A mere portrait, in the dash and brilliancy of its execution or the decorative quality of its color, may be better than a picture of indifferent execution or poor color; the one may be worth keeping in a limited circle, or even of some use decoratively in a more general way, while the other is not worth preserving at all. But there is hope for the man who attempts to paint a picture, to produce a work of art, though he fails miserably; whereas there is no hope for the brilliant technician whose sole ambition is to paint and sell his canvas photographs as rapidly as possible. Manet’s “Child with a Sword” is a superb portrait of a child,--a model, to be sure, but none the less a little human being, with as many attributes of life and humanity as the child whose parents pay the price of a likeness. Manet’s chief merit lies in the fact that all his life long he tried to paint pictures, sometimes successfully, sometimes unsuccessfully; never with any profound insight into human nature or life, but always straightforwardly and sincerely, and with a strong, firm hand. He painted many portraits of his sister and his friends, but invariably with the intention to do something of more universal validity than a likeness. The casual visitor to the Louvre may examine at his leisure the little “Infanta” and the “Mona Lisa,” both great pictures, both great portraits, but of the two the portrait element is rather more pronounced in the Velasquez than in the Leonardo. The little “Infanta” is there for all time on the canvas, precisely as she was in the painter’s studio, a wonderful portrait of a child, a wonderful picture of a bit of humanity, but less of a type than an individual. As for the “Mona Lisa,” who can doubt that in the long years the painter worked on this portrait all superficial resemblances and characteristics disappeared until the constant, the elemental, the soul alone remained? It possesses many of the qualities of the idealized madonnas of Italian religious art. It began with the painter’s admiration of a beautiful woman, an individual of that day and generation; it ended with an ideal which will last so long as the slowly-darkening pigments retain line and lineaments. * * * * * The mere adding of accessories in the way of composition or background or the adoption of a classic or theatrical pose may make the work more decorative, but it does not enhance the real merit of the portrait, the status of which cannot be altered by the surrounding canvas. When Mrs. Siddons entered Reynolds’s studio, he said, as he conducted her to the raised platform: “Take your seat upon the throne for which you were born, and suggest to me the idea of the ‘Tragic Muse.’” “I made a few steps,” relates the actress, “and then took at once the attitude in which the ‘Tragic Muse’ has remained.” When the portrait was finished, Sir Joshua said: