I HAVE been honoured by a request to read a paper this evening, the principal subject of which should be, the Photographic Composition entitled “Two Ways of Life.”

Considering the very unusual amount of criticism to which this work has been subjected, I am thankful for the opportunity afforded me, of giving some explanation regarding its origin, and the object which I sought to accomplish in its construction; and I trust that I shall not be charged with possessing any undue quantum of vanity in thus responding to the call, and engrossing your attention for a few passing moments upon a subject you have done me the honour to stamp with your approval.

Permit me to ask your indulgence for the many imperfections which this attempt at addressing you will manifestly contain. Artists are not necessarily writers; and while it is my highest pride to rank as the former, I have not the smallest claim to be regarded as the latter.

The composition referred to arose out of the competition which was naturally excited among photographers by the desire worthily to represent, not only themselves, but the new art which they had espoused, at the Art-Treasures Exhibition in Manchester; and as every true soldier should fight as though the battle depended upon his individual exertion, I buckled-to in earnest. In passing, however, I cannot but remark, that in my opinion, and in that of others also, the Manchester authorities very inadequately seconded the efforts which were made, as they treated photography too much as an art belonging to the future, and consequently as one scarcely deserving of their present care.

Whether good or bad, my effort duly appeared, and full many a tilt did it sustain from the shafts of critics upon both sides of the Tweed, until at last it was fairly, or perhaps you may say unfairly, tilted altogether out of the Edinburgh Photographic Exhibition.[1]

It is not for me to say how far the reasons are correct which were adduced in justification of its rejection; but I take my stand in defence of my work, adopting the national motto “Honi soit qui mal y pense.”[2]

The principal reasons which actuated me in its production were the following:—

1st. It was to be competitive with what might be expected from abroad.

2ndly. I wished to show to artists how useful photography might be made as an aid to their art, not only in details, but in preparing what may be regarded as a most perfect sketch of their composition; thereby enabling them to judge of effect, before proceeding to the elaboration of their finished work.

3rdly. To show the plasticity of photography, I sought to bring in figures draped and nude, some clear and rounded in the light, others transparent in the shade; and to prove that you are not, by my way of proceeding, confined to one plane, but may place figures and objects at any distances, as clear and distinct as they relatively ought to be.

I know well the prejudicial opinion I had to work against in attempting a composition; I kept in good memory the expressions made use of by that authority on art, the ‘Art Journal,’ in its notice of our Exhibition of 1856, to wit: “They are wonderfully clever, but after all they are but images of actors, posed for the occasion; they all want life, expression; passion they have none; yet these pictures tell a pleasing tale.” Again, “We believe indeed that such pictures as those will have a tendency to lower the appreciation of art in the eyes of the public, and unfit them for receiving the full impression in tended by, or seeing the beauties of, the artist’s production.”

In 1857 the same Journal remarked on that year’s Photographic Exhibition: “With the Photographic Exhibition it is not necessary to speak of individual works, as we would of the production of the painter; the cases are not parallel: the painter employs, or should employ, eye and hand governed by a presiding mind; the photographer uses a machine, and requires a ‘little’ judgment: the artist works from within to that which is without; the photographer employs external agents to do his bidding.”

When reading these opinions I thought the same as I think now, that, as far as the conception of a picture, the composition thereof, with the various expressions and postures of the figures, the arrangement of draperies and costume, the distribution of light and shade, and the preserving it in one subordinate whole,—that these various points, which are essential to the production of a perfect picture, require the same operations of mind, the same artistic treatment and careful manipulation, whether it be executed in crayon, grey-in-grey, paint of any description, or by photographic agency, and the same in mosaic, if the worker be also the artist.

I should like to set all presumption of rivalry at rest, by not comparing this art-process with what is generally understood as art: let us reject all parallel, and examine the modus operandi of this, which is a new and distinct art, one but of yesterday, and discuss it according to the results produced, without comparison.

I believe a time will come, and that not far distant, when real art and photography will go hand in hand, the latter as a means to the artistic end. It cannot be otherwise: photography is but “the holding of a mirror up to nature;” and the more thoroughly a mind is imbued with the love for, and a discernment of, the true in art, the oftener will it plume and refresh itself at the fountain of its inspiration, and draw from its ample, but to many hidden, treasures.

I cannot for my part see the objection, that photographs want life, expression, reality. I cannot understand how a painting upon the same subject can, except. in its colouring, be more real or truthful than a photograph, both being but representative. The difference is in favour of the photograph, which having passed through fewer mediums, must necessarily be, the more truthful, at least in details, considered as miniatures.

Since writing this, I have seen this year’s praise and strictures of the ‘Art Journal’ on the present Exhibition. I, for my part, have no reason to be dissatisfied, but, on the contrary, feel proud of the favorable criticism, though on a work a long photographic year old—a work that was thought and executed in six weeks’ time, with a small Ross’s lens, and patched cracked camera, and a pressure-frame not half the size of the picture, and the first of the kind I had attempted, employing a model now and then, draped in a bit of unbleached calico—yes, I am pleased and satisfied; yet I must combat not alone that writer and others expressing similar views as to the right of the photographer to do as be likes with his own as long as he sails not under false colours, and when all is photographic in the resultant, i.e. all that I have allowed to appear shall be photographic. Yet why should I be blamed for not letting all appear that might happen to be depicted on the plate, when either I do not want it, or when it might be hurtful to the general effect? Those objectionable things may be stopped “out,” and if there be too much of crude light, I glaze over some parts with the sunbeam. To the best of my knowledge and skill it is photographic; but we must not paint upon the positive and still call it a photograph.

But I will come now to the argument of the composition, “The Two Ways of Life.”—The world is aptly described by the immortal bard as “a stage, and all the men and women merely players.” It is upon this stage that I have lifted the curtain to introduce to you the dramatis personae.

In the background is represented a country scene, where, far from the tumult of life, two youths been fondly reared. The time has arrived when duty calls them to perform their part in the busy haunts of men. The father with many misgivings, but with many prayers, conducts them from the home of their childhood, through an archway, which is symbolic of the boundary between town and country. Left orphans at an early age, the spirit of the mother is seen still hovering near them, instilling into their minds good desires, and attending them as a guardian angel, that their feet slip not.

Aware of the dangers and temptations which will beset their path, the Sage cautions and counsels them

“My sons, if sinners entice thee, consent thou not:” “Keep thy father’s commandment, and forsake not the law of thy mother:” “That they may keep thee from the strange woman, from the stranger that flattereth with her words:” “Go not astray into her paths:” “Incline thine ear unto wisdom, and apply thine heart to understanding:” “Length of days is in her right hand, and in her left are riches and honour.”

With faith in his leader and guide, one of the youths appears willing to be led by wisdom and experience, and is thus brought into the paths which lead to Religion, at whose feet

“A lowly child, with unkempt hair,
Is crouching down, yet welcome there.”

Near to Religion is Knowledge, personified by a female reading, the book being a sign of human progress. From these, we come to Mercy, who binds up the wounds of the sufferer, and, “while pouring out the healing oil, consoles the weak and weary.” The proper use of life is further illustrated by Industry, Handicraft, and Mental Application; whilst Married Life is faintly traced behind the group of Industry.

The other youth, more impulsive, braves the future for the present: believing in naught but what he sees, he slips the hand of his guiding friend, and, strong in his own conceit, goes his way, the wise man waving his hand in grief. Two Sirens with song and dance display their charms to tempt the youth; ‘tis but a step,— he looks not far before him. Behind them, but in the foreground, lies an Idle group;—Idleness the root of every evil. The old hag thereby contrasts them well: like them she was; as she, they’II be, despised and vengeful in their turn. A Bacchante is in the foreground placed with the cup in either hand: in the deepest shade of that dark Bacchante lurks Murder with ready arm. Hid from his view the Gamblers play; one wins the throw, foul or fair; the other seems aggrieved, yet ready to drown his anger in the tankard; the third has lost his all, and seems as lost himself. Complicity whispers close behind, and some strong arm is drawing off a pinioned man. To the central figure with half-covered head, I have given the name of Penitence. She is placed, I think rightly, between the two ways of good and evil, to convey what is taught to and believed by us all, that repentance, if true, will not be refused by Religion. 

Detail from “Two Ways of Life” including the figure, Penitence. Courtesy of the Victoria and Albert Museum.

This was the only subject I could then think of, which would enable me to bring into one picture various draped figures, as well as exhibit the beautiful lines of the human form; and in one or two of those unadorned figures I think I have succeeded in showing such gradations of tints between the highest light and the deepest shade (as in the Penitent for instance) as may serve for a lesson in art without the aid of language. There are numerous spots and masses which, I admit, have no business there. I could not avoid them then, but with the experience I have gained I could be more successful now; having however to conceive every point in the picture in my own mind, and there, if I may so say, finish, it, keeping it day and night in view, like a chess-player playing without the board, I could not be perfectly sure when taking individual figures, whether the backgrounds should be light or dark, which difficulty you may easily understand. I had, in printing one figure whose general background might be dark when placed in the picture, to put one side or other against a background; for the sketch I made was not sufficiently worked out in light and shade. Circumstances, too, made me vary from the sketch. The various peculiarities in the positions of some of the models are owing to their being more or less perfect in shape. Anxious to display the good lines, I had to hide what seemed less correct, not being able, like the painter, to draw upon the antique.

The rule of proceeding here is also contrary to the art of drawing. I began with the foreground figures, and finished with those farthest off. After having fixed upon the size of most of the nearest figures, I proceeded with those in the second plane. With a pair of compasses I measured on the focussing glass the proportionate size according to the sketch; similarly with the third plane, and so on until I was as far off the smallest group as my operating-room would allow, and then I was not far enough off by yards: so I reversed the whole scene and took them from a looking-glass, thus increasing the distance.

Having got all the figures of the various sizes, attitudes, and lights and shades that I wanted, and again sketched them on a sheet of paper, I found likewise that our largest prepared paper was much too small, and fastening two sheets together caused an inequality on the surface; how to cement them to show no difference of colour at the joining was a poser which occupied me some days in solving.

I made various experiments, until at last I found the best way was not to cement at all, but to put the two papers together edge to edge, and those parts of the pictures which bordered on either side of those edges had to be printed at the same time, to ensure their having the same strength; and then I devised, to ensure the two edges being perfectly similar, to put the end of the larger sheet upon the smaller, and with a razor on a plate of glass I cut them both simultaneously. But as you know that a paper is put on the glass in printing with the reverse side to you, I found that I could not be sure, after printing the first figure on either side of those edges, that when I came to the second portion, I could with certainty put the papers in the same position as before; so I had to cut my papers agrain, and I did so now irregularly with a nick top and bottom: this produced many inconveniences, particularly in the washing, until at last I cut the papers straight down to within a couple of inches of the bottom, when I continued the cut obliquely, which afterwards proved a sufficient guide.

Those papers were chosen from the same maker, and sensitized at the same time, to ensure the same tint after having been in the hypo; but even then it happened that the two sheets turned out with a different tint, and once the smaller sheet yielded a bluish tint, while the larger sheet was of a rich brown, though both were put into the bath at the same time; and, as a curious fact, I must mention that in all of those I have yet printed, the smaller sheet has shown a slightly cooler tint, for the reason perhaps that being of a smaller body it was sooner acted upon. After having printed in all the figures, I had to find a background; and in the place where I reside there is not within some considerable distance any sign of classic architecture. So I went into a friend’s grounds and selected from his garden ornaments and portico what you see, excepting the draperies, which were arranged in my room, which is not 12 feet high; this however did not prove a serious obstacle, for if I wanted a curtain of large dimensions I had but to move my camera so much the nearer to obtain the required size, which would be properly tested when introduced into the picture, and so with any other objects I wished to portray. If I wanted to introduce an urn three feet in height, it might be taken from one not more than six inches with the same effect.

In printing, I commenced with the Old Hag, the negative of which was placed close to the long side of a printing-frame but half the size of the paper (for a printing-frame with thick plate glass as large as the whole picture would be more than a labour of love to carry backward and forward), the one end of the sensitive paper edging with the positive, and the other end hanging outside; then the lid was screwed on (I have discarded the spring-frames because I cannot regulate the pressure), the lid being made ¼ of an inch narrower than the frame; the overhanging paper was then gently rolled up over the edge of the lid and placed inside the frame, and a large piece of black velvet rolled over, stretched fast; and on the frame being turned up, the velvet was made to cover the whole plate glass, except where the figure (and nothing more of the positive than the figure) of the Hag was; there the velvet was rucked in a heap, and thus brought to the light for printing; and when that figure was printed so deep as to be nearly invisible, I took that glass off and commenced with the Bacchante, having cut a piece of paper the shape of those parts of the Hag which joined the Bacchante, and then the Hag and all the rest of the paper was covered up, leaving the Bacchante exposed; then having measured off the distance, I printed the Bacchante, almost as dark, then Murder, perfectly bronzed, then Repentance very deep: next I came to the Group of Idler, where highest light was just covered; then the Dancers rather lighter, and the Gamblers lighter still, and the figures behind yet more so. The Disobedient Youth was then begun, followed by the Sage and the Good Youth, hand in hand; then the two papers were put together, and the Religious Group was printed, when the sheet was put by into the dark room, and the smaller sheet was proceeded with in the same way. After all the figures had been printed, the two pillars and the lions were proceeded with: the pillar and lion behind Religion had of course to be printed with the two papers together, and the top curtain in a similar manner. Then the archway and the landscape appear, next the curtains, and finally the dark fringe.

When all these were printed, immense faith and determination were still required; for I can assure you it was a motley group: in spite of all the care I had taken in shading some parts in the light that they should not print too dark, and in spite of having used a sun-glass for printing through the thickest whites, there was no harmonious whole. The lights and shades and distances for so many figures appeared to set me at defiance; so I put the two sheets together, and covered them with a plate of glass. Now comes the sun-painting. I cover up some parts of the picture and use a few rays and pencils of light to just glaze over the gambling group; and using them a little more freely on the hinder figures, I said “thank you,” and covered them up (for you must know that I talk a good deal to the mysterious agents while I am at work); “now please to paint me the background behind them.” The rays do my bidding, and on it goes smoothly and evenly. I can almost see the fluid flow; and knowing from practice how it will be reduced in the hypo-bath, I let the light paint it deeper in appearance than it was intended to be. I then uncover the Idle Group, and bid the light sink one of those figures deeper in the shade. I then solicit the rays of the sun to do the same on the side of Industry, and many of the spots and marks from the printing of the separate figures are then evened by the same brush, and finally the whole top of the picture is exposed; but as such light as I choose works quickly, I must move as fast and guide it well, or there will be marks from his brush. And thus the picture is produced.

My ambition has been that this composition should be wholly photographic. It is evident, that if art were employed to give it the finishing touches, it would be more consonant with what art requires, and equally evident ghat an abler artist with better means could do a better thing. Nay, I believe that if Maclise were to make a composition indicating light and shade, like some of those splendid series of sketches which were exhibited in the Royal Academy Exhibition last year, I could produce from life a photographic picture that would require but little touching. I dare not say how far I believe we may carry this art; but I have a lively presentiment that the time will come, when a work will be judged by its merits, and not by the method of its production; and then, with some fostering care, things will be done, that scarcely believers, and never unbelievers, have yet dreamt of in their philosophy.

Having concluded my paper upon the composition “The Two Ways of Life,” I shall be happy to give you a few sketches from my photographic experiences, with the hope that they will possess some points of interest.

In the midsummer of 1855 1 was printing a group of several figures, and my assistant was doing the same under my direction; it was a beautifully clear sunny day, and the sky was cloudless. From that morning’s experience I knew how soon to expect the figure to be done, or nearly so. When I thought the third figure sufficiently printed, I took the printing-frame into a dark room to ascertain the progress made, when to my astonishment I found there was but a faint image instead of its being rather overprinted, as I had feared. I was very apprehensive that I had exposed it too long: I first thought that something might have been amiss on that very spot as to the salting or silvering; but when the printing-frame of my assistant was brought in, and that print examined and found to be as little affected as my own, I was fairly astonished.

I scanned the heavens, but could see neither cloud nor smoke, nor yet anything like a red or yellowish light. We brought our frames into the sun again for printing purposes, and on re-examination we certainly found some progress made, though the figures were yet scarcely half done, and not to be compared with what I expected, although they had been exposed for the same period as the first figures. We again proceeded to print; and after exposing our prints for about the same length of time as preceded our last examination, we again removed them to the dark room. I recollect well, that though our respective figures did not require the same amount of printing, we exposed them similarly for the sake of comparison; and now my astonishment was complete, for both our figures were nearly over-printed, and I could not see any cause, nor can I now give any reason, for the remarkable difference in the results produced. I must here observe, that after this we continued to print with the same steadiness and celerity as marked the progress of the first figures; and the only conjecture I can make with regard to this phenomenon is, that there have been an undulating motion, or shortcoming of the actinic ray. I have not since noticed any similar effects in printing, though they may have occurred. I would not have ventured to mention this fact had I been alone; but the case being similar with both the prints, and having also the evidence of another witness, I thought it worthy of mention.

Another of my experiences I will also touch upon, only in corroboration of what I read in the ‘Liverpool and Manchester Photographic Journal’ of January 15th this year, about the variation of the form in photographic lenses by Mr. Claudet. I have noticed the same for a couple of years, but cannot give a reason why. I can only guess that there may have been a variation in the actinic ray, as in the case previously noticed, but more perceptible here. In the same Journal, attention was drawn to the curious appearance of narrow streaks of light round the edges of objects in some landscape photographs, where the light appears stronger than tie sky. That also has occurred to me, but each time there was a humid atmosphere and a prolonged exposure. And in addition to this, I may mention that I have several specimens taken in my room in dull weather, There the white cuffs round the ladies’ wrists against a dark dress, and the white strings from a cap against a black dress, have been surrounded with a halo of fainter light spread over the black surface. The hygrometric state of the lens at the time may have been the cause; or I must plead ignorance.

The want of aërial perspective, particularly in the larger landscape photographs, has been one of the causes that has induced me to try to take a picture separately in different planes: and then print them together, which mode I have seen termed “tricks.” An extensive landscape, especially when taken with a large lens, is not true, nor will it ever be so: the focus cannot be everywhere. Here is a fair specimen of a view from Loch Katrine, taken at once: if it had been drawn by a skilful hand directed by a correct eye, there would not have been so much detail, but the proportions would have been different and more true; and the larger the lens, the greater the errors. In this picture the focus was taken for the middle distance, between the steamer and the eminence, and that part is no doubt correct; but the distant mountains and the wood are too large, and the foreground is too small. While the camera was in the same place as when the picture was taken, I took another instantaneous view, with the focus for the distant mountains: the camera had to be so much shortened, that when that view was taken, the difference between the two backgrounds was so great, that, when lineally measured, it amounted to 3/40ths of an inch, as you may see by these specimens; and if I had taken a nearer focus for the foreground, the difference between the two pictures, I have no doubt, would have been half an inch, if I may judge by these two photographs, taken by smaller lenses, where the one was focussed for the distant mountain, and the other for the immediate foreground. And here the difference is a quarter of an inch,—vide the specimens produced;—and mathematically they must differ, as much as the difference of the squares described, and the angle from the nearest-off focussed object to the sensitive plate in the more elongated camera; and this is what, I think, is the cause of the apparent want of aerial perspective. I should be very glad to possess a lens that did not need focussing. I should carry it in my pocket, and with a dry collodion process I could catch positions and expressions in a crowd far better than with my own eyes; for these poor orbs have to obey fixed cannot even see a man clearly in the street while looking at a spot on the window frame.

I have collected some data and specimens, to be reserved for another opportunity, whereby to show, or rather demonstrate, in what way photography ought to be used by painters and sculptors in particular, without having any lowering effect on their art; for Art is the study of a life, and photography is like a brush full paint—use it as you are able.

 

The CHAIRMAN, upon inviting the discussion which ensued, stated that every one must be convinced that the picture, whatever were its deficiencies, at any rate showed itself to be the work of an artist.

Mr. CRACE.—I must beg leave to express the admiration which I think all must feel. I consider that the picture produced by Mr. Rejlander, of which he has been good enough to furnish us with an explanation, is the symbol of a new era in photography. I think never before have we had a really living scene so clearly and so perfectly portrayed. The picture itself has been severely criticised; and it certainly is to be regretted that two or three figures in it, though, perhaps, not exactly indelicate, verge so closely upon it, as to prevent that general approval of the picture which it otherwise would have met with. I am sure that I express the feelings of all present when I say that it is a wonderful performance, and that we are much indebted to him for his open and manner in explaining the process by which it was produced.

Mr. SHADBOLT.—I did not intend to have made any observation, but I cannot let pass the opportunity of expressing also my great admiration of this work of art, and of stating that I most strongly dissent from the opinion by Mr. Crace, that there is any portion of it which is offensive to delicacy.

Mr. O. G. REJLANDER.—If some people have thought any part of that picture at all approaching indelicate, that I cannot help; I never Intended it. Six weeks was the whole time that I had to conceive the picture in my mind, to compose it afterwards, to carry it out and deliver it at the Manchester Exhibition. A great many trials had to be made I could get one at all fit to be sent, without being touched by hand. Perhaps some of the peculiar positions were owing to my wish not to show great an approach to the pre-Raphaelites. I was anxious to show only what I thought were good lines, and if the models wero not perfect, I tried to make the most of them. I carefully selected, and where I could I draped. I tried to show what was good, and hide what bad, at the same time keeping in view the intention that the figures should plainly relate their own stories, and the morals to be derived.

The CHAIRMAN—I will ask Mr. Fry to take the chair for a few moments, in order that I may say a few words which I think of very great importance to the future interests and to the progress of this art.

Mr. P. W. Fry then took the chair, and Mr. FENTON continued as follows:—

At the last meeting of the copyright-committee of the Society of Arts, before the adoption of their report, the question arose as to the position which photography ought to occupy in art, and, while every wish was displayed to give photographers the fullest protection that they could desire for the works that they should produce, yet there was a feeling among the artistic part of the Committee that they (the photographers) were not entitled to rank among artists, but must be content to claim their copyright protection as reproducers of art. Against that position I dissented very strongly, and, I am glad to say, not without some success, for, although I was at first outvoted, the matter was again taken into consideration, and the difficulty of giving a direct decision was avoided by leaving the matter an open question. I think that as the question is now before us fer consideration, it would be well that photographers should devote some consideration to it—that they should take the trouble to go to the Photographic Society’s Exhibition and look at the attempts that have been made, some very crude, all imperfect, but yet the beginning of the artistic application of photography. I will not refer to the picture before us, which, with all respect to its very great merit, I think is too ambitious a beginning, and which, I have no doubt, has been pointed out us a failure, though it only claims to be an attempt to show what may be done by photography; but I will refer you to small pictures. I will refer to a picture by Mr. Grundy, of Birmingham, of the Wilkie or Teniers kind. It is a picture of a Fisherman—a single figure, in which the lines have all been artistically arranged, the pose of the figure, and the chiaroscuro, have all studied—there is everything in it but colour, and even that is suggested—there is expression also, though doubtless expression of a low order. The question was started, whether it was possible to obtain a picture of a high character from the actual living model? To that picture I would refer as an answer to the question, as an answer to it with respect to a lower description of art. If you wish to answer it with respect to higher art, you have only to take the same pains, in the conception of the subject and in the selection of suitable to meet with the same success as you have done with the lower class of subjects. I make these remarks in the hope that they draw out your approval or dissent, that they will attract the attention of the Society to what has been done already, and stimulate its endeavours to carry out that little to a greater degree of perfection.

Mr. BUSS.—I think that, notwithstanding any adverse criticisms, they have been passed without appreciating or understanding the immense difficulties under which such a work as that before us has to be performed. The mind of the artist has been completely exemplified throughout; but the difficulties of the camera of course show themselves in the picture; and I am quite sure that those who have adversely criticised the picture are unacquainted with the difficulties of the camera. I am perfectly aware of them, and am astonished to see how well they have been overcome, and I can scarcely conjecture where he went for his models. I cannot allow this to pass without expressing my high appreciation of Mr. Rejlander’s production, and I have no doubt, from what has been said, that the art will be advanced by that gentleman.

Mr. LE NEVE FOSTER.—Although I perfectly agree with all that has been said with reference to the talents of Mr. Rejlander and the picture he has produced, and although I perfectly concur with every one in congratulating Mr. Rejlander in the attempt he has made in a direction to rescue photography from the reproach that it was merely a mechanical art, still I and several others have come here with the idea that we should not only hear an explanation of that picture, but some explanation of the means by which it was produced. If Mr. Rejlander has invented a mode of production, he has an undoubted right to keep it to himself; but I thought, from the title of the paper, we should hear some explanation of the means employed. I am utterly at a loss to know how he has produced that combination of figures from the various studies separately taken.

Mr. REJLANDER.—I thought that the paper explained what I meant to convey; but if it did not, and you will be pleased to ask me any questions, I be happy to answer them. I think I stated that I first commenced to print the figure called the Hag [pointing to the figure in the picture placed against the wall]. This was then a large plain sheet of sensitive paper. I put the negative of this Hag upon it, and carefully excluded the light from every part except the figure; and the black velvet with which I covered the whole plate, with the exception named, was wrinkled just round this figure: while the sun shone, according to the intensity of the light, the velvet was moved so as to prevent any lines: if the chemical light was very strong, it was moved very quickly; if it was slow, of course it was not moved so fast. After a while I looked at it, and if I found that it was as much over-printed as I wanted, knowing how it would come out, I took that paper out of the frame in the dark room, and I then applied this negative [pointing to another figure in the picture] as before, but In the place where I intended this figure to be, and of course, as before, I excluded the light from the entire sheet of paper, as also from the figure (the Hag) already printed; and to be sure that the half-tones on this side might be kept intact, I had another Hag printed and cut out very neatly, without being fixed, and subsequently allowed to blacken of itself. It ought to be albuminized, not plain paper, because plain paper is apt to slip, and albuminized paper, if it is slightly damped in distilled water, will stick in the place when applied over the printed part, while it is examined now and then. Thus I have gone on with every figure, until I came to the background. Every one was done in the same way: all were covered up, except what was to be printed; and I printed some, as I said, very deeply; and some others not so deeply, some slightly, according to the distances required; and after having printed all, as every one of these figures had been taken in the same light, all equally strong, in order to give gradation of tone, having covered up all these, I exposed this group, for instance, to the light, and it had the effect of apparently weakening the shades, while the lights were Intensified. Each figure was taken separately, each with separate backgrounds, as happened; one was an easel, another a warming-pan. Of course I had a right to stop that out; then I covered up every part, and I exposed parts alternately for a considerable time, so as to give value to this figure, and went on from one to another, until I got them more perfect. I should say it was done, the whole thirty figures and all, in six weeks, and that was a year ago. I hope that next year I shall do something better, and I shall take very great care not to lay myself open to animadversion upon the ground of indelicacy.

Mr. MONSON.—have seen Mr. Rejlander down at Wolverhampton; he has a very small operating-room in a mining district, in such a very bad town to obtain subjects that I do not know how he managed it. If you were to get up a picture in London, you would, perhaps, procure them readily; but Wolverhampton is the most unlikely place in the world for such a purpose. I was so interested in the subject of Mr. Rejlander’s picture, that directly I saw his name down to give a lecture I travelled up to London to hear it, and very much gratified I have been with its explanation.

Mr. BUSS.—May I ask if the picture was entirely produced at Wolverhampton?

Mr. REJLANDER.—Yes.

Mr. MONSON.—l think it a meritorious affair to produce large pillars from small models, and so on.

Mr. CRACE.—We must not forget other pictures that we have seen of Mr. Rejlander’s figures in action: we could not easily forget the “washing scene,” with figures hanging up the clothes and others in the suds, which could not be produced without a great amount of genius on his part, and practice in the drilling of the models to get them perfect; and then again, that scene of the factory-boy and his sweetheart walking one day in their working dresses, and the next day in their holiday attire. I consider that photography is materially advanced by the way he has produced absolute pictures; and while looking at this one, we should not forget the smaller works that have led to the great one.

A MEMBER.—Will you allow me to ask how long the picture has taken in printing, because if you keep a paper long after it has been excited, the high lights take a tint of yellow?

Mr. REJLANDER.—It takes three very fair days; but if you employ albuminized paper, you may accomplish it sooner; but if you are careful, you may keep it perfect three or four days. It has happened sometimes that some of the lights have slightly tinged, but not more than has been obviated by immersion in the hyposulphite of soda. It takes three good summer days to produce a picture like this one.

The CHAIRMAN (exhibiting a photograph). Mr. Rejlander requests me to show this picture to the Society, as illustrating a most important point in art. You will notice that the muscles of the fore-arm are very much contracted, while the rest of the muscles are comparatively flaccid; one of the muscles, the biceps, is so rigid, that if it had been so drawn in a picture it would have been pronounced an exaggeration; but it is really what we see in nature, the powerful contraction for a single moment of a set of muscles in energetic action—a condition which lasts for a few moments only, and which therefore the painter and sculptor almost always fail in attempting to copy.

Mr. REJLANDER.—There is among artists a conventionalism, that when a man is drawn of great muscle, for the sake of keeping, all the muscles in the body are drawn apparently equally developed, which could scarcely happen. I want to show that, of those muscles which are greatly excited, the opposite ones are just as quiescent. If any man presses me hard here (placing his hand upon his arm), this will be developed, and these muscles (here) will be perfectly flaccid. I hope photography will do art so much good, that people will know that all the muscles should not be painted in action because some are.