greatest artists. As for the English lad of the same age, he never
sits at all. Apparently he does not regard the career of a model

as a serious profession. In any case he is rarely, if ever, to be
got hold of. English boys, too, are difficult to find. Sometimes

an ex-model who has a son will curl his hair, and wash his face,
and bring him the round of the studios, all soap and shininess.

The young school don't like him, but the older school do, and when
he appears on the walls of the Royal Academy he is called THE

INFANT SAMUEL. Occasionally also an artist catches a couple of
GAMINS in the gutter and asks them to come to his studio. The

first time they always appear, but after that they don't keep their
appointments. They dislike sitting still, and have a strong and

perhaps natural objection to looking pathetic. Besides, they are
always under the impression that the artist is laughing at them.

It is a sad fact, but there is no doubt that the poor are
completely conscious" target="_blank" title="a.无意识的；不觉察的">unconscious of their own picturesqueness. Those of them

who can be induced to sit do so with the idea that the artist is
merely a benevolent philanthropist who has chosen an eccentric

method of distributing alms to the undeserving. Perhaps the School
Board will teach the London GAMIN his own artistic value, and then

they will be better models than they are now. One remarkable
privilege belongs to the Academy model, that of extorting a

sovereign from any newly elected Associate or R.A. They wait at
Burlington House till the announcement is made, and then race to

the hapless artist's house. The one who arrives first receives the
money. They have of late been much troubled at the long distances

they have had to run, and they look with disfavour on the election
of artists who live at Hampstead or at Bedford Park, for it is

considered a point of honour not to employ the underground railway,
omnibuses, or any artificial means of locomotion. The race is to

the swift.
Besides the professional posers of the studio there are posers of

the Row, the posers at afternoon teas, the posers in politics and
the circus posers. All four classes are delightful, but only the

last class is ever really decorative. Acrobats and gymnasts can
give the young painterinfinite suggestions, for they bring into

their art an element of swiftness of motion and of constant change
that the studio model necessarily lacks. What is interesting in

these 'slaves of the ring' is that with them Beauty is an
conscious" target="_blank" title="a.无意识的；不觉察的">unconscious result not a conscious aim, the result in fact of the

mathematical calculation of curves and distances, of absolute
precision of eye, of the scientific knowledge of the equilibrium of

forces, and of perfect physical training. A good acrobat is always
graceful, though grace is never his object; he is graceful because

he does what he has to do in the best way in which it can be done -
graceful because he is natural. If an ancient Greek were to come

to life now, which considering the probableseverity of his
criticisms would be rather trying to our conceit, he would be found

far oftener at the circus than at the theatre. A good circus is an
oasis of Hellenism in a world that reads too much to be wise, and

thinks too much to be beautiful. If it were not for the running-
ground at Eton, the towing-path at Oxford, the Thames swimming-

baths, and the yearlycircuses, humanity would forget the plastic
perfection of its own form, and degenerate into a race of short-

sighted professors and spectacled PRECIEUSES. Not that the circus
proprietors are, as a rule, conscious of their high mission. Do

they not bore us with the HAUTE ECOLE, and weary us with
Shakespearean clowns? Still, at least, they give us acrobats, and

the acrobat is an artist. The mere fact that he never speaks to
the audience shows how well he appreciates the great truth that the

aim of art is not to reveal personality but to please. The clown
may be blatant, but the acrobat is always beautiful. He is an

interesting combination of the spirit of Greek sculpture with the
spangles of the modern costumier. He has even had his niche in the

novels of our age, and if MANETTE SALOMON be the unmasking of the
model, LES FRERES ZEMGANNO is the apotheosis of the acrobat.

As regards the influence of the ordinary model on our English
school of painting, it cannot be said that it is altogether good.

It is, of course, an advantage for the young artist sitting in his
studio to be able to isolate 'a little corner of life,' as the

French say, from disturbing surroundings, and to study it under
certain effects of light and shade. But this very isolation leads

often to mere mannerism in the painter, and robs him of that broad
acceptance of the general facts of life which is the very essence

of art. Model-painting, in a word, while it may be the condition
of art, is not by any means its aim.

It is simply practice, not perfection. Its use trains the eye and
the hand of the painter, its abuse produces in his work an effect

of mere posing and prettiness. It is the secret of much of the
artificiality of modern art, this constant posing of pretty people,

and when art becomes artificial it becomes monotonous. Outside the
little world of the studio, with its draperies and its BRIC-E-BRAC,

lies the world of life with its infinite, its Shakespearean
variety. We must, however, distinguish between the two kinds of

models, those who sit for the figure and those who sit for the
costume. The study of the first is always excellent, but the

costume-model is becoming rather wearisome in modern pictures. It
is really of very little use to dress up a London girl in Greek

draperies and to paint her as a goddess. The robe may be the robe
of Athens, but the face is usually the face of Brompton. Now and

then, it is true, one comes across a model whose face is an
exquisite anachronism, and who looks lovely and natural in the

dress of any century but her own. This, however, is rather rare.
As a rule models are absolutely DE NOTRE SIECLE, and should be

painted as such. Unfortunately they are not, and, as a
consequence, we are shown every year a series of scenes from fancy

dress balls which are called historical pictures, but are little
more than mediocre representations of modern people masquerading.

In France they are wiser. The French painter uses the model simply
for study; for the finished picture he goes direct to life.

However, we must not blame the sitters for the shortcomings of the
artists. The English models are a well-behaved and hard-working

class, and if they are more interested in artists than in art, a
large section of the public is in the same condition, and most of

our modern exhibitions seem to justify its choice.
POEMS IN PROSE

THE ARTIST
ONE evening there came into his soul the desire to fashion an image

of THE PLEASURE THAT ABIDETH FOR A MOMENT. And he went forth into
the world to look for bronze. For he could think only in bronze.

But all the bronze of the whole world had disappeared, nor anywhere
in the whole world was there any bronze to be found, save only the

bronze of the image of THE SORROW THAT ENDURETH FOR EVER.
Now this image he had himself, and with his own hands, fashioned,

and had set it on the tomb of the one thing he had loved in life.
On the tomb of the dead thing he had most loved had he set this

image of his own fashioning, that it might serve as a sign of the
love of man that dieth not, and a symbol of the sorrow of man that

endureth for ever. And in the whole world there was no other
bronze save the bronze of this image.

And he took the image he had fashioned, and set it in a great
furnace, and gave it to the fire.

And out of the bronze of the image of THE SORROW THAT ENDURETH FOR
EVER he fashioned an image of THE PLEASURE THAT ABIDETH FOR A

MOMENT.
THE DOER OF GOOD

It was night-time and He was alone.
And He saw afar-off the walls of a round city and went towards the

city.