tist might easily have avoided that pitfall of
portrait-painters, an awkward, constrained, and unaccustomed attitude,
which Mr. Gladstone confessed was torturing him, and by a very simple
expedient have succeeded in placing Mr. Gladstone in the position which
everyone who has seen him in the act of delivering a speech in the House
of Commons would have recognised at once as a true and characteristic
pose.

Here I have mentioned Mr. Gladstone himself, saying how uncomfortable he
felt upon the occasion of Mr. Holl's visit to his house for the purpose
of obtaining a sitting; but I should add that the genial artist who was
to do the work informed me that he also was no less ill at ease. When
Mr. Gladstone enquired how he should sit for the portrait, Mr. Holl,
anxious no doubt to secure a natural pose, replied, "Oh, just as you
like!" This appeared to disconcert the great statesman somewhat, and he
appeared to be ruminating as to what sedentary attitude was really his
favourite one, when Holl came to the rescue.

[Illustration: CARICATURE OF THE HOLL PORTRAIT.]

"I happened," said Mr. Gladstone, "to be standing at my library table
with my hands upon a book, when Mr. Holl said, 'That will do, Mr.
Gladstone, exactly,' and the result was that he painted me in that
position. But I felt uncommonly awkward and uncomfortable the whole
time, and as I have just said, I had to lie down and sleep after each
sitting."

Now why was this? It was the very attitude of all others with which we
who have studied it so often when the ex-Premier has been standing at
the table in the House are so familiar. No artist who had once seen him
in that position would have failed to select it as the most favourable
and characteristic for the purposes of a historical portrait. And yet
the picture, when it was completed, was a failure, and the artist
himself knew that it was. The explanation is, I think, very simple, and
it exemplifies once more the truth of the formula which defines genius
to be "an infinite capacity for taking pains." Frank Holl undoubtedly
had talent, but his omission of an important detail in this picture--a
detail which would have probably made all the difference between success
and failure--shows once more by how narrow a line the highest art is
often divided from the next best, that art of which we have such a
plethora nowadays--which just contrives to miss hitting the bullseye of
perfection.

When Mr. Holl exclaimed, "That wi