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May 15, 1868.] THE PHOTOGRAPHIC NEWS. 231 is defaced by damp; and he has placed a cobweb over the opening in the charity-box. Again, an empty phial, labelled “ laudanum,” lies at the feet of the expiring viscountess, in the last scene of the ‘ Marriage a la Mode; ’ but this was not enough,—he has placed close to it the “ last dying speech of Councillor Silver-Tongue,” suggesting that it was the death of her lover, and not her husband, that caused her to swallow poison.” Laws become hurtful when they are carried to excess, and repetition becomes caricature when observed so closely as to verge on mockery. There is a curious instance of this in one of Turner’s etchings, reproduced by Ruskin, and commended in his “ Elements of Drawing.” In the foreground, standing on a bridge, are a man, a boy, and a dog; and in the distance, at the top of a hill, are a man, a boy, and a dog, the boy and dog in exactly the same position as in the foreground. This is an example of repetition and symmetry which should not be repeated, and with which it is impossible to sympathise. In the same book Ruskin mentions a picture by Vandyke, exhibited at Manchester, in 1857, representing three children in court dresses of rich black and red. The law of repetition was amusingly illustrated in the lower corner of the picture by the introduction of two crows, in a similar colour of court dress, having jet black feathers and bright red beaks. The true end of variety is to give relief to the eye ; repe tition is harmony until it becomes monotony ; then variety should step in to relieve the tired and perplexed attention. Deviation from uniformity in the outlines of nature gives greater zest to the pleasure arising from the contemplation of order and regularity. Alison, in his essay on “ Taste,” observes, “ Beautiful forms must necessarily be composed both of uniformity and variety ; and this union will be per fect when the proportion of uniformity does not encroach upon the beauty of embellishment, and the proportion of variety does not encroach upon the beauty of unity.” Which sentence, properly understood, contains the essence of the art of composition. Repetition is one of the principal elements of repose in art. No picture can be considered to have attained any approach to completeness that has not repose, and, for many reasons, it is still more necessary in photography than in any other means of representing nature. I am not certain that any perfect photograph—that is, one that has produced a perfect sense of completeness in the beholder—has ever been done which has not this quality to a very great extent. In the “ Blind Fiddler,” the expression and use of repose is perfect. The relief given by the happy serenity of the old man and the fiddler’s wife and children is a very agreeable contrast to the action of the man snapping his fingers and the boy with his improvised musical instruments. I am aware that very exquisite large pictures of waves in motion have been published by Le Gray and others. I also know that Blanchard, Breese, Wilson, and one or two more, have attained very great success in representing moving objects in pictures for the stereoscope; but, even in its highest flights, art can only suggest motion, and those artists who try to represent it appear to me to be nearly guilty of a solecism. The pictorial representation of a moving mass depicts as immovable that which is in motion. The repre sentation is therefore false. This is, perhaps, allowable in painting, where a certain license is not considered improper; but for the photographer to do so is entering upon doubtful ground, and requires grave consideration. To represent the result of motion would be legitimate. It is a rule in sculpture that the right moment for representation is that of arrested or suspended action. If photographers would also observe this rule it would save their works from the risk of any appearance of extravagance, or any suggestion that they represented a doubtful truth. The last paragraph suggests that a word or two on what is fit to represent by our art may not be out of place here. The proper adaptation of means to an end—or, in other words, “ fitness ”—is a great source of beauty. Not only is fitness the proper application of means, but—especially in our art—the production must be a fit result of the means em ployed to produce it. Photographs of what it is evident to our senses cannot visibly exist should never be attempted. The absurdity of representing a group of cherubs floating in the air, for instance, is felt at once. It would be possible, by double printing, to make a very passable photograph of a centaur or a mermaid, but the photographer would dis credit his art; he would not be believed, and would deserve to be set down amongst charlatans and Barnums. He would be worse than the great showman, who, to his credit, con fessed himself a humbug, while the photographer would expect the world to believe his work to be a truth. I am far from saying that a photograph must be an actual, literal, and absolute fact; that would be to deny all I have written ; but it must represent truth. Truth and fact are not only two words, but, in art at least, they represent two things. A fact is anything done, or that exists—a reality. Truth is conformity to fact or reality—absence of false hood. So that truth in art may exist without an absolute observance of facts. A great part of the emotion of beauty which we feel in regarding nearly all manufactured articles that aspire to this quality has its origin in fitness. Decorative beauty depends, in a great measure, on fitness, and the beauty of proportion is also to be ascribed to this cause. Objects which are disgusting in themselves may become beautiful to the eye which sees their usefulness or fitness. For instance, we hear the surgeon talk of a “ beautiful preparation,” or a beautiful instrument. It is no fault in a photographer that his art will not carry him as far as paints and brushes do the painter. His pro ductions would only be defective when he failed to do what was possible in his art—an art in some respects more difficult than that of the painter, because, like sculpture, more circum scribed and limited. The photographer must not let his invention tempt him to represent, by any trick, any scene that does not occur in nature; if he does, he does violence to his art, because it is known that his finished result repre sents some object or thing that has existed for a space of time before his camera. But any “ dodge, trick, or con juration” of any kind is open to the photographer’s use, so that it belongs to his art, and is not false to nature. If the dodges, tricks, &c., lead the photographer astray, so much the worse for him; if they do not assist him to represent nature, he is not fit to use them. It is not the fault of the dodges, it is the fault of the bungler. To conclude this subject, the painter may imagine new worlds, and interpret his imagination with his pencil; he may paint an embodiment of that which has not yet occurred, such as the last judgment, for example ; he may represent angels and cherubim, and he does not commit a very great mistake, or at least one that has not already been condoned by artistic opinion. But, on the contrary, if the photographer, who could, if he had the skill, with the means at his disposal, follow very closely after the painter in repre senting his ideas of things unseen, attempts to do so, he holds his art up to ridicule and contempt; the reason being that he violates “ fitness.” COPYRIGHT AND PIRACY. [Tub following article is from the pen of a gentleman whose experience in connection with the production and publica tion of engravings as well as photography entitles his opinion to much weight. We have always endeavoured, whilst giving the strongest condemnation to piracy, to deal fairly and honestly with both sides of the question. In doing this our contributor seems to think that we and some other portions of the press have scarcely done the print pub lishers justice. We willingly, therefore, give prominence to his views.—Ed.] Although much has already been written on this subject, the question still remains apparently as obscure as ever. Not