From the Library of Frank Simpson 4* Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2014 https://archive.org/details/arttreasuresexamOOcarb THE lRT-TREASURES EXAMINER: A PICTORIAL, CRITICAL, AND HISTORICAL RECORD OF THE ART-TREASURES EXHIBITION, AT MANCHESTER, IN 1857. ILLUSTRATED BY UPWARDS OF 150 ENGRAVINGS ON WOOD, BY J. LINTON, H. LINTON, F. J. SMYTHE, R. LANGTON, W. MORTON, T. S. JEWSBURY, M. CARBONNEAU, M. FACNION, &c., &c. ALEXANDER IRELAND & Co., ■>•>, MARKET STREEP 1 , MANCHESTER W. H. SMITH & SON, 180, STRAND. LONDON. / The object of the Art-Treasures Exhibition was to make known to the people of England the art-wealth of their own country, and, by inducing a greater familiarity with the beautiful, to increase and extend its refining influences. The successful issue of the experiment will be seen in the following Report from the Executive Committee : — ' ' The executive committee avail themselves of the earliest opportunity to submit to you a preliminary report upon the financial result of the Exhibition, which closed on the 17th instant ; and in accordance with the terms of the resolution of the meeting held in the Town Hall, on the 20th day of May, 1856, which devolved upon the general body of subscribers the final disposal of the Exhibition Building, and the appropriation of any surplus which might arise from the undertaking, now seek from you such additional powers as will enable them to realise the property and close all the accounts in the shortest possible time. The Exhibition was kept open during 142 days, of which two — on the occasion of the opening, and the public visit of Her Majesty the Queen — were reserved for the holders of two-guinea season tickets, and on the remainder the public were admitted by payment at the doors. " The total number of paying visitors reached 1,053,538. The season ticket holders of both classes availed themselves of then- privileges to enjoy 282,377 visits, making the total number of visitors 1,335,915. " Up to the public close of the Exhibition, on the 17th instant, the cash receipts, from all sources, standing to the credit of the committee may be stated at ,£98, 500. The total expenditure up to the same period, and the farther liabilities which are definitively known to the committee, such as cost of police to the end of November, insurance of all kinds, rents, -alue by money. Name the sum at which we s)i. ild all stand by, to see the Chandos Shakspeare de- stroyed, and a bonfire made of the living pages of our history left to us by Holbein and Vandyke ! The arrangement of the old masters by Mr, Scharf is excellent. He has put rival schools face to face ; and he bids us go once more over the old ground of criticism. He has given up one wall to Italian art, and the wall opposite, to the German schools. Here are Titian and Rubens, nobly represented, with Giorgione and Bellini for gentlemen ushers ; — with curious old Germans, cramped but curious. But the Byzantine school, we regret to say, cannot be said to be represented. Let us speed forward, however, and cheerfully too, seeing the glories of the palette that have decked the " ringing grooves of change." Wel- come to Manchester is the great Fleming, whom 2 ART ■ TREASURES EXAMINER. we have seen in all his glory in his native Ant- werp ; where he worked, and where his palace still stands, the chief attraction of the place. Welcome, too, these curious canvasses of the Italian Revival, from Liverpool and Oxford, collected hy General Guise and Koscoe. Here the English public may fairly study caricature, and thee, 0 ! quaint Giotto. Thrice welcome saintly Raphael ! The south-west corner of this first gallery is interesting, too, with its Van Eycks, Angelico da Fiesole, &c. Early Flemish and German art show a wondrous dawn in the Adora- tion of the Lamb by Hubert and John Van Eyck, of which Mr. Lemme, of London, has offered the copy in his possession. In the early German school, Prince Albert, the Duke of Newcastle, Lords Brougham and Ward, and Mr. Beresford Hope, have afforded most valuable illustrations. We note, in passing, the Oxford picture by Grunewald. And then we move eastward — per- plexed and dazzled, and tired by the art-wealth through which we have already wandered. Past the Umbrian school, represented by Pietro Perugino; past Botticello's works with their Greek inscriptions ; past Bartolomulo's great "Eiposo," for which we have to thank Lord Cowper ; even past Raphael's early "Crucifixion," once in the Fcsch collection — and his other works — store-houses for the art student ; past (on the opposite side), Quentin Matsys and Albert Durer — to the first vestibule, sacred to the schools of Ferrara and Parma, and some Spanish palettes. We arc in the second gallery, and in the presence of Rubens and Vandyke. Here we promise ourselves the delight of a long, perhaps a brown study, in which we shall in- clude a very deliberate halt before Vandyke's Rubens ; and before some exquisite touches of Jordaens. Here too (we are still advancing) are Nicolas and Gasper Poussin, Giorgione's " Judg- ment of Paris," Titian's great portraits, Paul Veronese, Tintoretto, Annibale Caracci ! We are fairly tired — tired as the pilgrim in the cast is tired — with the glare of the sun. In this Art-Treasures Exhibition there is some- thing to study at every footstep, — so that the attention is rapidly exhausted, and the visitor feels an indescribable fatigue, if he attempt to make the tour of it, in a few hours. There are days of fruitful thought to be gathered in the his- torical gallery of portraits alone. There are pleasant hours to be passed among the mi- niatures, and the photographs, and the Rem- brandt etchings. Centuries of art, to twist Napoleon's words, shine down from the walls to dazzle and unnerve the student, who, with trembling footsteps, is advancing to the threshold of the temple. He stands in awe before these priests who have ministered, and, from their tombs, still minister, at the high altar. Nor shall the lads of the loom look upon the noble lessons here thrown open to them, without being im- pressed. If one of them turn from these walls, and stroll home, strong in a determination to achieve something ; not in vain will Messrs. Deane and Peter Cunningham have laboured through the winter to the fifth of May. And we are pleased to believe that to this great gather- ing of British treasures, a new era shall in future times be traced, in which Art took English Industry by the hand, and gave her all she needed to command the world. Reform in any branch of study invariably de- pends on some rule, which, promulgated and adopted by the schools, gradually produces a general revolution in opinion, and opens a new field to a suce. seding age. — Lanzi's History of Painting in Italy. THE OPENING OF THE ART- T R E A S U R E S P AL ACE. We had left the Exhibition late on Monday afternoon. Then pictures were lying about in all directions; ladders were against the walls ; and we had to pick our way .".mid piles of BCT3WE and hammers, and rolls of red cloth. Mr. Egg was there with his long bunch of feathers, fondly taking every particle of dust from the master- pieces of the English school ; Dr. Roylc was still hovering in the midst of his oriental treasures ; Mr. Peter Cunningham was carrying priceless miniatures about, taking great care of his valuable little family ; and Mr. Deane was everywhere. In the refreshment rooms, the smart waiting women were counting the plate ; and in the galleries LordOverstone and Mr. Fairbaim were watching the progress of the executive. We had seen the Crystal Palace in Hyde Park, and the Palais de LTndustric, on the eve of opening, but there all was confusion ; everything late. In Paris, thou- sands of visitors were glad to witness the inau- gural ceremony from the modest eminence of packing eases. Dresses were torn with nails, or soiled with paint. But the Art-Treasures Exhibition, on the eve of the opening ceremony — although pictures were lying about and carpenters' tools were conspicuous — was in admirable order. Therefore, when we entered the building, on Tuesday morning, we were in no way surprised to see the long passages brilliant with spotless crimson cloth ; chairs and benches arranged in rows about the galleries, and every picture in its place. In no part could we perceive that a vacant space had been hastily and clumsily covered from the e) - cs of the ten or twelve thousand persons who, before one o'clock, were gathered under the glazed roof of the nave. The brilliant dresses gave a holiday aspect to the place ; while the bright faces of the delighted wearers, the hasty search for commanding posi- tions, and the arrival from time to time of known personages, left the attention unwearied through- out the interval that elapsed before the arrival of the Prince. The side galleries were barred off till the Exhibition had been declared open by Royal lips. That is, they were barred to general visitors ; but the bars fell back, before magic red tickets, marked "Press. " In these side galleries — amid the gems of the British School, and the glories of the old masters, wandered innumerable deputy-lieutenants, wearing their glaring uni- forms with more or less grace, and paying attention to elaborate toilettes, supported apparently, in most cases, by Jupons comtcsses; befurred muni- cipal authorities ; awkward gentlemen, in unne- cessary court dresses ; officers wearing the ( Irimeari medal ; the Earl of Yarborotlgh, in a bath chair ; Baron Damier, His Majesty Soulouque's representative (black and beaming) ; SirH. Smith, and vigorous observers from the London papers, taking notes in light gloves. We should not fail to notice the bright face of the Times' Crimean commissioner, with his glass strapped to his side. Here were grave senators — there were sagacious diplomatists, — the learned Van de Weyer looking not the least sagacious. It was a scene full of life. The great work was accomplished, and the workers appeared radiant among their friends, to receive their congratulations. The day was clouded, but it could not dull the brilliant dresses that filled the transept galleries, giving them the appearance of great bough-pots planted before the state chair upon the dais. The sides of the orchestra , too, were packed with ladies ; while, skirting the transept were all the choicer toilettes of the day — a perfect exhibition of the modern modiste's art. Flowers gleamed in a thousand fair hands, and girdled the daintiest bonnets; only the police- men looked stern — borne down possibly with the burden of the power entrusted to them. No ordinary philosophy is required to repulse a pretty face from a side gallery. In the refreshment room, Mr. Donald's deputies were assuming a calmness which they could not have felt, in face of the invasion of the bufi'ets, that was inevitable. The members of the orchestra might be seen stealing up the almost deserted side galleries, sacred yet for an hour to general deputy-lieu- tenants, aldermen, and the press. Presently Madame Clara Novello made her appearance in front of (he orchestra, followed by Messrs. Sims Reeves, Weiss, and Dalle, and was received with applause. It was evident that the Prince was on his way from Abney Park to the building. People began to press about the transept ; chairs were thrust into conspicuous positions; a man, in a felt cap, stepped up the steps of the dais, and added some gold cords to the chair of state, — per- fume to the violet! Mr. Deane was seen fluttering fitfully about, giving final orders. The red coats of the military ; the blue coats covered with stars and ribands of the diplomatists ; and the sombre gowns of the clergy, drew around, all backed by the parti-coloured crowds of ladies. The white wand of Mr. Charles Halle ap- peared. That buzz, by which a vast concourse of people expresses its excitement, vibrated through the building. The policemen looked sterner than ever, and people popped up from their seats to catch a glimpse of the distant doors. Especially nervous was the solemn member of the force who guarded the Prince's reception chamber, with its splendid furniture ; the gold inkstand upon the table ; the malachite pen lying upon the jewelled dish, and the virgin book upon which the illus- trious visitor's name was to be presently entered. The boom of the cannon now sounded through the building. Mr. Halle raised his wand, and with it the ten or twelve thousand persons present. The National Anthem filled the air, and every male head was uncovered. The Prince had arrived. Here he was met by the Mayor and the following members of the corporation, in their robes of office: — Aldermen Sir Elkanah Armitage, Bancroft, Barnes, Bowker, Heywood, Mackie, Ncild, Nicholls, Sir John Potter, M.P. (in a court dress), Shuttleworth, Watkins, and Willert; Councillors Williams, Gibson, Parnell, Joseph Lamb, Howard, Walker, Pratt, M'Gill, Worthington, Dyson, Newton, Hetherington, Curtis, Ellis, Mouutcastle, King, Sharp, Goadsby, W. H. Lamb, Grave, Robinson, Fletcher, Ryder, M'Connell, Clark, Haworth, Crewdson, Cottrell, Rumney, Jones, Bennett, Bake, Neill, Rawson. The Mayor said he had great pleasure in presenting an address from the corporation to his Royal Highness. The Town-clerk then read the CITY ADD1EESS. " TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE ALBERT, K.O. "May it please your Royal Highness, — ■ " We, the Mayor, Aldermen, and Citizens of the city of Manchester, gladly avail ourselves of the opportunity afforded by the visit of your Royal Highness to renew the expression of our regard for your Royal Highness, and of our admiration of the many public and private virtues by which your Royal Highness is eminently distinguished. " We offer to your Royal Higness our most hearty congratulations on the recent safe and auspicious birth of a princess, and we fervently pray that the valuable life of Her Most Gracious Majesty, happily preserved, may be long continued to be, as hereto- fore, a blessing to her family and her people, " While, we refer with pride to the occasion which has induced your Royal Highness to revisit our city, we feel imperatively called upon to express our warmest gratitude to your Royal Highness for having cordially consented to honour by your presence the opening of the magnificent building in which we stand, raised by the public spirit and spontaneous liberality of our fellow-citizens for the reception of many of the priceless treasures of ancient and modern art existing in the United Kingdom. " We rejoice in the complete success which has attended the efforts of those upon whom the responsi- bility of this undertaking has devolved, — a success which has exceeded the most sanguine anticipations, and which we attribute mainly to the condescending and zealous patronage graciously extended by our beloved Sovereign. " The encouraging example afforded by Her Most Gracious Majesty and your Royal Highness in thus zealously supporting an exhibition originating in a desire to instruct and gratify the people has been emulated in the noblest spirit of liberality by the possessors of art-treasures throughout the kingdom, and the promoters have thus been enabled to con- gratulate themselves on the splendid realisation cf their purposes, which is presented in the imposing spectacle around us. " As representatives of the vast population by whom we are surrounded, we venture most respect- fully to assure your Royal Highness that we hail, with the greatest joy and satisfaction, the intimation that it is the gracious intention of Her Majesty the Queen to honour the Exhibition with a royal visit. " We specially rejoice in the hope of this event as affording another opportunity of evincing the deep and universal feeling of loyalty and attachment to Her Majesty's person, which prevails within and around this city, and the profound sense of gratitude which exists for the care and solicitude very graciously manifested by our beloved Queen in favour of what- ever is calculated to secure and promote the improve- ment and happiness of Her Majesty's subjects. " That your Royal Highness may be long spared to secure and increase the happiness of our most gracious Queen, and to be a blessing to your children, and to the nation, is our most fervent prayer. 3 " Given wider the common seal of the corporation this twenty-ninth day of April, one thousand eight hundred and fifty-seven." The address was beautifully engrossed and emblazoned on vellum, backed with rich dark velvet ; the case consisting of red morocco, artistically ornamented with gold. The Prince's reply was delivered in a low voice, but its spirit was kindly and thoughtful. It was especially happy where allusion was made to the public spirit and the honourable confidence with which possessors of art-treasures had con- fided their precious possessions to the executive committee. THE PRINCE'S REPLY. " Mr. Mayor, Aldermen, and Gentlemen, — " I have received, with feelings of no ordinary gratification, the address which you have presented to me, expressing such kindly feelings towards my- self, and professing to represent the good wishes of the vast community which is collected in and around this city. " It will, I am sure, be most pleasing to the Queen, to receive, from the expressions contained in the address, a fresh assurance of the loyal interest taken by her people in all that concerns her happiness. " I most willingly attend here this day to assist at a ceremony which the inhabitants of Manchester may well witness with pride, as its object is to inaugurate an Exhibition, collected by the exertion of their en- terprise and public spirit, and intended, not for the amusement and gratification of the neighbourhood alone, hut for the instruction and improvement of the nation at large. " You justly allude, in terms of gratitude, to that comprehensive and liberal spirit which has adorned the walls of this building with the choicest specimens of art, from so many private galleries of the kingdom. It added much to the pleasure with which the Queen and myself had complied with the application for works of art belonging to us, when we found this example so generally followed by the possessors of treasures which are, in general, so reluctantly en- trusted by their owners to the care of others. " The Queen will, I am confident, be glad again to visit Manchester, not only to mark by her presence her approval of the object and successful execution of this great undertaking which we have this day to celebrate, but from a recollection of the enthusiastic loyalty exhibited when she had formerly an opportu- nity of visiting this great centre of industry." The nave bad hitherto been covered by one vast and brilliant crowd ; but now policemen, and commissioners, and all kinds of people in authority, intermixed, we suspect, with many who assumed authority if they had it not, — were seen, waving ladies and gentlemen back within their proper limits ; till presently a broad red line of carpet appeared, stretching from the nave to the Sevres vase near the entrance — a grand cordon for the Prince to walk upon. The sound of the great orchestra died away, and people re-seated themselves, waiting impatiently for the re-appearance of the Prince from his reception room. They were not kept long in suspense. At half-past two, the leader of the orchestra rose once more, a cheer broke from the farther ex- tremity of the nave, and the Prince, surrounded by a brilliant suite, could be seen advancing through the grove of people. Gracefully bowing to all around, the Eoyal Consort ascended the steps of the dai's, and stood near the state chair. Then the rich voice of Madame Novello, sup- ported by a fine chorus, gave the words of the National Anthem. The Prince turned towards the orchestra, and remained evidently enjoying the fine execution of this stirring music, or bow- ing and smiling as he recognised some face in his neighbourhood. The last verse was finely delivered by Messrs. Sims Reeves and AVeiss. On the conclusion of the vocal performance of the National Anthem, Lord Overstone presented the Prince with the following address : — - "TO niS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE ALBERT, K.G. " May it please your Royal Highness, — " In the name of the general council, of the executive committee, and of all the officers connected with the preparatory arrangements of this great undertaking, I approach your Royal Highness with the expression of our deep sense of obligation for the constant interest which your Royal Highness has taken in the success of the Exhibition now about to be opened for the gratification and instruction of the public. Before, however, we enter upon the more for- mal proceedings of this day, we beg to tender to your Royal Highnesss our sincere condolence on the event which has brought sorrow to Her Most Gracious Majesty our Queen, to your Royal Highness, and to the members of the royal family, and which has at the same time caused deep regret to Her Majesty's subjects, who have long admired the virtues and respected the character of her late Royal Highness the Duchess of Gloucester. " In Ihe presence of your Royal Highness amongst US undef these painful circumstances, and the decision of your Royal Highness not to suspend the ceremonial of this day, we gratefully recognise a delicate consi- deration of the importance of the occasion, and a gracious desire not to disappoint the vast numbers who must have made arrangements, which it would have been impossible to postpone. At the same time, we respectfully appreciate and sympathise with those feelings which cause your Royal Highness to desire to remain, in all other respects, in the strictest privacy. " Overstone, President of the General Council." His Royal Highness returned the following reply :— " My Lords and Gentlemen, — " You are very kind in thinking at this moment of the bereavement which has befallen the Queen and her family. " In the Duchess of Gloucester, we have all lost, not only the last of the children of that good king who occupied the throne during sixty years, and car- ried this country fearlessly and successfully through the most momentous struggles ot its history — and thus the last personal link with those times ; — but also a lady whose virtues and qualities of the heart had commanded the respect and lovotof all who knew her. " If I have thought it my duty to attend here to-day, although her mortal remains have not yet been carried to their last place of rest, my decision lias been rendered easy by the conviction, that could her own opinions and wishes have been known, she would, with that sense of duty and patriotic feeling which so much distinguished her, and the generation to which she belonged, have been anxious that I should not, on her account, or from private feelings, disturb an arrangement intended for the public good." Mr. T. Fairbairn, Chairman of the Executive, in military garb as deputy-lieutenant of the county, next advanced, and presented an address, as follows : — "TO HIS ROYAL HIGHNESS THE PRINCE ALBERT, K.G. " May it please your Royal Higness, — " We, the executive committee for conducting the Exhibition of Art-Treasures of the United Kingdom, appointed to our present offices at a meeting of the General Council of the Exhibition, held on the 20th day of May, 185(5, humbly approach your Royal Highness on the auspicious occasion of your presid- ing at this inaugural ceremony, to lay before your Royal Highness a short account of the history and progress of the undertaking to the present time. " Before alluding to our actual proceedings, we would ask permission to remark, that this great gathering of the most precious and remarkable works of art in the United Kingdom may be considered the legitimate offspring of that happy suggestion for the instruction and enjoyment of vast masses of our fellow creatures of all classes and countries, and for the good of all mankind, which, originating with your Royal Highness, had so glorious a triumph in the success of the Great Exhibition of the Works of Industry of all Nations in 1851. The interchange of knowledge which that magnificent undertaking, and its equally magnificent successor, the French Exhi- bition of 1855, effected, has already proved of the greatest value in advancing the art of design, and promoting all branches of human industry. Both those arenas of peaceful rivalry — so vivid in their contrasts to the more exciting international contests which we have since witnessed — were remarkable, as regards the English element, for two broadly-defined features ; they showed to the world at large, our best customers, the peculiar excellences of many of those great staple manufactures which employ and feed the industrial population of these islands; and they showed to ourselves our own deficiencies in matters of taste and design. Whilst therefore there was a mutual gain, and there sprung up a kindlier international feeling, there originated also a desire for the acquirement on the one band of a knowledge of the useful, and on the other an appreciation of the beautiful. " The promoters of the present Exibition conceived it possible to carry the beneficent intentions of their predecessors in such undertakings one step further. The project of a purely fine-art Exhibition on a great scale appeared at first sight, to say the least of it, somewhat problematical as regards its financial suc- cess. But when the subject was sifted, when it was found how comprehensive were its details and appli- cation, how wonderfully rich our happy country (untrodden for many a century by any foreign invader) unquestionably is, in all that unequalled wealth and civilisation could accumulate, and how much positive and immediate good was likely to result from the bringing together of the eager and inquiring minds of our time, with the realisations of the genius of past ages and other countries. — the project assumed a pro- portion of importance which at once commanded attention, and cried aloud for fulfilment. " The first suggestion of the Art-Treasures Exhibi- tion was submitted by Mr. Deanu, the general com- missioner of the Exhibition, to an influential meeting of Manchester gentlemen, on the 26th March, 1856. The scheme was favourably rcc'p'-'i,. and, dependent upon the success of the application for public support in the way of subscription, was voted into existence. And here we would request your Royal Highness's special attention to a remarkable feature in the history of this undertaking. Without any public appeal, with- out even a general local canvass, contributions to a guarantee fund amounting to not les; than £74,000 were raised in this city within a period of three weeks. From this fact we would draw the inference that the promoters of all schemes professing to commend them- selves by their intrinsic merits to public approval, need not and ought not to be deterred from promul- gating their patriotic efforts by the lack of positive money gifts, but would rather do well to test the sterling value of their conceptions by this form of appeal for the guarantee of the whole expenditure required. " Upon the completion of the guarantee fund, and after having obtained the patronage of Her Most Gra- cious Majesty the Queen, and the marked and special encouragement of your Royal Highness, we at once I invited designs for a building suited for the purposes of the Exhibition. After a careful consideration of the designs and estimates sent into us in competition, I that of Messrs. C. D. Young and Company, of Edin- j burgh, was finally selected. The building works, notwithstanding the intervention of winter months, | : having been brought to a timely and satisfactory com- I pletion, the interior decorations were entrusted to Mr. ' Crace, of London ; and we venture to hope that as regards their appropriateness for the favourable dis- play of works of art, the committee's decision, in | both respects, will meet with your Royal Highness's approval. " We gladly avail ourselves of the opportunity of conveying, through your Royal Highness, to our most gracious sovereign the expression of our profound gratitude for the cordial and most munificent patron- age and support which Her Majesty has vouch- safed to our labours. Her Majesty's "loyal subjects, in this part of her dominions, will recognise, in the variety, splendour, and rare excellence of Her | j Majesty's contributions to the Exhibition, another evidence of their sovereign's unceasing desire for the advancement of her people's true interests and wel- fare. We would also respectfully tender to your Royal Highness our grateful thanks for the valuable assistance and advice we have, on numerous occa- sions, received from your Royal Highness. " Without the support and co-operation of the owners of art-treasures throughout the kingdom, our undertaking would, as a matter of course, have failed. The character and excellence of the contributions by which your Royal Highness is now surrounded, and the value of the property deposited in this build- ing by so many contributors, form the noblest testi- mony to the patriotic and unselfish character of our countrymen of all ranks. We believe so general an evidence of self-denial and the sacrifice of personal convenience for the public good to be without a parallel ; and we sincerely feel how inadequate is the language at our command to express what is due from us to all, for the general support that has been accorded to us. " In connexion with our proceedings we would ! very briefly refer to the circumstances under which I one very important feature of the Exhibition, the well-known historic museum of decorative art, col- lected by M. Soulages, of Toulouse, has found its way to Manchester. Upon the refusal by Her Majesty's government to purchase this choice collec- tion at prime cost, we considered we were acting in ; the true interest of art in volunteering, on our individual responsibilities, to purchase the collection upon the terms that had just been refused. We desired that a collection of so high an educational value to our artizans should have the benefit of the widest possible examination ; and we would express a confident hope that it may yet be preserved in its entirety after the close of this Exhibition, for more general public instruction. " We cannot close this address without expressing a hope that, in the language used by your Royal Highness in the letter you addressed to our lamented president, the late Earl of Ellesmere, a national use- fulness will result from the educational direction which we have endeavoured to impart to the whole scheme. — On behalf of the executive committee, " Thomas Fairbairn, Chairman." The reply of the Prince was in the following terms : — " Gentlemen of the Executive Committeee, — " I thank you most sincerely for your kind address. " The expressions of loyalty and attachment to the Queen, which it conv^vs, will, I feel certain, be most gratifying to her. " I have with pleasure accepted your invitation to preside at the innaugural ceremony of an undertaking which I have watched with the deepest interest, from its first conception ; and I may now he allowed to congratulate you upon the success, which has, so far, crowned your labours. " The building in which we are assembled, and the wonderful collection of these treasures of art, as you so justly term them, which it displays, reflect the highest credit upon you. They must strike the be- holder with grateful admiration, not only of the wealth and spirit of enterprise of this country, but also of j ! ART -TREASURES EXAMINER. that generous feeling of mutual confidence and good- will between the different classes of society within it, of which it affords so gratifying a proof. " We behold a feast which the rich, and those who possess private collections, have set before those to whom fortune has denied the higher luxuries of life — bringing forth from the innermost recesses of their private dwellings, their choicest and most cherished treasures, and entrusting them to your care, in order to gratify the nation at large, — and this, too, un- hesitatingly, — at vour mere request, satisfied that your plans were disinterested and well matured, and that they had the good of the country for their object. " This is a gratifying sight, and blessed is the coun- try in which it is witnessed ! But no less so is the fact which has shown itself in this, as in other in- stances, that the great and noble of the land look to their sovereign to head and lead them in such patriotic undertakings : and when they see that the sovereign has come forward to give her countenance and assist- ance to the work, that they feel it a pleasure to co- operate with her, and not to leave her without their support, — emulating thus, in works of peace, the chivalric spirit which animated their forefathers in the warlike times of old. " You have done well not to aim at a mere accumu- lation of works of art and objects of general interest, but to give to your collection, by a scientific and historical arrangement, an educational character, — thus not losing the opportunity of teaching the mind as well as gratifying the senses ; — and manifold are the lessons which it will present to us. If art is the purest expression of the state of mental and religious culture, and of general civilisation of any age or people, — an historical and chronological review given at one glance, cannot fail to impress us with a just appreciation of the peculiar characteristics of the different periods and countries, the works of which are here exhibited to us, and of the influence which they have exercised upon each other. " In comparing these works with those of our own age and country, while we may well be proud of the immense development of knowledge, and power of production, which we possess, we have reason also for humility in contemplating the refinement of feel- ing, and intensity of thought, manifested in the works of the older schools. " I trust that you may reap, in the approbation of the public at large, and in the remunerative con- course of the people, the immediate reward of your labours, — and that, like the Exhibition of 1851, to which you so flatteringly allude, you may thus also find the means of closing your operations without having recourse to the guarantee fund, which this district has so generously put at your disposal. " Beyond this, however, I trust that the beneficial effects upon the progress of art and taste in our country, which we may confidently look to, may be a lasting memorial of your vast enterprise." In reply to the addresses of Lord Overstone and Mr. Fairbairn, the allusions of the Prince to George the Third, as " that good King who occupied the throne for sixty years, and carried this country fearlessly and success- fully through the most momentous struggles of its history," will hardly be relished by the British public. Yet the reply specially addressed to Mr. Fairijairn, willfindageneralapproval. Itis well for the country, where kindly words — in which the struggles of the poor are touched upon — fall upon the public ear from royal lips. The Prince rightly touched the spirit of the Exhibition, when he described it as a banquet offered by the rich to the poor, — a proof of harmony among classes. He declared that it was well that the executive of the Exhibition did not aim at a mere accumu- lation of works of art and objects of general interest, but gave the collection an educational character. He compared the old schools with the modern schools of art, and pointed the lesson of humility that lies in the comparison. The choir now pealed forth, " The Heavens arc telling," and then, in a clear and impressive voice, the Bishop of Manchester, attended by the Rev. Canon Stowell and the Rev. G. H. Anson, read the following prayer : — " Almighty God, in whose works we see combined all that is most grand in conception, skilful in adap- tation, and beautiful in execution, who hast given to us, Thy creatures, the power in some degree to recognise and adore Thy infinite perfections, bless, we beseech Thee, this work in which we are engaged, and prosper this our undertaking to the advancement of Thy glory, and the intellectual, moral, and spiritual good of Thy servants. Enable those who shall here regard these settings forth of subjects taken from Thy Holy 'Word, or representations of Thy works, 01 other manifestations of the several gifts and powers Thou hast entrusted to man, so to select and note whatever may lead them to a fuller recog- nition of Thy goodness, and to eschew whatever is contrary to, or derogating from, the same ; that, led by Thy Spirit into all truth, they may show forth the blessed result in increased love of Thee, in renewed purity of life and conversation. Grant that this undertaking may be made available to the ex- alting our national character, the chastening and elevating our taste, that, in all that is good and beautiful, acknowledging Thee, the author of all good gifts, we may the more readily obey with willingness Thy laws, and walk in Thy command- ments. And, as this undertaking is intended for the good of many, so may it, too, contribute to draw them together in mutual love and kindness, — the wealthier who have provided here the means of instruction and improvement, uniting in seeking to promote the common good, the less favoured in estate joyfully receiving and thankfully participating in the oppor- tunities and advantages accorded to them in this place. While we behold the various degrees and kinds of excellence which the imagination, learning, skill, or industry of men have at any time attained to, let us ever remember that all that is good is of Thee done, that, without Thee, nothing is strong, nothing is holy. ' Not unto us, O Lord, not nut.) us, but unto Thy name give the praise.' (Psalm cxv. 10.) " We acknowledge with thankfulness that Thou hast defended us from the perils of war, and pray Thee so to continue Thy mercies towards us, that all the world may know that Thou art our Saviour and Mighty Deliverer. Grant to us Thy grace, that henceforth, living a quiet and peaceable life, in all godliness and honesty, and cultivating the arts of peace, we may continually offer to Thee our sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving for Thy mercies ; and as it pleased Thee of old to fill Thy chosen servant with Thy spirit, ' in wisdom, and in understanding, and in knowledge, and in all manner of workmanship, to devise cunning works, to work in gold, and in silver, and in brass, and in cutting of stones to set them, and in ' carving' of timber, to work in all manner of work- manship' (Exod. xxxi.) to the declaration of Thy glory, so mayest Thou continue those Thy gifts to us, yet ever leading us to seek in spiritual understanding that more excellent knowledge, before which we shall count all things but loss. We bless Thee for our gracious Sovereign, and implore Thee to vouchsafe Thy goodness, that, in the fulness of Thy favour, she, witli her royal consort, and the other members of the royal. family, may be permitted to bring to good effect the good desires Thou puttest into their minds, for the well-being of those among whom they live. And finally, we would beseech thee to have mercy upon all men, and especially upon Thy holy catholic church throughout the world, that through Thy grace setting forth the knowledge of Thee, confirming the faithful, strengthening the weak, and enlightening the igno- rant, it may bind all men together in peace and good- will, love and charity, so to use together the good things which Thou bestowesl on earth, as to prepare them for that eternal manifestation of Thy glory which Thou hast promised to Thy faithful servants, through Jesus Christ, our only Lord and Saviour, to whom with Thee and the Holy Ghost, belong ' the greatness, and the power, and the glory, and the vic- tory, and the majesty for ever and ever.' (1st Cor., xxix. 11.) — Amen." The Lord's Prayer. Mr. Halle next took up the ceremony, and led a splendid performance of the Hun- dredth Psalm. As the last verse of the hymn died away, the masters of the ceremonies, or rather the general commissioners, who appeared to marshal everything, cleared the way, down the nave. The red path opened once more ; and the Prince, followed by his brilliantly-coloured entourage, and the Manchester corporation, went on his tour throughout the galleries. We could catch the points the procession reached, by the cheers that waited upon its path — cheers which the orchestra could not drown. Re- turned presently to the transept ; the Prince stood once more upon the dais near the state- chair, pleasantly talking to the Dukes of Bue- cleugh and Argyll. The coup d'ceil at this moment was imposing. Grouped around the Prince, himself in a field- marshal's uniform, with the deep blue riband of the garter peeping beyond his sash, rose the various official costumes of his suite ; the gaudy gowns of the mayor and aldermen ; — the uniforms of the Dukes Newcastle and Argyle. Selections from the Ode to St. Cecilia, filled the [nave with wondrous sound ; and the Prince kept time to the music. The organ notes died away, and then the Prince, in a loud clear voice declared the Art-Treasures Exhibition open ! Cheers, in response to the first of which His Royal Highness waved his hat, re- sounded through the building. There were hearty Lancashire cheers, too, amongst them. And the Queen was cheered, and there was a cheer for the baby. The ceremony was at an end. The Prince retired through the galleries devoted to the ancient masters ; the policemen gave up the approaches to the British school ; a side door, under the transept, was opened — and hungry crowds poured towards the fairy domain of Mr. Donald. Here Bath buns disappeared with awful rapidity ; military moustachios were bathed in ■herry ; helmets lay upon the floor near sturdy warriors who were deep in the mysteries of pork pies ; pretty hands were drawn from delicate gloves to handle light pastry; the fragrance of coffee enriched the air ! The Art - Treasures Exhibition was fairly opened, and the boys in neat blouses — painfully new and crisp — were selling catalogues by hun- dreds. May the sky keep blue above the Art- Treasures of England ! W. B. J. Amongst the distinguished persons present upon the dais, or in the principal transept seats, were the following : — The Marquis of Abercorn, groom of the stole ; Viscount Torrington, gentleman of the bedchamber ; General the Hon. C. Grey, pri- vate secretary ; Colonel Seymour and Colonel Ponsonby, equerries ; and Dr. Lyon Playfair, gentleman usher, in attendance upon His Royal Highness ; the Earl of Carlisle, Lord-Lieutenant of Ireland, with his suite ; the Duke of Argyll, the postmaster - general ; Earl Granville, lord president of the council ; Lord Stanley of Alderley, president of the Board of Trade ; Sir Benjamin Hall, president of the Board of Works ; the Hon. G. M. Dallas, envoy extraordinary and minister plenipotentiary of the United States ; M. Van de Weyer, envoy extraordinary and minis- ter plenipotentiary of Belgium ; Baron Damier, the Haytian ambassador ; Lord Overstone, pre- sident of the general council of the Exhibi- tion ; members of the executive committee — James Watts, Esq., chairman (ex-officio), Thomas Fairbairn, chairman, Thomas Ashton, William Entwisle, Joseph Heron, Edmund Potter, and S. J. Stern ; — the Duke of Newcastle ; the Mar quis of Clanricardc, the Marquis of Stafford, and the Marquis of Chandos ; Earl Powis, the Earl of Yarborough, and the Earl of Burlington ; Lord Lincoln, Lord Ward, Lord Belhaven, Lord Elcho, Lord Cavendish, M.P , Lord Broughton, and Lord Bclper ; the Right Rev. the Lord Bishop of Manchester, accompanied by the Rev. Canon Stowell and the Rev. G. H. G. Anson, his lord- ship's chaplains ; Lieutenant-general Sir H. G. Smith, Bart., G.C.B., general in command of the northern and midland districts ; Sir James Mon- teith, Sir Benjamin Hey wood, and Sir Humphrey de Trafford ; Alderman Sir John Potter, M.P., and James Aspinall Turner, Esq., M.P.: Manchester ; W. N. Massey, Esq., M.P., Salford ; John Chcetham, Esq., M.P., South Lancashire ; R. N. Philips, Esq., MP., Bury; James Ker- shaw, Esq., M.P., Stockport: Charles Hiudley, Esq., M.P., Asbton-under-Lync ; J. P. Browne Westhead, Esq., M.P., York ; and E. W. Watkin, Esq., M.P., Yarmouth; A. Beresford Hope, Esq., M.P., Maidstone ; H. Ingram, Esq., M.P., Boston ; R. D. Mangles, Esq., M.P., Guild- ford ; S. Heelis, Esq., mayor of Salford; C. Towneley, Esq., high sheriff of Lancashire ; William Atkinson, Esq., high sheriff of Che- shire; the Lord Mayor of London, the Lord Mayor of Dublin, the Lord Provost of Glasgow, Aldermen Salomons, Copeland, and Cubitt, M.P., Andover ; and Mr. Sheriff Mechi, and Mr. Sheriff Keats, of London ; Mr. Ross Mangles, chairman ; Sir F. Currie, deputy-chairmen, and Colonel Sykes, ex-chairman, of the East India Company ; Rear-Admiral Moorsom, C.B. ; the Hon. Captain Carnegie, C.B., R.N. ; Professor Owen and Pro- fessor Simpson ; Sir C. Eastlake, president of the Royal Academy ; Mr. Lewis, president of the So- ciety of Water-colour Painters ; Mr. AVarren, pre- sident of the new Water-colour Society ; Messrs. T. Bazley, E. Tootal, and W. R. Wood, deputy- lieutenants of the county (in their uniforms) ; Messrs. W. Fairbairn, C.E., F.R.S., J. Whit- worth, C.E., J. C. Harter, O. Hey wood, J. F. Foster (chairman of the Salford Quarter Sessions), John Pender, and many other sub- scribers to the guarantee fund ; Colonel Hodge, 4th Dragoons; Captain Huish ; Mr. S. G. Hall, Mr. Robert Chambers (Edinburgh), &c. ART -TREASURES EXAMINER " TITIAN'S DAUGHTER. AKT - TREASURES EXAMINEE. THE OLD MASTERS. ITALIAN SCHOOL. — I. TITIAN. By H. Ottlet, Esq. In proceeding to give biographical and critical notices of the great masters of various ages and countries, we shall find it impossible to establish any system, as to chronological order, or classi- fication of schools, in their succession. We must take them as they come, and as the subjects appropriate for illustrating their talent present themselves. Each of these sketches, therefore, I will be independent and complete in itself, — an isolated contribution to the general history of art. This enforced diffuseness, however, will be con- sidered of the less importance, when it is known that we purpose giving a series of articles descrip- tive of the various schools, from the earliest time of the revival of art in Europe down to our own day, — with individual notices of the principal masters of each, and especial reference to their works comprised in the Art-Treasures Exhibition. Titian (Tiziano Vicelli), the great master of colour, and the leading ornament of the Venetian school, was born at Cador, in Friuli, according to some authorities in 1477, but of others, in- cluding Vasari, in 1480. He early showed a taste for painting, — so much so that it soon passed into a saying, that he was born a painter. Certain it is, that at the age of ten his uncle, perceiving the bent of his genius, took him to Venice, where he placed him first under the tuition of Sebastiano Zuccati, and afterwards under that of Giovanni Bellini. This last named, whose father had received instruction in the school of Squarcione at Padua, had him- self established a school, distinguished for its fine treatment of colour, but no less for its dryness and mannerism in design. Titian having quickly learned all that his master could teach him, was not long before he discovered the weak- ness of style to which he and his followers were tied ; and, inspired by a contemplation of the works of Giorgione, in a freer and nobler style, resolved to follow his example, — study nature, and give vent to his genius under her promptings. It may be proper here to give some indication of the peculiarities of Giorgione's style, which we find to hand in the words of Vasari. Giorgione, by the way, had himself been a pupil of Bellino's, and was about the same age as Titian. Not being satisfied with the mode of proceeding in Bellini's school, " he began to give his works an unwonted softness and relief, painting them in a very beautiful manner ; yet he by no means neglected to draw from the life, or to copy nature with his colours as closely as he could, and in doing the latter he shaded with colder or warmer tints as the living object might demand, but without first making a drawing, since he held that, to paint with the colours only, without any drawing on paper, was the best mode of proceed- ing, and most perfectly in accord with the true principles of design." " But herein he failed to perceive, that lie who would give order to his compositions, and arrange his conceptions in- telligibly, must first group them in different ways on the paper, to ascertain how they may all go together ; for the fancy cannot fully realise her own intentions, unless these be to a certain extent submitted to the corporeal eye, which then aids her to form a correct judgment. The nude form also demands much study before it can be well understood, nor can this ever be done without drawing the same on paper. To be compelled always to have nude or draped figures before the eyes while painting, is no small restraint, but when the hand has been well practised on paper, a certain facility, both in designing and painting, is gradually obtained ; practice in art supervenes, the manner and the judgment arc alike perfected, and that laboured mode of execution mentioned above is no more perceived. Another advantage resulting from drawing on paper is, the store of valuable ideas which gradually fill tho mind, enabling the artist to represent natural objects from his own thoughts, without being compelled to hold them constantly before him ; nor does he who can draw, need labour to hide his want of design beneath the attractions of colouring, as many of the Venetian painters — Giorgione, II Palma, II Pordenone, and others — who never saw the treasures of art in Pome, or works of the highest perfection in any other place, have been com- pelled to do. Having seen the manner of Giorgione, Titian early resolved to abandon that of Gian Bellino, although well grounded therein. He now, therefore, devoted himself to this pur- pose, and in a short time so closely imitated Giorgione that his pictures were sometimes taken for those of that master, as will be related below. Increasing in age. judgment, and facility of hand, our young artist executed numerous works in fresco which cannot here be named individually, having been dispersed in various places ; let it suffice to say, that they were such as to cause experienced men to anticipate the excellence to which he afterwards attained. At the time when Titian began to adopt the manner of Giorgione, being then not more than eighteen,* he took the portrait of a gentleman of the Bar- berigo family, who was his friend, and this was considered very beautiful, the colouring being true and natural, and the hair so distinctly painted that each one could be counted, as might also the stitches in a satin doublet, painted in the same work ; at a word, it was so well and carefully done, that it would have been taken for a picture by Giorgione, if Titian had not written his name on the dark ground." Of Titian's performances in his Bellino style, the picture of Christ Paying the Tribute Money, which he painted in competition with Albert Durer, and finished in the minute manner of that artist, is a fine specimen. It is in the Dresden collection. His first pictures in his improved style were one of the Angel Raphael conducting the young Tobias, and a Presentation in the Temple. On the death of Giorgione, in 1511, Titian rose rapidly in reputation ; was invited to Ferrara, where he painted for the Duke Alfonso his famous picture of Bacchus and Ariadne, now in the National Gallery. His next great work was the St. Peter Martyr, — a marvellous compo- sition, in which the very sky and landscape are made to join in, as it wero, in dirge-like chorus, in the terrible tragedy enacted. (See a fine copy of it in the Art-Treasures Exhibition.) About this time he was appointed by the States of Venice to a sinecure appointment of four hundred golden crowns a-year, which was generally appropriated to an artist of distinction, on the condition of his painting the portraits of the Doges of his time for a small nominal sum. His next step to preferment was in being presented in 1530 to Charles V., who was at Bologna, for the pur- pose of being crowned, and who from thence- forth became his firm patron, bestowing upon him a pension of 300 golden crowns. In 1548 Titian went to Rome, where he painted the portrait of Paul III. sitting between the Cardinal Famese and the Prince Ottavio. Here he like- wise painted his celebrated Danae, with the shower of gold, which was much admired by * Ticozzi remarks that, this must be an error of Jate, since Giorgione could otherwise not have hcen himself more than sixteen or H ventcin. all the artists and connoisseurs of the day, including the mighty Michel Angelo. Vasari thus speaks of the circumstance: — "Now it chanced that Michel Angelo and Vasari, going one day to see Titian in the Belvedere, beheld a picture, which he had just then finished, of a nude figure representing Danae, witli Jupiter transformed into a shower of gold in her lap. Many of those present beginning to extol the work (as people do when the artist stands by) , praised it not a little : when, all having left the place, and talking of Titian's work, Buonarroto declared that the manner and colouring of that artist pleased him greatly, but that it was a pity the Venetians did not study drawing more ; ' for if this artist,' said he, ' had been aided by art and knowledge of design, as he is by nature, he would have produced works which none could surpass, more especially in imitating life, seeing that he has a fine genius, and a graceful animated manner.' And it is certainly true, that whoever has not practised design extensively, and studied the best works, ancient and modern, can never attain to the perfection of adding what may be wanting to the copy which he makes from the life, giving toit that grace and completion wherehy art goes beyond the hand of nature, which very frequently produces parts that are not beautiful." From Rome Titian proceeded to Madrid, at the invitation of Charles V., arriving there the beginning of 1550 ; where he painted several works of importance, in reward for which wealth and honours were heaped upon him by his imperial patron. The artist was now seventy years of age ; — yet his hand never tired, his ambition never rested, — lie had, so it turned out, nearly thirty years of life yet before him, and he resolved to enjoy and improve every hour of the time. To sum up, in the words of Opie, in his 4th Lecture, "From Titian we may learn what may be usefullyapplied, not only to ourselves, but to men in all situations and of all professions, as well as to painters — that it is never too late to improve; for, at the age of seventy, and considerably upwards, we find him still rapidly advancing in his art. He had, it is true, at an early period, acquired breadth and grandeur in respect to colour, but he was not so happy as to burst tho shackles of meanness, and emancipate himself from littleness, in respect to design, character, and invention, till very late in life. All obstacles, however, at length gave way to his powers and perseverance, and his latter works are not only remarkable for the most truly historic and awful tones of colour, for a freedom and felicity of exe- cution beyond even the great promise of his former time, but also for a picturesque boldness and sub- limity of conception, and energy of action and expression, and a learned and grand style of design, second to none but Michel Angelo. Those, therefore, who have seen the majestic figure of his Abraham about to offer up Isaac, his Cain and Abel, his David adoring over the headless trunk of Goliath, and his astonishing picture of the Death of Peter the Martyr, in which there is very nearly a complete union of all the excellences of the art, will judge of the infinite importance of appropriate colour and execution to design, and be ready to cry out, with a certain critic, that ' if Titian was not the greatest painter, he cer- tainly produced the best pictures in the world.' Nature and fortune were equally kind to Titian : he had not to complain of having fallen on evil days and evil tongues ; he was not suffered to waste his sweetness on the desert air ; his works, sought for with avidity even in his lifetime, made their way, without the aid (if time, dust, or varnish, — yjT - TREASURES EXAMINEE. unscraped, umnended, and unsmoked, — into the halls of the opulent, the palaces of the great) and the temples of the Deity ; and, what is still more extraordinary, he was himself not forbidden to accompany them ; his fame as a portrait-painter procured him pressing invitations to attend every principal court in Europe, all being desirous to be delivered down to posterity, or, as it was for- cibly expressed by Charles V., of being rendered immortal by the hand of Titian, lie several times painted the portrait of that emperor, and once, it is said, whilst at work, having dropped a pencil, Charles stooped for it, gave it him, and, on Titian apologising with some confusion, said very courteously, ' Titian is worthy of being served by an emperor.' Charles also conferred on him the dignities of a knight, and count palatine, and allowed him a liberal pension ; at which find- ing his courtiers beginning to express their envy and dissatisfaction, he plainly told them, as area- son for his bounty, and to mortify their malice, that he could, at any time, make as many nobles as he pleased, but that, with all his power, he could never make a Titian. Thus honoured by the great, and his society courted by all the eminent men of his time, Titian was not more happy in his genius than in all the circumstances of his life, which, prolonged to an almost patri- archal extent, in uninterrupted health, and with little abatement of vigour, was brought at last to a period by the plague, at the end of ninety-nine years." Fuseli, who was by no means over-impressed with the importance of colour, nor himself happy in the use of it, thus sums up the merits of the great Venetian artist. After speaking of the extent to which imitation of objects may properly be carried, and the necessity of studying their hue and texture, with a view of giving rather their general air than mere surface appearance, he thus introduces Titian, and launches out at length upon his surprising excellence, not only in this single particular, but in all other points in which considerations of colour could properly enter : — " Titian laboured first to make fac-similes of the stuffs lie copied before he changed them into drapery, and gave them local value and a place. He learnt first to distinguish tint from tint, and give the skeleton of colour, before he emboldened himself to take the greatest quantity of colour in an object for the whole ; to paint flesh which abounded in demi-tints entirely in demi-tints, and to deprive of all that which had but a few. It was in the school of deception he learnt the difference of diaphonous and opaque, of firm and juicy colour ; that this refracts and that absorbs the light, and hence their place ; those that cut and come forward, first, and those which more or less partake of the surrounding medium in various degrees of distance. It was here that he learnt the contrast of the tints, of what is called warm and cold, — and, by their balance, diffusion, echo, to poise a whole. His eye as musical, if I may be allowed the metaphor, as his ear, abstracted here, that colour acts, affects, delights, like sound ; that stern and deep-toned tints rouse, determine, invigorate the eye, as warlike sound or a deep bass the ear ; and that bland, rosy, grey, and venial tints soothe, charm, and melt like a sweet melody. Such were the principles whose gradual evolu- tion produced that coloured imitation which, far beyond the fascination of Giorgione, irresistibly entranced every eye that approached the magic of Tiziano Vecelli. To no colourist before or after him did nature unveil herself with that dignified familiarity in which she appeared to Titian. His organ, universal and equally fit for all her exhibitions, rendered her simplest to her most compound appearances with equal purity and truth. He penetrated the essence and the general principle of the substances before him. and on these 3Stablished his theory of colour. He invented that breadth of local tint which no imitation has attained, and first expressed the negative nature of shade : his are the charms of glazing, and the mystery of reflexes ; by which he detached, rounded, cor- rected, or enriched his objects. His harmony is less indebted to the force of light and shade, or the artifices of contrast, than to a due balance of colour equally remote from monotony and spots. His tongue springs out of his subject, solemn, grave, gay, minacious, or soothing ; his eye tinged nature with gold without impairing her freshness : she dictated his scenery. Landscape, whether it be considered as the transcript ot a spot, or the rich combination of congenial objects, or as the scene of a phenomenon, as subject and as background, dates its origin from him. He is the father of portrait painting, of resemblance with form, character with dignity, and costume with subordination." The picture, "Titian's Daughter," of which we give an engraving, is a replica of a favourite subject with the artist. She is represented hold- ing up a casket of jewels, and looking round full in the face of the spectators. This picture was formerly in the Orleans collection, when it was known by the name of " La Cassette de Titien ;" it now belongs to the Earl de Grey. There is another version of this subject in the Berlin Museum, where, instead of a casket, there is fruit in a dish. MICHEL ANGELO AND GIULIO EOMANO. a dramatic sketch. By Charles Swain. SCENE. — Giulio in the Hall of Constantine, steadfastly regarding Raffaelle's picture of Justice and Mercy. To him enter Leonardo and Francesco. Giulio. Now, Leonardo, what's the latest news ? Leon. Cardinal Tortoso has been chosen Pope, And with new title fills the papal chair. Giulio. Adrian the Sixth — the news is six hours old ! Leon. Adrian the Sixth— and further, in your ear Let it be whisper'd, Angelo's recall 'd ! — Giulio. Recall 'd ! That's news, and welcome. Leon. You fear no rival — Raffaelle being dead : Others, less liberal, perchance had thought Bad news — and most unwelcome. Giulio. Rival, no ! — Art hath no rival save unrivall'd Nature : Each gifted mind is a new strength to Art ; New wealth, new capital ; and weak is he Who dreads a brother greater than himself. He knows not Art — nor Art's exalted aim. Fran. What is the aim of Art ? Giulio. It is to teach Through power of beauty the eternal power ! It is to feel our own humanity Grow with the growth of knowledge — to evolve Out of the perishable, the imperishable ! 'Tis to give feature to imagination — ■ Set clear the visionary forms of fancy — Make shadows, real ; and the fleeting, permanent. 'Tis from tho altar of immortal Truth To snatch the spark that can illuminate. Fran. By this we must conceive you designate The highest order of Inventive Art ; — Nature hath other schools and colleges, Other degrees and honours. Giulio. Reigns, customs, manners change, but not so Man. The spirit of the old humanity Invigorates the new ; Man changes more In symbol than in essence — and the thoughts That thrill'd Apelles in long ages back Thrill Roman breasts e'en now ; and to the end The grandeur and the majesty of Art Shall wake grand thoughts — and Truth and Justice Keep their primal state and regal dignity. Fran. To follow up this subject — it would seem Art, in its highest form, hath province here But second to Religion : that is — to raise And spiritualize our nature ! — Giiaio. Time hath made Pictures altars I they've received The homage vouchsaf 'd to divinity ; It is the soul's prerogative to soar ! An impulse God implanted from the first When he created Man : as it is Nature In the Earth to feel the influence of Spring, So is it nature in the soul to feel The influence of Art ! Leon. Could all men think like you — it might be well. Giulio. Who's the true patriot? — He who sets himself above his country ? Or he who, for that country's sake, would see Self, power, possession — everything — forgot ? And scorning death, with his last effort cry, Make way for Rome, ye nations! — so with Art. Leon. Give me your hand — right nobly said, Romano. Giulio. Some write theirnames on sand, which the next turn And tide of Time leaves empty, blank, and bare; But ages may convulse this mould of earth, And Kaffaelle's fame, unblemish'd, uadecay'd, Shall stand above the storm — and smile secure ! Yet who so just, unenvious ; who so kind As noble Raffaelle? — Oft I've heard him say, " Thanh God I breathe the air of Angelo !" And Angelo, whene'er he visits Rome, Will see no spot more precious to his thought, More touching to his heart, than the dear earth Which wraps the form of Raffaelle. Fran. From what strange circumstance arose the fact That Michel — that great mark and pride of Rome, Was forced to visit Pietra ? Giulio. Leo the Tenth, whose brief pontificate Made a new era in the world of Art, On. his accession to the papal throne Profess"d regard for Michel Angelo ; Love for his fame — and zeal for his success .; Desir'd his genius for his native city ; And Angelo, as if foreboding ill, Reluctantly obeyed the Pontiff's call. Fran. 'Tis true, but thence to Florence, order'd forth To build, of Saint Lorenzo, the facade. Giulio. What followed next ? — Tis known throughout the realm, Instead of the facade — unfinish'd yet Since the old Cosmo time — instead of this, Great work and fit forGenius to perform, He, Michel Angelo, the soul of Art, Was straight dismiss'd to Pietra — to decide Between the quarries of the mountains there And the pure marble of Carrara: — thus For eight long toilsome years he fashion Yl blocks, Constructed roads o'er marshes to the sea, Travell'd with rafts and fascines ! — He — Rome's Great Architect and ornament, True Painter, Poet, Sculptor, left to toil Like common mason — a mere blank in life, His time consum'd — his glorious talents buried During the whole hard reign of Leo Tenth ! Leon. It mocks belief! — myriads, as yet unborn, Will read yet doubt ; and ask can this be true Which wars 'gainst sense — Giulio. You saw me gazing here On Justice and on Mercy ! — shadows both : They have no living semblances on earth ! To think of eight years in such labour spent ! Leon. A loss — no Pope of Rome may e'er compute : A loss — posterity will long deplore ! Giulio. Years, generations, empires and their crowns, Follow each other to the end of Time : All things of earth are reproduced by earth, Genius hath no successor ! — knows no heir ! — Angelo dead — what centuries could replace The grand old spirit of that master-mind ? Angelo living — any puny power May cramp andfetter : — Rome ! it makes me mad To think of Michel and Pietra Santa ! Leon. 'Tis the fate of Genius ! — Ever the stream of life is full of turns And rough impediments ; t<> chafe at fate Is but to sink the deeper. Giulio. Sad as true : The path of fame hath many a weary foot And aching head and disappointed heart ; Many ascend, few reach the toilsome height ! Leon. Well : — Whate'er the Present owes the Future pays ! — Towards the Pantheon let us hasten now, There, under its vast cupola, survey The sepulchre of Raffaelle. Giulio. First meet we Angelo : Conduct him there ; let Genius mourn forGenius ; A tear from Michel Angelo would soothe That spirit, call'd too early from the world ; Too early from that sphere which he adorn 'd. [Lji tint. Manchester, May 5th. 1857. ART • TREASURES EXAMINER. 9 THE PICTURE .SHOP. Let us not turn away contemptuously from "small beginnings" whilst contemplating what is great, — is it not through the gradual influences of the one that we have been led to our devotion for the other ? The human intellect expands and strengthens with every order of legitimate culti- vation. Fergussou communed with the stars, as he lay stretched amongst his dreamy sheep, on the highland moors ; and Miller chipped his way to the "great red sandstone," and through ma hi moih caves, to the highest position amongst our geological annals. Many of our most noted artists have gathered youthful inspiration from the humblest means, and risen to fame upon very awkwardly manufactured wings. Their victory is that they have accomplished the journey through difficulties and dangers, through anxieties and trials, and they may look back — and we trust that many do look back— with thankfulness for that intuitive feeling which prompted them to respect "small beginnings." We remember one of the foremost spirits amongst our modern writers of fiction declaring that, fond as he had been of reading books, up to a certain period of his life he had not the slightest anticipation of entering upon the task of writing them. Like Charles Lamb, he was fond of rambling through that never- ending labyrinth of streets, lanes, and alleys of the leviathan metropolis, previous to his having gained a knowledge of the value of regular occupation, and in the course of a listless stroll down Fleet-street one Midsummer day, — an absence of pocket-money having as yet scarce taken the form of necessity, though a shadowy and ugly-looking object loomed somewhat un- pleasantly in the distance, — his "lack lustre eye " fell upon a charming drawing in a print-shop window. He had mixed with the crowd, — had no occasion to dread the abstraction of a penniless purse, — and the artistic qualities of the work before him were exciting thoughts and feelings as novel as they were startling. The web was spun, the Fates had twined it around him, lie was fairly in their meshes ; so he turned into his usual haunt at dinner hour, dined at the expense of a friend, sought his quiet lodging at night, sat up and scribbled until the purple streaks over the house tops gave indication of sunrise, tumbled into bed, slept soundly, though dreaming of that blessed face in Fleet-street, and woke — an author. The little picture, its simplicity of character, its harmony of colour, and a certain expression of feature, had touched chords which became music ; and ever since that time new strains have been periodically poured forth, cheering many a weary heart, strengthening those who were fainting by the way, drawing forth human sym- pathies, developing gracious amenities, and light- ing up the scenes cf social life with cheerfulness, and a gay, good humour. The spirit, till then, had been enchained ; it was the bright little face in Fleet-street that gave it freedom, and added to the riches of the world in so doing. It was the unpretending printseller who opened the mind of wealth till then unknown. Let us not despise " small beginnings." Look at this group, gathered round the plate- glass windows of our neighbour. A rough carter, in coarse fustian suit, leaves his team and lurry, whilst waiting for a load, and is feasting his eyes on that noble animal to which Landseer has given something like human expression. Fustian Jacket thinks better of his patient beasts than he did an hour ago, when they came to a dead-lock in the crowded thoroughfare ; and if his employer does not look close after him, there will be an extra share of corn and beans in the manger this evening. The political enthusiast recognises his favourite M.P., and wonders how folly could support any principles that were opposed to so much intellect and intelligence. In this corner of the fascinating window we find a portrait of the popular incumbent, who gathers crowds to listen to his silver tones and his persuasive illustrations. And beside him, we observe a pack of hounds, in full cry, or a steeple-chaser, going at a " slapping pace;"a" good shot," bagging game by wholesale ; or a patient angler, about whose "gentle craft" our old friend Isaac Walton has talked so pleasantly. A 11 these have their influence ; they catch the eye, and win admiration. Olivia is gazing intently upon " Broken Vows," for she last week had the folly to break her own, discovering the mistake, now that he she had so long held in her train is "over the hills and far away;" and that poor widow looks, with tearful eye, upon " The Vacant Chair;" whilst the bare-footed urchin flattens his nose against the cold plate glass, and grins from ear to ear at Hunt's or Webster's humour. Even B 24, instead of enforcing his brief authority, by scattering the "nuisance of a crowd" with his magic " move on," joins the gaping lovers of the fine arts, and inwardly feels, and silently expresses a critical opinion upon the merits of " A Scene from Newgate," — " it is the real thing and no mistake ;" he has witnessed such a scene a thousand times, and " isn't that wig of Serjeant Gabbles as natural as life ?" The love for pictures, for the imitative arts, may be almost considered an instinct ; we find it clinging to every branch of the human race ; its purifying and ennobling influences going hand in hand with civilization. These shop windows about which we are talking are the picture galleries of the poor, and they prompt many a latent desire among the wealthy and the comfortable-minded to have galleries of their own. The nucleus of many a future collection has been formed out of a passing glance at a choice engraving. The fair ones whom we are pleased to call our better halves, and often without incongruity in so doing, — find a love for what is elegant and tasteful creeping into their heads and hearts during casual visits to these artistic sanctuaries; for association with what is beautiful rarely fails to excite to a veneration for beauty, and a love for beauty is an approach to refinement, and, perhaps, we may venture to add, that the last-named quality most frequently seeks an alliance with the true, the pure, and the good. So, if it should happen that we find occasionally a few extra bills on quarter-day for what are technically called nick-nacks, or our portfolios accumulate rather rapidly in the number of their graphic contents, or our walls become too sud- denly and too extensively brightened by gilded frames and sunny pictures, — if this should hap- pen, as happen it must, to him who has the en- viable companionship of good taste as well as of " connubial blisses," we must accept the bills in good humour, and pay them — as soon as con- venient. But we arc forgetting our friends outside the windows, who rarely venture beyond the threshold towards the interior of the sanctuary of art ; it would be veil for many of them if their money went in this direction rather than in some others we could name ; there would be a large balance in favour of health and comfoi t and pleasant thoughts. These windows, we have yet to observe, are a sort of almanack or calendar of the seasons ; the spring, summer, autumn, and winter sports and social pastimes being there duly chronicled ; — they arc pictorial distributers of news — expounders of the follies and vices, the noble and ignoble deeds of our time ; they point out who is to have the day's hero-worship,- — who is placed on the pedestal, who is pulled down, — they are moral barometers, and tell us how fickle is the breath of popularity. They teach us lessons if we will but read them aright, the value of which is even beyond that de- rived from the cultivation of the artistic faculty and feeling. That it is not in our own country alone such a system of study is attainable, we find cleverly recorded by a recent writer in one of our most talented and interesting periodicals : — " At the Admiralty corner of the Nevskoi I make my first cordial salutation to the fine arts in Russia. This long range of plate-glass win- dows appertains to an ingenious Italian, Signor Daziaro, whose handsome print-shop, with the elaborate Russian inscription on the frontage, has no doubt often pleased and puzzled you on the Boulevard des Capucines in Paris ; and who has succursal fine-arts' establishments in Moscow, in Warsaw, and I believe in Odessa, as well as this one in St. Petersburg. Daziaro is the Russian Ackermann's. For the newest portrait of the Czar, for the latest lithographs of the imperial family, for the last engraving after Sir Edwin Landseer, the last paysage by Ferogio, the last caricature (not political, be it well understood, but of aLorctte or debardeur tendency) of Gavarni or Gustave de Beaumont, you must go to Daziaro's. His windows, too, display the same curious thermometer of celebrity as those of our printsellers. A great man is disgraced, and sinks into oblivion. One day he dies, and then people suddenly remember him (for about two days), as he was, before he wasn't. Presto! his portrait appears in Daziaro's window. Half-a-dozen copies of his portrait are sold during his two days' resuscitation ; and then he is relegated to the portfolio again, and slumbers till his son wins a battle, or runs away with somebody else's wife, or is made a minister, or is sent to Siberia, or does something for people to remember and talk about (for about two days more), what Monsieur his father was. When, failing the son's portrait, the astute Daziaro gives the respected progenitor another airing in the print-shop window ;and soon till we ripe and rot, all of us. And thereby hangs a tale. Is this only Russian ? Is it not so the whole world over ? There was a thermometer of this sort in a print-shop at the corner of Great and Little Queen-streets, Lincoln's Inn Fields, London, which I used to pass every morning ; and the fresh portraits in the 'window were as good as the news of the day to me. The ther- mometer in Daziaro's is more apparent, more significant, and more frequently consulted ; for this is a country where the news of the day is scarce, where, in an intolerable quantity of waste paper, there is about a copeck's-worth of news, and where the real stirring daily intelligence is muttered in dark entries, and whispered behind hands in boudoirs, and glozed from lip to ear over tumblers of tea, and scribbled on blank leaves of pocket-books passed hastily from hand to hand, and then the blank leaves converted instantly into pipe-lights. As a general rule you can find out much easier what is most talked about by consulting Signor Daziaro's window, in prefer- ence to the Journal de St. Petersbourg."* In conclusion, let us hope that many a shop- window pupil may turn towards that wondrous picture shop now open at Old Tra fiord. Thither let him wend his way, now that he has been hoarding for the last few months the means of admission. Thither let him carry wife and chil- dren, that they too may feel the influences which cannot fail to render home happier, — and all wiser and better. I *" A Journey due North." "Household Words, No. 344." 10 ART - TREASURES EXAMINEE. SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. — " THE SHEPHERD BOY." Sir Joshua Reynolds was very successful in single figure sub- jects of this kind, and the one here selected has scarcely been excelled. As usual with this accomplished artist, the land- scape is an attractive feature in the composition ; the whole of which is beautifully treated, and most English in character. We can imagine the painter of this charming production to have read and thoroughly ap- preciated tho following passage from Sydney's "Arcadia," with its crowd of pastoral images : — " There were hills which gar- nished their proud heights with stately trees : humble valleys, whose base estate seemed com- forted with the refreshing of silver rivers ; meadows, enamel- led with all sorts of eye-pleasing flowers ; thickets, which being lined with most pleasant shade were witnessed so too by the cheerful disposition of many well-tuned birds ; each pasture stored with sheep, feeding with sober security, while the pretty lambs with bleating oratory craved the dam's comfort ; here a shepherd's boy piping as though he should never be old ' there a young shepherdess knit- ting, and withal singing, and it seemed that her voice com- forted her hands to works, and her hands kept time to her voice-music." We have ventured to give two illustrations in this, our first number, from the works of Sir Joshua Reynolds, because he may be fairly considered as standing at the head of a par- ticular class in our English school. His portraits are re- markably fine, — rich in colour as paintings, life-like as resem- blances, graceful in general cha- racter. His historical subjects are deficient in the heroic, and his imagination does not seem to have been equal to the highest poetical development ; but where homely English feeling is to be illustrated there is a charming simplicity, free from the least ap- proach to affectation. That Sir Joshua could write as well as paint, will be found by a perusal of his lectures, with which the public of his age were so de- lighted, that Johnson and Burke were set down as the authors by their respective admirers. JOHN ZOFFANY.— GARRICK IN " THE FARMER'S RETURN.' ART - TREASURES EXAMINER. 11 John Zoffany was born at Frankfort, about the year 1735, and died at Kew in 1810. Coming to England about the year 1770, without a friend to help him through the struggles of a London artistic life, which, in those days, even more than in our own, required aristocratic patronage to minister to success, poor Zoffany had to contend with the bitterness of disappointment and of penury. In the midst of almost overwhelming distress, he at length had the good fortune to be introduced to the Earl of Barrymore, and in painting his portrait, laid the foundation of a future reputation. Soon after this we find him patronised by George III., and elected a member of the Koyal Academy. Thrown into the society of Garrick and his dramatic friends, our artist soon became noted for theatrical portraits, and it is principally through his means that we are brought face to face with the leading performers of the period. The most successful of these SIR productions were his pictures of Garrick as "Abel Dragger," of which there is an excellent print by Dixon, — and of the same actor in the scene from the drama called "The Farmer's Return." Another clever picture was his Foote and Weston in " Dr. Last," as well as the protean Foote in "Major Sturgeon" (the "Mayor of Garratt"). It would be well for our stage annals, if we had a Zoffany at each epoch of histrionic excellence ; as it is, the poor player " struts and frets his hour upon the stage, and then is heard no more." The ringing plaudits of the hour are welcome to his ear, they keep up the vital energy, they are the main support through all the wear and tear of his exciting vocation ; but he knows that when the curtain falls at last, he has left nothing behind him as a record of his greatness but sha- dowy tradition. His voice is mute, his genius is but a memory which will pass with the genera- tion whose hearts he stirred. Honour therefore to the artist who gives us the opportunity of knowing what manner of man our ancestors talked about, and crowded to see and hear Zoffany found a friend in George III., who inte- rested himself in gaining him an introduction to the Grand Duke of Tuscany, for Italy he had de- termined to visit, having discovered that he had yet much to learn ; and there, at Florence, he painted his most remarkable picture of " The Florentine Gallery," which, we believe, is in the royal collection. Going to the East Indies before his return to England, he there acquired a com- petent fortune in the pursuit of his art, but his health failed, and with it his powers as an artist. A number of Zoffany's dramatic portraits are to be found in the Garrick Club, King-street, Covent Garden, but the one of which our wood- cut is an illustration belongs to the Earl of Yar- borough. JOSHUA REYNOLDS There is no more beautiful conception in the whole round of poetic fancy than the shadowy story which Shakspere has woven together, in "A Midsummer Night's Dream." It is, indeed, a dream, full of incongruities, the real and the ideal blending in harmonious contrast — spirits of air, graceful humanity, English tradition surrounded by Grecian scenery and character. Such is in truth the " stuff that dreams are made of;" and out of it has Shakspere pictured the most charming of fancies, warm and bright in colour as the midsummer scenes of the classic south. The first voices we hear are those of happy lovers— of Theseus and Hippolyta. They are betrothed, and the drama opens on the very eve of their approaching nuptials. Many drama- tists would have made such hero and heroine carry out the main action of the story ; out poet, however, has other and more congenial influences to deal with. Theseus addresses the fair Hippolyta : — Four days will quickly steep themselves in night ; Four nights will quickly dream away the time ; _ And then the moon, like to a silver bow New bent in heaven, shall behold the night Of our solemnities. As the eourse of true love never did run smooth, so is this music drowned in the harsh notes of Egeus. But, like " heavy fathers" of the modern dramatic school, he has no influence, and Hermia swears to her Lysander (a less fortunate couple than the Duke of Athens and the Queen of the Amazons), — By Cupid's strongest bow ; By his best arrow with the golden head ; By the simplicity of Venus's doves ; By that which knitteth souls, and prospers loves ; And by that fire that burned the Carthage Queen, When the false Trojan under sail was seen ; By all the vows that ever men have broke, In number more than ever woman spoke ; In that same place thou hast appointed me, To-morrov/- truly will I meet with thee. And so they are to meet in the wood " a league without the town," where once they had met before, in company with the dignified Helena, — To do observance to a morn of May. The very sound of the word May brings with it English associations — the merry jingle of bells, " ribbons rare," and the breath of flowers, and so we are pleasantly whisked away from marble palace to woody haunts and moonlit glades, such as we read of in old English ballads, and we very naturally fall into the company of Nic Bottom the weaver, and Peter Quince the carpenter, and Tom Snout the tinker, and Francis Flute the bellows mender, and Snug the joiner, and Master Robin Starveling the tailor (tailors, it seems, were of the same complexion in those old days as in the present) ; these were the very men we should have expected to meet in the nutting woods of Cheshire, basking in a sunny holiday by day, or trolling the burthen of a popular ditty after sunset — " Its my delight, "&c. We have left Athens and its marble deities a long way off ; we have joined those of whom the puritan Stubbs writes in 1585, about ten years before the production of " A Midsummer Night's Dream." " Against May, Whit-Sunday, or some other time of the year," says the writer, " every parish, town, and village assembles themselves together, both men, women, and children, old and young even all indifferently ; and either going alto- gether, or dividing themselves into companies, they go, some to the woods and groves, some to the hills and mountains, some to one place, some to another, where they spend all the night in pleasant pastimes, and in the morn- ing they return, bringing with them birch boughs, and branches of trees, to deck their assemblies withal." The worthy puritan did not believe in the morality of all this, and refers the custom to evil influences, even to " Sathan, the prince of hell," — but he continues his description, nevertheless, which is more in our way at pre- sent than his opinions. " Their chiefest jewel they bring from thence is their maypole, which they bring home with great veneration — as thus: they have twenty or thirty yoke of oxen, every ox having a sweet nosegay of flowers tied on the tip of his horns, and these oxen draw home this maypole, which is covered all over with flowers and herbs, bound round about with strings, from the top to the bottom, and sometime painted with variable colours ; with two or three hundred men, women, and children, following it with great devotion. And thus being reared up, with handkerchiefs and flags streaming on the top, they strew the ground about it, bind green boughs and arbours hard by it; and then fall they to banquet and feast, to leap and dance about it." This amuse- ment, of course, the writer (whose estimate of social customs took colouring from his religious convictions) puts down as a " perfect pattern" of the dedication of their idols by the heathen people. Not so thought Shakspere, whose broad humanity taught him to find Books in the running brooks, Sermons in stones, and good in everything. Leaving Bottom to "roar as gently as any ducking dove," and passing along through many pleasant glades — By giove or green, By fountain clear, or spangled star-light sheen, we come to the fairy world ; where we meet with Titania and Oberon. and hear the latter tell of the riches of bis kingdom : — I know a bank where the wild thyme blows, Where oxlips and the nodding violet grows; Quite over-canopied with luscious woodbine, With sweet musk-roses, and with eglantine ; There sleeps Titania some time of the night, Lulled in these flowers with dances and delight. We long to remain with the " little people," if such are the pleasant places and the pleasant pastime of their gossamer life. Even the broad humour of Nic Bottom is forgotten, and the loves and disquietudes of our Athenian friends ; we can think of nothing, and dream of nothing but this land of poetry and " moonshine ;" whilst there falls upon the ear one of the sweetest and quaintest of songs. We listen to fairy song Philomel, with melody, Sing in our sweet lullaby ; Lulla, talk, lullaby; lulla, lulla, lullaby; Never harm, nor spell nor charm, Come our lovely lady nigh ; So good night with lullaby. This is all very agreeable ; but it seems that even fairy land, with its beds of roses, is not without its thorns ; that even in dream-land we cannot swing upon agate all day without getting a jolt ; that spirits of mischief do not belong entirely to common-place, flesh and blood sort of life, but are to be found wherever their vocation has fitting opportunity for display. So enter " Puck,"— the gentle Puck, as Oberon calls him ; but then Oberon, like terrestrial royalty, can speak graciously enough when he is brewing mischief, and wants a knowing agent. My gentle Puck, come hither : Thou remember 'st Since once I sat upon a promontory, And heard a mermaid, on a dolphin's back, Uttering such dulcet and harmonious breath, That the rude saa grew civil at her song ; And certain stars shot madly from their spheres, To hear the sea-maid's music. Master Puck does remember it ; and is ready to do, as other agents do, — to keep friendly with the authorities. He'll " put a girdle round about the earth in forty minutes," — he was the electric wire of fairy land, and created very often as much confusion. Either I mistake your shape and making quite, Or else you are that shrewd and knavish sprite, Called Kobin Good-fellow : are you not he, That frights the maidens of the villagery : Skim milk ; and sometimes labour in the quern ; And bootless make the breathless housewife churn ; And sometime make the drink to bear no barm ; Mislead night-wanderers, laughing at their harm? Those that Hobgoblin call you, and sweet Puck, You do their work, and they shall have good luck. So, bke his mortal brethren, it appears Puck had his weak side, he valued a little flattery, whilst, at the same time, the scapegrace did not shrink from confession. I am that merry wanderer of the night. I jest to Oberon and make him smile, When I a fat and bean-fed horse beguile, Neighing in likeness of a filly foal : And sometimes lurk I in a gossip's bowl, In very likeness of a roasted crab ; And, when she drinks, against her lips I bob, And on her withered dew-lap pour the ale. It is this fairy fancy, this tricksy spirit, that Sir Joshua Reynolds has desired to illustrate in the picture to be found in the North Gallery. The subject was painted for Boydell when he pro- jected his edition of Shakspeare, with large illus- trations by the ablest painters of the day, a work with which, no doubt, most of our readers will be tolerably familiar. Allan Cunningham, in his " Lives of the British Painters," esti- mates the figure highly ; it is, he says, " a singular and a happy production, — the veiy image of that tricksey sprite — with a hand ready for pleasant mischief, and an eye shining with uncommitted roguery," — whilst Waagen con- siders it rather that of a "child with an arch look, sitting on a mushroom, and stretching out arms and legs in wanton mirth," an opinion with which we feel inclined to agree. Certainly, after reading " A Midsummer Night's Dream," and particularly noting the language given to Puck, we can scarcely accept the illustration by Rey- nolds as Shaksperian in conception. It is diffi cult to suppose that plump, jolly little fellow addressing his master after this fashion : — ■ My fairy lord this must be done with haste ; For night's swift dragons cut the clouds full fast, And yonder shines Aurora's harbinger ; At whose approach, ghosts, wandering here and there, Troop home to church-yards ; damned spirits all, That in cross-ways and hoods have burial, Already to their wormy beds are gone. Robin's humour — for Puck and Robin Goodfellow are one and the same — may be fairly expressed by the painter, but the poetic phase of the character is not sufficiently developed. Wc should feel inclined to consider the young gentleman before us as a portrait of Master Puck before he bad arrived at the dignity of jacket and trowsers. There is much'warmth of tone in the picture, as we find generally in the productions of Sir Joshua, and it would be recognised, at a glance, as from his studio. When we tell our readers that for this small canvas the English artist received five hundred pounds, it will be acknowledged that the fine arts were tolerably well appreciated in the reign of George HI., of blessed memory ; nor may modern artists despair, when it is added that Lord Fitzwilliam gave, last year, 980 guineas for the picture, at the sale of the collection of the late Mr. Roarers. 'THE ART THAT 6AN IMMORTALISE." Cousin! What image shall our friend create? Let 't be a likeness of some human face — The dwelling of a soul — a temple, where Imagination, Keason, Passion, dwell Together in delightful harmony. I love such pictures ; for they hear me back To distant ages ; they transport my mind Across the deserts of the trackless seas. Methinks, when I behold the panel glowing With an honest face, I gain another friend. Oh ! it is fine — is 't not, Cousin ? — to stand Thus, face to face, with some philosopher ; To smile before a king ; to stand and gaze Upon a woman, brighter than the dawn? Paint me a woman — Painter, do thy best, — A woman ! — Paint her like a full-blown flower — Kadiant as summer — conscious, as she sits, That eyes are on her, feeding on her looks, Like bees on roses 1 Turn her shoulder — thus ; And thus her arm ; and bid her hand drop here, As 'twere a lily bending. Let her smile ; For smiles are beautiful on every face : And bind her forehead with her natural hair: And hid her lean — thus— gently as she sits ; And for her eyes — look, look ! by all the stars, Ere I have said — 'tis done. 0 peerless art ! Quick spirit, who thy radiant work dost finish With such delay (no more) as airy thought Takes to complete her will. What glittering dreams, What sunset, summer hues, what witching power Belongs to thee, bright art ! Canst thou bring back The far-off friend — redeem for us the dead, — From utter darkness and oblivion's curse — And shall we fail to do thee homage ? — Peace ! Let us bow grateful for all good — not least For that which fills our souls with pleasant thoughts, Which makes life ever young and beautiful, And saves, from out the dark, deca3 r ing grave, The face we loved to look on. Hail to Art ! The Love op the Beautiful. — There is no more potent antidote to low sensuality than the adoration of beauty. All the higher arts of de- sign are essentially chaste, without respect of the object. They purify the thoughts, as tragedy, according to Aristotle, purifies the passions. Their accidental effects are not worth considera- tion. • There are souls to whom even a vestal is not holy. — A. W. von Schlegel. ART -TREASURES EXAMINER. 13 THE STOKY OF ROSA BONHEUR. BY W. BLAXCUARD JERROLD. Before the name of Rosa Bonheur had become a household word in England, — long before " The Horse Fair" found its way across the channel — we turned from the Vernets and Delaroches of the Luxembourg Gallery, to contemplate a fine pic- ture, entitled "The Ploughed Field!" There was wondrous sunshine upon those solid, stalwart oxen ; the turned clay was moist and glistening ; and there was no monotony even in the corn- ridges of the ploughed laud. And then, how exquisite was that touch of art, where the feathery head of a dandelion, on the very edge of the outer ridge, was being carried, plume by plume, into the air ! No more masterly hand ever threw a solid, simple foreground together. The catalogue presently told us that this powerful performance was that of a woman — of one Rosa Bonheur. The story of Rosa Bonheur is full of dramatic interest, — to be earnestly read, even seated before that sweet picture of hers, in the north transept gallery of our Art-Treasures Exhibition. We draw the curtain up before a robust child, bound- ing hither and thither — a truant often from school — amid the scanty rural beauties of the Bois de Boulogne. Now there is a group of loungers before her. She is tracing wild designs upon the treacherous sand, with the first piece of stick at hand. From babyhood she has been accustomed to see her father, pencil in hand. She draws as naturally as the birds sing, and as oheiry-blos- soms answer the warmth of the spring sun. Raymond Bonheur, her father, hoped once to be a great artist ; but he was poor, and he had children. And so the brave man put aside his dreams of glory in the Ecole des Beaux Arts, to ca»n bread for the nest, in the humble capacity of drawing-master. On the other hand, his wife taught music. Courage brought sunlight to their fortunes at length, and once more Raymond Bonheur became ambitious. Hereupon, Death stalked into his household, and placed his icy fingers upon Madame Raymond. The dear voice spoke its last word; the dear eyes closed upon beloved children. Four poor children pressed about the knees of an agonised father. His dreams were clouded for ever, and with a sad- dened spirit he returned to the schoolroom. Bordeaux was deserted for Paris. And here Eosa, with her brothers Auguste and Isidore, and her sister Juliette, lived through her infancy, beloved and cared for by one of those household heroines whose stories die with them. Eosa was an habitual truant from her school, and filled her copy-books with rude drawings instead of perfect pothooks. The bird had wings, and would try them. Even when a mere baby, when, according to M. Eugene de Mire- court, Rosa was called, by the Spanish poet Moratin, his " round ball," her sketches were everywhere. But fate frowned at these baby- efforts. Raymond Bonheur had to fight his way in Paris, step by step. Every point was occupied, every road encumbered with rivals. At last he succeeded in placing his two sons in an academy, where, his lessons were considered an equivalent for their board and instruction. But the fate of poor Rosa was intolerable. She was apprenticed to a dressmaker. We are assured that the father was not to blame for selecting this humble occu- pation. Rosa would not learn. Her vagabond spirit rebelled against the dry forms of elementary knowledge ; it rebelled as violently against the dreary monotony of the needle. And her father, tender to her tears, took her kindly from this last torture. The good man's next plan was to put his intractable daughter to school, on the same terms as those by which ho was feeding and educating his sons ; but he had hardly realised this design, and congratulated himself upon the comfort he had achieved for his children, when Rosa's mistress had cause to complain of the turbulence and audacity of her new pupil. The drawing-master's daughter had caricatured the professors and teachers, and played a variety of practical jokes. Still, if she was stupid in the grammar class, she remained supreme in that over which her father presided, to the discomfort of her rich schoolfellows. Nor were these schoolfellows slow to avenge themselves, by dis- dainful allusions to the poor condition of their successful rival. Rosa felt this indignity keenly, and her sadness urged her father to take her home. From this time forward Rosa Bonheur was an artist. She worked at the beloved art day and night. Now she modelled plastic clay, and now the pencil told her thoughts in bold broad lines. If she had been an idle writer, she became, in return, a passionate and persevering art-student. Every morning she was early on her way to the Louvre, where she planted her easel before a great master, and drank in all his beauties. No observer ever drew her eyes from the grateful work in hand. From the Louvre, she passed presently to the tuition of her father ; and to his tender care,his thoughtful lessons — and his alone — the world owes the accomplished artist it now possesses in Rosa Bonheur ! The Bonheurs were destined to be artists — one and all. It was in their blood ; their playthings were palettes and brushes. Rosa's brothers, Auguste and Isidore, and her little sister Julia, learned to hold no mean pencils, as the reader may himself see, by turning, to the left of the great artist's picture, to a charming "Landscape and Cattle, "by Auguste Bonheur, — erroneously marked in the first edition of the catalogue No. 77 (Hertford Gallery). Raymond Bonheur lived on, only to complete the education of his children. He was their only master ; and he was a severe master, where severity was kindness, for he was deter mined that Rosa should offer her works to the public only after long and severe study. During four years she studied the old masters atten tively ; and then, seeing with the clear eyes of genius where her power lay, she bravely took up her pencil and sketch-book, and sallied forth to study nature in the suburbs of Paris. Neither drenching rains nor muddy roads turned her from her purpose. Upon the inconstancy of weather in Paris she is said to have revenged herself by inventing, on the sixth floor of the Rue Rumfort, where she lived, a little garden along the terrassc. Here, too, she kept a Beau vais sheep, and during two years studied his proportions unweariedly. As a reward for his patient sittings to Rosa, Auguste would lead him forth in the evening to take a walk beyond the barreires. But the poor Beauvais sheep be- came a stale model. The vigorous genius of Mademoiselle Bonheur craved for new subjects ; and she went forth to the celebrated slaughter- house near the Barriere du Roule — the execution ground of the Bceuf-gras — that she might see animal life under favourable circumstances. There are dainty ladies who will throw up the whitest of hands, in token of their horror. A woman calmly sketching in a slaughter-house ! Ay e — conventional laws are powerless in these instances. Timid women — as they stand, strong in their emotions, over the mortal agonies of men — must cast the limits assigned to their sex aside, when dowered with a rare mission like that of Rosa Bonheur. Amid slaughter-men and drovers — regardless of their brutal words and vulgar curiosity — the young girl stood, buried in her work. At length the fruit was ripe. In 1841 Madllc. Bonheur exhibited two pictures — "Studies of Goats, Sheep, and Rabbits." In 1842 the young artist was more ambitious, and connoisseurs halted before the " Horse for Sale," and two more pictures from her easel. In 1844, in addition to some cabinet pictures, Rosa Bonheur exhibited a bull modelled in clay ; but it was in 1845 that she exhibited no less than twelve pictures, and found herself sharing the honours of exhibitors' space with her brother Auguste, and her good father. In 1847, Isidore's name was added to the list of the Bonheur family in the salon ; and a few years later, the little Juliette made herself known. But Auguste, and Isidore, and Juliette, must recognise, together with their father, the superiority of Rosa. Reputation burst upon her — reputation, and its golden rewards. Her picture, the " JBcenfs de Cantal," which passed into English hands, obtained for her a first-class medal in 1848 ; and Horace Vemet offered her, in the name of the government, a Sevres vase. Her joy knew no bounds ; and her father saw the dreams of long years ago becoming realities In 1849 appeared the wonderful "Ploughed Field" (Labouragc NivernaisJ, to which we have already alluded. It was a commission from the government ! The critics were soon busy with the new artist's reputation. Her pictures, placed among the so-called classical school of the Ecole des Beaux Arts, were curiously simple. Professors' rules were here and there violated, perhaps ; but there was nature upon the canvas, sweetly,, and boldly, and carefully interpreted. Here was something fresh — not from the Quartier St. Ger- laarns, but the fields. It had been gathered, after years of patient study, by a woman, strong in the consciousness of her own power, who, equipped in male attire, had tramped through the picturesque departments of France. We all admired the wondrous " Horse Fair." Well, before this picture was produced, the artist, dressed in a blouse, went twice weekly to study in a horse fair. Anecdotes are told of the ludicrous positions in which this male attire has placed her ; but she appears to have always extricated herself from them with consummate tact. Her kindly nature, and her strong com- mon sense, have protected her. And, now, — Well, now Mademoiselle Bonheur lives in a beautiful cottage in the Rue d'Assas, Paris. The chief attraction of this home, to her, is that it has a garden — that here she can keep a little farm-yard. Poor Raymond Bonheur is dead The cholera carried him from his children in 1849. Honour to the memory of the generous father, who immolated his genius to glorify his children. Isidore is, gossips say, to be a distin- guished sculptor. Little Juliette is unmarried, and is at the head of a drawing-school in the Rue Dupuytren, where Rosa gives advice twice weekly. In the house where this school is held dwell the Bonheur family, all fired by the love of one art, if unequally endowed with the faculty to realise. There is a good lesson in this short story of Rosa Bonheur's fife. Greatly gifted, the cou- rageous woman has still won her fame by her per- severance, and her capacity for continuous labour. The pale morning light brings her early to her easel ; and here she will sit hour after hour, while her faithful companion — Mademoiselle Micas — reads to her. The setting of the sun alone has power to take the pencil from her hands. Let a friend drop in, she will beg to be excused from li MIT - TREASURES EXAMINEE. idleness. She can paint and chat at the same time. Nor has the wealth which this industry lias produced been grudgingly held. It has heen scattered generously abroad, to soften the misfor- tunes of brother artists. The noble girl, who is said to have carried her Exhibition medals to the Mont-de Picle, when money failed her, that she might afford help to a friend, has not suffered success to sear the simple kindness of her heart. She remains at once an honour to France as an artist, and an honour to her sex as an example of pure womanhood. Neither the blouse, the top-boots, nor the closely-cropped hair have hardened the gentle spirit of the wearer. AVe are assured, by M. de Mireeourt, that Madlle. Bonheur would pass for a young man easily, in any society, when equipped for her suburban rambles ; but let us assure any gentle reader under whose eyes this rough sketch may fall, that, on the other hand, Mademoiselle Bonheur remains true to her sex, in the purity of her life and the kindness of her heart. She disdains to wear lace and jewellery ; but, then, has she time to dress? Could she paint a horse fair at her ease, en crinoline ! THE OLD MASTERS. Their works seem endless as their reputa- tion ; to be many as they are complete ; te multiply with the desire of the mind to si e more and more of them ; as if there were a living power in the breath of fame, and in the very names of the great heirs of glory " there were propagation too." It is something to have a collection of this sort to count upon once a year; to have one last, lingering, look yet to come. Pictures are scattered like stray gifts through the world : and while they remain, earth has yet a little gilding left, not quite rubbed off, dishonoured, and defaced. — Hazlitt. THE riCTUUE GALLERY AND ITS INFLUENCES. A fine gallery of pictures is a sort of illustration of Berkeley's theory of matter and spirit. It is like a palace of thought — another universe, built of air, of shadows, of colours. Everything seems palpable to feeling as to sight ; substances turn to shadows by the arch-chemic touch ; shadows harden into substances; "the eye is made the fool of the other senses, or else worth all the rest." The material is in some sense embodied in ' the immaterial, or at least we see all things in a sort of intellectual mirror. The world of art is an i enchanting deception. We discover distance in a glazed surface ; a province is contained in a foot of canvas ; a thin evanescent tint gives the form and pressure of rocks and trees ; an inert shape has life and motion in it. Time stands still, and the dead reappear by means of this so potent art ! What hues (those of nature mellowed by time) ! breathe around, as we enter! What forms are there woven into the memory ! What looks, which only the answering looks of the spectator can express ! What intellectual stores have been yearly poured forth from the shrine of ancient art ! The works are various, but the names the same; heaps of Rembrandts frowning from their darkened walls — Rubens's glad gorgeous groups — Titian's more rich and rare — Claude always ex- quisite, sometimes beyond compare — Guido's endless cloying sweetness — the learning of Foussin and the Carracci — and Raphael's princely magnificence, crowning all. We read certain letters and syllables in the catalogue, and at the well-known magic sound a miracle of skill and beauty starts to view. Pictures are a set of chosen images, a stream of pleasant thoughts passing through the mind. It is a luxury to have the walls of our rooms hung round with them, and no less so to have such a gallery in the mind, — to con over the relics of ancient art bound up "within the book and volume of the brain, unmixed (if it 'were possible) with baser matter." A life passed among pictures, in the study and the love of art, is a happy, noiseless dream; or rather it is to dream and to be awake at the same time, for it has all "the sober cer- tainty of waking bliss," with the romantic voluptuousness of a visionary and abstracted being. They are the bright consummate essences of things, and ho who knows of these delights, ; " to taste and interpose them oft, is not unwise!" Hazlitt. DECORATIVE ART. Amongst the most charming and interesting applications of the arts of design, are those where they are brought to bear upon articles of everyday use. Ornament and usefulness being thus brought into association, the public taste is elevated by the habitual consideration of the beautiful, in form, colour, and arrangement of material, and instinctively pa}'s the more willing homage to the great sources of inspiration from which their treatment emanates. It is remark- able that, in the most splendid days of high art, ornamental art — that is, art applied to various manufactures, as in plate, glass, armour, tapestry, &c., and also to the decoration of walls, the carving of ivory, wood, &c. — was in its noblest stage of development, and in its action and influence reci- procated upon the purely fine art. To Maso Fini- guera, a goldsmith who flourished inthelatter part of the 15th century, we owe the invention of cop perplate engraving. Raphael himself condescended to paint walls with arabesque ornaments, which became a school of house decoration ever after. And shortly after Raphael flourished Benvenuti Cellini, who was unapproached in goldsmith's and Damascene work. The same principles of beauty and taste guided both ; the application only was different. Amongst other great artists of this kind were, in ornamental armour, &c., Paolo Azzi- niino, of Venice ; Filippo Negroli, Antonio Bian- cardi, Bernardo Civo ; the Piccinini, and Romero, of Milan : in goldsmith's and Damascene work, ', Paulo Rizzo, of Venice ; and Carlo Sovico, and Caradosso, of Milan. In hailing with satisfaction the magnificent and curious display of articles of vertu in the several departments of ornamental art, which grace the cases in the grand central avenue of the Art-Treasures Palace, and which have been so munificently contributed by Her Majesty and various noblemen and gentlemen and public institutions, we feel bound to guard the art- student against a wrong appreciation of the pur- poses with which he should contemplate them. He should look upon them as marvels of matare fancy and formative excellence, admirably adap- ted to delight in the several capacities for which they were designed ; but he should recollect that many of those purposes are now obsolete, many of the allegorical allusions applied in them out of date and out of character with the peopleamongstwhom be lives at the present day ; and therefore, whilst he admires, he should above all things studiously avoid imitating them. Copyism in art is the destruction of art, sapping the springs of invention, in which the first excellence of the artist consists. Let the art-student set about the contemplation of these art-treasures, with the conviction that they are not to be copied — that they are original, — unique, and that if he would produce anything to stand in rivalry with them, he also must be creative, original, unique in his designs. Let him trace the genius of Raphael and Cellini in their productions ; let him study their mode of working, the principles of beauty and poetic fancy which prompted their conceptions, and guided their hand in the execution of their chef-d'eeuvres ; and then, applying the same principles to his own case, according to the materials at hand, and the objects sought to be attained, he will succeed in his hopes, and realise the brightest dream of artistic ambition. But again we say to the art- student — admire, study the beautiful objects which you sec collected here, investigate, probe to the bottom the secret of the beauty realised in them— but do not copy ! A pair of carved ivory salts, the property of Georgo Field, Esq., of Tonbridge Wells. The first of these is supported by three cupids, the foot of one resting upon a quiver of arrows, the hand of the second upon a shield, whilst, at the foot of the third, stands a peacock in the pride of his plumage. The other one, an illustration of which we also give, is similarly supported by the love messengers and satyrs ; and at the foot of which are a ram, a swan, and dolphins. These speci- mens are twice the size of the engravings, and are supposed to be of the eighteenth century workmanship. These two beautiful specimens of carving are in a case of ivories near the Goodrich collection, but as there is a change taking place in the position of some portion of the cases, we are not able to point out with certainty the number or letter of the case in which they may be in future found. Y. ART - TREASURES EXAMINER. THE LYNN CUP. The celebrated piece of work, of which we give an illustration, will be found in Case B, contain- ing enamels, and the second on the left-hand side as the visitor passes along the hall from the eastern entrance. This cup is of silver gilt, embossed and enamelled, and, together with the cover, weighs 73 ounces. The accom- panying engraving will convey a better idea of its general form, than any description which we can give. The enamelled compartments are enriched with figures habited in rich costumes, apparently en- gaged in the ancient sport of hawking. Tradition says that this cup was given to the corporation of Lynn, by King John. After a careful examination, the evidence appears to be against the truth of the tra- dition, as the whole design sug- gests the work of a later and more refined era. The costume of the female figures displays the graceful elegance of dresses of the time of Edward III., and the ornaments, part of which are decidedly of an architectural character, belong to the decorated period. The ball and point on the top of the lid are evi- dently additions of the time of King James, and the leaf ornament round the rim of the lid, appears to be the well-known Tudor flower, of the time of Henry VII. Again it may be urged on th other side, that the tradition is au old one, and can be traced back to the time of Edward VI., as appears by the following extract from the corporation records : — " 1548. Feast of St. Bartholomew. Plate delivered to y e Mayor. A Cup called King John's Cup oz. with a cover enamell'd wt. ... 40* A Gilt cup with a cover 25 A doz. spoons with acorns 16 A Cup with a pelican in y« bottom 12 Tho. Moss hath received a harness of cloth of Gold and a Dragon to he kept to y e use of y e Comons. " 1595. May 7. King John's Ch-> and a Plate of y e Towns, to he sen: to London, that y« IA Treasurer may see it." The art of working in meta! was earned to great perfection at a very early period in this country A large cup of gold, made by a goldsmith named Baldwin, by order of the Abbot of St. Alban is described by Matthew Paris as * The weight, as here given, differs very much from the present weight. being adorned with flower sand foliages of the most exquisite workmanship. Native artisans were always to be found to execute the vessels required in the services of the church, and the costly and curious ornaments with which the shrines and altars were adorned. This cup, which holds a full pint, was usually filled with sack at civic festivals, when all pre- sent drank from it with certain ceremonies, to the health of the king or queen. May we not imagine what merry hours it has ministered to, — what jovial hearts it has warmed into social companionship, — what voices it has tuned to music. Not to the baronial hall alone, and its riotous festivities, was this ornamental vessel confined ; it had place among the denizens of the religious houses, who practised " good living" in more than one sense of the term. The wassail enp at feasts is of considerable antiquity ; and a grace cup is frequently spoken of as being kept in the refectory of monasteries, out of which the monks after grace every day, drank round the table. On the occasion of mar- riages, we find that our ancestors did not forget their " cups," even in the church. " By the Sarum Missal," says Brande, " it is di- rected that the sops immersed in the wine, as well as the liquor itself, and the cup that contained it, should be blessed by the priest. The beverage was to be drunk by the bride and bridegroom and the rest of the company." The practice of giving toasts, we are told, originated in the reign of Charles II. " It happened," says the Tatler, " that on a public day a celebrated beauty of those times was in the Cross Bath, and one of the crowd of her admirers took a glass of the water in which the fail- one stood, and drank her health to the company. There was in the place a gay fellow, half fuddled, who offered to jump in, and swore though he liked not the liquor, he would have the toast. He was opposed in his resolution ; yet this whim gave foundatien to the pre- sent honour which is done to the lady we mention in our liquor, who has ever since been called a toast." Brande, in giving this quotation, adds the well-known smart saying of a Mr. Brown, who, on having it observed to him that he had given a certain young lady a long while for a toast, answered, " Yes ; but I have not been able to toast her Brown yet." 16 ART - TREASURES EXAMINER, PICTURE TALK. — POINTS OF CRITICISM. By H. Ottmsy. How to look at a picture, — what to look for, and what to admire in a picture ; — these are mat- ters of importance to the public, now that a collection of pictures has been brought together for tfceir enjoyment and instruction, such as never was seen before, — such, perhaps, as never will be seen again under one roof. There arc various opinions as to the capacity of the public for art- study and art-criticism, — opinions wide as the poles asunder. On the one hand, we find an exclusive class of artists who insist that no one has a right to judge of art but themselves, — that the public, who buy pictures, and are expected to admire pictures, are to do so without pretending to understand anything about them, or pre- suming to hold an opinion on the subject, save what may be vouchsafed to them by the artist- class itself. This is sorely wrong, surely absurd. Art is a language by which ideas are commu- nicated ; and the very first notion of a language is, that it should be intelligible to those to whom it is addressed. Suppose the same illiberal preten- sions were setup by other intellectual labourers, — by the poet and musician, for instance, — where would be the world-wide fame and improving influence of Shakspeare and Mozart, if none but coiners of rhyme, and composers of music, could judge of their glorious productions? On the other hand, there is a numerous body of adventurous spirits, — free-thinkers in their way, — who hold too lightly the qualifications necessary forjudging of Art, and appropriating and converting to use the ideas of the artist. " I don't pretend to know any- thing about Art," these exclaim, — " but I know what pleases me, and that's enough." Unfortu- nately that is not " enough ;" the man who knows nothing about Art, cannot enjoy it ; he may fancy he is pleased with some palpable presentment of individual objects, -which assimilate with his vague notions of things, or some of the rude thoughts in his uncultivated mind; but Art, in its nobler purposes and grandest achievements, is a sealed book to him, and he goes away from the con- templation of what " pleases" him, as wise as he came; and that is, surely, not wise "enough." It is a misfortune resulting from the exclu- siveness of the artist-class, and their contempt for public opinion, that so little has been done to remove this too general ignorance, and to cultivate a good understanding and sym- pathy between them and those for whom they work, and from whose patronage they expect their reward ; — that Art has necessarily had to minister to a barbarous, uncultivated taste, and has, consequently, had to devote itself to the humblest and most common -place themes, ex- pressed often in a vulgar, meretricious style. In the best days of Art, in Greece and Italy, its spirit breathed alike in artist and spectator, though the gifts necessary for its practice were confined to a few. Hence the glorious achievements of Art in those days. In our own the only hope for Art is in the general education of the public, — ay, of the millions, in its humanizing mysteries. As an humble aid to this Art culture, let us now have a little "picture-talk," touching the pur- poses and scope of Art, and the language appli- cable to the subject. In looking at a picture, the first thing we have to consider is the subject intended to be repre- sented, — the idea which the painter intended to realize and convey to the beholder. We must enter, in some sort, into the mind of the painter before we can pretend to judge of his work; and, to do this, we must consider the circumstances under which he painted, and the ruling genius of the age in which he lived. Looking round the glorious Art Treasures Exhibition, we find an endless variety of subjects, an endless variety of styles of painting. Yet — speaking, of course, only of the good of each class — -we find that the artist was always impressed, at the outset of his work, with an idea which he wished to convey to us, and that he fulfilled his purpose by the happiest application of the resources of Art known to him. It is by thus judging of the intention and the skill of the artist, combined, that we are enabled to enjoy, in turn, every object in the magnifi- cent banquet now placed before us, from the rudest specimens under the first dawn of Art, to the most highly finished productions of later schools. Of the various Schools of Art — Italian, early and late, Flemish, Dutch, German, Spanish, French, English — we shall treat at length in their proper place ; one remark, however, we may make here, that painting (so it was also with music) had its earliest uses in purely devotional purposes— the decoration of the walls of churches, and the leaves of the missal, with the sublime mysteries of religion, and the miracles of saints engrossing the best efforts of the artist, to the exclusion of all other themes. In course of time, towards the end of the 15th century, concurrently with the cultivation of classical literature, the treatment of mythological subjects, &c, began to divide the attention of the artist ; afterwards, the natural charms of landscape, and the obvious attractions of portraiture ; and then a mixed and miscellaneous style, called genre, in which land- scape, domestic incidents, furniture, animals, still life, and every variety of objects came in for treatment. Yet in this treatment — whatever the subject — certain artistic qualifications were in- volved, more or less, according to the occasion, the nature of which we will now proceed to consider. And first — of the subject, and the invention displayed in its treatment. Upon this important point let us quote a few words from Sir Joshua Reynolds. " Invention in painting," he says, " docs not imply invention of the subject, for that is commonly supplied by the poet or histo- rian. With respect to the choice, no subject can be proper that is not generally interesting. It ought to be either some eminent instance of heroic action or heroic suffering. There must be something either in the action or the object, in which men are universally concerned, and which promptly strikes upon the public sympathy." Reynolds, in this passage, would appear to refer only to what are called "historical" pictures; that is, repre- sentations of grand incidents in religious or profane history, or in poetry ; but much of it, and all which follows, applies to all paintings. "As it is required," he goes on to say, " that the subject selected should be a general one, it is no less necessary that it should be kept unembarrassed with whatever may serve to divide the attention of the spectator. Whenever a story is related, every man forms a picture in his own mind of the action and expres- sion of the persons employed. The power of representing this mental picture on canvas is what we call invention in a painter. And, as in the conception of this ideal picture the mind docs not enter into the minute peculiarities of the dress, furniture, or scene of action ; so, when the painter comes to represent it, he contrives those little necessary concomitant circumstances in such a manner that they shall strike the specta- tor no more than they did himself in his first conception of the story." With all deference to so high an authority, this, in our opinion, is to be taken with some modification. Nothing can be more offensive than the obtrusion, in undue prominence, of the details of furniture, dress, &c, in an historical picture. But, at the same time, they should be completely, and truthfully, repre- sented in every part. The English historical painters of the 18th century — it has been well remarked — were too loose and sketchy in these particulars ; which implies disrespect for the spectator, if not for Art itself. It is not enough to give no more of them than would strike the mind of the artist " in his first conception of his story." The contemplation of a picture is not a momentary process ; and the spectator, after an appreciative study of the grand leading concep- tion, finds relief, and a new field for admiration, in the judicious treatment of details and accesso- ries by which it is completed and surrounded. To resume under this head, — it is a fatal error in the selection of a subject, or in its treatment, or both, when it docs not full}' tell all that passes in the artist's mind when painting it, without any necessity for further explanation. Number- less instances of this error occur every year at our exhibitions in London and elsewhere, where the spectator is called upon to read a long descrip- tive account in the catalogue, as a preparation to the enjoyment of the picture. A glaring illus- tration of the kind, which at the moment occurs to us, is in Ward's celebrated picture of " The Last Sleep of Argyll," painted for the new Houses of Parliament, in which what first strikes us is the appearance of a very stout, florid-counte- nanced gentleman, of the olden time, taking a very comfortable nap, with a large old-fashioned watch on the table beside him. What is there to tell us that it is his " last sleep" before proceeding to execution ? Why, even this prospective event is lost for the moment to the mind of the sleeper himself. After the choice of a subject, and the invention for its treatment, the execution of the work involves a great number of nice considerations, which, however, for the main part, may be classed under two distinct heads — the design and the colouring. To begin with the design , — this is the general arrangement of the linear forms by which the idea, or invention, of the artist is to be realized. It is, in short, the true basis of all that follows. The early masters, of the Florentine and Roman Schools, were very great in design, and were in the habit of working out, not only detailed sketches of each intended work, but elaborate studies of particular portions of it. In contrast with them, may be cited the artists of the Venetian School, with whom colour was a predominant consideration, and who, rest- ing mainly upon it, often slurred over, or gene- ralized the design to the very point of weakness. In design is included composition, which is the arrangement of the various parts or objects, ani- mate and inanimate, so as to form a compact and satisfactory whole. The grouping of the figures is a commanding part of composition, one in which greatness of conception, on the part of the master, chiefly displays itself. As the term grouping refers generally to the assemblage of the figures in masses in various portions of the picture, and in the whole picture as a composition, the disposition of individual figures, as regards their attitude and their reference to one another, is a matter of detail, but one, nevertheless, of great importance. In drawing the figures, the artist has to study anatomical correctness, whether they are draped or not, and the expression of the countenances ; also the character of the figures and heads them- selves, taking care to select them of such a type as shall be appropriate to the occasion. Drap ry is a most difficult part of composition ; it should display simplicity without meanness; breadth with- out heaviness; sufficient accuracy and perspi- cuity without descending to trivial detail : and, above all, — though, from the space occ u pied by it, and the facilities for attractive colouring afforded by it, it must necessarily have an important influence on the general effect, — it should always be treated as an ancillary element, subor- dinate to the drawing and arrangement of the figures it is intended to clothe. Sir Joshua Rey- nolds expressed a great contempt for what lie termed mere " drapery painters." ART • TREASURES E'XAMINER. 19 DAVID WILKIE. "the letter op introduction," &c. David Wilkie was a man of original genius, — not of the highest order, but, when left to its free bent, most pleasing in character. He was the son of the Rev. D. Wilkie, pastor of Cults, and was born in 1785. He early evinced a pre- dilection for art, and came to London in 1805, when he exhibited his " Village Politicians," which was much admired. In 1807 he painted the " Blind Fiddler" for Sir George Beaumont, — who gave him £50 for it, and has since presented it to the National Gallery. It is a gem of art, full of life, and most delicately finished. The figure of the blind fiddler himself, which we engrave, is a perfect study. He seems intent on his performance, not very musical in itself, perhaps, but his uplifted toe shows that he is a good timeist. Amongst his other works were, in 1808, the " Card Players;" in 1809, the "Cut Finger," and the " Rent Day ;" in 1812, (by which time he had been made a Royal Academician) the " Village Festival," for which he received 800 guineas, and which is in the National Gallery; in 1813, "Blind Man's Buff;" in 1814, "The Letter of Introduction" (see engraving) ; in 1815, "Distraining for Rent;" in 1816, the " Rabbit on the Wall ;" in 1819, the " Penny Wedding ;" in 1820, the " Reading of a Will," painted for the King of Bavaria ; in 1822, " Chelsea Pensioners I reading the news of the Battle of Waterloo," painted for the Duke of Wellington, who § gave £1,200 for it; in 1823, the "Parish Beadle ;" in 1824, " Smugglers Offering Goods for Sale;" in 1825, the "Highland Family." The above, with others previous to this date, were all in this artist's own peculiar * line of subject — sketches of everyday life, treated in a spirit of genuine humour. At this period he experienced a heavy loss in some speculations , which preyed upon his spirits ; and being advised by his physicians to travel, he went to Rome and Madrid, stopping abroad about three years. The study of foreign art and character did not improve his style : his Spanish subjects, admirable as they are in themselves, are not equal to those of native origin, to which he had previously confined himself. Another circum- stance shortly followed, which diverted his pencil still more widely from its early purpose. On the death of Sir Thomas Lawrence, he was appointed painter in ordinary to the king, and had to paint George IV. in a Highland costume. He was con- tinued in the same employment by William IV., who knicrhted him, and by her present Majesty, upon whose accession he painted the portrait- picture of the "First Council," — a subject alto- gether unworthy of his genius. It is said, that as court painter he was disappointed at not being called upon to paint a state portrait of Her Majesty ; but the Queen partly compensated him for this, by sending him on a mission to Constan- tinople, to paint that of the Sultan. Some of his sketches produced whilst on this trip are ex- tremely interesting. It was when on his way home from this expedition that he was taken suddenly ill on shipboard, off Gibraltar, and, after a few hours' illness, died 1st June, 1842, when his body was committed to the waves. If ever there was an artist who was ruined by exalted patronage, it was Wilkie. We gladly turn from the consi- deration of his later performances to "The Letter of Introduction," one of his earliest works. What a story is told in that little group of two Christians, plus a dog, — a story, we fear, of everyday life, but not of the amiable side of it. That modest young man has evi- dently come from the far country with a " letter of introduction" to some distant connection of the family, from whom he hopes to receive kindness, promotion in the world, hospitable treatment — at least a good word and a smile of encouragement. But he is likely to be disappointed. The old gentleman wishes him — we are afraid to suggest where ! looks forbiddingly under his spectacles, and seems inclined to burn the " letter of introduc- tion" half read. The pampered dog is of the same humour as his master — sniffs supercili- ously at the intruder, and, though inaudible in canvas, utters a half-suppressed growl. Taken altogether, Wilkie never achieved anything of more strongly marked character than this little picture ; which was painted for Samuel Dobree, Esq., and is now the property of Bonamy Dobree, Esq. Y. A LANDSCAPE FROM OLYMPIA. If we dared so far to scrutinise the design of creation, as to think that certain spots had been formed expressly for certain events and certain actors, rather than that man had fitted himself and his acts to the plan of nature, we should have believed that the plain of Olympia had been designed as an amphitheatre for the gather- ing and assemblage of the Greek people, so perfectly is it in unison with the Greek character. We can imagine the Greek eye dwelling with the fulness of delight on the symmetry of its forma- tion, on the beautiful proportions of its features, on the graceful undulations by which hill, plain, and river were preserved from the ruggedness and the straight lines so abhorrent to his taste, on the clear defined effect of light and shade, and recognising therein his ideal stamped in nature. When the Greek no longer wanted an arena, the plain fell back into the hands of nature, and is now so covered with wild luxuriance and richest vegetation, that it is hard to fancy how men could there have driven their chariots, coursed their horses, and ran their races. We saw it, perhaps, in greater heauty than the Greek ever did ; for there must ever be more or less of sand and sawdust in all the spots where man sets up his exhibitions. Less soft than the Vega, the plain of Olympia is mors luxuriant, and more perfect in form. We cannot define that form ; its beauty consists in the absence of regu- larity, and in the harmony of the whole. The hills encircle it, but not with rampart or barrier aspect. Each hillock of the chain seems to stand by itself, raising up its peak with a gentle swell towards the clear sky, and shooting out its spurs with a gentle curve into the plain ; whilst be- twixt them, deep green hollows, alcove shaped, still more break the line into slopes and undula- tions. The plain itself teems with vegetation. The eye finds nowhere a bare spot. Even the patches of corn are overshadowed by the exuber- ance of the herbage and the wildlings which grow around. Far enough apart from each other to prevent their being taken for clumps or aveuues, stand great grand old oaks — the generatioas, perchance, of oaks which had been marks and goals during the Olympian games. Covered by their own goodly" garb of leaves, and garlanded and festooned by creepers, which hang around and from them, they stand grandly, like old priests with their wreaths and fillets. Through- out flows a river, winding and meandering in gentle turns, which might have suggested to the Greek the line of beauty he so loved to use in all his works. The clear bright sky from above throws here and there a well defined, delicate contour of light, but does not, as in the Vega, suffuse the scene with the fulness of sun- shine. Olympia was more classical, more strictly beautiful ; the Vega softer, warmer, more sunny. In the one we would have read heroic histoiy — in the other, dreamed over poetry. Ere we were half sated with the glory ot the place, the flesh cried out, "I thirst;" and we turned to seek water up one of the hollows, which is supposed to have been the stadium of the foot race. The ground was, however, so thickly wooded, so matted with undergrowth, that we could trace no outline. After a while we came on a small stream, but the water was so tepid and brackish that it repelled our thirst, and we turned away in loathing. At this moment we felt a touch on our shoulder, and on turning round, saw standing beside us the wild ragged figure of a man, with matted beard, torn cloak, and holding a staff in his hand — a solitary herdsman of the plain. He pointed with his finger to his throat, to show us that he under- stood our want, and then waved us onwards. We followed until he stood still by the edge of the same stream, and then, scarcely a foot from it, we saw a tiny fountain bubbling up from the sand. The water was delicious, pure, and cold as ice. We drank and drank, and ever as we stopped, our guide invited us by bow and wave of the hand to fresh draughts. It was his possession, and he was doing the honours as a host. These touches of courtesy, thrown over a'dry crust and cup of cold water, have for us the truest grace of hospitality. — Blackwood. 20 ART - TREASURES EXAMINER. WATER-COLOUR ART. By J. A. Hammersly, F.SA. The individuality and importance of what the English denominate " Water-colour Painting," and the French "Aquarelle," will necessarily demand a distinct series of papers. When con- sidered in relation to its advancement in England, or to the magnificence of the collection in the Art-Treasures Exhibition, there would, indeed, be no excuse for subordinating it to any other department of art -practice. It is in itself worthy of all admiration, and takes no inferior rank when compared with any other division of the fine arts. Indeed, looking at art in the true spirit, and seriously considering its purpose, we must see that any class of manipulation is quite, in itself, a merely mechanical matter, bearing a very unimportant relationship to the real question. Every idea which art can realise or suggest, so far as painting is concerned, is equally within the reach of either oil painting, water-colour painting, or indeed any other method by which pigments arc applied to the surface upon which design and thought, imagination and fancy, are depicted. All those elements of pictorial beauty, dramatic story, vividness of expression, force of action, and all the inferior agents involved in the words form, colour, light and shade, and per- spective, are just as much at the command of the man who chooses one set of formulas, and one set of mere chemical elements, as another. Real art takes deeper root, and in its growth is independent of mere mode. It is true there are questions about practice in art, which are associated inevitably with modes of operation. The large frescoes in the churches in Italy, for instance, could scarcely be produced so well through any other than the medium chosen. It agrees better with the architectural tone of the buildings than oil painting. The former becomes a portion of the place, — the latter would look more like pictures. The mode is, in other words, such as agrees in its tone and character with the place constructed, and it main- tains this tone for a longer period. Hence fresco is more decorative in the highest sense of the term. Oil painting, however, has its advantages, or rather peculiar and dominant qualities. It is well calculated for large gallery works, because it presents opportunities for facile execution, and enables the artist to complete his idea with rapidity. We question whether any one quality of art can be more powerfully given by oil than by water colours, excepting that of texture, always supposing water-colour proper be used, and no recourse had to temper painting, which in modern practice (as by Cattcrmole) is made to eke out the resources of water-colour practice. Without entering tediously into the technically obscure, we may state here that we hope to popularise these terms and ideas ere long. In the meantime our position is taken,and we hope to make it quite clear that oil painting, even in its mere practice, has no very special advantages over j water colours, excepting those just indicated, viz., in producing works with facility, and in a greater j power v. p rendering the textural surfaces of ob- jects, which by painstaking, and a little extra labour, is equally produceable in water colours. Painting with colours in a state of transpa- rency, with water as die liquifying medium, — and thus obtaining from the brilliancy of white paper its capabilities of rendering light, — has advan- tages over every other mode for certain classes of subjects, and for the production of works of a cabinet or medium size. White paper has in itself qualities of light, which place it far higher than any other mode of treating light as a quality rather than as a substance ; and the greatest water-colour artists have made use of this to a degree, which lias placed this kind of art in England upon a par with any kind of art- practice in any age or country. The works of Turner and Copley Fielding, in the Art-Treasures Exhibition, show this abundantly. How de- cidedly does John Lewis prove that the simple material with which he works is capable of laboured detail to an extent even greater than with its sturdier rival. Oil painting, at a certain point, makes slavish demands upon those who practise it, if great delicacy of detail is desired, while the time ex- pended in elaborating detail is excessive ; a fact which almost points out the provinces of each. We feel rather inclined to think that the works of Millais — certainly those of Holman Hunt — would be more satisfactory if executed in water colours. Much has been thought and said touching the durability of water-colour works. It is in the chemical nature of colours, either through the imperfection of mediums, or from the antagonism of compounds of colours, that changes will take place in pictures ; but it would be great hardihood of argument to assert of one mode over another — superiority of permanency. Water colours are said to be more fugitive than oil pictures. But there can be no denial of the fact, that if water-colour pictures become lighter by time, oil paintings become darker. The truth is, that every kind of practice has its pro- vince and capability. We cannot claim for one a supremacy over the other ; we can only, in true heartiness, consider that each in its way is the best, and honestly assign to each its proper position. Michael Angelo said of oil painting, that it was only fit for women and children ; and we know that Turner the immortal, whose water-colour works are the glory of the age, denied substantial pecuniary advantages, in his bequest to his profession, to other than those who worked in oil. These are merely extreme cases of eccentricity, and are no evidence on one side or the other. Water-colour artists themselves — that is, those who are usually considered as exclusively de- voted to its practice — have singular misgivings as to their own position, and as to the propriety of a continuance in prosecuting art in this direction. Many curious stories are afloat on this subject, with some of which we should be glad to amuse our readers, but that the courtesy due to private feeling prompts to silence. Others, however, need no such delicacy, and may be hinted at. J. D. Harding, a distinguished water-colourist, as all the world knows, has given something like the last four or five years to oil painting, forsaking the Old Water-colour Society, where he was one of the most eminent members. In his own legitimate field, and in his own society, he found gracious acceptance and honourable distinction; in the Royal Academy his works were so placed as. to insure to the artist nothing but indignity. He has now gone back to his first love, where we hope and doubt not he will receive welcome, and renewed honours. Copley Fielding for the last five years of his life lingered lovingly over oil painting, in which he was only fifth-rate, while during a previous long life public applause had crowned him " lord of air and space." At the present moment Louis Hague, whose works in the Art- Treasures Exhibition are so glorious, is bewitched by the blandishments of oil; and though what he docs in this direction is magnificent, shall we not all of us lament a severance from those glorious water-colour Belgique interiors, and of the quaint old mansions of the Pays-Bas ? Many water- colour artists have a strange idea that they are considered "only water-colour artists ;" that they arc looked upon somewhat contemptuously by the brethren of large canvasses and " oil and gumption pots." Such impression is as false as it is void of self-respect, — attributable, there is little doubt, to the savage way in which their works are sometimes treated in academy exhibitions, — and will be soon dissipated by the Exhibition of the Art -Treasures, judging from the eager crowds which daily gather in the gallery appor- tioned to water colour drawings. There is one advantage in tliis particular branch of art which it is most desirable to name before making any special mention of the great works in the collection at Old TrafTord ; we allude to the study of landscape, or to those other subjects where effects are fugitive. Water colour admits of almost immediate realisation of the effect of the model; hence studies from nature executed in this material have much the more certain pro- bability of a fresh and conscientious resemblance to nature. This is an advantage so great, a power so important, that it is the one grand quality of truth which places water colours at a height to which no other kind of practice can lay claim. Water colours dry at the period of their use with great rapidity, and although they have this property in common with temper-painting, they are separated from the latter mode of practice by the irridescent quality of the paper, which aids the artist in his imitation of the quality of light, no less than the local form of objects. Who, having rambled among the mountains of Scot- land, does not remember encountering on the margin of one of her fairest lakes, a man of quiet aspect, apparently full of the simple enjoyment of beauty, independent of the world and the world's ways, earnestly depicting the scene before him, — wreathing the clouds round the head of Ben Lomond, — throwing dim haze over the hollows of the hill, or casting portentous shadows over its ravines ! The artist's brush, guided no less by knowledge than love, is cast- ing off, as if by magic, bursts of sunshine, threats of storm, the hush of summer evening, the grey beauty and the freshness of morning. See how the stream bubbles, leaps, reposes, under his touch ! No pause ; all is creatively going on, because the artist, doing all this with his water colours, has no impediment to continuous pro- duction ; and, ere long, we have a picture full of reality, of nature, — of vital truth. Nearer home, I am sure our readers who have sojourned among the hills of Wales, have encountered old Cox, who for nearly half a century has been produc- ing those stupendous works which will be known and loved so long as art finds a reciprocating emotion in the human spirit. The collection of works in water colours gathered together at the Exhibition of Art-Trea- sures is, without doubt, the finest ever placed before the public, and it is from this Exhibition that we propose to demonstrate the supremacy of the English artists who practise in this material. It would have been more regular, and altoge- ther more in conformity with our feelings, to have commenced our notice of this portion of the Ex- hibition by giving a short sketch of its history, and to have traced the question Horn its birth to its present high development. Though this is possible, it is not convenient to do so in the absence of complete arrangement in the Exliibi- tion itself. Although the catalogue is printed, ART - TREASURES EXAMINER. si and gives in the Water-colour Gallery a complete series of works, from No. 1 to No. 965, it may be said of the works on exhibition to which the catalogue is at present a guide, that it is not pos- sible to follow them in regular sequence until we reach No. 423. To make this article immediately useful, therefore, we commence at this number, and shall touch upon earlier works when we have the collection completely arranged, and when we can use the works of such men as Girtin and Turner as illustrative matter. Absolon's pictures, nine Li number, run re- spectively from 423 to 431, inclusive. Absolon is distinguished for charm of colour and for the fitness of the colour to the class of subjects chosen by him. These are almost invariably of a cheerful and healthy cha- racter. " Saturday Night" — a rustic dance, in which, the week's toils being over, wo have the labourers and their maidens " tripping it lightly on the green earth," to the sound of rustic music ; " Sunday Morning" — all happiness and peace. Four of the remaining works are of a similar class, and contain probably the most characteristic indications of Absolon's power. " Green Jacket" is a charming pieceof colour, and in every other respect about one of the best of the painter's productions. H. Bright, in his sole contribution, No. 432, is individual and powerful. Mr. 'Bright is an executant of singular facility, and has a manner which separates him from all his contemporaries. He is not imitative of nature, so far as relates to the portraiture of either local forms or local hues ; but he secures a large imitation of general masses and effects, thus giving what we may venture to term an emfiliasis to his works not often obtained by men who are much more scrupulous in their observation of nature. G. Dodgson exhibits five works from No. 433 to 437. Here, again, we have an artist who shows a leaning to a defined class of subjects, — a class which may be said to form an intermediate link between a realistic and a purely imaginative school. Mr. Hodgson's fancy runs in a direction similar to that of Watteau, Lancret, and our own Stothard ; and although he is less Ea-coco than the two former, he is still just as sympathetic with a sort of dreamy rusticity. His colour is charming, and his delight in sober hues, his avoidance of startling contrasts, sufficiently indi- cates a tone of mind allied to that peaceful character which is the leading impression of his pictures. 436, "Fete Champetre," is the work that most clearly indicates the style of the" artist, and it is rather from this class of subject that his whole art-bias should be measured. Every mau should be judged first from his own mental tendency, and then from the degree of success with which the materials of external nature are happily wed to this tendency. This being chosen as the basis of criticism, we should look rather to a man's development of his own idiosyncrasy in connec- tion with the world of facts about him, than to any one style that may chance to be the popular favourite of the moment. There are no works of an indicative character from those by Mr. Hodgson to the very large collection by Cattermole, towards whose great genius we hope to pay our respect in our next notice. Cattermole does not legitimately belong to the water-colour artists, but he is necessarily included, to avoid a too elaborate classifica- tion. He is one of the most profound men of the British School of Art, however, and on special grounds commands the highest consideration. ANECDOTES OF ARTIST-LIFE. Nothing is more remarkable in the history of art than the very different estimation in which its practitioners have been held by various nations, and at various times. Amongst the ancient Greeks the painter and sculptor were loaded with the highest honours, and the most splendid rewards ; — Apellcs enjoyed the personal friendship of Alex- ander the Great, who prohibited any other man from drawing his picture, — and gave him his mistress Campaspe to wife. Amongst the Ro- mans, in their days of conquest and insolent splendour, art was almost unknown, and so little esteemed, that its practice, so far as it was em- ployed in the decoration of the walls of houses, and other like uses, was chiefly confined to their Etruscan slaves. This prejudice against art survived to a comparatively late period in some parts of Italy. Michael Angelo's father, who wished to bring him up to the legal profession, was greatly disgusted with his avowed predilec- tion for the arts, fearing " it would degrade the dignity of the family if he followed them as a profession." Lorenzo de Medici, however, over- came the old gentleman's vulgar scruples ; — and by his noble patronage gave that impulse to the cultivation of art which enlisted so many great names both in its practice and its support. Previous to this, however, art was not without its illustrious patrons. It seems, indeed, that poetry, art, and civilisation went hand in hand from the commencement. Giotto was the be- loved companion of Dante and Petrarch, and was honoured with the personal regard of popes and princes. Robert, King of Naples, sent specially to his son, the Duke of Calabria, then at Florence, to send him the great painter on any terms ; received him with extraordinary honours, and took great delight in his society as he watched him daily at work. One very hot day his ma- jesty exclaimed, " If I were you, Giotti, I would leave off work and rest myself." " And so would I, sire, if I were you," was the ready reply, pointing to the state of the king's public affairs, which was not the most felicitous. Another time, when the king asked him to paint a repre- sentation of his kingdom, the witty artist com- plied, sketching the figure of an ass with a heavy pack-saddle on his back, eagerly smelling at another pack-saddle lying on the ground, on which were a crown and sceptre. It happened, sometimes, particularly in troublous times, that the glitter of court honours was not always supported by the substantials of life, to the fall extent that could be desired ; in fact, patrons were sometimes short of cash, and became backward in their payments. It is related of Andrea Mantegna, that when working for Pope Innocent VIII. at Rome, his salary fell provokingly into arrears, so that the poor artist was driven to distressing straits. His holiness, nevertheless, was accustomed occasionally to visit his studio, as a relief to the caies of state, and one day found him occupied in painting a female figure of peculiar appearance. He asked what it was meant for, when Mantegna, with a look too painfully full of meaning, said he was trying to represent Patience. The Pope under- stood him, and replied, " If you would place Patience in fitting company, you should paint Discretion at her side." The artist took the hint ; consigned his visions of Patience back to the recesses of his own thoughts, and completed the work he was about, for which the Pope not only paid him what was stipulated, but rewarded him munificently besides. Michael Angelo, under somewhat similar cir- cumstances, had the boldness to throw down the , gauntlet of defiance to that most imperious of pon- tiffs, Julius II. Being refused by the underling officials some money which he wanted to defray the cost of some marble from Carrara, and rudely refused admission to the presence of his holiness when he went to appeal against their conduct, (which he was told was done by the Pope's own order), he replied with haughtiness, " From this time forward, if his holiness wants me, he shall have to seek mo in another place," and hurried off to Florence. The Pope, exasperated, commanded him to return, which he at first refused to do ; but being at length induced to meet him halfway at Bologna, the Pope received him with some show of anger at first. " So ! " he exclaimed, " instead of your coming to us, you seem to have expected that we should attend upon you." Michael Angelo replied, with submission, that his error arose from too hastily feeling a disgrace he was unconscious of meriting, and hoped his holiness would pardon what was passed. The monsignore, or chamberlain, standing by, not thinking this a sufficient apology, began to mutter some excuse for him, as being of a class of men who were ignorant of everything but their art ; upon which the Pope replied with warmth, "Thou hast vilified him, which I have not ; thou art an ignorant fellow, and no man of genius; get out of my sight;" whereupon one of the attendants pushed the un- fortunate Marplot out of the presence, and Michael received the papal blessing. Francis I. of France was the first hereditary monarch of modern times who set the example of paying homage to genius. He succeeded in attracting to his court Leonardo da Vinci, Ben- venuto Cellini, Primaticcio, and Andrea del Sarto. The first-named he received with extra- ordinary distinction, assigning him apartments in the Palace of Fontainebleau, which, however, he did not long occupy. The story is stereotyped in all the authority-books, that Leonardo died in the king's arms ; but of this there is some doubt. Henry VIII. of England, who ambitioned to rival Francis in everything, tried to induce Raphael and Primaticcio to pay him a visit, but failed ; Raphael, however, sent him a picture of »St. George, and some of his pupils instead. In Holbein, undoubtedly, England had a great prize ; and with Henry he was an especial favourite. Some of his courtiers having offered some insult to the jovial portrait painter, bluff Hal's rebuke is well known : " You have not to do with Hol- bein, but with me. I tell you that of seven peasants I can make seven lords, but not one Holbein." The other most distinguished potentate of this age — and he was the greatest of them all — was Charles V. ; and he also patronised art in the person of Titian, whom he induced to visit him at Madrid, where he loaded him with honours. He visited him frequently when he was painting ; and on one occasion, when the artist let drop his brush, he picked it up, and handed it to him, saying, " Titian deserves to be served by the Coesar ;" — Caesar being a generic term, equiva- lent to Emperor. Even the sombre Philip II. loved the Venetian artist, and prized his works, insomuch that when the palace of the Prado was burned, he merely inquired whether the Titian Venus had escaped the flames, and being an- swered in the affirmative, said, " Then every other loss may be supported." Recurring to Michael Angelo, it should be stated that when he consented to meet Pope Julius II. at Bologna, at the earnest entreaty of the Gonfaloniere of Florence, who dreaded the Pope's vengeance if he suffered him to remain, he did so only on condition of being invested with the functions of an ambassadorfrom the republic, which by the law of nations would render him sacred from molestation. Nor was this the only instance of a painter being employed in a diplomatic capacity. In 1605, Rubens was sent by his patron, the Duke of Mantua, as ambassador to Philip III. of Spain. In 1628 he was employed on a similar mission to the same court, by the Arch- duchess Isabella de Medici ; and in the year following came to England on a political mission from Flanders ; in all of which transactions he acquitted himself to the satisfaction of all parties, painting some of his finest works in the intervals between his visits to the minister of state. Velasquez, too, was made aposentador-niayor of the Palace, an office only conferred on persons of eminence, by Philip IV, who also sent him, in 1648, on a special mission to the Pope. Raphael, in the words of Richardson, " lived in great fame, honour, and magnificence, and died univer- sally lamented, and even missed a cardinal's hat only by dying a few months too soon." Such the honours and rewards which were heaped upon art in the brightest days of its history. Pke-Raph., 22 TURNER. J. M. W. Turner rose from a very humble origin, to a position honourable alike to his industry and genius. He was the son of a hair- dresser, in Maiden Lane, Covent Garden, where he made his debut into this busy world of ours I in the year 1775. His father had the good sense to offer no impediment to the pursuit of a taste for drawing, which the boy early indicated, so, leaving wig-blocks and curling-irons, young Turner soon found himself indebted to Dr. Munro for advice and assistance. This gentle- man was the possessor of a large collection of water-colour drawings, including specimens of Sandley, Cozens, Rooker, Gainsborough, &c, from whom his young friend obtained an ac- quaintance with the principles of topographical design, breadth and simplicity of colouring, and the first perception of that brilliant aerial per- spective, in the illustration of which he was after- wards so great a master. A fellow-pupil with Girtin, there sprang up a friendly rivalry between these two young aspirants for artistic fame ; and looking upon their productions of this period (an opportunity afforded in the Art- Treasures Exhibition), it is difficult to distinguish the individualities of each. Girtin died in 1802 — we believe he had not reached his 28th year, — having shown remarkable talent in a style of art which has since become so important a characteristic of the English school. In 1789, Turner first exhibited at the Royal Academy, and three years after sent his first painting in oil. His early pictures bear so remarkable a contrast to the productions of his later years, that in looking upon them as they are now collected side by side, it is rather difficult to suppose they are from the same hand. Yet there is an equal breadth of design, an equal perception of the poetry of nature's landscape in these dark, massive shadows, as are afterwards to be found in the golden glories of what has been called the artist's "second epoch." The illustration here given is from what the critics term his " light" style ; in a future number we may be enabled to give a specimen of his opposite manner. Turner is one of those who fairly take rank among the sons of genius. We should not judge of him or his productions as we judge commonplace minds, or commonplace works. To estimate him rightly, we must have faith in him ; believing that what he gave to us as the interpretation of the natural beauty by which he felt himself surrounded, was " the truth as to him revealed." Some of his later works appear to those who have not gone deeply into artistic mysteries, as mere visions, idealities, fancies so wild and strange that it would be ironical to look upon them with a serious counte- nance. But, nevertheless, startling as they may appear, a greater familiarity with the face of nature, and its wondrous variety of expression, has often changed the sceptic into a sincere belief that Turner, with all his reputation for eccentricity, was a strictly conscientious artist ; one who put nothing down upon canvas that he did not see, and that he did not feel to be a faithful translation of the great " book of beauty" which lay spread out before him. Elected an associate of the Royal Academy in 1800, ,he, two years after, became an academician at the age of 27 years. His death took place in 1851. TUENE 11. THE GRAND CANAL.' REMBRANDT. If ever there was a man of genius in the art, it was Rembrandt. He might be said to have created a medium of his own, through which he saw all objects. He was the grossest and the least vulgar, that is to say, the least common- place in his grossness, of all men. He was the most downright, the least fastidious of the imita- tors of nature. He took any object, he cared not what, how mean soever in form, colour, and expression ; and from the light and shade which he threw upon it, it came out gorgeous from his hands. As Vandyke made use of the smallest contrasts of light and shade, and painted as if in the open air, Rembrandt used the most violent and abrupt contrasts in this respect, and painted his objects as if in a dungeon. His pictures may be said to be " bright with excessive darkness." His vision had acquired a lynx-eyed sharpness from the artificial obscurity to which he had accus- tomed himself. " Mystery and silence hung upon his pencil." Yet he could pass rapidly from one extreme to another, and dip his colours with equal success in the gloom of night or in the blaze of the noon-diy sun. In surrounding different objects with a medium of imagination, solemn or dazzling, he was a true poet ; in all the rest he was a mere painter, but a painter of no common stamp. The powers of his hand were equal to those of his eye ; and indeed he could not have attempted the subjects he did, without an execu- tion as masterly as his knowledge was profound. * His colours are sometimes dropped in lumps on the canvas ; at other times they are laid on as smooth as glass ; and he not unfrequently painted with the handle of his brush. He had an .eye for all objects as far as he had seen them. His his- tory and landscapes are equally fine in their way His landscapes we could look at for ever, though there is nothing in them. But " they are of tho earth, earthy." It seems as if he had dug them out of nature. Everything is so true, so real, so full of all the feelings and associations which the eye can suggest to the other senses, that we im ■ mediately take as strong an affection to them as if they were our home — the very place where we were brought up. No length of time could add to the intensity of the impression they convey. Rembrandt is the least classical and the most romantic of all painters. His " Jacob's Ladder" is more like a dream than any other picture that ever was painted. The figure of Jacob himself is thrown in one comer of the picture like a bundle of clothes, while the angels hover above the dark ness in the shape of airy wings. — Haydon. AKT -TREASURES EXAMINER. 23 MISCELLANEOUS NOTES. The interest excited on the opening day of the Art- Treasures Exhibition exhibits no sign of relaxation. On the contrary, the number of people which have assembled, day by day, within the walls of this noble palace of art, has exceeded the calculation of those whose experience in similar appeals to the public had led them to suppose that the half-crown payment, for ten successive days, would have proved a compara- tive failure. There was a vast crowd on Saturday last, a circumstance which indicates that our Man- chester half-holiday — an institution of which we ought to be proud — will prove a source of large increase to the Art-Palace revenue. We are most of us creatures of habit ; we have been great -Saturday supporters of important " shows " of every kind, and the one at Old Trafiord appears likely to rank among the most successful attractions. Carriages were rattling along by the numerous approaches to the exhibition, — crowds were merrily wending thither on foot. In the building, the scene was brilliant in effect, and interesting in the thoughts and feelings it sug- gested. From the poetry of art to the realities of the refreshment room, all was animation and apparent enjoyment. The sun shone smilingly, and there were smiles, too, not less radiant, from beneath those little clusters of ribbon and lace, which are curiously called Donnets. The modern galleries (those containing the oil paintings, as well as those in which the water-colour drawings so grace- fully decorate the walls) were evidently the great attraction, — there were more silk gowns and laee man- tellas in that direction ; but the glories of the old masters, — the grandeur of Rembrandt, the beauty of Eaphael, the glow of Titian, were not without their devotees, admiring and gaining knowledge in one of the most pleasing of historical studies. On the orchestra was Mr. Halle, with his talented band of instrumentalists, pouring forth strains from the rich stores of the German masters in composition. Music and painting stood in gracious rivalry for the time ; and those fatigued with the contemplation of the one, sought the soothing in- fluences of the other, as they took their comfortable seats, and lent their listening ears to the " Heavenly Maid." During the morning of Tuesday, Lord John Russell paid a visit to the Art-Palace, accompanied by Mr. John Pender and party, at whose house his lordship sojourned. Mr. Scharf, jun., who has had the arrangement of the old masters, accompanied Lord John through the gallery of the old masters, with which he appeared greatly delighted, spending almost the whole of his time in that department. There was again a large crowd of people present, and evidently much interest excited from the presence of a nobleman so distinguished in the political world. Mr. W. Blauchard Jerrold has addressed to us a letter suggesting the propriety of an invitation and a banquet to the living artists of all nations, from the petple of Manchester. The following is an extract from this document : — For the Art-Treasures Exhibition, Englishmen owe undoubtedly a heavy debt of gratitude to the generous possessors of treasures who have parted with them for a time, and risked the dangers of their transport to Penge Park; but does their debt of gratitude end here ? Is there to be no recognition of the very men whose genius created these treasures? Shall we honour the purchaser and forget the producer ? Eng- land is a niggardly distributor of rewards to genius. She looks with a cold eye, too often, upon its " Difficult journey to a splendid tomb," to quote Mr. John Forster's dedicatory sonnet to Charles Dickens, prefixed to the life of Goldsmith. But shall there not be a brilliant exception ? and of this brilliant exception, shall not Manchester be the author? We pause before gloomy Rembrandt. We see Henry the Eighth face to face, thanks to Holbein ; our great men live still for us, and we bow to the shades of Vandyke, and Lely, and Jansen, and Kneller, and Hudson, and Thornhill, and Copley, and Gainsborough, and Reynolds, and Lawrence I For these our words are waste. But step into the British school gallery ; peep into the room chiefly devoted to the contributions of the Marquis of Hertford ; pass beyond, into thB cheerful water-colour room ; then cross the transept, and examine the gallery — and perhaps an idea may strike you, as it has struck me. The dead are beyond the honour that consists in cap-throwing. Peace and thanks be with them 1 Their triumph is a noble one. Mark the Eighth Harry yonder, in Mr. Cunningham's portrait gallery ! Where is the interest in that picture? Not assuredly so much in the majesty of the individual represented, as in the wondrous skill of the humble limner, who, in the flesh, ducked and scraped before his royal sitter. Therefore, the triumph of Holbein is great. But say that we pause before the Decamps in the Hertford room, — or of Ary Scheffer, — or Rosa Bon- heur ! AVe see their triumph also ; but may we not hope to prove our gratitude to them? How proud should we be to grasp old Michael Angelo, if he could step upon the scene once more, and, turning past yonder Raphael tapestry, stand before us ! Let us not discuss the point, whether or not there lives the artist at this present moment fit to wait at Angelo's table ; but at least let us say this — that there are great painters in the midst of us still, inheritors of some of the magic, at any rate, of Van Eyck, and Raphael, and Correggio, and Titian. And this acknowledgment once made in Manchester, will not her course lie clear before her ? I am certain that she will take up this challenge of her hospitality, and that she will do grateful homage to the noble art of which she has proved herself a true admirer, by sending forth these words, " Manchester! invites the living artists of all nations to her Art-Treasures Exhibi- tion." It would be a noble sight to see Horace Vernet, and Ary Scheffer, and Cornelius, and Madrazo, and Rosa Bonheur, and poor Decamps, and Jeanron, and Meissonnier, and the Stevens, and Knous, and Joon, and Gerome, and Young Gustave Dore, and Rousseau, gathered about one table in your Free-trade Hall, with the royal eminent academicians of England, and many, very many, British artists who are not academicians. Will the coming summer shine upon such a gathering? In the name of Art, and for the honour of Manchester, I hope so. At any rate, I put the idea which struck me in Penge Park the other day at the service of your cotton lords, and remain, sir, your obedient servant, W. Blanchard Jerrold. The continued large demand for season tickets is one of the best assurances that the Exhibition is to become a summer lounge. At the foot of the staircase, leading to the South Transept Gallery, visitors will find the Book-stall, where the London and Manchester daily newspapers, exterior and interior views of the building, maps and plans of Manchester, guide books, works on art, &c. &c, are on sale. At this stall letters can be written, which are forwarded to the post-office. Some ingenious borologist has taken advan- tage of the circumstance that the words " Art- Treasures" are composed of twelve letters, and has manufactured a clock, upon the dial of which the letters forming the words do duty for numeral letters. At noon, the hour hand will point to " A," at one o'clock to " R," and at two o'clock to " T," and then pass over the let- ters T, R, E, A, S, U, R, E, S, thus complet- ing the twelve hours. This clock has been fixed in front of the gallery at the east end of the Palace. Around the open cloister which runs round the sides of the quadrangle between the Palace and the Botanical Gardens, a number of small marble tables have been fixed for the convenience of visitors requiring refreshments, and who prefer partaking of the same in the open air In tho sultry dog days, this thoughtful provision of the executive will be fully appreciated by those who feel disposed, after half a day's walk through the courts, to attend to their physical requirements before leaving the scene. At the annual meeting of the York School of Art, Mr. J. P. B. Westhead, M. P., the chair- man, referred to the forthcoming Exhibition of Art-Treasures in Manchester, and very liberally offered to pay the expenses attendant upon such of the pupils of the York school visiting tbe Exhibition as would be likely to be benefited thereby, the selection of pupils to remain with the committee of management. About half way up the hall, in the north aisle, a large press has been placed at which medals commemorative of the Exhibition will be struck, — the design for which has been supplied by Mr. Pinches, of Oxendon-street, London. THE NUDE FIGURE. Here it may be proper to take notice of the prejudice many people have to naked i figures. It is difficult to discover any settled rules of propriety in the different modes of dress, as all ages and nations have fluctuated with regard to their notions and fashions in this matter. The Greek statues of the Laocoon, Apollo, Meleager, Hercules ; the fighting and dying Gladiator, and the Venus de Medicis, though altogether without drapery, yet surely there is nothing in them offensive to modesty, nothing immoral : on the contrary, looking on these figures, the mind of the spectator is taken up with the surprising beauty or sublimity of the personage, his great strength, vigorous and manly character : or those pains and agonies that so feelingly discover themselves throughout the whole work. It is not in showing or concealing the form that modesty or the want of it depends ; they arise entirely from the choice and inten- tions of the artist himself. The Greeks and other great designers gave in to this practice (of representing the figure undraped) in order to show in its full extent the idea of character they meant to establish. If it was beauty, they show it to you in all the limbs ; if strength, the same ; and the agonies of the Laocoon are as dis- cernible in his foot as in his face. This pure and naked nature speaks a universal language, whicil is understood and valued in all times and coun- tries, where the Grecian dress, language, and manners are neither regarded nor known. It is worth observing also that many of the fair sex do sometimes betray themselves by their over-deli- cacy (which is the want of all true delicacy) in this respect. But I am ashamed to be obliged to combat such silly affectations ; they are beneath men who have either head or heart ; they are unworthy of women who have cither education or simplicity of manners ; they would disgrace even waiting maids and sentimental milliners. — Barry. AN INNATE FEELING FOR THE ARTISTIC. A taste for the imitative arts is not like that spon- taneous poetical susceptibility, which nature her- self has implanted in every mind. The traces and in- dications of poetical feeling may sometimes appear to be almost effaced ; yet it is only because the fine spirit is dulled, and its perceptions blunted by the heavy external pressure of daily cares, and the chilling, mechanical routine of actual life. Fancy, with her gushing feelings, her sympathies of memory and anticipation, is an intrinsic ele- ment of the human soul, ever ready to vibrate at the faintest touch, and start into responsive life : but, to discern the beauty of material forms, fancy and imagination alone will not suffice, they must have a peculiar bias and direction, and be blended and inter-penetrated with a high development of those sensual organs to which each of these arts peculiarly addresses itself. Nor does this taste depend upon the organisation alone ; a person may be endowed with visual organs of the most perfect structure, nay, of more than ordinary acuteness, and yet no percep- tion of beauty be associated therewith. The faculty by which the eye becomes endowed with a clear, inborn perception of the beautiful i» painting and m material form, or the eai awakened to the spirit of sound and its delicate harmonious magic, lies rather in the mysterious depths of organisation and the special qualities of the soul in its unseen spiritual life, — in a combi- nation and union of the senses and imagination, scarcely explicable even by the gifted individual himself. We cannot, therefore, be surprised if learned inquirers, deep thinkers, and even poets of genius, are often deficient in the percep- tion of beauty in the imitative arts, and perhaps, after a life-long occupation amid its themes and subjects, remain either insensible to its powers, or are for ever following contrary and opposing impulses. A taste for beauty in painting, no less than in music, must be innate : but when thus primarily existing in the soul, the feeling awakens and unfolds itself simultaneously with the sight of beauty ; still continual contemplation of the art is required for a perfect comprehension and elucidation of the ideas connected with it. — SchlegeVs "Aesthetic." 24 ART - TREASURES EXAMINER. THE HOUSE OF TITIAN, AT VENICE. Mrs. Jameson, in her " Memoirs and Essays," gives a graphic account of the house which had been the dwelling-place of Titian during the last fifty years of his life. It is situate in the Caunpo Rotto, and part of it is now conveited into a low wine-house, dignified by the title of " Trattavia di Tiziano," the rest being portioned out to various inhabitants of the humbler classes. " The little neglected garden, which once sloped down to the shore, and commanded a view over the Lagune to Murano, was now shut in by high buildings, intercepting all prospect but of the sky, and looked strangely desolate." The rest, which we give in the words of this charming writer, is interesting not only in reference to the personal history of the great painter, but in connection with the character of landscape and atmosphere displayed in his works. " Titian removed hither from the close neigh- bourhood of San Toma, in the year 1531, and at that time a more beautiful site for the residence of a painter can hardly be conceived. Claude's house, on the Monte Pincio, at Rome, was not more suited to him than was the San Canciano to Titian. The building was nearly new ; it had been erected in 1527, by the patrician Alvisc Polani, and was then called the Casa Grande, to distinguish it from others in the neighbourhood ; it stood detached, and facing the north. The garden, then a vacant space (terreno vacua), reaching to the Lagune. In September, 1531, Titian hired from Bianca Polani, and her hus- band Leonardo Molini, the upper part of the house, at a yearly rent of forty ducats, and re- moved into it with all his family. He was then in his fifty-third year, and at the height of his reputation. In a renewal of the lease, in 153G, we find Titian called II celeberrimo D. Tiziano, which appears to us northerns rather a singular phrase to be introduced into a formal legal docu- ment. " He had recently lost his wife Cecilia. His eldest son, Pomponio, was about six years old ; his second son, Orazio, about three ; and his daughter, Lavinia, an infant of about a year old. His sister, Ursula, was at the head of his house- hold, which she regulated for twenty years with great prudence and diligence. Up to this time Titian had lived with frugality. Though honoured and admired by his fellow-citizens, the prices he received for his works were compara- tively small. Could ho have resolved to leave his beloved Venice he might have revelled in riches and honours, such as princes lavish on their favourites. Francis I., Leo X., and the Dukes of Mantua, Urbino, and Fcrrara had con- tended for the honour of attaching him to their service. ' But,' to quote his own words, in one of his memorials to the Doge and Council of Ten, ' I preferred living in humble mediocrity, uilder the shadow of my natural lords, than in what prosperous condition soever under foreign princes ; and I have constantly refused all the proposals made to me, that I might remain near your illustrious excellencies.' What the princes of Italy had failed to accomplish, the Emperor Charles V., with all the allurements of his power, could not effect ; he could not tempt the generous, high-souled painter to give up his independence and his country. It appears, however, that the patronage of the Emperor added considerably to his fortune. From the date of Titian's first visit to Bologna, where he painted the portraits of Charles V., Clement VII., the Cardinal de Me- dici, the Duke of Alva, and from which he re- turned with 2,000 gold crowns in his purse, we find him increasing in riches and honours. He had, at first, taken only the upper part of this house ; he then, from 1539, rented the whole of it ; and a few years later he took the piece of land, the terreno vacua adjoining, which he fenced in and converted into a delicious garden, extending to the shore. No buildings then rose to obstruct the view, — the Fondamente Nuove did not then exist. He looked over the wide canal, which is the thoroughfare between the city of Venice and the Island of Murano ; in front the two smaller islands of San Cristoforo* and San Michcle ; and beyond them Murano, rising on the right, with all its domes and campanili, like another Venice. Far off extended the level line of the mainland, — and, in the distance, the towering chain of the Friuli Alps, sublime, half * San Cristoforo now a cemetery, and in one corner of it lies poor Leopold Robert, the painter. defined, with jagged snow-peaks soaring against the sky , and more to the left the Euganean hills, Petrarch's home, — melting, like visions, into golden light. There, in the evening, gon- dolas, filled with ladies and cavaliers, and re- sounding with music, were seen skimming over the crimson waves of the Lagune, till the purple darkness came on rapidly — not, as in the north, like a gradual veil, hut like a gemmed and embroidered curtain, suddenly let down over all. This was the view from the garden of Titian, — so unlike any other in the world, that it never would occur to me to compare it with any other. More glorious combinations of sea, mountain, shore, there may be — I cannot tell ; like it, is nothing that I have ever beheld or imagined. " In this beautiful residence dwelt Titian for the last fifty years of his life. He made occa- sional excursions to Bologna, Ferrara, Urbino, Mantua, Milan, and to Augsburg and Iilspruck, in compliance with the commands of his princely patrons. But this was his home, to which he returned with ever-increasing love and delight, and from which no allurements could tempt him. He preferred, to the splendid offers of sovereigns, his independence, his friends, his art, his country — for such Venice had become to him — " la mia Venezia," as he fondly styles her. Nor did his love for his magnificent foster-mother diminish his affection for his little paternal home among the mountains. In proof of this, wo find the scenery of Pieve di Cadore perpetually repro- duced in his pictures. The towering cliff, the castle, the wild, broken ground, the huge plane and ehesnut trees, with their great wreathed roots — these form the backgrounds of his classi- cal and sacred subjects ; these furnished the fea- tures of his beautiful pastoral landscapes and his harvest scenes — all of which are from nature. While, of Venetian localities, I can remember no instance, except the backgrounds of some of the historical pictures painted for the doges. Among the sketches by Titian I have seen in various col- lections, I do not remember one taken from his garden at Venice. The solitary instance I have heard of, is the introduction of the bushy tree, with the round-shaped leaves, introduced into the fore- ground of the picture of St. Peter Martyr ; which is traditionally said to be a study from a certain tree which grew in his garden at San Canciano. The tradition, first mentioned I believe by Zanetti,* is always repeated by those who show you the picture in the church of St. John and St. Paul. But if it be true that the San Pietro was painted in 1520, seven years before the house was built, and twenty years, at least, before the garden was laid out, what becomes of the tradition ? Unfortunately, dates and documents are inexorable things to deal with, " putting down" theories and traditions with plain matter of fact, to the utter confusion of the credulous and the affliction of the sentimental. But without having recourse to these doubtful stories, there remains enough of what is certain and indisputable to lend to the house of Titian a thousand charming associations. It is true that the Bacchus and Ariadne, the Four Ages, the Assumption, the Peter Martyr, and many of his finest pictures, were painted before he took up his residence here ; but most of the pictures painted after 1531 were finished in this atelier, even when begun elsewhere. Here Ippolito de Medici sat to him on his return from Hungary, in his Hungarian costume. Here he painted the Venus of the Florence Gallery, the Entomb- ment, the Ecce Homo of the Louvre, the St. Jerome of the Brera, the two Dianas in Lord Francis Egcrton's Gallery, the Venus and Adonis, the Last Supper of the Escuriel, the San Nicolo in the Vatican, the Martyrdom of St. Laurence, and hundreds of other chcfs-d'ceitvre. In his garden, after his day's work, the table was spread, and he supped with his friends Aretino, Sansovino, Cardinal Bembo, Cardinal Trivulzi, Ludovico Dolce, Sperone Speroni. The conversations at his table gave rise to Dolce's Dialogo della Pit- tura, and neither music nor good cheer was wanting to the feast. Here the princely painter entertained Henry III. of France, with his suite of nobles, and all their attendants ; but it does not appear that Henry sat to him. In fact, Titian painted fewportraits during the last twenty years of his life ; he had been, on account of his great age rather than the loss of power, absolved from his state duty of painting the doges — the seventh, and the last who sat to him, was the Doge Veniero, in 1558. * " Trattato della Pittura," p. 159. Edit. 17G2. PAINTING ; ITS TRADITIONAL LIFE. Few works are more evanescent than paintings. Sculpture retains its freshness for twenty centu- ries. The Apollo and the Venus are as they were. But books are perhaps the only productions of man coeval with the human race. Sophocles and Shakspere can be produced and reproduced for ever. But how evanescent are paintings, and must necessarily be ! Those of Zeuxis and Apelles are no more, and perhaps they bore the same relation to Homer and riischylus that those of Guide and Raphael bear to Dante and Petrarch. There is one refuge from the despondency of this contemplation. The material part, indeed, of their works must perish, but they survive in the mind of man, and the remembrances con- nected with them are transmitted from genera- tion to generation. The poet embodies them in his creations ; the systems of philosophers are modelled to gentleness by their contemplation ; opinion, that legislator, is infected with their influence ; men become better and wiser ; and the unseen seeds are perhaps thus sown which shall produce a plant more excellent even than that from which they fell. — Shelley. RAPHAEL. But, oh the pleasure! when a connoisseur and lover of art has before him a picture or drawing of which he can say, " This is the hand, these the thoughts, of him who was one of the politest, best-naturcd gentlemen that ever was : who was beloved and assisted by the greatest wits and the greatest men then at Rome, at a time when politeness and all those arts which make life truly agreeable were carried to a greater height than at any period since the reign of Augustus, — of him who lived in great fame, honour, and magnificence, and died universally lamented, and even missed a cardinal's hat only by dying a few mouths too soon ; but was, above all, highly esteemed and favoured by two Popes, the only ones who filled the chair of St. Peter in his time ; — one, in. short, who could have been a Leonardo, a Michael Angelo, a Titian, a Cor- reggio, a Parmigiano, a Rubens, or any other, when he pleased ; but none of them could ever have been a Raphael !" When we compare the hands and manners of one master with another, and those of the same man in different times ; when we see the various turns of mind and excellences ; and, above all, when we observe what is well or ill in their works, — as it is a worthy, so it is also a very delightful exercise of our rational faculties. — liichardson. THE QUALITIES OF THE GREAT IN ART. A painter must not only be a poet, an historian, a mathematician, &c. ; hemustalsobea mechanic ; his hand and eye must be as expert as his head is clear, and lively, and well stored with science. He must not only write a history, a poem, a description, but in a fine character : his brain, his eye, his hand, must be busied at the same time. He must not only have a wise judgment to distinguish betwixt things nearly resembling one another but not the same (which he must have in common with those of the noblest pro- fessions) : but he must, moreover, have the same delicacy in his eyes to judge of the tints of colours, which are of infinite variety; and to distinguish whether a line be straight or curved a little ; whether this is exactly parallel to that, or oblique, and in what degree ; how this curved lino diners from that, if it differ at all, of which lie must also judge ; whether what he has drawn is of the same magnitude with what he pretends to imitate, and the like ; and he must have a hand exact enough to form these in his work answerable to the ideas he has formed of them. An author must think, but it is no matter what character he writes — he has no care about that: it is sufficient if what he writes be legible : a curious mechanic's hand must be exquisite, but his thoughts are commonly pretty | much at liberty ; but a painter is engaged in both respects. When the matter is well thought and digested in the mind (a work common to painters and writers), the former had still behind a vastly greater task than the other, and which, to per- form well, would alone be a sufficient recommen- dation to any man who should employ a whole life in attaining it. But, by the way, it is not every picturc-n'akcr that ought to be called a j painter, as every rhymer or Grub-street talc- writer is not a poet or historian : a painter ought to be a title of dignity, and understood to Imply a person endued with such excellences of mind and ■ body as have ever been the foundations of honour amongst men. — Richardson. ART - TREASURES EXAMINER. 25 "THE BEST OF ALL GOOD COMPANY." Br W. Blanchard Jekeold. We passed a strange night. Along that broad dark road, spangled here and there, at its edges, by the bed-lights of early risers — seeing ghostly forms in the gloom ; pensive, and strangely stirred to avoid all men by the way — we wan- dered, while the moon was swiftly smeared by patches of cloud, to a suburban park, in which a magic palace had arisen, and where we were to meet a curious company. The ring of our footsteps alone sounded to our ears. We were leaving the world behind us. Quaint forms of servitors flitted before us. Torches wildly danced in front of the magic palace. The clash of armour reached us as we advanced rapidly, — determined, come what might, to be calm and cool. White rights played in the distance about moving halberds. Were they held by men with frills and flat caps ? The moonlight is so trea- cherous, that we dare not assert anything. The gloom deepened, however, as we reached the palace doors. The hum of life was certainly there ; but how curious were the figures ! A steel gauntlet presently flashed under our very nose. We were evidently summoned to declare ourselves. But a gentler hand, clad in buff leather, waved the cold steel away, and we passed on. Now we appeared to walk upon rushes ; and now our feet timidly sank into the softest carpet. There are lights, but strangely contrived ; and there is, here and there, a nauseous smell of burning fat. The gallery in which we stand is a long one, with a line of moonlight along the roof. The columns appear to be gilded. Ghostly forms, in white, keep the way clear, down the centre. Faintly rises music, from the dim extremity that, to our confused sight, is simply shifting vapour ; and the flitting figures are but so much moving, darkened cloud- shadows in a silvery fog. The reader will readily imagine, that in our everyday dress, with a silk hat between our kid-gloved fingers, we felt some- what ill at ease. Now a colossal wig ; now a head, cropped, and round as a cocoa-nut ; now a helmet ; now a low, broad cap ; now a conical hat smothered in feathers — dashed past us. Still we moved forward. Presently, for the first time, we heard the sound of human voices. But they were not the voices to which our ears were attuned. The words they spoke were strange. Now a jargon of French ; now coarse oaths and allusions, shocking to our ears ; now jokes, for parallels to which we refer the reader to untouched editions of Congreve ; — but all, distant and faint. As we advanced, however, the light appeared to in- crease. We strained our eyes, and-£lutched at our hat. The company was beginning to arrive. A hand beckoned us to the south side of the nave. We followed silently ; and leaning against a column, or endeavouring to lean against it, for we could never touch it — and yet it could not be made of air — we watched the progress of ghostly events. We could see just the nape of men's necks along the entire line of the perspective. The front of these bended men was turned towards the wall ; and in their hands they held lights of many kinds, varying, as far as we could judge, from the torch to the finest wax candle. Still the faint music could be heard, and still the voices, from far off, sounded weirdly in our ears ; a distance, that we endeavoured in vain to lessen, appeared to lie between us and the scene we were witnessing. Men were always going to speak to us, but never did speak. Now a hand was about to grasp ours heartily, but it was invariably with- drawn beforo we could catch it. Now a goblet of ruby wine, or some sack, was at our elbow, and our palate longed for it — only to make it vanish. Now an inviting chair tempted us to press its cushions, but we never dared to trust to its treacherous solidity. But hush ! They come, and how strangely ! Along the dark walls are gold-edged doors, or frames, and from them step the motley company. Men whom we thought dead long years ago, stride, in the moonlight, — near us, but still very distant. First in the throng stalks the Second Richard. They say he is a fop ; but who would think so ? He is stupidly stolid, with that plump face of his ; yet he carries the sceptre with him, perfectly conscious of the power it gives him. Men duck their heads low as he passes on, lead- ing the company ; followed by Henry, and nervous, cruel Richard the Third. Let us hope that his eye will not rest upon us. WicklifFe, too, passes solidly. But— way there, ghostly, un- substantial serving men ! way there, old Hol- bein ! for see, the broad shoulders of the Eighth Harry appear, — and the complaisant moonlight plays upon the countless jewels that cover the rotten heart ! With what a jaunty swagger he wears that low velvet hat, and how the cruel little eyes gleam ! Surely that manly figure at his side, splendid in scarlet robes — that noble countenance — can never be the vassal to such a lord ! Aye, it is so ; for how respectfully he waits upon the footsteps of the squat Harry. Earl of Surrey — sweet poet, who brought some of the sunlight of Italy to England with him in his verse — bows to Jane Seymour, the gentle. There is a grace in her pendant sleeves, and even in the squareness of her dress. Very feminine is she, as she turns to the burly Wolsey ; and the glow of his red clothes throws a warm tint upon her face, that gives it a new life. But how little is that man to be touched ! There is nought, save the build, of the butcher's son in the cardinal now. He sees his high place in the throng, and stalks into it. Sweet is youth, always ; and how fresh is childish Edward the Sixth, as he steps from his frame ! His gait is not kingly, perhaps ; he has little or nothing of the monarch about him, even in his ermine and white satin. Pretty feet now press the unsubstantial ground, from the great Harry's court, resplendent with gold and jewels, — stiff, and prim, and stately. The line of procession is growing rapidly. And now there is a pause in the arrivals ; and the company we have noticed passes along up the nave into the misty distance. Softly, again, the music rises, as Philip and Mary step, awkward, forbidding, and ugly, from their frames. At their rear comes clever Holbein, looking upon the stately procession before him with a paternal regard. And then, walking backwards, Lucchero and Sir Antonio More appear. No wonder that they bow profoundly. No wonder that there is a stir among the waiting crowd. For, lo ! from the frame advances, with a stately tread, the figure of Queen Bess. The high arched nose, the searching eyes, and the red hair— and the long, lean hands ! It is star- tling to look through the centuries and see them in the life once more ! How strong the vanity, yet how great the soul ! The foot is upon the map of England — yet even the ruff is not forgotten. We were wellnigh laughing at the high-pointed sleeves of the illustrious lady ; but the brilliant suite in her train commands respect for her. Her courtiers' short cloaks have an odd look to our vulgar eyes ; and their manners are too elaborate, to us. But they command silence. Here is the Earl of Essex, with beard like a flat prize straw berry ; here treads great Raleigh, and behind him — it was even so — sombre Shakspere, with his noble head. About this simple man have congregated manly Ben Jonson, and some few i ctors — curious group — at the skirts of Mary of > s ' tland,a with a cross upon her sad breast. '1 lie heart must beat a little wildly in such presences. Was it upon us that Leicester turned his^ arrogant eye, as he stalked forward? AVo trust not. Let the Tudors pass ; and they may pass proudly, even laden with their crimes. But sad company now steps from the mysterious wall. Ponderous James the First, with his son and daughter ; and grave Bacon ! Buckingham is at hand, with a dazzling group in ruffs and cloaks, — a moving prism. Another pause. And now, ushered by Vandyke, melancholy Charles appears t At his side are his stately wife and his children. A brilliant array of cavaliers troops at his heels. A burly figure, however, crosses his path, and he pauses in anger ; but way is made, for the moment, by his gallant court, and he presses forward. The rays of the moon fall upon an axe, carried by one of the attendants, as the court of the First Charles sweeps by. Gay Lovelace and Killigrew hold back, to chat and laugh with Suckling 1 Dash- ing fellows they are, obviously, and bent upon drinking to their mistresses. And now there is a relief to the bright colours that have passed. A brown, compact company makes its way down the nave. The faces are massive, serious, determined. First walks the Lord Protector, smiling — possibly at the frippery of Lovelace and the highly-coloured crew before him. And with him are Pym, great Blake, and mild, manly Hampden, looking straight before him. But this sombre group has no sooner shown its back, than laughing, chattering fellows, gaily tinted as macaws, to which the last crim- son has been added, trip from their frames. Where are Charles's puppies ? His Por- tuguese wife is here ; and stiff enough she looks, in her native dress. But he pays her small at- tention. In truth she has a quiet, homely look, beside those ample, loosely -clad ladies, whom lie addresses at intervals, touching here and there a chin with his forefinger. There is Rochester with his monkeys. Think you he cares because Suckling, who has just turned back and noticed him, grasps the hilt of his sword? No; the laurel remains about the animal's wicked head. We bow to Evelyn, the simple, as he nearly trips over the white wand of Arlington. Somewhat shocking, we must confess, are the dresses of the ladies, who now advance, and claim place about the court of Charles. Tut ! thero is Nell Gwynne — pretty, cheerful girl ! Sad dogs ! we fear, are all these gentlemen. James the Second steps down, carrying a por- tentous proboscis ; — with hapless Monmouth. They pass so quickly that we scarcely saw them. But here come William and Mary. How grave too, is Newton, as he passes. Marlborough, with all the splendour of a marshal upon him, looks the conqueror, ready to cleave the first aggressor with the staff he holds. Way is quickly made for him ; and at his heels follow Harley, and the young Pretender, properly powdered for the occasion. But we are particularly interested in the next group, little claim as any member of it may have to wear ermine. Here is Drydcn, emphatically putting something to stolid Ton- son. But while they talk, we turn to look at the manly countenance of Steele — to catch a glimpse of Addison. Why does yonder sickly 26 creature join the splendid throng? Look in his eye, and you shall bo answered : for you shall know Alexander Pope at once. That is Lady Mary, at whom he fiercely glances. But she is undismayed, and struts carelessly onward, with Swift at her elbow. And now a new race appears. Way for the First of the Georges, and Queen Caroline, and Walpole and Ilarley ! Theatrical Chatham stalks past — vanquishing the gout, that he may bo seen to the best advantage. We are sure Garrick looks upon him with no friendly eye. Hurley Johnson appears, leaning upon tho arm of Ci.ij-, while ho talks to Gibbon, whose flabby face trembles at every step. We thought the splendid Earl of Bute, favourite of a royal prin- cess, looked somewhat superciliously upon the poor scribes. But what care they ? Bough, ploughboy Burns returns the glance of Bute, and then darts a wicked look at dandy Byron. Soli- tary, and with a curl upon his lip, walks Childe Harold ; and not far off we note opium-eating Coleridge. The cortege is at its close. Nearly all the ghostly visitors have arrived. But, strangely enough, there is vivacious Brougham, a young man ; there, too, savage Gifford ; and there fresh and frolic- some Lockhart, talking to Sir Walter ! Crowds of serving men close about the heels of these latter. There is an awful rush, in the tide of which we are carried, although no hand, nor elbow, touches us. Laughter rings through the air, yet it sounds to us as from a great distance, and there are the faint strains of the music still. There is to bo high revelry to-night, undoubtedly. Bluff Harry's face will shine and glow, ere ho returns to bis frame. Johnson promises himself the pleasure of a booze with Gibbon ; and Burns, and Byron, and Reynolds — 33 0, and Sir John Suck- lino-. The burly schoolmaster is not disinclined to r himself in the company of a lord. The only fear he has, is that Burns will get up- roarious, and will disturb the conversation with his " Kigs o' barley." He has always been told that the little Scot is a dangerous, although a right good fellow, sir. The tide still rolls onward, and we floatwitb it, almost reconciled to the army of ghosts that en- compasses us. Suddenly a broad way is made down the nave. Surely their ghostly majesties are not going to dance! "Aye!" a voice whispers. We turn sharply round, but cannot fasten upon our informant. We would not have missed this night for worlds. See Richard the Second — a very demon — leads forth plain Queen Mary. Grave James the First makes vis-a-vis with stately Elizabeth ! And there is poor gawky rhilip, wriggling forward with unfortu- nate Jane Seymour ; while Charles the Second comes laughing after, making lovely Mary Stuart smile and chatter. There are others — but the mist which we cannot altogether clear from our eyes, obscures them. From a farther corner, we could catch the stern eyes of Wolsey, and the savage little optics of the Eighth Harry, glaring on the scene. Hapless Seymour ! And surely that was Cromwell's sturdy tread that sounded along the nave in the midst of the minuet, and made: the royal dancers start ! But the dance was a fine thing to see. It was a royal one, right royally performed. Perhaps Philip was the only prince who failed to bear himself as became bis rank. Indeed, we thought we noticed tho Merry Monarch point the attention of his lovely partner to cruel Mary 's ill favoured consort. Stately as the dancers, was the music that accompanied them. It made the pulse beat feverishly ; it carried the heart away — to dream delightful ART TREASURES EXAMINER, visions, upon which tho pale moon always shone, and which faded before they could be fairly seen. We wandered, wondering still. Everything near to us — yet everything beyond our reach. Not a single " beaded brim" reached our parched lips through the night, yet on all sides sparkled goblets — on all sides ghostly knights and princes held crystal cups between their awful eyes and the moon's rays. The excitement alone kept our spirits up, for at every turn strange incidents claimed our wonder. Here we passed Charles the Second, offering a cigar to James the First (who declined the attention very stiffly) ; — there Mary Stuart looked at good Queen Bess from head to foot, and passed scornfully on ; — there Charles the First turned rapidly down a side passage, to avoid Cromwell ; — and there again the merrie monarch and the bluff king, arm-in-arm, were whispering with Nell Gwynne and a host of loosely-clad ladies. Marlborough talked with Blake, and flourished his baton with fearful vigour as he spoke. And then, silent and even pensive amid the throng, bis eye not distracted even by the jewels that blazed upon the ample chest of Seymour's inconstant lord, with his broad collar carelessly folded over his black, walked William Shaks- pere ! A vivid light played about his head. If Harry the Eighth, and Charles, and their brilliant courts, heeded him little, or simply stared at the poor plebeian in black, — in return, Johnson, and Congreve, and Byron, and Coleridge, bowed low, as he joined them. And they all went their way, leaving courts behind them. Our footsteps touched the earth lightly as we followed, far in the rear. They turned aside, through gloomy passages ; and as they moved onward, indistinct, but, we thought, more familiar shapes, bowed low before them, till they entered a grand chamber, brightly lighted ; that is, the light was bright, but to our poor eyes all remained indis- tinc. Still, we were thankful for the little we could see, as the great company gathered about an ample board ; and Selden, and Evelyn, and Vandyke, and Holbein, and Lovelace, and Suckling, and old Godfrey Knellor, and Abraham Cowley, joined the circle. The latter appeared, supporting ailing Pope. But where were blind Milton and Andrew Marvel ? That was surely Burns's hearty laugh ! There, too, was Hume, just closing his note book. Reynolds looked on benignly through his spectacles. It was a wondrous company indeed. Our ears were strained to catch the immortal woi'ds of every speaker ; but our sense was dull, or we were forbidden to hear. Still it was no slight honour to look, from afar, upon the feast — to catch even the faint echo of the triumphant song ! Every eye sparkled ; every cheekjglowed ; for the ban- quet was served by princes. King Henry the Eighth stood, as toast-master, behind the chair of Shakspere ! Henrietta Maria was Hebe to Van- dyke ! Lely's cup was frothed to the brim by the Merry Monarch ! And could we have beard the words that were spoken, how should we have interpreted them ? Centuries contradict years. The year that saw King Harry's portrait completed — saw Holbein the bending servitor still. But centuries shook the king to dust, and grasped, to crown his urn, the figure of the painter. We keep laurels ever fresh for the brows of Holbein and Vandyke ; we are still the vassals of Shakspere. Time has turned tho balance, striving to teach the princes of the earth to be reverent before God-gifted nobi- lity. Yet who, even here, would exchange an immortal sonnet for a single quartering. The bloody hand waves back the careering Pegasus ! Still there is hope, we fondly murmur to our- selves, remembering for a moment the working world we have quitted — there is hope in this great mystic gathering, if we can only carry back its lesson with us to our neighbours. Immortal lips send jewels to the ear, upon the waves of sound. Gentle lessons fall from Shaks- | pere's mouth. The heart warms at the sight of | Sir Joshua's pencil. And princes wait upon the best of all good company ! Briefly : — Tho morning light — sworn enemy of ghosts — surprised old Johnson mixing a final glass ! The glorious vision faded ; and we went out from the fairy palace, wo knew not how. Nor can we tell the reader how we reached our bed. But the sun was high above the horizon, when the eddying steam of our shaving-water reminded us of the day's duties. MURlLLO's BEGGAR BOY. This boy appears bowed by miseiy and want. His ragged clothing, and the wretched furniture around, are in melancholy harmony with the countenance and attitude of the boy struggling with hunger and neglect : the whole is bitterly and painfully real. It is certainly a splendid painting, though idealists may turn from it in disgust ; but is not this a superficial feeling, as if all depended on the subject, and not rather on the peculiar manner in which it is treated ? A beggar boy is, it is true, always a beggar boy ; yet in how many different ways may he not be represented ! A humourist will seize and depict only the comic points in his outward appearance, giving to the countenance that expression of easy indifference to care which a thoughtless character may retain, even in the lowest depths of misery. A deeply-contemplative painter, a Leonardo or Durer for instance, will fix his ideas on the con- fusion and distraction which misery usually im- parts to the countenance, and even to the charac- ter, and enter so deeply into its influence on the mind, that the perfection of his conception and representation will excito the utmost wonder and astonishment. The severe taste of the Spaniard has represented misery in its humiliation, yet accompanied with so much inward composure and earnest seriousness, that this individual picture speaks to the eye and to the imagination, like a general commentary on the moral degra- dation and poverty of our mortal existence. — 3<:ldcgcVs " yEsthctic." THE D1TTICI, OR LITTLE ALTARS. At that time (14th century), all kinds of furniture, such as cupboards, benches, and chests, were wrought by mechanics, and then painted, especially when intended as the fur- niture of new married women. Many ancient cabinet pictures have been cut out of such pieces of furniture, and, by this means, pre- served to later ages. As for images on altars, through the whole of the 14th century they were not formed, as at present, on a separate piece from the surrounding ornaments. There were made little altars, or dittici, in many parts of Italy, called Ancone; they first shaped the wood, and laboriously ornamented it with carving. The design was conformed to the Teutonic, or, as it is called, the Gothic architecture, seen in the facades of churches built in that age. The whole work was a load of minuteness, consisting of little tabernacles, pyramids, and niches ; and various doors and windows, with semicircular and pointed arches, were represented on the surface of the panel ; a style very characteristic of that period. I have sometimes observed, in the middle, little statues in mezzo-relievo. Most frequently the painter designed these figures or busts of saints; sometimes there were also prepared various sorts of little forms, or moulds — forinclle — in which to represent histories. Often there was a step added to the little altar, where, in several compart- ments, were likewise exhibited histories of our Saviour, of the Virgin, and of the martyrs, either real or feigned. Sometimes various compartments were prepared, in which their lives were repre- sented. The carvers in wood were so vain of their craft, that they often inscribed their own names before that of the painter. — LanzVs History of Painting in Italy. ART - TREASURES EXAMINER. SCULPTURE. The Mask of " Comus" — one of the finest poems in the English language, yet unfortunately but little read, we fear, by the present generation — was given to the world by our immortal Milton some two hundred years ago, and first repre- sented at Ludlow Castle, 1G45, before the Earl of Bridgewater and an aristocratic audience. The chief persons taking part in the performance were Lord Brackly, Mr. Thomas Egerton (his brother), and the Lady Alice Egerton, — names which are familiar to us in this neighbourhood, and which curiously bring the past and the pre- sent into agreeable association. A few years ago, our then artistic tragedian, Macready, brought out this same Mask at Drury Lane, illustrated with scenery painted by the first artists of the day, the music of Purcel and other of our sterling English composers, whilst the graceful and intellectual Helen Faucit read — for there is little acting — the part of " The Lady" with a charm of elocution that is as rare as it is beautiful. From this Mask Mr. Calder Marshall has selected his subject for the piece of sculpture entitled " Sabrina," which we venture to pro- nounce ono of his most talented productions. " There is a gentle nymph not far from hence, That with moist curb sways the smooth Severn stream , Sabrina is her name, a virgin pure ;" CALDER MARSHALL. — " SABRINA." Who, flying from her enraged stepdamc Guen- dolen, " Commended her fair innocence to the flood, That stayed her flight with his cross flowing course, The water-nymphs that in the bottom play'd, Held up their pearly wrists and took her in." There she is transformed into the goddess of the river, but, retaining all " her maiden gentle- ness," " visits the herds along the twilight meadows," healing and helping the luckless whom the "meddling elf" delights to punish : " For which the shepherds at their festivals Carol her goodness loud in rustic lays, And throw sweet garland wreaths into her stream Of pansies, pinks, and gaudy daffodils." This is what the " Attendant Spirit" says about her, and thereupon resolves to invoke the nymph of the flood in " warbled song": — " Sabrina fair, Listen, where thou art sitting Under the glassy, cool, translucent wave, In twisted braids of lilies knitting The loose train of thy amber-dropping hair ; Listen, for dear honour's sake, Goddess of the silver lake, Listen, and save. Listen, and appear to us In name of great Oceanus, By th' earth-shaking Neptune's mace, And Tethy's grave majestic pace, By hoary Nereus' wrinkled look, And the Carpathian wizard's hook, By scaly Triton's winding shell, And old sooth saying Glaucus' spell, By Leucothea's lovely hands, And her son that rules the strands, By Thetis' tinsel-slipper'd feet, And the songs of Sirens sweet, By dead Parthenope's dear tomb, And fair Ligea's golden comb, Wherewith she sits on diamond rocks, Sleeking her soft alluring locks, By all the nymphs that nightly dance Upon thy streams with wily glance, Rise, rise, and heave thy rosy head From thy coral paven bed, And bridle in thy headlong wave, Till thou our summons answered have. Listen, and save." Sabrina rises, attended by water-nymphs, and sings. " By the rushy-fringed bank, Where grows the willow and the osier dank, My sliding chariot stays, Thick set with agate, and the azure sheen Of turkois blue, and em'rald green, That in the channel strays ; Whilst from off the waters fleet Thus I set my printless feet O'er the cowslip's velvet head, That bends not as I tread ; Gentle Swain, at thy request I am here." This is the point at which the sculptor has seized the image of the poet, and_by his creative power transformed it into something more tan- gible than words. The attitude of the water- nymph, as she listens to the song of " the spirit," having just risen from the " nectar 'd lavers strow'd with asphodil," is most happily expressed. 28 ART ■ TREASURES EXAMINER. WATER-COLOUR ART. No. 2. — By J. A. Hammeksley, F.S.A. Geokoe Cattebmole furnishes an instance, perhaps one of the most significant among our English artists, of a wild, ungovernable love of nature, and moyan-age sympathy. At the time that he is plunged in an intense admiration of the local facts and passing phenomena of the world round about him ho brings to those facts and phenomena a mind wrapt in the most savage legendary lore of a past age. Even in his determined efforts to give nature in her simplicity, he only approaches the verge of the unsophisticated, as the drawings collected together at the Art-Treasures Exhibition abun- dantly demonstrate. Before entering into an ex- amination of these works, it may be well if we explain a passage in our l-eniarks of last week, in which we rather denied to Cattermole a full claim to water-colour honours. Cattermole, in the true sense, is a tempera painter : that is, he pro- duces his effects by means of opaque colour ; con- sequently the lights of his drawings are light added to the surface upon which he works, and in no wise result from the condition of that surface. This is a matter deserving much con- sideration, because it has the most important bearing upon the ultimate result. When Paul Sandby first, in this country, saw the power inherent in true water-colour, he established a principle which separates this mode of execu- tion from all other modes ; he saw in white paper an agent through which a condition and quality of light could be rendered with success, perhaps with a success denied to all other applications of pigments to either canvas or paper ; and it should never be forgotten, in treating on this subject, that this principle is the one principle which gives distinctiveness to the style. As we explained in our former article, it is no matter in what material art-ideas are presented to us, so far as relates to those ideas themselves. They are independent of materials, and altogether untouched by them ; still, each mode of present- ment has peculiarities which adapt it, so to speak, to either a given class of subjects or to the use that is made of the art when consummated. So far, and no farther, is it 'desirable to place on record and establish the particularity of each ; and we are doing no injustice to the great talent of Cattermole, whilst defining his place and rank among artists, if we designate him rather a tempera than a water-colourartist. What- ever he may be called, so far as relates to his mere practice, there can be no difficulty in assigning him a place in the first ranks of art, from the undeniable fact that he possesses a devout love of nature and an unusual capacity for depicting her varying moods ; and this almost irrespective of subject. He will be recog- nised at once as of profound susceptibility to all the phases of the picturesque ; will be allowed to have richness of fancy and warmth of imagi- nation ; and no one will deny him the power of depicting the wilder aspects of our nature. Of all these powers and qualifications, our readers will be better able to judge upon a more critical examination of the works of this man of genius exhibited in the Art-Treasures Exhibition. In No. 445, " Amy Robsart and Janet Forster," we have Cattermole in a less savage mood than is common with him, though even in this work we have dashes of the artist's mysticism. The pose of the principal figure is exceedingly grace- ful, and perhaps the whole range of the Catter- mole series does not present a more tender felicity of colour than the broken tints of the drapery ; in fact, throughout the whole drawing, colour is the essential charm. We have already alluded to the diversity of Cattermole's subjects, and to the capacity with which he deals with this diversity. The drawing just noticed, from the novel of Scott, indicates one aspect of this capacity. The next work in the catalogue carries the mind away to Scripture story, and we have in " Christ Healing the Sick " an indication of a power over materials of a more sacred character. Cattermole makes no pretence in this work, or in others of a like character, to a high degree of expression ; indeed, his tendency towards the picturesque would preclude the possibility of a high success in this direction. This fondness for the picturesque, however, rather aids than hin- ders him when he essays to give expression, or what may stand for expression, by the general movement of his groups and the pose and action of his figures. This is eminently the case with the picture before us, which, without going beyond a very general approach to expression of passive or active feeling and emotion, so far as facial character is concerned, is notwithstanding most vividly dramatic and telling by the agency of the entire action of the whole arrangement of the figures, and no less by the singular felicity with which the individual personages contribute to tell the wondrous tale. The colouring, less tertiary than the former, is unusually pure for Cattermole. 448, " Cromwell's Troopers Pur- suing the Scots," is an illustration, but by no means the best, exhibiting the artist's fondness for gloom and a black monotony of tone. This, whenever it occurs in Cattermole, is never the result of an imperfect susceptibility to the blan- dishments of colour, but is deeply designed, to show the inseparable union in all great art-thoughts of subject with the mode of rendering it. The blackness is not so much the absence of colour, as the presence of a gloom in union with the aspects of the story : it is not paint, but the shadow of human passion in its worst exercise, throwing a funereal pall over the fair face of nature. In this Cattermole is always pre- eminently great : he never acknowledges the value or the right of a usurping prettiness. Does the story appal, then must the whole tone of the work aid to give this tragic element. Does the incident charm by its picturesque variety, then we have, in form, in colour, and in grouping, every possible phase of the irregular art elements. And so on, through all the varieties of the artist's practice, we have the happiest union of subject and treatment — the most felicitous combination of story and the illustration of its varying incidents. 450, "Ita- lian Noblemen in the hands of Banditti," is, perhaps, one of the least successful of Catter- mole's works on the walls of the Exhibition. The artist's delight in variety has run away with him, and instead of diversity of action aiding his story, it only serves to render "con- fusion worse confounded." The colour, too, - in its complication of broken hues, assists the general disturbance, 452, "Macbeth and the Witches ;" 459, "Mac- beth and the Three Witches ;" 463, the same sub- ject; 464, "Macbeth;" 467, " Macbeth and the Murderers ;" and others relating to the same drama, are all indicative of the painter's love of the grim. They are also among the best of Cattermole's works. Every quality which we have endea- voured to point out as belonging to the man may be found here in perfection, even to the choice of the play of Macbeth as indicative of the general idiosyncracy of the artist. We have made no endeavour here to do more than hint at the dis- tinctive peculiarities of this artist's works, as exhibited at the gallery at Old Trafford ; merely intimating the points of character in the painter, and suggesting how these are brought to influence his work. He is among our foremost men, and justly appreciated by all those whose appreciation is worth possessing. By many who have not the privilege of his acquaintance he is held to be a singularly mysterious personage, and we should be the last to disturb such impressions. We will allow our young artist friends, therefore, to retain their romantic ideas of Cattermole. If he is supposed to receive his friends encased in ponder- ous armour, and to speak in the language of the eleventh century, so be it ; we are sure his works will be considered none the worse if their pro- ducer does thus present himself, with his grim retainers standing in the hall as he passes to dinner, each with lance at rest and shield at his feet. To disturb these impressions, or to hint at Cattermole's leaving his house every day like one of vis, encased in a rough pea-jacket and the modern hat crowning his head, would be to drive us to the conclusion that the painter was an ordinary person. We very well remember the time when we considered, with the uttermost faithful- ness and sincerity, that Cattermole inhabited one of the gloomy back rooms of a curiosity shop in Wardour-street, and we never forgave, and never intend to forgive, the man who endeavoured to prove to us that he lived in an ordinary mansion, among fashionable people, in London. Still sceptical, we shall go on steadily questioning the assertion until we have returned to a wholesome conviction that Cattermole is above all ordinary usages, and that he lives pretty much after the style of Macbeth, without any of that weak- headed tyrant's wickedness. We say, all hail, Cattermole 1 may he live to be as picturesque iu appearance as one of his giant oaks, and as true at heart ; may he send out for the good of his fellows — for their delight and their improvement — as many softening shadows and as many sugges- tive influences. The Exhibition has only one work of John Gilbert, and by no means one of his best: it is very unequal in all the better qualities of pic- torial treatment, and in one respect is very decidedly a failure. AVe allude to the arrange- ment of light, which, with subordinate excep- tions, is placed up the extreme right side of the whole work, thus demanding attention to that portion at the expense of the remaining two- thirds of the surface, and, indeed, withdrawing consideration somewhat from the main figure of of the composition. A drawing of very considerable magnitude, No. 479, " Bazaar at Batchi-Serai," by C. Bossoli, provokes much attention and admiration, and in some respects very deservedly so. It consists of a crowded thoroughfare in the town of Batchi- Serai, exhibiting with very considerable skill the arcliitecture, the costume, and the habits of the people of the district. It is not possible, how- ever, to pay an equal compliment to the atmo- spheric treatment, which is vapid and artificial. Both the forms of the clouds and their colour are equally objectionable ; the former being essen- tially false, and the hue of the latter, in the saddest degree, merely pretty. So far as colour is con- cerned, this objection applies no less to that of the distant hills, which are purple to a state of disease. Turning from these objections, and to a more satisfactory employment of the pen, it may be said that the whole of the lower part of the picture is excellent, showing great knowledge of the objects introduced, with a fine artistic and natural employment of a vast amount of material. The light, as it plays over the fantastic architecture, is very successfully, nay skilfully, rendered ; and the reflected light on the upright and quaint forms to the left, is most admirably given. i SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS 32 AET - TEEASUEES EXAMINEE. THE SCHOOLS OF PAINTING. By H. Ottley. In order to a right appreciation of the history of art — from the first dawniugs of inspiration in design, through successive stages of develop- ment in technic resource — it is necessary to study it in its various " schools ;" each of which was marked by peculiar characteristics, contri- buting their share towards perfectionating art as a whole, or setting an example which conduced to its decline. It is astonishing to reflect upon the vicissitudes which art has experienced at all times of the world's history ; — the accidents which have favoured its budding efforts ; the caprice of chilling circumstance which has nipped the flowers in their bloom of maturity ; and tho fortunate accidents of favouring breezes, by which the seeds of art, even in the midst of this decay, have been conveyed to distant and more genial climes, where they have grown up and flowered again, only modified in some characteristics by local influences. We propose to give a slight sketch of the various schools of art in Europe, as an aid to study of the Art-Treasures now on view. It would be needless, as vain, to attempt to trace the history of the art of design back to the very earliest times, — and for the simple reason, that there was probably no period, since man first formed himself into communities, when these arts, so obvious in their capabilities, so useful in their application (to say nothing of higher and more attractive qualities), were en- tirely unknown. It was amongst the Greeks, however, in the splendid days of Pericles, that these arts, in their poetic forms of development, attained the liighest stage of perfection heretofore known to the world. But upon this it is to be ob- served, that whilst this great people undoubtedly surpassed all their predecessors, as they have since remained unsurpassed, unapproached, in sculp- ture, there is much reason to doubt whether their achievements in painting were upon an equal foot- ing of excellence ; indeed, thero are those who insist that in this line they have been far outdone by the moderns. This is a question, however, which we should have great difficulty in treating with any certainty, none of the works in paint- ing of the Greeks having survived to modern times. But whatever the character of their works, or the rank they would be entitled to hold in the general scale of excellence, this must be admitted, that it is to the Greeks that we owe the preservation of the arcana of art, and their trans- mission to other parts of Europe, which laid the foundation of the modern schools of painting. Greek art under the Roman emperors — now called Byzantine — became changed in its character, and applied to new purposes — that of a Christian instead of a mythical thoogony. The types of this art were quickly spread throughout Europe , and still survive in considerable amount in Asia Minor and Southern Russia, as well as in many parts of Germany. During the darkest period of the middle ages, Art, discouraged, frightened from her scat in the public gaze, took refuge in the cloister, and was never entirely lost. Original genius had fled, however, and the productions of artists during this long interval were but the uncouth repeti- tions of tho same subjects, represented under the same traditional forms — crude, blank, ungainly — without an attempt at improvement, without a thought of Nature as a model. Such was the condition, especially, of the art of painting, from the age of Constantino till the 13th century. Two events occurred in the history of the Eastern empire, the immediate effect of which was again to scatter the artists and art-treasures of Greece over Western Europe — namely, the cap- ture and sacking of Constantinople by the Cru- saders, in 1204, and by the Turks, under Mahomet II., in 1453. Both these events, in their conse- quences, were immediately followed by a new movement in the states of Western Europe, par- ticularly in Italy, towards reviving and giving increased resource to the native art amongst them. Amongst the very early pictures in the Exhibi- tion are about a dozen of the Byzantine period, not by any means of a high class, or of much interest as regards the history of art ; — and one by Margaritone D'Arezzo (1236-1313), of a monastic saint holding a book, which is worthy of particular attention, as illustrating the ex- piring influence of the Byzantine type upon Italian art at this period. The modern art of Europe is generally divided into the following principal schools : — 1, Italian ; 2, German ; 3, Flemish ; 4, Dutch ; 5, Spanish ; 6, French j and 7, English. Some of these schools again are subdivided into subsidiary schools ; and even particular masters of eminence, as Raphael, the Carracci, Rubens, &c, have given their name to schools, comprehending, of course, their several followers or imitators. Taking these schools in order, we begin with the Italian, which has been variously sub- divided, — some authorities distinguishing as many as fourteen or fifteen schools as being in- cluded in it ; — but which, for practical purposes, it may be sufficient to treat under five heads, viz., the Tuscan or Florentine, the Roman, the Venetian, tho Lombard or Bolognese, and the Neapolitan schools. TIIE TUSCAN OR FLORENTINE SCHOOL. Cimabue is the honoured name which is gene- rally accepted as that of "the father of the modern school of painting ;" and the city of Florence was the seat of his school. It was he, ac- cording to the text-books of chronology, who "first left the style of the Greeks, his teachers, and, studying ancient statuary, founded a new school distinguished for its boldness, majesty, and strength." But this is an error which does injustice to other states in northern Italy, and of which Vasari, naturally prejudiced in favour of the renown of his native Florence, was the sole originator. Cimabue, beyond doubt or dis- pute, was a great man, and did much for the advancement of art ; but he was not the first who showed indications of that new style which was to supersede the Byzantine art, which had long ago reached the lowest point of degradation. Upon this question facts arc conclusive. Cimabue was not born till 1240, at which time Pisa already boasted her Giunta Pisano, who painted two great frescoes of tho " Crucifixion," at Assisi (figures of colossal size), about 1236, a copy of one of which is engraved in the " Early Florentine School," by W. Y. Ottley, who remarks, "Giunta appears to have been unknown to Vasari, who has erroneously ascribed Ms works to Margaritone. His style, though rude, was not barbarous. There is somotimes much of grandeur in his conceptions." Of the samo period also was Nicolo Pisano, whose works, though in sculpture, are justly held to have exercised considerable influence upon the new school of painting now struggling into development. And earlier even than these was Guido of Sienna, who painted a fine fresco of the " Madonna and Child," about the year 1210. Some heads of angels, by his hand, are in the Louvre, at Paris. Nevertheless, Cimabue was a great painter ; and by the number and importance of his works alone, which far exceeded those of any of his predecessors, would perhaps justify a claim to occupy the first place of distinction in the histor y of modern art. Of his numerous works at Fl o- rence, however, little now remains, exceptin g his celebrated " Madonna," larger than life, at Sta. Maria Novella, and another in the Church of Sta. Trinita, both painted in distemper. The former of these works, when finished, was co n sidered so wonderful an effort of the pencil, such a triumph in an art to which the national taste was but newly awakened, that it was carried i n procession, accompanied by trumpets, from t he house of the painter to the church ; which cir- cumstance, together with other festivities on the occasion, caused the street through which it passed to be called " II Borgo Allegri," or street of Rejoicing. There are two specimens of Cimabue in the Exhibition ; one of which, a small triptych, or three-folded picture, represents the " Madonna and Child," enthroned, attended by angels, similar in design to the celebrated " Madonna" just men- tioned, with other scriptural subjects on cither side. But Cimabue's proudest claim upon posterity is in having discovered and encouraged the latent genius of the poor shepherd boy, Giotto, whom he adopted as his pupil. Giotto di Bondore (b. 1272, d. 1336) must be set down as the first real painter after nature — the creator of modern design. He had a pro- found knowledge of the workings of the human passions, a soul full of sublime sentiment, and his powers of story -telling must be acknowledged as marvellous by all who even at this day wit- ness his works, or transcripts from them. Be- sides these endowments of the spirit, he had an eye for the beautiful, and a mastery of hand before unknown. The circle which he dashed off with one stroke of the brush, when asked by the Pope's emissaries for evidence of his identity or his ability (there are two versions of the story), has passed into a proverb, "Pin tondo cite VO di Giotto" (rounder even than the O of Giotto). Amongst his works the most extensive and cele- brated are the series of frescoes of the " Life of tho Virgin," in the Arena Palace at Padua; and another series, of the " Life and Miracles of St. Francis," in the church dedicated to that saint at Assisi. Giotto was an architect and sculptor, as well as a painter. He visited, at different times of his life, Rome, Naples, Padua, and other places, in all of which the influence of his example made itself felt. There are several interesting specimens of Giotto in the Exhibition, contributed by the Liverpool Royal Institution, Christ Church (Oxford), Lord Ward and Lord North wioh. Amongst the contemporaries of Giotto was Duccio of Sienna ; and Ugoliuo da Sienna, from whose hand some most interesting specimens are exhibited, fliotto left numerous pupils and fol- lowers in all parts of Italy, the most distinguished of whom were Andrea Orcagna, Simone Mcinmi, Taddeo Gaddi, and Pietro Cavalini. (To he continued. J * It has been remarked, that the career of human genius, in the progress of the fine arts, is the same in every country. When the man is dis- satisfied with what the child learned, he gradually passes from the ruder elements to what is less so, and from thence to diligence and precision ; he afterwards advances to the grand and the select, and at length attains facility of execution. — Lanzi's History of Painting in Italy. AET-TEEASUEES EXAMINEE. 33 FINE ARTS IN MANCHESTER. In England the line arts, especially painting, are very differently circumstanced from what they are upon the Continent of Europe. An English- man loves his home above every other spot, because he lives there ; his fireside is to him a holy place, for it is his refuge from an inclement - atmosphere, and round it he gathers all the joys that fill his heart, and from it his heart gives out all the charities that make an Englishman what he is. A native of the purer climes and wanner skies east of the German Ocean spends half his life and nearly all his pleasure hours out of doors ; his house is a place to sleep in at night, to eat in at morning only, and to toil in often. A chair in a public park or garden, with an ice or cup of coffee, and the fresh air of heaven, is more de- lightful to him, from May to November, than the close atmosphere of his house ; and what charm has the cold blaze from the billet of wood on the domestic hearth, or the charcoal in the dull, stifling stove in winter ? Where the heart is, there will the treasure be also ; and therefore it is, that while our continental neighbours send their hearts and their treasures out of doors, and place their pictures and their sculpture in public galleries and chapels, and public palaces and public gardens, the people of the British Islands love to adom their homesteads with whatever of precious or rare in art they can procure ; sure that their perpetual influences will thus more thoroughly enter into their own life. There can be no doubt that the Continent has this great advantage over us in these matters, that all this national wealth is enjoyed by every one. The peasant who tramps through the Louvre in his sabots, and stops before a Murillo or a Rembrandt, feels that it belongs to him as much as it does to any other single individual in France — that it is his to admire, his to instruct, his to civilise. In our land our best treasures are locked up from the great masses of our people ; not from the poor alone, but from the entire middle class of society. But is there no way to remedy this evil, even partially ? Is there no spell by which the doors of all these treasure-houses may be opened, if it be only for a time, and their affluent riches poured out into some depository where the whole national eye may gaze upon them, and the whole national mind be instructed ? Now this is the very question that the Dublin Picture Gallery has answered in the affirmative. Yes, it is quite possible to collect from all the private owners throughout our empire their gems of art ; and it is quite safe for them to lend these gems, for they will be restored to them without trouble and without injury. There was one per- son, above all others, upon whom this was not lost, and his quick and practical apprehension at once saw its importance. We allude to Mr. J. C. Deane, one of the secretaries of the Dublin Industrial Exhibition, and an active promoter of the Picture Gallery. He felt that if the experi- ments, tried for the first time, and with limited capabilities, had such a prosperous result, perfect success might be expected to attend an exhibition of art attempted upon a more extended basis and sustained by wider support. Meantime, increased experience as secretary of the Crystal Palace enabled him to mature his ideas ; the time arrived for him to verify them. Happily, he found two or three earnest and large-hearted men who en- tered into his views, and set to work to carry them out. Who were these men, and where were they found? Dillettanti, from Belgravia, perhaps, or men, whose lives of luxurious idle- ness were spent in lounging in continental cities or gaping over foreign galleries ? By no means. They were men of work in the noblest sense of the word. Labour-lords, who were famous for their practical energies, and had made themselves names more enduring than brass — as enduring as the iron that they fashioned into the potent machinery that works the wealth of the world ; men, who are accustomed daily to listen to and direct the labour-pulses that throb and beat through the great engine-heart of Manchester, and vivify the nation's life-blood through every vein and artery ; men, of whom Thomas Fair- bairn is a type. There is, after all, something infinitely fine and edifying in the reflection that they who are the heads of the mechanical arts of England should be found the promoters and the patrons of the fine arts in the British empire ; and this is strictly in accordance with experience and with truth. There is no class of men who appreciate and enjoy the fine arts with a keener relish than the men of toil when their toil is over. Watch an artisan in any of our national galleries. His is not the cold eye of languid inspection — his are not the vapid common-places of conven- tional rule-criticism. X There you mark the quick glance, the flushing cheek, the healthy, hearty admiration that expresses itself curtly, coarsely it may be, but earnestly and forcibly ; and so is it with those whose highest boast it is to be at the head of the artisans of England. We are not, therefore, surprised to learn, upon good authority, that the love of the fine arts is higher, and the purchasers of good pictures more numerous, in proportion to population, in Man- chester, and the County Palatine of Lancaster generally, than in any other city or province of the United Kingdom or of the Continent of Europe. — Dublin University Magazine. BRITISH ART AND ARTISTS. No. 1. We should have preferred very much to cai*ry our readers through the Palace of Arts at Old Trafford with a systematic sequence, com- mencing with the mysterious " Old Masters," and uninterruptedly continuing our pictorial journey through these galleries of grandeur, down to the latest productions of modern times which the indefatigable collectors have been enabled to gather. And this is still our inten- tion, though we shall be compelled, from the mass "of material, to take three compartments concurrently. Having, therefore, introduced our friends to the able and interesting guidance of Mr. Ottley and Mr Hammersley, for instruc- tion on the various characteristics of two par- ticular departments, we offer companionship through a third, where the almost dazzling brilliancy of colour (which, whatever a certain school of criticism may say to the contrary, is a main element in the art of painting), the in- terest in the varied stories that are told, and a certain national pride and sympathy intuitively felt by the main body of visitors, have gathered the greatest amount of criticism. Turning then to the right, into saloon D, we find ourselves amidst a crowd of silk, velvet, and broadcloth, whilst a murmur of admiration gladdens the ear, like the musical buz of bees over the sweets of some richly -tinted flower, on some bright, summer morning. We are face to face with the works of men whose names have been rendered familiar through the pages of pleasant biography, — we are looking at the very canvasses before which stood Hogarth, Reynolds, Gainsborough, Wilson, Romney, Morland, and others of almost equal fame, through many hours of anxious hope. We can imagine the many strange passages in the lives of such workers ; their ambitions, their despon- dencies, their little jealousies, their struggles, even sometimes to the difficulty of keeping the baker civil. We look at these curious produc- tions, until we are spirited into another age and another atmosphere, — until the genius which created them becomes the palpable, and we are lost to the shadowy presence of the " little busy bees," whose murrner we have before alluded to. We hear the names of the great ones repeated from time to time : — " Here is Hogarth," — " That is Romney," — " Look at Reynolds," — and we are ready to turn round and shake hands with, or make our bow before, the gifted ones who have given to us that " March to Finchley," that bright face of " Nelly O'Brien," or that sweetest of all spirits of content, the loveable " Serena." It is by looking back at the comparatively very recent dates of art and art-influences in this country that we begin to understand how rapidly has been our progress from a state of barbarism. During the reign of Henry the Seventh, whilst painting was surrounding Italy with a glory that still lingers round her decay, we were presenting such specimens of art as we see in the face of " Jane Shore," who looks out from the Historical Portrait Gallery. In the period of Henry the Eighth, artists took their place among'the under- lings of the court, and the Reformation destroyed what little of art-decoration there was among us . In rooting up what were considered the superstitions of the age, we threw back for a time even the rude efforts that had been made, — a principle and a practice renewed at a still later period. What remained to us will be seen in the works of Hol- bein ; for though we took off heads, we have in England a singular respect for faces, and portrai- ture is about the only true record of art the country presents. Holbein came to us, and doubtless his productions gave a large impetus to art. He nattered, and thereby pleased. He is not without disciples in this branch of his art even in our own day, — though flattery does not always tend to agreeable results, as poor Anne of Cleves dis- covered to her cost. Sir Antonio More in the reign of the savage Mary, Hilliard and Oliver in that of Elizabeth, are among the earliest of our English painters who seem to have been worthy of recog- nition ; particularly the miniatures of the latter, a branch of art some time encouraged by the practice of wearing this class of ornament richly set. » Charles the First commenced a collection of pictures In Whitehall, assisted by the foreign courts, who desired friendly alliance with a coun- try advancing so rapidly in influence and power. There were gathered specimens from Correggio, Julio Romano, Raphael, Titian, Rembrandt, Da Vinci, and Vandyke. It was the first great attempt to bring together the master minds of Europe. Then came Rubens to England as the " representative" of Spain, and left the mark of his glowing pencil on the Banqueting Room of White- hall. Following him we observe Vandyke, — neglected at first, but afterwards crowned with all courtly honour. He was a pupil of Rubens, who, it is said, advised him to leave imaginary subjects to "the master," and keep to portraits. Whether this be true or not, we are indebted to Vandyke for some of the most interesting memo- rials of the period. Through his talent are we made acquainted with that young and lovely queen whose fascinations led, we are told, the poor and vacillating Charles to the block — are taken also into the innocent company of those beautiful children, and are made thoughtful by that pensive face of their unfortunate father. Native talent now crept forth, even in the midst of civil war and its horrors. George Jamesone wandered from Aberdeen to associate himself with the two great masters we have just named, and returning to Scotland, met so much admi- ration as to obtain the title of the Scottish Vandyke ; for he too found, that, to live, he must leave landscape and history, and take to the prac- tice of handing down to posterity the vain and the 34 ART - TREASURES EXAMINER. ambitious. We have alluded to the melancholy face of Charles. It is told of a sculptor whom he had desired to employ, that on looking at the profile of his majesty he contemplated it for a time, and then exclaimed, "Something will befal this man ; he carries misfortune on his face." But we must pass on, and that, too, rapidly. Those grand but gloomy puritans slashed away at art as they did at the gallant cavaliers, and trod down the beautiful as they did tyranny and tinsel. Art was superfluous, and all superfluities must be lopped off. In sneer- ing at art, they desired to sneer at the memory of royalty. Nevertheless pictures — though representing tho "Virgin" and our "Saviour" — were preserved to some extent. Even the gruff old Protector did not disdain to become a purchaser of a portion of the royal galleries ; though his ideas of art were perhaps faithfully expressed in his request to the painter of his portrait, not to forget " the warts and moles." That tho pictures at Whitehall were not thoroughly dispersed wo learn from Pepys, on his return at the Restoration, who " missed very few of his old favourites." With Charles the Second came that atmos- phere of impurity indicated iu the wan- ton features and loose drapery which Sir Godfrey Kneller and Sir Peter Lely have handed down to us, and for which the grace of the one or the force of the other have but one interpretation. This was the re-action, moral and pictorial. The boys had been kept in school so long, and under such a severe curriculum, that romps and mischief-making came with the first brief holiday. Next in this goodly company we have an English painter, Sir James Thorn- hill, who decorated our wealthy mansions and public buildings with nymphs in satin gowns, and painted virtue and vice after the true allegorical fashion. He is lauded by Pilkington and others, in answer to which his glories in the Great Hall of Greenwich Hospital, and on the cupola of St. Paul's, may be fairly handed in as evidence. And now come hither, and give more decided attention. Pray turn for awhile from that pink bonnet and that cashmere shawl, to this square-looking head and face, half humour, half power — whose portrait of himself, and that imperturbable canine companion we have been familiar with and wondered at from infancy — tells us we have at length arrived at the legitimate starting point of British art. That same man who marked the " lino of beauty" on his palette, and swore by it in his " Analysis," married the daughter of the digni- fied Sir James, whom we left daubing away at Greenwich. His name was William Hogarth, and he has left behind him sermons that bring admonition, and suggest thought, and excite pity, and startle into horror, and " set the table in a roar." If you had known him as a boy, you would have found him fond of " shows" and " mimicry," and drawing dogs and horses of peculiar anatomical proportions ; leaving " his mark" at the corner of " grammar books," in the form of " caligraphic" flourishes ; and further on, when bread had to be oarned, and amateur busi- ness laid aside, he is to bo seen engraving initials of noble houses on silver jugs and spoons, until weary of copying " griffins,"— even though it involved the pecuniary aid to family and master — weary, too, of " sauntering round Leicester Fields, with his master's sickly child hanging its head over his shoulder," — ho began to reflect upon his position and his powers. He was tired of copying lines, and yearned for a language of his own, in which to express the spirit already at work within him. Nicholls gives us the story of his stroll to Highgate, where, meeting with a number of riotous people at the wayside inn, and a quarrel ensuing, he took out his pencil and sketched the ridiculously rueful countenance of a noisy subject who had, in the mdie, received the hammering of a quart pot on his pate. The portrait was so like, and so laughable, that good humour followed, and, perhaps, an additional chalk behind the door. Hogarth sought and studied character wherever it was to be found ; and by and by his canvasses began to tell the history of his curious experience. Desirous, at the same time, of working on copper, to protect himself against piratical copies of his prints, he tells us that he was thirty years of age before he could do little more than maintain himself. " But even then," the honest -hearted fellow adds, " I was a punctual paymaster." Being one day distressed, we are told, to raise the sum of twenty shillings, he drew his landlady (who acted as dun on the occasion) so hideously ugly, that genius was said to be stamped upon the portrait. These are the sort of stories we gene- rally meet with in the biographical notices of men of original character and qualities. The first of Hogarth's works which com- manded particular notice, appeared in 1724. In " The Taste of the Town," the follies of the good folks of the period are severely satirised. It gives us a crowd hurrying to a masquerade. There is a gentleman with a cap and bells on his head, a garter round his right leg, while before him a satyr holds a purse containing a thousand pounds, — " a satirical glance at majesty," says Ireland. Nor did ho forget the arts on this his first introduction, for " on the summit of Bur- lington Gate he placed tho fashionable artist, William Kent, brandishing his palette and pen- cils, with Michael Angolo and Raphael for sup- porters." Coats of arms, and initials, and symbols of equal importance, are now deserted, and with them the little shop in Cranbournc-street. The booksellers — keen of scent then as now — have found out the painter-satirist. He is embellish- ing books with small cuts, as will be Been on reference to a copy of " Mortraye's Travels," or to " The Golden Ass of Apuleius." We may also trace him in company with Milton ; but for none of these did he gather about him admirers. He had yet to gain knowledge, and to work hard in so doing. But he is making way : he is again in the field where his peculiar nature directed, and Walpole acknowledges that his illustrations of the humorous Butler " marked him as a man above the common." And now we must be introduced to his home, where he has taken the daughter of Sir James Thomhill, against the will of the " history -painter to the king," and made her the presiding deity of his humble household. It was a Sad business for the courtly gentleman, who did not learn to forgive his son-in-law until his reputation began to dawn some two years after. " I married," says Hogarth, " and commenced painter of small conversation pieces, from twelve to fifteen inches high. This, having novelty, succeeded for a few years. But though it gave somewhat scope for the fancy, it was still but a less kind of drudgery ; and as I could not bring myself to act like some of my brethren, and make it a sort of manufactory, to be carried on by the help of backgrounds and drapery painters, it was not sufficiently profitable to pay expenses my family required." — The " backgrounds" and "drapery" let us into the studio secrets of those days. Ho- garth would have remembered the " warts and moles" for Old Cromwell. He could not flatter, and the rent had to be paid, so he took to other means for doing justice to the landlord and to himself. He started upon a new pathway to fame, and was successful. He did not rake up the ashes of a dead mythology, but taught us the higher uses of art, in depicting the follies, vices, and passions of humanity. Look at his works — they are full of instruction. Look at them, not merely to ascertain how they are toned, how coloured, how mani- pulated ; but look at them as picture- boolcs, in which every passage bears an impress of thought, and carries with it a great moral lesson. They will teach you that folly is akin to vice, and that too often one is but a prelude to the other. Hogarth in a single figure could give the prophetic history of a future career, as witness, in the " Marriage-a-la-Mode," the husband on his return home aftera " revel," — his listless ennui is marked in every angle of face or figure. The crushing incubus is already upon him ; we see at what period of his life's history the curtain is to fall with its melancholy music, — before the second act is yet concluded. The " Marriage-a-la-Mode" is unfortunately not in the Art-Treasures Exhibition ; it is one of the most melancholy of Hogarth's tragedies, but this peculiar phase of his genius will be found well illustrated in (13 and 14) " The Harlot's Progress," where the advance of innocence to crime is given with a fearful truthfulness never surpassed by pen or pencil. " Other pictures we see," says Charles Lamb, " Hogarth's are read." There is something Shaksperian in the tragic power which he has here displayed, when added to the humour of " The March to Finch- ley," — a rough sketch of which is all we have ventured to give. The variety of idea which the numberless little episodes represent, all hearing upon and uniting with tho one leading subject, is something marvellous. "Hogarth," says Hazlitt, " belongs to no class, or, if he belongs to any, it is to the same class as Fielding, Smollett, Vanburgh, and Moli&re." The terror of Count Fathom, and ART -TREASURES EXAMINER. 35 the humour of Roderick Random, arc quite as successfully depicted. What a comment upon contemporary appreciation is the note in the catalogue telling us that when the series ("Harlot's Progress"), "eight pictures in all, was sold by auction, 1745 (in Hogarth's lifetime), the eight pictures brought £14. 14s." There are other pictures here, — includ- ing a very interesting acquaintance with Hogarth's variety of style,— that are well worthy of our notice. Do not let us overlook his portrait painting, so life- like, so unaffected,— his " Convivial Party " (27) makes us familiar with himself and friends, ; his " Captain Coram " (30) the projector of the Foundling Hospital, who lost health and fortune through his spirit of benevolence. " I did not waste," said the old man, " the wealth which I possessed in self-indulgence or vain ex- pense, and am not ashamed to own that in my old age I am poor." We cannot wonder at Hogarth's assertion that this was the portrait he painted with most pleasure, and the one in which he parti- cularly wished to excel. In his " Beggars' Opera" (25), he has left us the beautiful loved him living, and with a loving faith clung to his memory for twenty years after his departure. The domestic servants of the painter lived with him for years, and their portraits hung against his walls. Whilst Hogarth was satirising folly, Reynolds was flattering it ; while the one gained wealth and a title, the other was struggling on for bread and fame. Reynolds saw the way clearly open to independence and the good things of life, and steadily pursued it. Perhaps when we look at their individual talents, there was wisdom in both. Reynolds wanted vigour of imagination ; but he gave us life as he saw it, and in his own peculiar manner accomplished much from which the artist, at least, may gather knowledge. We have here a fine collection of his pictures : — some remarkably fine portraits, particularly the one of himself (48), in his robes, as doctor of civil law ; another of the " Braddyl Family" (52) ; of " Georgiana, Countess Althorp, and her Daughter " (73) ; but there is absent the charming face of Mrs. Molesworth, of which we venture an illustration. SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. — "MRS. MOLES WORTH face of Lavinia Fenton, after- wards Duchess of Bolton ; and in " Garrick, as Richard" (22), we are brought into familiarity witli the vain, but witty and talented actor. Hogarth gave us another view of Garrick, with his wife looking over his shoulder, about which Allan Cunningham tells us, — " Garrick was dissatisfied with the repre- sentation of himself, and said so. The lady said nothing as to herself, but complained that her husband looked less noble in art than in nature. Hogarth drew his pencil across David's mouth, and never touched the piece again. The picture was unpaid for at Hogarth's death, and his widow sent it to Mrs. Garrick, unaccompanied by any demand." In the < churchyard at Chiswick, upon a monu- ment erected to the memory of a true artist, is the following inscription: — "Here lieth the body of William Hogarth, Esq., who died October 26th, 1764, aged 67 years" — a mask, a laurel wreath, a palette, pencils, and a book inscribed "Analysis of Beauty," with the addition of some second-rate verses by Garrick, are also there. Ho- garth was a good husband, and left behind him a wife who " The Schoolboy " (64), and "The Contemplative Youth" (152), are both paintings of great merit : they exhibit a masterly knowledge of colour, and helong to the. class of art in the illustration of which Reynolds most excelled. But perhaps there is nothing more fascinating from his hand in the present Exhibition than his " charactcr"-portrait of the once- " celebrated " " Nelly O'Brien," which forms a portion of the Hertford collection. Would that art could command its subjects, and always have mind as well as beauty to perpetuate upon its canvas. But, alas ! the necessities of the _ artist tell upon his art, and Lely and Boucher tell the same tale as Reynolds in this instance. Yet, looking at it as a mere picture, what a charming speci- men of life-study it is ; what a bewitching smile ; what a joyous roundness in the outline of the face ; what an easy nonchalant air in the pom; and then what a tale of idle luxury in the general costume in the satin and lace in which her elegant form is enveloped. Altogether it is a study of female portraiture, worthy of Titian himself. SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS. — "NELLY O'BRIEN. 30 ART • TREASURES EXAMINER, THE FUNCTIONS OP ART. Into the heaven of heavens Art soarcth free ; Again descending from her native skies, She takes the common world that round us lies, And moulds it to the eternal harmony ; Drawing, Eternal Fount of love, from Thee, She pours into it of thy life divine, Till the terrestrial re-created shine The heavenly vision that she yearned to see. "f is hers to people with Creations pure Imagination's Halls, and hang on high Forms that sublime the Soul, and sanctify. She plants the unstable on foundations sure ; Createth worlds that shall for aye endure — Divinest gifts to souls that cannot die. May 18th, 1857. J. C. PICTURE TALK. — POINTS OF CRITICISM. By II. Ottley. — No. 2. Confining our attention for awhile to the subject of design and composition, with their various incidents, there are several important considera- tions, so general that they will be found illustrated more or less by almost any picture upon which we may chance to look. And, first, it should bo observed that composition is not so much a matter of chance and caprice, as, from observing the natural and easy arrangement of the subjects in the picture before us, one would be led to imagine. In composition, everything is the result of deep stud} r ; yet the perfection of the artist is shown in concealing the laborious process by which he has succeeded in achieving success. Here, em- phatically, ars est celare artem. In the first place, composition having for its object the bringing all the parts of the picture into harmonious relation with one another, so as to produce a complete whole, — in short, the reali- sation of a perfect entity out of certain prescribed materials, — the resulting entity must in its general outline assume in the mind of the painter some form or shape of a generic and familiar character. The varieties of form most usually found in com- position are the pyramid ; the globe or circle — and segments of them ; the grape ; and the flame or stream. Taking a few illustrations from Raphael, we find the pyramidal arrangement in most of his Holy Families — for instance, " La Belle Jardiniere" — and, doubtless, from intention, the pyramid being the emblem of the Trinity. In the cartoon of " The Miraculous Draught of Fishes," also, the pyramidal form is followed, though very obtuse at the apex. In the car- toon of "The Death of Ananias" the circular arrangement is adopted, and most skilfully, and with obvious good effect, this being the only means by which so many personages, so variously occupied and affected, could be displayed ; and due prominence given to the figure of the ex- piring Ananias, and yet elevation and dis- tinction, above all the rest, to the group of the apostles. In the " Elymas struck with Blindness," the arrangement is that of a semi- circle. In the "Transfiguration," the upper part is a combination of the pyramidal and cir- cular arrangement ; whilst in the agitated group below, we observe a variety of wavy outlines, suggestive of a flame or stream. As a general rule, the principal figure should occupy the centre or most prominent position in the picture ; but in the " Paul Preaching at Athens," Raphael has displayed the resources of his great and original genius in a remarkable manner, by giving, most unmistakeably, a commanding im- portance to the figure of the apostle, though placed at one side of the picture. An illustration of the grape form of composition will be traced very generally in the works of Titian, with whom it was a favourite mode. In reference to design and composition, as involving the use of drapery, an important remark has to bo made, illustrating the differ- ence of practice in the earlier and later masters of Italy. In the early Florentine and Roman schools, the artists arranged their groups of figures so as to make complete compositions with- out the intervention of drapery, and clothed their figures in such a manner as not to interfere with their first arrangement ; but in the schools which followed, the drapery becamo an essential part of the composition, serving at onco to fill up a certain portion of the canvas, and to give splendour and variety of colour to the wholo production. To this vain fancy for dress, — as with many foolish people in real life, — too much was sacrificed ; and the artist's ancient skill in outline, his firmness and accuracy of form, were gradually lost. Another vicious application of the tempting resources of drapery, in later times, resulted in the extreme of absurdity ; and from this even Raphael is not exempt : witness, amongst others, his " Transfiguration." We refer to the fly-away robes sometimes given the Saviour and the Madonna, and to angels and saints, when they are supposed to be floating in the air, and which, by an extreme stretch of imagination, we are expected to suppose assist in supporting the figure, instead of having themselves a natural tendency to fall to the earth. The introduction of this drapery, however, superseded the wings of earlier art, — an appendage to the human figure which reason certainly cannot admit of, but still, of the two, probably preferable to the balloon crinolines of later date. As painting differs from sculpture in represent- ing depth and distance, and numerous objects on different planes, moro or less remote, perspective is the art by which the true diminution of the size of various objects, according to their distance from the eye, and the converging of the lines towards the point of sight, is regulated. This art was, probably, unknown to the ancients ; and with the earlier masters of the modern ago we do not find it successfully attempted till the time of Massaccio, who learned the principles from Brunelleschi, the architect. A corollary of per- spective, or, rather, a particular application of it, is in the foreshorten ing of figures and their limbs, in the cases in which they are supposed to bo in a position different from that of the plane of the picture ; — as, approaching out of it towards or receding within it away from, the eye of the spectator. Massaccio and Andrea Mantegna were amongst the first to apply this principle with success, which Michel Angelo afterwards carried to marvellous perfection, and Corrcggio indulged in on all occasions as a habit, and to an extent almost constituting a fault. Coming now to colour, — we find that there have been three principal difforent modes of applying it (not to mention special and less important varieties), viz., distemper, fresco, and oil painting. Of these, distemper, or a tempera painting, was the earliest, being in use by the ancient Egyptians and Greeks. In this style of painting the colours are ground and mixed with water, and some glutinous matter, as size or white of egg, and applied to surfaces of plaster, wood, parchment, paper, canvas, &c The colours, under this mode, are very brilliant and permanent in their effect. Fresco painting was chiefly l'esorted to for the decoration of the inte- riors and exteriors of buildings, the plaster of the walls being the medium upon which the labours of the artist were displayed, and the colour being applied when this plaster was yet fresh and damp. From the very condition of the materials, there- fore, the work had to be executed rapidly, and was insusceptible of alteration or correction. The consequence was the education of the artist in boldness and decision of purpose, and his hand in great accuracy and freedom of execution, qualities which peculiarly distinguish the leading men of the early Italian Schools. Both in dis- temper and fresco painting the colours are opaque ; transparency of effect is impossible with them, and, therefore, one of the chief charms in real nature, the gradations of light and shade, and of tint behind tint, and the endless reflexes of light, which play through that medium, can- not even be attempted with them. By the use of oil painting, first practised by Van Eyck in the early part of the fifteenth century, and shortly afterwards ^introduced into Venice, whence it found its way rapidly to other parts of Italy, — the painter's art achieved its crowning triumph, and assumed that proud position in which we see it displayed in the great bulk of the pictures w^hich grace the present Art Treasures Exhibition. It enabled the artist to give the effect of air and depth, a thing impossible with opaque colours, — together with a brilliance and variety of tints, which the supposition of an aerial medium so abundantly suggests." In colouring, the first consideration is truth of colour, and purity of hue ; then the tint is to be regulated as affected by a consideration of atmos- pheric influences. Local colour is the colour of the object itself when in proximity to the eye, and can never be with propriety used, ex- cept on the first plane of the picture, and very rarely then ; in all more distant parts it must necessarily be modified by the aerial medium interposing, and by reflexes of other colours in its vicinity and acting upon it. •mony of colouring (there is also a harmony of composition and expression) results from a happy combination and grouping of colours, so that monotony on the one hand, and in- congruous and dissonant relation on the other, should bo avoided. Harmony between in- dividual colours, as in music between notes, results from the establishment of a sufficient distance in the chromatic scale between them ; in short, from a healthy oontrast between them ; harmony in the whole composition results from a general keeping between the colours of the various parts, so that the masses shall be in healthy relationship to one another, producing a congruous and aesthetic result. Red, blue, and yellow, being the three primary colours, are always in harmony when fairly distributed in proper proportions. Red, therefore, also is in harmony with green (which is a compound of blue and yellow), to which it is what is termed the " complementary" colour; and yellow with purple ; but blue or yellow upon green, which is partly composed of each, would, as a gene- ral principle, be discordant and offensive to the eye. As to tone in colouring, blue is a cold colour, red and yellow warm ; and the tone of all other colours is regulated by reference to these. The general tone of a picture depends upon the introduction of warm or cold colours, more or less respectively ; and in the establishment of a happy balance between them, is the skill of the artist as a colourist chiefly displayed. In general, it is safer to err on the side of warmth than of coldness ; and Sir J. Reynolds laid down a principle that blue could not enter as the prevailing colour in the prominent parts of a picture without offence. This doctrine, however, (jainsborough contested, and in order to disprove it, produced his celebrated portrait pic- ture, known as "The Blue Boy," which is to be seen in the Art-Treasures Gallery, but which, though a clever conceit, does not contravene the general principle stated by Reynolds. ART - TREASURES EXAMINER. 37 ART IN THE ATTICS. By W. Blanchaed Jekbold. Whethee beauty be a sensation or an emotion is a philosophical debate into which we shall not enter at present. Whether the pleasure we de- rive from the contemplation of certain objects, and the disgust we feel in the presence of others, are emotions, resulting purely and entirely from association, has long been a nice point. This is clear, however, that there is beauty of associa- tion, and of association simply. The various schools of art, the child's toy, and the dress of the savage, are all irrefutable proofs of this pro- position. " That one emotion of beauty," said Dr. Brown, the metaphysician, "which arises from works of art, is susceptible of modification by accidental circumstances, is equally evident. There are tastes in composition, of which we are able to fix the period, almost with the same ac- curacy as we fix the dates of any of those great events which fill our tables of chronology. What is green or scarlet to the eyes of the infant, is green or scarlet to the same eyes in boyhood, in youth, in mature manhood, in old age ; but the work of art which gives delight to the boy, may excite no emotion but that of contempt or disgust in the man. It must be a miserable ballad, in- deed, which is not read or heard with interest in our first years of curiosity ; and every dauber of a village sign-post, who knows enough of his art to give four legs, and not two merely, to his red lion .or blue bear, is sure of the admiration of the little critic who stops his hoop or his top to gaze on the wonders of his skill." Association colours life invariably. The virtue of one race is the vice of another. In one society valour is a higher virtue than mercy ; in another, mercy is before valour. The supreme virtue reverenced by the savage is not the supreme virtue of the civilised man. Men's ideals are built of the moral atmosphere in which they live. Jack Sheppard and Claude Duval were ideal thieves. For the mind admires the excellent always. The first of pickpockets is a virtuous man — a model man — to the humble " wire." The best bat, the perfect knuckler-down, the keenest eye for a bird's nest, the dead shot at peg-in-the- ring, the young pugilist who has thrashed his senior — all arc heroes in their school. All men reverence something, and take pleasure in something; that is, they hold something beau- tiful, since it conveys a pleasure to them. Whether this beauty be in the object, or in the associations with which their mind encompasses it — whether there be a positive beauty in certain objects, and a certain ugliness in others — is, we repeat, a metaphysical disquisition into which we shall not venture. But granted that the mind, that the moral nature, may be reached through the eye — that a man may be taught to feel ascertain pleasure on seeing certain objects, — an indisputable proposition, — the foundation is fairly and firmly laid for the few observations we have to offer the reader on art in the attics. " We have read of a Catholic money-lender," said Leigh Hunt, " who, when he was going to cheat a customer, always drew a veil over the portrait of his favourite saint." And Hazlitt would appear to be reasoning on this anecdote where he declares that "it seems as if an un- handsome action before the portrait of a noble female countenance would be impossible." We feel at once the force of this ; and then we begin to ask ourselves why that scum- bling upon canvas has power over us. Just as, when a noble landscape bursts upon us ; when wc turn the ridge of an eminence, and a great city lies framed in a blue horizon at our feet ; we may ask ourselves why so much bricks and mortar — so much water, grass, and rock — stir us. It may may be the sense of power, divine and human — of which the scene is an over- whelming evidence — which electrifies us. The effect — and this is all we contend for now — is clear, not to be put aside or ground down by the most tortuous logic. There is beauty to the dullest eye ; that is, there are objects which convey plea- surable sensations through it to the individual. Now, surely, this influence of the external world upon man is worth consideration in these days, when so much is written and spoken about education. We have here an universal in- fluence that may be turned to the best or the worst account. Unhappily at the present moment it is altogether neglected. Let us ascend, to the poor man's attic. What are the first objects we shall find there ? Household gods, not only of the coarsest material, but of the ugliest shape3 ; — for clothes — why flaunting imitations of the gar- ments worn by the rich ; — for literature, alas ! miscellanies of doubtful morality, illustrated with drawings wofully executed. There are many working men, it is true, who have passed far beyond this state of things — who have read sterling literature — who can boast the possession of a shelf heavy will) good books. But the great mass ? The circulation of certain cheap periodi- cals is the best answer. More, — public taste in England — the standard of excellence in art adopted not only by the working classes, but by the middle classes also — proves how completely that department of education which deals with taste has been neglected. We have now an Exhibition of the Art- Treasures of the United Kingdom arranged at Old Trafford. There is here a feast without limit for the cultivated eye — great emotions for those who have the key to them ; yet to how many will the fullness of the feast be accorded ? How many, with Dr. Brown's little critic, will see as many wonders of skill in the red lion of the village alehouse as in the sublime creations of Raphael ? This is a serious question. It is the question to be answered this summer. We have, iu the cultivation of a sense of the beau- tiful, a civilising, an ennobling influence, that is clear, and accepted. This sense may be made a silken thread, by which we may draw the working classes from the pothouse, and the middle classes from that excessive adoration of money which is their main characteristic at the present time. We may so attune a man's nature as to make every step he takes a delight to him. He shall walk abroad, and see noble lessons in glen and shore — new beauties in every petal upon the wayside flowers — fresh charms in every fold of the clouds above his head. And in our art- galleries new graces shall be unfolded to his enraptured sight. The world will not move less wisely onward when men, so touched, shall rule and be ruled. At this present time we are strong. The whirr of our engines drowns that of every foreign engine. We are absolute sovereigns of steam. No arms as brawny as ours forge the splintering iron ; no ships dip with so proud a walk as ours upon the bosom of the sea. A stalwart race; with steady voice, determined eye, and pulse fear never quickens, we have kept oh our way ; the first of races, and the proudest also. We have certain Spartan virtues, too, peculiar to us. We have kept home — and well it is for us — sacred as a temple, while abroad home has been defiled. But we have, in our self-sufficiency, set aside much that might have made us a gentler, with- out making us a weaker race. Do we respect horse-power more than head power? Let us hope not. Still how comes it that we, the richest and the most enterprising people on the face of the earth, are still far behind our neighbours the French in all that belongs to the realm of taste ? It is obviously because we have neglected to cultivate the taste of the people. It is because the refinements of the beautiful have not readied the eye of the masses. Ay — but we have schools of design now, it will be answered. True, but schools of design do not suffice. A nation of artist-workmen is not created in a day, nor in twenty years. The seed must be sown broadcast, and the farmer must wait patiently for the harvest. A demand for art must be created ; and to this end art must be- come understood in the attic. The working man's eye must be cultivated. But how shall this be accomplished? The means cannot be completely described within the limits of a single article. Yet there are means. Why, for instance, should the household gods of the working man be clumsy, misshapen images, that positively offend the cultivated eye ? The material must remain coarse, to ensure cheapness ; but it costs no more to mould a jug in a graceful than in an ungraceful shape. There may be art in a deal chair, seated with the common rush. A plate need not be dearer because it has not the willow pattern upon it. There may be grace in the common earthen- ware, as in the purest china. Felix Summerley, some years since, organised a band of artists who were to introduce household utensils that should, at the same time, be works of art. But the scheme failed ; and why? In the first place, these art-manufactures were too dear for the attic. They attracted the attention of the middle classes to a limited extent. But the promoters of the scheme appeared to be unable to wait. In the second place, many of the art-manufac- tures produced were too elaborate to be useful. A milk jug, for instance, should undoubtedly be a vessel into which milk may be conveniently poured, and, moreover, which may bo easily scalded. But suppose that some creative genius were to offer you a milk jug of the Etruscan form, very narrow at the neck — impossible to reach, in short, for cleansing ; or suppose that it were so ornamented, so heavy with trailing flowers, perchingbirds, and other pleasant fancies, that it strained the delicate wrist of your wife to lift it ? This would not be art-manufacture . Yet this mistake was often made by Felix Summerley and others who have followed him. We remem- ber, for instance, a bread platter. It was prettily carved, and excellent for use ; wheat ears orna- mented its borders. But athwart it lay an awful instrument. It might be a dissecting knife ; it might be a pruning instrument. It was a knife to cut bread. Ladies trembled at its size, and never attempted to grasp it. It is not, however, because a mistake has been made, that the attempt to give elegance to the homes of. the working classes should not be attempted. When art shall be understood in the attic, the artist shall be honoured in the -state ; and then our working men, touched by their cul- tivated sense of the beautiful, will become artists as well as mechanics. More, — their sense of the beautiful will refine every sentiment ; make them charitable ; permit them to see that there are higher things than mere wealth. The glory that now encompasses the golden calf will pale. But we are far, yet, from this happy state of things. It will be a happy fact for us if the Art-Treasures Exhibition but discover a faint prospect that our children will enjoy all the art-education, and the fine results of art, to which we dare not aspire. 3S ART -TREASURES EXAMINER, THE QUEEN'S IVORY CUP This beautiful specimen of caivt.il ivory will bo found among the contributions from Her Majesty, to whom it belongs. It is generally known as tho Diana Cup, from the character of its emblematical decoration, and is understood to be the pro- duction of one Magnus Berger, a Norwegian artist, who flourished about the year 1720. Compare it with any other piece of carving in the collection of a similar class, and there can be no hesitation in pronouncing Berger a great master in the art for which he was noted. Not in the outward form of his figures alone is the excellence observable, but the expression of fea- ture is distinctly marked, even to the wearied and anxious look of the hounda. We are not acquainted with any subject of the kind wherein so much may be gathered of the comparative labour and artistic skill which the old carvers indi- cated in their productions. They were literally sculp- tors in wood and ivory, showing as much fine feel- ing, or, perhaps we ought rather to say, graceful feel- ing, in much that they gave to the world, as is to be found in many of our mar- bles. The art of carving is exhibiting signs of revival, as we shall have to show in future illustrations of speci- mens that we may notice in certain parts of the Exhibi- tion. The form and orna- mentation of this Diana Cup is remarkably chaste and graceful in style. A figure of Hercules supports tho bowl, which is sur- mounted by a statue of Diana, whilst the carved reliefs throughout are all in harmony with the subject. The cup was, no doubt, intended as a " prize cup," — as the reward of some daring leap or some bril- liant chase of Norwe- gian game, — or to the pos- sessor of some finely-bred horse or skilfully - trained dogs ; for we must not sup- pose that " prize cups" are known only to our English sportsmen — to our jockey or our greyhound fancier. The practice of giving such prizes has been known to our neighbours over tho water through a long period of history. Athletic exer- cises were then, as they generally are now, fol- lowed by genial gather- ings, where the tables were well spread with all that was choice in the sea- eon, and the wine "cup" going round much more freely than in the present day. Men pledged each other clutching gold-hilted daggers in the girdle, and for a goodly reason ; there was song and revel through the night — and, most pro- bably, the usual headache in the morning. These were the times which Shakspere choose for drawing " two souls out of one weaver," — and no wonder that Diana cups were then wanted. We are'getting into abetter atmosphere in this nine- teenth century, though we have stilljnuch to learn and much to.improve. Amongst our many signs of progress, we should not overlook tho subjects selected by our artists, whether as painters with the pencil or with the pen. How little have we in the present day that the most delicate-minded need fear, — how much from which good resolves and wise purposes may gather strength ! ART • TREASURES EXAMINER. 39 THE OLD MASTERS. CIMABUE. Giovanni Clsiabue was of the noble house of the Guatieri of Florence. The date of his birth is not precisely known ; but most of the authorities, following Vasari, place it at 1240, whilst others suppose it to have taken place some ten years earlier. Like most men who have displayed great genius, or uncommon acquirement in the arts, he began to show his predilection for them early, even at school making sketches of various objects around him ; and when the republic of Florence sent for some Greek artists, whom they employed in painting some frescoes in the chapel of Sta Maria di Novella, he greedily devoured their labours with his eyes, and expressed so strong a desire to imitate their example, that his parents, with a generous disregard of the prejudices which existed against all manual employments, per- mitted him to follow the bent of his genius. C1MABEE. — " THE MADONNA AND CHILD." Under the tuition, then, of these travelling Greek painters, he learned the first rudiments of the art of painting ; but, gifted with innate genius, he soon discarded their tame and formal manner, and became so distinguished, that in 1250, at the command of Pope Inno- cent IV., ho accompanied his masters to Assisi, where they were employed to decorate the church of St. Francis with stories of the life of that saint, and of our Saviour. He hero so eclipsed his Greek instructors that the latter were dis- missed, and the work entirely given over to him ; at which time he was only ten years of age ac- cording to some accounts, or according to other and more probable accounts, about twenty years of age. His works in this church consisted of sixteen large frescoes, illustrative of the history of of the Old Testament, from the "Creation" to the story of "Joseph and his Brethren," on the one side, and on the opposite side an equal number illus- trative of the New Testament, from the " Annun- ciation" to the 1 ' Resurrection ." These pictures , un- fortunately, have been nearly effaced by the hand of time ; but sufficient has survived of them to attest to their great and striking merit in point of design, the characteristic and expressive life thrown into the heads,and the finely-cast draperies. An eminent critic says of them: "A series of dignified representations, calculated to elevate the mind to devotion, or impress it with religious awe, was the object of the painter, and this object he has attained in an eminent degree. Each of the pictures is expressive of its subject ; nor would it be difficult to point out amongst them examples of invention and composition worthy of the more advanced periods of art. In one of them particularly, in which the artist has represented the dead body of our Saviour surrounded by the Marys, St. John, and other disciples, the whole forms a group at once so pathetic and beautiful as to leave little to be desired, save the perfection of execution which 40 the labours of three succeeding centuries were found not more than adequate to accomplish."* So great was the excellence of these performances, indeed, that P. della Valle, in a note to Vasari, ascribes them to Giotto ; but the balance of evidence and opinion is in favour of their being Cimabue's. A curious circumstance is related in reference to them, which illustrates the mode of practice in fresco painting which was pro- bably in use at that early period. In places where the plaster on which the pictures have been painted has pealed off the walls, the figures have been found boldly sketched in red chalk, or some other similar material, on the wall itself; and the same has been observed in some of the frescoes of Benozzo Gozzoli, in the Campo Santo at Pisa. From this it is judged by Vasari and others, that with the early painters, cartoons, as patterns, were not used, and that these sketches on the walls served the purpose instead. At the same time there occurs this difficulty, that these designs could not be seen through the plaster on which the fresco was to be painted. Perhaps they were only intended for the purpose of trying how far the composition would fit into the space it was designed to occupy, as a general scheme of the projected work, without any regard to its execution. Of the numerous works of CJmabue at Florence little now remains, excepting his celebrated Madonna, larger than life, at the Sta. Maria Novella, and another in the church Sta. Trinita, both painted in distemper. The former was considered so great an achievement in art that it was carried in public triumph to the church it was intended to adorn. It will be seen from our engraving of it, that although it still showed much of the hardness and dryness of the Byzantine style, a suggestion of life and a spirit of elegance reign through it, which we do not find in the degenerate Greek art. There is a native simplicity and modesty about the figure and expression of the Madonna which it is impossible not to admire, and which we invariably find in the earliest representations of her. The Divine Infant has his right hand ele- vated in the act of conferring the benediction, — a ceremony in which his parent here takes no part. In later productions, the Madonna is made to share, and afterwards to engross the divine attributes of the Son of God ; but it was not so in the earliest times of Christian art of Italy. The kneeling of angels on both sides of the chair, curiously exemplify the mode of dealing with devotional subjects with these old masters. It may be worth mentioning that a great similarity is observed between this Madonna of Cimabue, and one by Guido da Siena, painted as early as the year 1212, which has been considered, in point of date, sufficient ground to deny Cimabue the title of first modem painter. Those who think proper to discuss the question as to the rival claims of Florence and Siena to the revival of painting, may find outline engravings of both these Madonnas in Rosini's "Storia della rittura." Cimabue knew nothing of perspective, or the mysteries of chiaroscuro, — these were reserved for a later period. He founded a school of paint- ing at Florence, where amongst his numerous pupils was the famous Giotto, who was destined to surpass him so far in every point of excel- lence, as to entitle him to be distinguished as the real founder of modern painting in Italy. Besides being a painter, Cimabue was an architect and a worker in mosaic, and assisted Arnolfo » Ottley's fW. Y.) " Italian School of Design." ART -TREASURES EXAMINER. Lapi in the building of the Sta. Maria del Fiore at Florence. He died about the year 1302, and was buried with great honour. In the Art-Treasures Exhibition, besides a small triptych by Cimabue, in which his famous " Madonna" is repeated, there is an extremely fine half-length of St. Peter, — life-size, — the head marked by great solemnity of character. Both these works are the property of Christ Church, Oxford. Y. WORKING MEN AND THE ART - TREASURES EXHIBITION. The tendency of the age is to the universal diffusion of knowledge, and in this respect the Anglo-Saxon race presents the most perfect em- bodiment of its spirit. France, indeed, has its eminent literary men ; Italy is still a school for the fine arts ; but their claim to a high standing is due to the transcendent abilities of a gifted few. England's superiority, on the contrary, consists in the general spread of intelligence, which places the highest prizes .of merit within the reach of energy and talent in every station of life. Viewed in this light, the Art-Treasures Exhibition, no less than that of '51, is possessed of a very in- structive significance. It points unmistakeably to a day when the delights .of literature, and a cultivated taste, will no longer be regarded as the peculiar privilege of wealth and high position. In the ruder stages of social advancement, the nobles of a country may surround themselves with all the rude magnificence of gems and gilded trappings, while the people are grovelling in wretchedness and want. But, in proportion as a taste for the conveniences and elegancies of civilised life becomes universally diffused, the opportunities for gratifying that taste are multi- plied. Demand stimulates invention and reduces the cost of production, until not merely conve- niences, but even luxuries, are attainable by millions. The energy and taste with which the com- mittee of the Art-Treasures Exhibition have executed the task committed to them, and the promptitude with which the nation has responded to their appeal, are beyond all praise. It only remains now that they for whose benefit this great work has been achieved, should appro- priately manifest their appreciation of its value. By none, we are assured, will the boon be more highly prized than by the working men. Few as their opportunities for becoming ac- quainted with the highest works of art must necessarily be, they will not suffer this vast and costly collection, comprising many of its rarest and most exquisite productions, to remain un- visited. In spite of the dismay felt by those whose ideas are fashioned on a mediaeval mould, in whose minds the word progress only awakens gloomy forebodings of revolution and anarchy, thronging thousands will crowd its aisles, and taste a pure and elevated enjoyment in contem- plating its matchless display. We have no sympathy with those who look on beauty as a worthless thing. It has an intrinsic value ; it occupies an important place in the economy of nature. It is the rich and ever-varied robe which she weaves for her own adornment ; she flings it, like a graceful mantle, over land and sea ; she clothes with it the flowery vale, and places it as a chaplet on the hoary mountain summit. Man everywhere owns its sway. The rude denizens of the desert plains — the hardy tribes that inhabit the mountain fastnesses, or the quiet dwellers in the remote and fertile valley — alike do homage to the power of its enchantment. In the artificial life of cities, the working man is, to a great extent, removed from the immediate sphere of these chastening in- fluences. Art now steps in to supply the place of Nature. Earth's loveliest scenes are trans- ferred by genius to the glowing canvas. From the sunny islands of the south, the lands that bask in the fervid splendour of earth's meridian, or the stern and silent domains of eternal winter — all that fills the mind with emotions of awe, or sweetly steals on the soul like a gush of richest harmony, contributes to enrich her port- folio. Her skill irradiates the palace of the noble, and casts a gleam of sunshine into the heart of the careworn son of toil. We do not, however, regard this Exhibition merely as a means of gratification. It is a school for the study of the fine arts. The cultivation of these is intimately connected with the business of life, and has an immediate bearing on the social and intellectual elevation of the working class. So essential are the fine arts to trade and manufactures, that it would be difficult to name any branch that can be brought to perfection without their aid. The practical energy and common sense of our working men has rendered them subservient to the increase of our resources, and placed Great Britain on the pinnacle of com- mercial and industrial pre-eminence. What was it, we ask, that raised Inigo Jones from the joiner's bench to a front rank among the architects of Europe, — that placed Dr. John Kitto in a professor's chair, or gave Watts and Arkwright a world-wide reputation ? Had the former never cultivated a taste for the beautiful, or the latter despised the assistance of the fine arts, in their useful labours, their names would probably have been buried in oblivion . But while advancement in the social scale is a laudable object of ambition, a due cultivation of the intellectual powers and moral sympathies will contribute, in a yet greater degree, to man's true dignity and happiness. It is matter for regret that, for want of a healthy appetite for sound informa- tion, much valuable time is wasted in the perusal of frothy and pernicious productions, and yet more in indulging sensual propensi- ties. It is not too much to hope, that the interest awakened by a survey of the extensive collection of historical portraits and paintings now thrown open to the public, will act in many cases as a stimulus to the study of history, and lead eventually to the diffusion of a taste for a higher class of literature. The time now wasted would suffice to give working men a general acquaintance, not only with the history of the human race, but also with the natural history of our globe, the peculiar features that endlessly diversify its scenery, and the manners and customs of the men of other lands, or to render them intimate with the graces of our classical literature. We remarked before, that a taste for the fine arts has an immediate bearing on the moral elevation of the working class. It throws an additional charm over the felicities of domestic life, and adds a silken cord to the ties that unite the family circle. Were it universal, the unsightly and inconvenient cottages that dis- grace our courts and alleys, would soon be replaced by elegant, light, and commodious struc- tures, whose very appearance would suggest ideas of order and cleanliness. Let working men seek to be refined, — to be gentlemen in feelings and in manners ; let them extend the range of their information, and acquire the habit of thinking and acting for themselves, and they will speedily take their proper rank in the great human family. 42 AET TKEASUKES EXAMINEE. BRITISH ART AND ARTISTS. No. II. The place of honour in saloon D, is undoubtedly given to Gainsborough, not, we presume, from the higher estimate of his works entertained by those in authority, but mainly on account of the class and character of certain pictures, and the interest attaching to them. The arrangement is judicious. That portrait of Master Buttall (156), generally known as the " Blue Boy," is a fine object as the centre point of that long gallery, — with the noble pose of the head — the frank, intelligent, and amiable face — tho grace of atti- tude. It is a fortunate illustration of the style of Gainsborough as a painter, and of his charac- ter as a mau. The introduction is thus made doubly agreeable, and we pass on to other of his works with a happy impression. The order of colour in this same portrait, the prominence given to the cold blue shade, we are told by Mr. Fulcher and others, was intended as a refutation of the theory maintained by Rey- nolds, in one of his " Discourses," that "the masses of light in a picture should be always of a warm, mellow colour — yellow, red, or a yellowish white ; and that the blue, the grey, or the green colours should be kept almost entirely out of these masses, aad be used only to support and set off these warm colours." Upon the truth of this theory, or the success of Gainsborough's practical refutation of it, critics do not appear unanimous. Mr. Leslie, in a letter to Mr. Fulcher, who has recently produced an interest- ing biography of Gainsborough, says : " Gains- borough's opposition to Sir Joshua Reynolds, as shown in the 1 Blue Boy,' was not confined to I that picture. He frequently introduced large masses of pale blue in his principal lights, as, ! indeed, Vandyke has done, and with great j effect. Mr. Bryant, of St. James's-street, has i a very beautiful whole-length portrait of a lady in a pale blue dress." Hazlitt is de- lighted with the picture ; the glow of youth and the grace of attitude carry him away from the thought of colour. Waagen acknow- ledges harmony in the blue dress, and a "pleasing effect;" (" Gainsborough saw what Reynolds could not see ;") whilst the author of" A Handbook for 1 Young Painters " agrees with the opinion of Sir Thomas Lawrence, " that in this picture the difficulty is rather ably combated than van- quished. Indeed, it is not even fairly combated, for Gainsborough has so mellowed and broken the blue with other tints, that it is no longer that pure bleak colour Sir J oshua meant ; and after all, though the picture is a very fine one, it can- not be doubted that a warmer tint for the dress would have made it still more agreeable to the eye." Would it so ! That is a question, Master Critic, which may be further disputed. At all events, such a transformation would undoubt- edly change the true character of Gainsborough's " Blue Boy," towards whom we acknowledge such an affection, that we would as soon look upon an old friend with a new face, as upon Master Buttall in a gaudy-coloured doublet. So, leaving these man-milliners to continue their dispute, we will, if you please, turn to this beau- tiful creation (157) "Mrs. Graham," whose pre- sence adds to the charm of the companion picture. Look at the dignity and grace of this figure ; how we forget even the absurdity of the powdered head, in the coquettish elegance of that hat and feathers, which float like gossamer, and give to the whole a peculiar character which it is difficult to describe. The feather held in the right hand AET - TKEASUKES EXAMINEE. of the figure carries out this aerial peculiarity, and undoubtedly adds to the general impression of graceful refinement, which the lovely features indicate as among the leading characteristics of the woman. We wonder, in looking at such a face, how sorrow could ever darken it, or time deepen those " lines of beauty" into furrows. In a letter from Burns, — we quote from the volumes so ably edited by Mr. Robert Chambers, — the poet, with his usual enthusiasm whenever female beauty is the subject, alludes to this fair face, which he saw when on a visit to the Duke of Athol. " I shall never forget the fine family piece I saw at Blair : the amiable, the truly noble duchess, with her smiling little seraph on her lap, at the head of the table — the lovely ' olive plants, ' as the Hebrew bard finely says, round the mother — the beautiful Mrs. Graham; the lovely, sweet Miss Cathcart, &c I wish I had the powers of Guido to do them justice!" And then Mr. Chambers adds the following interesting particulars of the sweet lady,as wellas of this nobly-painted canvas, to which our attention is now directed : — " The Mrs. Graham and Miss Cathcart whom Burns eulogises in the last letter were daughters of Lord Cathcart, and sisters of the Duchess of Athole. The husband of the first lady was at this time a quiet country gentleman, bearing the appellation of Thomas Graham of Balgowan. Five years after, his lovely wife was snatched from him by death in the very noon of life and beauty. The French war soon after broke out, and Thomas Graham, though in middle life, became a soldier in order to beguile his mind of its sorrows. He commanded the British troops at the battle of Barossa, and was raised to a peerage by the style of Lord Lynedoeh. His aged figure on horse- back, at reviews in Hyde Park, in days not yet long gone by, must be fresh in the recollections of many. He died in 1843, at the advanced age of ninety-four. Mr. Robert Graham of Balgowan, cousin and heir- at-law of Lord Lynedoeh, possesses a beautiful portrait by Gainsborough, of the lovely woman whom Burns so much admired at Blair. A touching history belongs to it. At the death of his wife, the husband, unable to endure the sight of her counterfeit presentment, caused it to be sent to a picture-frame maker's esta- blishment in London, there to lie till further orders. During the ensuing moiety of a century, he never could make up his mind to behold the image of one so dearly loved and so untimely blighted. He passed his life cheerfuliy, was fond of society, and had nothing of the monk about him ; but he never could look again on this memorial of unutterable wo. It was reserved to his friend and heir, Mr. Graham, to rescue the picture, and bring it once more to the light of day." The amiable poet of Rydal tells us — " The child is father of the man," the truth of which, in the case of Gainsborough, was not to be mistaken. Many are the anecdotes of his youthful artistic propensities " At the back of the house in which Gainsborough was born," says Fulcher, " there was a spacious orchard. It was separated only by a slight fence from the public road, and the clusters of ripe fruit had long proved too strong a temptation for some of the passers- by. But no clue could be obtained likely to lead to the detection of the culprits, until one morning, young Gainsborough having risen very early, proceeded to a rustic summer-house at the further end of the orchard, and there commenced a sketch of one of the pictu- resque trees of4he enclosure. Whilst thus employed, he observed a man's face peeping over the fence and looking most wistfully at the mellow pears. The youthful portrait-painter immediately made a sketch of his features, in which roguery and indolence, hope and fear, were happily blended ; I dare not, evidently waited on, I would. After gazing about him, he pro- ceeded to scale the fence and climb the tree, when Gainsborough emerged from his hiding-place, and the man decamped. At breakfast, Tom related the story, and laid upon the table a faithful likeness of the ma- rauder, who was immediately known to he a man living in Sudbury. On being sent for and taxed with the felonious intent, he stoutly denied it, till the boy produced the portrait, and shewed him how he looked when about to break the eighth commandment. This juvenile effort was preserved for many years, and Gainsborough ultimately made a finished painting of it, under the title of " Tom Peartree's Portrait." Soon after this we are told that Gainsborough, then fifteen years of age, was sent to London, and there received instructions from Gravelot in the art of engraving, and at the same time 43 attended the Royal Academy, in St. Martin's Lane, until he removed to the studio of Hayman, then, alasl "considered the best his- torical painter in the kingdom." The atmosphere of this locality did not offer much improvement to tho morals of the young aspirant, whatever chances it gave him for obtaining a knowledge of his art. Hayman was a man of coarse habits, reflected in his works. Going home one night, or rather one morning, with Quin, the actor, after a heavy convivial encounter, both artist and mimic fell into the gutter. Hayman, sprawl- ing out his legs, kicked Quin. " Hollo ! what are you at now?" cries the latter. "Endea- vouring to get up, to be sure, for this don't suit my palate." "Oh I" replied Quin, "remain where you arc, and the watchman will be here shortly and take us both up." Leaving such society, young Gainsborough ventured to start the race fairly, and, at the end of a three years' residence in town, hired rooms in Hatton Garden, and commenced painting small landscapes for picture-dealers, and such portraits as friends would entrust him with, at from three to five guineas each. But " sitters were few ; dealers proved poor paymasters ;" so, after a year of unprofitable effort, we find Gainsborough again at Sudbury. The influences of the change were soon observable in his devotion to landscape. He was to be found in the woods and fields, with sketch-book in hand, gathering instruction at the real well-spring. " It happened," says Allan Cunningham, "in one of Gainsborough's pic- torial excusions amongst the woods of Suffolk, that he sat down to make a sketch of some fine trees, with sheep reposing below and wood-doves roosting above, when a young woman entered unexpectedly upon the scene, and was at once admitted into the landscape and the feelings of the artist." The story of his introduction to his futuro wife, is, however, otherwise told by Fulcher. Margaret Burr sat to the young painter for her portrait, — "the sittings were numerous and protracted ; but the likeness was at last finished, and pronounced by competent judges perfect. The young lady expressed her warm admiration of the painter's skill, and, in doing so, gave him the gentlest possible hint that perhaps in time he might become the possessor of the original. On that hint he spoke, and, after a short courtship, was rewarded by her hand, and with it an annuity of two hundred pounds." " Gainsborough was in his nineteenth year, and his wife a year younger ;" and the old servant of the family said that " Master Tommy's wife was handsomer than Madame Keddington," then the belle of the Sudbury neighbourhood. Six months afterwards the juvenile couple are located in Ipswich, and the artist is again ob- served rambling, with sketch-book in hand, by " the old majestic Orwell, celebrated in the verse of Chaucer and Drayton ;" but he was not satis- fied with sketch-book alone. " He carried his palette into the open air, and painted with the living object before him." The happy result of this faithful communion with the beauties of nature, will be found in the landscape subjects, Nos. 70, 76, 95, 150, 153, 161 (saloon D) ; and in that well-known " Children and Donkey (No. 1), " Beggar Boys" (No. 26), and "The Cottage Door" (No. 31), in the adjoining vestibule (our references being to the first catalogue.) This latter class of picture is, perhaps, the one in which Gainsborough found himself the most at home. His love of the country, and his early residence amongst the simple peasantry of his native county, have given to his cottage groups great truth of character, whilst at the same time they partake, to a certain extent, of that refinement which was among the leading charms of the man's nature. His style of laying on the colour will be found to be particularly bold, yet at a certain distance from the canvas it is not less true to nature than the most laboured productions. He studied broad effects rather than minute imitation. It was, while sketching on the banks of the Orwell, wc are told, that Gainsborough made the friendship of Joshua Kirby, whose treatise on per- spective was introduced with a frontispiece by Hogarth, and whose daughter was the once popular Mrs. Trimmer. In such society, discoursing on the art he loved, were his winter evenings spent whilst resident at Ipswich. Sketching, and occasionally portrait-painting, is the occupation, music the favourite amusement, of his leisure hours, — until 17C0, when, after thirteen years' ex- perience, we find him suddenly mingling in the gay society of Bath, where undertoned whispers soon rose into open acknowledgment that " the painter in the Circus was a clever fellow." His pencil was not idle. " Fortune, "said a wit of the day, " seemed to take up her abode with him ; his house became Gain's-borough." From five guineas per head, vanity permitted a rapid rise in the market, and " running through the scale of charges, he ultimately fixed them at forty guineas for a half, and a hundred for a whole length." Pictures by the painter at Bath, now found their way into the annual exhibition of works of art established by metropolitan artists. He is painting lords and ladies, and literary men and actors. He is on such terms with the Duke of Bedford that he sends to him, with a letter of introduction, ' ' a most worthy, honest man, and one of the greatest geniuses for musical compositions England ever produced;" this is William Jackson, of Exeter, whose " Time has not thinned my flowing hair " will be in the pleasant remembrance of many of the old-fashioned portion of our readers, and who, finding that great musical genius would not keep "the pot boiling," was anxious for aristo- cratic influence to help to the situation of "receiver of the land-tax." Jackson said of Gainsborough, that "music seemed to be his employment, and painting his diversion ;" and he gave a humorous narrative of the artist's peculiarities. Whatever instrument he had the fortune to hear finely played, of that he became immediately enamoured, pursuing it as a study for a time with perfect enthusiasm. The violin— the viol-di-gamba — the harp — the hautboy — all were bought in their turn ; his house resounding with thirds and fifths, chords and arpeggios, ac- cording to the whim of the tune. His fancy also was to become the possessor of the particular instruments he heard. In 1774 Gainsborough has left Bath, and now we find him once more in London. Thirty years after his first studies under Hayman, he has returned to the old city with a sort of triumph. The clay idols of his youth have tumbled to pieces, and others have found favour with the public. West has come from the new world, Barry has brought talent and eccentricity from the " green isle," and Reynolds secured a position which it will require more than ordinary power to approach. But royal eyes had fallen upon Gainsborough's contributions to the Academy, and it was soon whispered abroad that good " King George" and his spouse "Charlotte" were about to "sit" to the new comer. It would be useless to add that, after the royal smile had fallen upon our artist, his studio was quickly besieged by peer and com- moner. Gainsborough became a great favourite at the palace ; his genial nature found sympathy ART- TREASURES EXAMINER in " gilded halls" as in the whitewashed cottage. One of the little princes died while he was at Windsor, and the day after, as the king passed the room in which the painter was employed, he saw him at work. The king desired a page to tell him to discontinue painting for the pre- sent. The page hesitated — " When your Majesty knows what Mr. Gainsborough is doing — " The king understood him. Gainsborough was making a portrait of the dead child. There had been little sympathy between Rey- nolds and Gainsborough, but perhaps this arose less from mere professional rivalry than contrast of character. They gradually withdrew from each other until the genial nature of Gains- borough prompted a reconciliation within a few days of his death. Sending for Reynolds he stretched forth the hand of peace, exclaiming, " We are all going to heaven, and Vandyke is of the company," — and so expired, August 2nd, 1788, in the 61st year of his age, and was buried in Kew Churchyard, Sheridan attending him to his last resting-place. Look at his works, — study them, for they are truly English in character. WATER - COLOUR ART. No. III. By J. A. Hammeesley, F.S.A. Resuming our notice of the Water-colour Gallery of the Art-Treasures Exhibition, we greet the venerable and venerated David Cox, whose genius is evidenced in several varieties of land- scape art by no less than seventeen examples. These works exhibit to us the singular sim- plicity of the painter's taste and judgment, and, perhaps better than the works of any other man, the vast diversity with which the same scene in nature may be illustrated by one mind. We are further reminded, that what some are raving about just now under the denomination of Pre- Raphaelitism, is, so far as attaining a ful- ness and completeness of result, by no means dependent upon a multiplication of elaborate touches and stipplings, but is, indeed, quite something else. Of this, however, more by-and- by. It will be well-spent time if David Cox gives us materials for thinking upon this question. His works are distinguished by an apparent love of home. They are evidently the emanations of a mind strongly attached even to what may be denominatedhome's discomforts, and demonstrate that a sympathy for all the characteristics of a locality is strong and abiding. We know how often this is denounced as damaging to genius, and as putting shackles upon the mental powers. It is easy to admit this in reference to limited capabilities ; but it is otherwise with the keen susceptibilities of a true spirit and with the com- prehensive grasp of a large intelligence. It is too trite to refer to the varying aspects of nature, or to endeavour to prove that the same spot pre- sents ever-changing peculiarities, ever-changing effects. All this is readily admitted ; but what is often called art does not work to this end. It is, therefore, power to produce the vast and interesting variety in the emotions of external nature, if we may so speak, which is the high privilege of perfected art-power ; and it is such men as Cox, who steadily and with affectionate devotion adhere to one narrow series of natural fact, yet get out of their very apparent limits so rich a variety. Cox, then, with the simplicity of his heart, having chosen to paint English landscape, further circumscribed his choice by adopting about three aspects only, instances of which will be found among the drawings we are about to notice. Of the seventeen drawings, four are views of the " Lancaster Sands." These exhibit one aspect of the painter's choice, and show at the same time what a quick sensibility for effect and treat- ment can do in securing a variety when it is denied by local circumstances. We have in the four drawings essentially different meteorological pe- culiarities ; and although three of them have the sun in the centre of the drawing, its rays alight upon a condition of the air essentially different. In none of these subjects can we be said to have other than the meagrest objective, yet the sub- jective is so varied in its subtilest particulars that we have perfect poems of art. The largest of the works under notice is, perhaps, one of the most exquisite renderings of space that we ever had the privilege of examining. Turning attention from the coast subjects of the painter, we have an opportunity of observing another phase of his love of nature. The simple, woody landscape of England has at all times had much of Cox's affection. In this love we observe an entire absence of a choice of the beautiful or merely aesthetically elegant, and the drawings in the Art-Treasures Exhibition show this abun- dantly. The picturesque of Cattermole and the grace of Harding find no place in the selection of Cox, who seems to sit down before the first group that comes to hand, and to elicit from that so much of the spirit and suggestiveness that it contains. We have a decided instance of this in " An Old Welsh Church," 490. The trees in this drawing are singularly devoid of mere material beauty, and yet what a grave solemnity the artist has thrown into them, and how grandly his artistic feeling seizes upon, and transforms into his main incident, the country funeral ! There is a still more telling drawing, so far as indifference to mere beauty of form is concerned, No. 485, where the trees are not only opposed to elegance or the picturesque, but where, indeed, opposite qualities may be said to be predominant. Yet, notwithstanding this, we get from this work a freshness and suggestiveness altogether indi- cative of great genius and a constant intercourse with nature, still more clearly evidenced by " Windsor," No. 492. There are two others which we detach from the seventeen, as exhibiting another characteristic of the artist. These (Nos. 494 and 491), " Vale of Clwyd" and " Besom-makers," show, and this in the highest degree, the painter's power over space. We may add to these 486, " Hay-time," though this is more remarkable for other qualities. The rendering of distance is in art easy of accom- plishment by the mode adopted by ordinary minds, viz., by mere dilution of colour. Cox, how- ever, wielding an almost magical power, gives vastness of distance and depth with a force of colour that, in other and weaker hands, would bring all the material of the pictures upon the spectator. Taking the drawing of the " Besom- makers," there is a retention of depth of colou r that may be said almost to exhaust the palette, and yet there is an expression of distance which gives to the six inches of paper at the bottom of the drawing a suggestion of space which is almost limitless. Doubtless much of this happy result springs out of Cox's invariable mode of rigid finish on the spot, by which means he is enabled to develop the most fleeting effects and tones of colour ; and again, from the happiness of his general scheme of light and shadow, which is always felicitous. But the main source of this extraordinary expression of distance is, no doubt, attributable to Iris matchless drawing and his ART -TREASURES EXAMINER. 45 inimitable perspective. Placing ourselves on the opposite side of the narrow gallery, look, for instance, a moment at the lamination of the clouds in 491 , as they hang in bands from the front to the extreme horizon ; then, when at the horizon, let the mind wander into those deep blue mys- teries, and gradually (for gradually this will be, so full of fascination is this portion of the work) dwell in the vaporous hollows, and wind about through mazes of the solemn-looking moor. It is only six inches of paper ; but it is an infinity of space and a very dream-land of beauty, arising out of consummate knowledge. " Haytime," No. 486, demands a more special notice as a felicitous passage of colour, — perhaps one of the most charming of the artist's works in this particular. Here, too, we have a sky full of the true spirit of nature, and a power of drawing only derived from a perpetual life among ac- tualities. We last week ventured some strictures on the drawing of Bossoli, No. 479. We may now, as the works are in near proximity, ask our readers to compare the drawing of one of our English artist's skies with the one which we felt ourselves justified in condemning. It is impossible to do more than hint at the special beauties of this collection from the pencil of Cox, and we must, consequently, hasten on to some general deductions that may serve to guide the judgment to correct conclusions, and tend to a better understanding of the wh,ole mental calibre of the artist. We began by stating that Cox was a painter of home. This he truly is, but to a degree, pro- bably, not known to our readers. Cox has been known, for nearly fifty years, as a visitor to one special home of Ms. This home is Bettws, in North Wales. For the last fifteen years we have known him as such a visitor, and for that period have had abundant opportunity of observing the simplicity of his character and the singleness of his aims. In that fastness among the hills, with its rapid streams, its richly-clothed hillsides, its bold, rocky escarpments, and surrounded by the primitive simplicity of its people, has Cox wan- dered about, marking the countless solemnities of its broad and varying effects. Th^re do we remember seeing him standing against one of those trees in the drawing, No. 480, and making a rude drawing with such materials and with such aids as he accidentally had about him — not trust- ing to memory, or waiting until he could secure the general completeness of material with wJiich the amateur is usually equipped. Mr. Cox saw a transient beauty, and he must have it through the means at his command. We remember on another occasion being one of a somewhat numerous party sketching on the banks of the Uwyg, when the veteran joined the group. We were most of us very much his juniors, and therefore, with a due reverence, looked to him as guide and friend. In the midst of a silence which seemed naturally to invest the party, the old man wandered about, remarking upon the tendency each man, in art, had to become possessed with a certain colour through which particular hue he inevitably saw and described nature. We were all hard at work upon the same, or nearly the same, subject, when the old man substantiated his theory by looking over the shoulders of each, and remarking, as he passed along, " Yes, yes 1 you see blue— and you orange, and you purple, and you green ;" then adding, that "most of these tendencies arose from a too great familiarity with one man's works, but more, perhaps, from being town instead of field workers." Cox is essentially a field artist. He loves all the associations of " out for the day." The rough wind and the wild rain are music to him, as he wanders across the mountain swamp ; the wild fowl that he disturbs in his rambles are his friends and companions. The solemn hush of the mountain hollow tells sug- gestive tales to his heart, and every splash of the mountain stream, as it dashes among its moss-covered rocks, conveys to the mind of Cox ideas more profuse of beauty and grandeur than any of the accumulations of man's handiwork in those classic regions in which other of his art- brethren delight. Cox is usually considered incomplete in this work — indefinite, inexpressive ; and the terms " woolly" and " vague" are often applied to his drawings. We have only to answer, — " ^-sk what the artist proposed to him" self, and then note how far he has succeeded in the attainment of this purpose." He has been definite and explicit when these qualifications were desirable for the attainment of his object. There is clearness and development of form in such drawings, for instance, as Nos. 490 ant 482 ; but when Cox paints a bundle of hay, or the wind blowing through a bank of rough grass, who can deny that we have the true pre- sentment given to us ? And here we would recur to the question of Pre-Baphaelitism, and observe, fhat all painting is an artifice by which the cunning of man simulates the beauties of nature. Are these beauties imitated, and does the imitation in some way and in sorn,e degree excite ideality and reflection in harmony with similar emotions to those which nature herself would command ? If art in any way docs this, whether it be the result of an elaborate detail, or, as Ruskin says, by a momentary rool of the brush, — no matter. David Cox appears to us to have ^Jtriyed at this power, an,