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He was surveying it critically and without any apparent emotion. "Herkomer's, I think," he remarked. "Quite one of his best." "It is your mother?" she whispered. He nodded. "I'm not great at genealogy," he said, "but I can go as far back as that. She was by way of being a great lady, the daughter of the Duke of Warminster." "You were an only son," she said softly.
For it is impossible to suppose that Mr. Orchardson and Mr. Watts do not know that Mr. Leader's landscapes are like tea-trays, that Mr. Dicksee's figures are like bon-bon boxes, and that Mr. Herkomer's portraits are like German cigars. But apparently the R.A.'s are merely concerned to follow the market, and they elect the men whose pictures sell best in the City.
Dismissing report from our ears, surely we must recognise all the cheap realism of the camera in Professor Herkomer's portraits; and this is certainly their characteristic, although photography may have had nothing to do with their manufacture. Mr.
They are clothed in dark blue in the winter, the coats being replaced by scarlet ones in the summer. Peaked caps are worn usually, and cocked hats with full dress. H. Herkomer's picture "The Last Muster" is too well known to need more than a passing comment. The scene it represents is enacted every Sunday in the Hospital at Chelsea.
"Divarsiment" indeed! To this ill-assorted admixture three exceptions only were grouped with any sense of reason. The central picture was a beautifully coloured reproduction of Sir Hubert Herkomer's famous masterpiece "The Last Muster." Lovers of art subjects are doubtless familiar with this immortal painting.
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