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in manner different the one from the other, call for more express notice. The authors which these artists, in the present Academy, illustrate-Thomas quoting lines from Ballantine, a poet after the Burns type, and John choosing a passage from Scott's 'Abbot'—will indicate the diverse paths in which the two brothers severally walk. Mr Thomas Faed's picture, indicated by the homely quotation, "He was faither and mither and a' things tae me," is humble in scene. The tenants or visitors in this honest shoemaker's shop are children of the poor, rustics of a village, and all the accessories such as Wilkie might have hit upon in his happiest moments, or Teniers and Ostade painted when in their best manner. The brother, Mr John Faed, we have said, as a contrast somewhat, in his pleasing and polished picture, Catherine Seyton,' aims at a more lofty mark. We surely have never seen this artist to better advantage than in 'Catherine' in the act of "glancing her deep-blue eyes a little towards Roland Græme." The pictures of Mr Horsley, especially 'The Bashful Swain,' are agreeable through a like polish of exterior, which is indeed more than external, reaching beneath the surface down to the underlying sentiment—a sentiment not only refined and smooth, but bright with laughter and sparkling in wit.
Landseer, whose lions for Trafalgar Square have been so long looked for, presents to the Academy polar bears and squirrels. It is not for some years that this consummate painter of animal life has been so much himself. As of old, he here not only gives smoothness of coat and texture of hair, but seems at the same time, by an art too subtle for analysis, to portray the inner nature and mute consciousness of the brute creation, making the silent actors in the scenes he delineates move the spectator to terror; or, on the other hand, by beauty and pathos awaken to sympathy. Mr Cooper, also, we may congratu
late as having reverted to his happiest manner. These two leading masters of animal-painting are, however, as unlike the one to the other as if their studios and easels were planted in opposite hemispheres. Landseer romances with his subject; Cooper is as literal, though not so hard, as Paul Potter. Yet Cooper, too, has his moods of poetry, as when he makes his herds repose in peaceful meadows, lying beside still waters a landscape which, for flooding daylight, Cuyp would have loved to look on.
Furthermore, the present Academy is fortunate in the possession of masterpieces by four of its foremost members, Stanfield, Roberts, Creswick, and Cooke. Stanfield's two contrasted yet companion pictures, 'Peace' and 'War,' show the genius of this honoured and veteran artist great and grand as ever in intent; only the hand which once dashed so boldly among the stormy elements, shows now more timorous solicitude. David Roberts has seldom concentrated so much material, or in one picture so fully deployed his varied powers and resources, as in The Mausoleum of Augustus,' which is indeed little short of an epitome of the entire city of Rome. This picture displays the artist's habitual largeness of manner; it triumphs in a certain broad histrionic treatment, the reverse of that penny-a-lining which some painters, having in their eye no fine frenzy, believe to be the signmanual of genius. T. Creswick's 'Beck in the North Country' is a giant among landscapes, yet quiet in manner and unobtrusive as English pastorals are wont to be, especially when this Wordsworth of painters, with truth-loving pencil, follows after nature in beauty unadorned. Lastly, among the few memorable pictures of the year which lapse of time from the mind will not efface, must rank pre-eminent 'The Ruins of a Roman Bridge, Tangier,' by E. W. Cooke. This artist seems in no ordinary degree to unite an imagination of fine intuition with a
mind made accurate by science. His pictures are painted with an intellectual purpose-they contain even didactic truth; and thus, while they delight the fancy, they add to the stores of the intellect.
A word may be devoted to three festive compositions, products of the Royal Marriage-works which, like laureate odes, have to contend with materials untractable in the hands of either painter or poet. Pictures of state-ceremonials serve up, of necessity, the fashions and the forms found in milliners' showrooms, in barbers' shop - windows, or on the lay figures of a tailor's fitting establishment. It is fair, however, to admit, that the artists engaged on the recent auspicious occasion have acquitted themselves with more than usual credit. In order of time, the first scene is 'The Landing of the Princess Alexandra at Gravesend,' by H. O'Neil, exhibited in the Academy-a cheerful, pleasing picture, to be commended especially for the fulllength figure of the Prince, supremely gentlemanly in bearing, which, considering the pictorial parodies to which Royalty has to submit, is saying a great deal. The next event commemorated is 'The Sea - King's peaceful Triumph on London Bridge,'-a picture which, notwithstanding the sentimentality of its title, must be accepted less as a loving chronicle than as a laughing comedy. Mr Holman Hunt has, in the choice of a Hogarth-subject, mistaken his vocation. The incidents are scattered and confused; the execution wants dexterity and facile play; and the colour is black, opaque, and crude. The artist should graduate in the Frith school ere he ventures to repeat a like attempt. "The After Glow in Egypt,' however, exhibited by the same artist in the same gallery, may be received as some set-off to the affair on London Bridge. Here is a single life-size figure of a Coptic girl bearing a sheaf of corn upon her head through the rich harvest valley of the Nile. Her eyes are of
jet, her lips of coral, and her skin of copper. Pigeons of spangled plumage, irridescent in purple, emerald, and gold, flock into the foreground. The sun has set, and now kindles "the after-glow," burning as a fire on the dusky brow of twilight. It may be objected that this picture, even like the 'Christ in the Temple,' is realistic, and nothing more. Yet by its marvellous brilliancy, by its superb colour, and even by its detail, true to deceptive illusion, does the work acquire power, and even attain to poetry. We have spoken of 'The Landing at Gravesend,' of 'The Triumph on London Bridge,' and now we come to a third scene, The Royal Marriage,' painted by G. H. Thomas. This certainly is a masterly performance; accurate in its drawing, firm in outline, brilliant in light and colour, yet quiet in well-tempered general effect. The style is not unlike that of Frith, only less elaborate in finish. The picture has probably been painted so as to present as few difficulties as possible to its "fac-simile reproduction in full colours;" therefore the outlines, as we have stated, are preserved in unbroken continuity, and the finish is kept within the limits of the chromolithographic process.
The two Water-Colour Exhibitions we have declared to be above usual average. In "the Institute, the most ambitious drawing is Mr Tidey's 'Night of the Betrayal,' composed as a triplych in three parts, a centre and two wings, after the manner which obtained in the altar-pieces of the middle ages. In the first of the series, the Garden of Gethsemane, Jesus, a noble figure gently bowed in sorrow, comes and finds the disciples sleeping. This serves as a prelude to the central composition, Christ brought before Caiaphas,' which in treatment fails as somewhat melodramatic. The third and closing act in the trilogy discloses Peter, after his denial, wandering forth, in the bitterness of his soul, to weep over his apostasy. This conception
of the impetuous apostle is the boldest and most original we have met with in the roll of modern art. Mr Tidey, however, were wise to forsake the vaporous light and shade to which he is addicted, and to brave in their stead the difficulties of a style more severe in its outlines and forms. His drawing must become more certain and precise; and he should submit to the labour of making elaborated studies, such as Perugino, Raphael, and Leonardo are known to have executed, as needful preliminaries to thoroughly mature works. Mr Corbould's 'Morte d'Arthur' is another ambitious flight into the upper regions of the painter's and the poet's art. The forms are lovely, and the finish, minutely detailed, bespeaks infinite labour. We could have wished, however, that the shadows had not been forced up to the last pitch of opaque blackness. But the drawing which in this gallery, if not indeed in the wide metropolis, stands supreme for rare artistic qualities, is Mr Jopling's 'Fluffy.' This fancy title is taken from a little doll of a dog which a lady is in the act of holding up to the gaze of doating affection. The head of the sweet and sympathetic girl, dowered with a crown of golden hair, is painted exquisitely. The colour cannot be surpassed for delicious harmony, and the execution is both facile and firm.
Entering the Gallery of the Old Water-Colour Society, many are the subjects which would tempt to long tarriance, did time permit. Mr Burton's Meeting on the Turret Stairs is a work which, by its precision of drawing, and by the mental expression which intelligent form can alone impart, will serve to enhance the reputation which this artist, through like high qualities, has already acquired. The tasteful compositions of Mr Alfred Fripp are delicious in delicate harmony of colour; the peasants of Mr Topham are hearty and healthful; the hunting and sporting scenes of Mr Fre
VOL. XCVI.-NO. DLXXXV.
derick Taylor give strength to the body and chivalry to the mind; "The Brittany Interior,' by Mr Walter Goodall, is homely, simple, and happy; the camels of Mr Carl Haag might satisfy the critical eye of a pilgrim to Mecca; and the Falstaff of Mr Gilbert was not surpassed by Mr Phelps in the revival of 'Henry IV.' at Drury Lane. Landscape art, in its changing moods of gay and grave, florid and sober-narrow as a homestead, or wide-stretching and sky-soaring as mountain, lake, or campagna—is faithfully and nobly represented by George Fripp, Whittaker, Birket Foster, Naftel, Palmer, Richardson, Branwhite, and Newton. The last of these painters this year shows himself a little unequal; his 'Loch Leven,' however, is up to his accustomed pitch of solemn power. Mr Richardson and Mr Palmer each glory in the shower of purple and gold which they shed over the face of a glorified nature. Mr George Fripp still stands alone for the purity of tone which he preserves through fidelity to the old and now almost obsolete use of transparent colour. The careful drawings of Mr Whittaker belong to the same abstemious school. As a contrast, Mr Branwhite gains in power more than he loses in tone or unity, by the bold use of pigments laid on with the free admixture of bodywhite. 'A Gleam of Winter Sunlight' is, for colour and vigour, one of the grandest works this artist has yet executed. Mr Birket Foster's
Kite-Flying' must rank among this artist's most charming efforts, whether we delight in the exquisite detail of the landscape, or in the drawing of the graceful and wellplaced figures. Other of his compositions attain what some critics have called breadth. To our eye, however, they show but signs of increasing hastean attempt to reach desired ends more rapidly— a courting of those ready means which most men are compelled to have recourse to at that period when overwhelming success brings
reward, and with reward snares and penalties.
This Society, which was never in so strong a position as at the present moment, has admitted within the last year several new Associates, some of whom will render the gallery more attractive through merit, others more notorious, by eccentricity. Of the former class we must rank as pre-eminent F. Walker, whose two drawings, 'Spring' and The Church - Pew,' have become prime favourites with all visitors. The first of these subjects consists of a little girl, who, gathering primroses on the confines of a wood, has become entangled in a bush, the interlacing branches of which cover the figure as by a network. The first effect produced on the spectator is that of surprise, and then —as in certain works of sculpture, wherein, for example, a man struggles to extricate himself from the meshes in which he is entrappedit is discovered that the artistic difficulty overcome is of easy mastery. In the present instance the figure, of course, is drawn first, and then, when finished, the intervening branches are pencilled in front. The other topic treated by Mr Walker-a family seated in a church-pew-is praiseworthy for quiet, unostentatious qualities, relying on accuracy of drawing and a treatment which, to its minutest detail, is governed by intention.
We have reserved the extraordinary productions of a new Associate, E. B. Jones, for strong protest. In the name of nightmare, convulsions, delirium, and apoplexy, we would demand to what order of created beings do these monstrosities belong? Ought these figures to be allowed to walk the earth, or shall they, as lunatics, be put in strait-waistcoats and thrust into an aslyum? We are not quite sure, however, whether the considerate artist has not already provided against the possibility of harm to quiet neighbours, by binding his incipient maniacs hand and foot, so mighty stiff are they, so shroud
like are the garments, and so innocent of action is every limb. We believe that Mr Jones has been worshipped by a select brotherhood as a designer for painted glass; and a certain blurred quality of execution would seem to suggest close connection with worsted-work also. A range of willow-pattern plates, again, as a background to poor Cinderella,' might indicate an alliance with the ceramic arts, and point to a long pedigree stretching far away towards the Great Wall of China. Certain it is that we shall have to go far enough off before we can meet with the prototypes of these singular works. It is, however, just possible that in the remote depths of the darkest of medieval centuries, innocent of anatomy, perspective, and other carnal knowledge, something like these non-natural figures might be found. And so, after all, Mr Jones may turn out not quite as original as he would at first sight seem, by these forms so studiously grotesque, by his contempt for beauty, and his persistent pursuit of unmitigated ugliness. Yet on the whole, as witness the 'Knight' and 'The Kissing Crucifix,' also 'The Anunciation,' we incline to the judg ment that Mr Jones has surpassed all that ever went before him. We are told that these compositions should be approached with reverence, and we think so; especially the angel Gabriel, who seems as simple and unadorned as any maidof-all-work. This servant, up in the morning betimes, was sweeping one of the outer courts of heaven when requested to hook on a pair of wings and descend to earth with an errand. We beg to observe that if holy things are here brought to ridicule, the fault is with the painter, not in us.
With this egregious exception, and with the addition of a few solitary examples scattered through other galleries, the much-vaunted Preraphaelite school of figure and landscape painting may be said to be extinct. The pictures and draw
ings of Mr Hamerton certainly, indeed, show-as did a book, The Painter's Camp in the Highlands,' of which Mr Hamerton was the author-decided Preraphaelite and Ruskinite proclivities. These pictorial efforts, kindly submitted to public view under the care of the man "Thursday," must be admitted as every way creditable to an amateur. They, however, by no means induce us to alter the opinion we have long entertained of the impracticabilities of this thankless school-a school which makes of its disciples slaves, and reduces art to drudgery. These penalties, attaching to the carrying out of certain plausible but essentially false principles, seem to have disgusted the leaders of a schism which at one time threatened in its consequences to grow serious, if not fatal. However, as we have said, this eccentric school is now all but extinct. The pictures of Mr Millais, and even of Mr Holman Hunt, are naturalistic, and nothing more. The landscape this year exhibited in the Academy by Mr Brett, an artist hitherto identified with the most ultra of dogmas, is wholly free from extravagance, and may be commended for a beauty which, in the Bay of Naples,' no Preraphaelite spectacles were needed to discover. These and other vigorous men, it is to be hoped, have at length thrown off a bondage which became intolerable to bear. Still it is to be feared that others of the weaker sort have foundered in deep and troublous waters, and will remain for ever lost. Thus-less fatally, on the whole, than might at one time have been expected-ends a drama which was put upon the stage with more than ordinary pomp and flourish of advertisement.
We have been much pleased with a brilliant series of drawings executed by Mr William Simpson during a tour of three years through the most renowned portions of our Indian empire. They are remarkable alike for their artistic beauty, their historic truth, and their topo
graphic fidelity. We regret that space does not enable us to survey in detail two other Exhibitions, to which, since the close of the International Galleries at Kensington, the English public have been indebted for the knowledge of recent productions of Continental schools. The French and Flemish Exhibition of the present year is chiefly to be remembered by two noble works of the Belgian Gallait; a cabinet picture, great, nevertheless, in genius, by Gerome, the painter of 'The Duel,' 'The Gladiators,' and 'Phryne;' and a masterpiece by Edouard Frere-small, of course, but choice. To the Scandinavian Gallery, at a moment when the sympathies of our countrymen are directed towards the sufferings and heroism of a brave nation, peculiar interest attaches. Denmark, in literature, science, and the arts, can boast of illustrious antecedents. Thorwaldsen the sculptor, Oersted the man of science, Worsaae the antiquary, and Hans Christian Andersen the writer of romance, have given to this comparatively small kingdom no inconsiderable renown in the realms of intellect. And walking into this Scandinavian Gallery, it is satisfactory to obtain ocular proof that genius has not abandoned her favourite shores, washed by the storm-lashed wave.
A review of the London Art-Season were incomplete did it not contain some notice of the great mural paintings executed in the Palace of Westminster. Two years since we spoke in terms of more than common admiration of the power and mastery displayed in a vast waterglass painting, twelve feet high by forty-five feet wide, The Meeting of Wellington and Blucher after the Battle of Waterloo,' then recently completed in the Royal Gallery by Mr Maclise. The companion picture, Trafalgar the Death of Nelson,' has engaged the untiring labour of the same artist during the past year, and is now in a forward state. Within the last few months have been put up, in the Peers' and