the truth of the painting. They are frankly children who play their parts in it, not little angels with none of the instincts of human beings.
THE VALE OF REST