requirements of the material, or of the ture, colour; anything but the thing itself. nature and fitness of the place and occa- We are called upon to look at the handsion. Every epic sentiment or heroic work of the painter, not to be thrilled by feeling is set aside for a wearisome la- his large feeling of a great event, not to be bour of the pencil, that carries no enthu- kindled into warmth with the new aspect siasm with it, and fails to wake one stir- in which he presents it to us, nor to have ring thought in the mind of the spectator. a fresh world of inward light revealed. Nor are the works of Mr. Ward in the These things are not the artist's object, Commons' Corridor more impressive. but he does inform us that this is the Academical figures in theatrical costume same grass, these are the stones, whereon are distributed freely on their surface; the event took place, and those the very but for one touch of the heroic, one ten- dresses the personages wore on the occader glimpse that appeals to anything be- sion. This would be well enough, though yond the eye, one single hint of that unnecessary, under an overmastering enwhich "makes the whole world kin," we thusiasm, but as a substitute for the inmay look in vain. In the frescoes or finitely nobler part of the artistic work it wall-paintings of simpler times and peo- is no more than the obscuring dust that ples, conceived in a genuine art-atmos- settles on the sapless petals of a faded phere, one is often touched into unex- flower. We are none of us anywise the pected emotion. Take, for instance, better for it; but in reality a great deal those of Fra Angelico in the convent of the worse: for under the semblance of St. Mark at Florence. With the baldest truth it gives us a meaningless falsehood, simplicity of means, with the least com- a cold and heartless apology for a picture, plex system of expression which Art is a spiritless delineation for a soul-moving capable of assuming, he has done so fact. All this elaboration of detail, and much that, in passing from one to anoth-local and circumstantial verisimilitude is er, all the finest feelings of the soul are certainly not worth the sacrifice of every awakened, and something like an unbid-particle of artistic sentiment and spiritual den tear will from time to time force it- force, or the impoverishment of a nation self into the eyes. Turn to the Arena in all that appertains to a genuine and Chapel or Municipal Hall at Padua. By intelligent taste, and the utter annihilawhat slight means are we moved! A few tion of every æsthetic principle; yet this figures in various acts or amid circum- is what we are paying for it. As long as stances in themselves not at all exciting this pernicious dogma of an inflexible -sometimes only a single figure-and our whole nature receives a new property, making fresh discoveries within itself; a glow suffuses the soul, the inner fountains of life and being are opened up, we rejoice in the painter and his work, and thank him for exciting within us new emotions of the purest kind. And why is all this? It is because these emotions are drawn from the painter's own soul; because he has only thought of his lines Of a much better character than any of as conveying some spiritual message, and the already mentioned works are Mr. not at all as the means of putting together Dyce's frescoes, in the Queen's Robing accurately constructed pictures. He has Room, of some of the social and religious not approached his pictures from the side virtues, as embodied in the Arthurian of lines, and hues, and figures, but having legend. They are executed with a due his mind filled with emotion by the cir- regard to their vehicle, they are simple in cumstance of his representation, he has their distribution, and sufficiently broad sought to express that, allowing the forms in their execution, their general tone is to arrange themselves in accordance with good; that is to say, that, without being it in the best way they might. But in dull or dark, they exactly keep their our modern English works we find no place on the wall: in this respect there real sense of subject at all, not the least is no attempt to vie with the scene-painter. attempt on the part of the artist to unite They are not works, however, of very himself with the centrality of his theme, great power; there is no overmastering and move us by the sheer force of its enthusiasm in them; the figures, too, are power. He abandons that entirely. He often stiff and awkward, showing that the appeals to us by lines, composition, tex- 'painter was little at home in the manage

realism is held up before us in the kingdom of Art'as a right and true one, it is impossible that we can expand in any more lofty direction. Under such a doctrine our eyes must constantly get more obscured with dark materialistic film, which presently will shut us in from every glimpse of the celestial vision, and effectually exclude us from participation in the "faculty divine."

ment of so large a surface and its requirements; a deficiency for which his time is as much responsible as himself.

Of the works in the House of Lords, which it is impossible to see in their full merits or demerits, on account of their situation, there appears to be nothing very important to add. Those of Mr. Maclise are conceived in the same chivalrous spirit which distinguishes his other paintings, partaking largely of the modern German manner, as interpreted by some of its most celebrated masters. Those of Mr. Cope do not show quite to so great disadvantage as his Corridor pictures; while Mr. Dyce, in his " Baptism of Ethelbert," still, perhaps, bears the palm in quietness and fitness of tone and keeping, but with the same stiffness and want of ease and naturalness in his figures before alluded to, and with a total want of true artistic manner and perception in the pictorial treatment of the architectural features of the scene. In all these works, however, there is almost an entire absence of that genuine heroic spirit, both in sentiment and execution, which ought to constitute the essential and overpowering quality of such works.

the Westminster Palace, of which it may be said that, on the whole, the national conclusion is, that its artistic decoration is a failure. Setting aside the intrinsic value of the works themselves, their utter inability to stand the climate and atmosphere of London is so forcibly thrust upon us, that the work has been all but abandoned. Mural painting in every form seems alike perishable, so that unless some other plan of decoration be suggested or discovered than that of using the wall surface, time, money, and trouble will be lost upon it. There are, however, at least two alternatives open to us: mosaic on the one hand, and canvas painting on the other. The latter might be removed at any time, and the safety of the painting would be more efficiently secured by its being detached than by its forming a part of the wall. The former - already respectably inaugurated in Mr. Poynter's "St. George' (of which, perhaps, a little more might have been made) - would be indestructible; * but it would only do for very broad designs, and these must be decorative as well as picturesque. But this would be infinitely better if done boldly and braveMr. Watts's "Alfred inciting the Sax-ly, than either nothing at all, or the scaons to prevent the landing of the Danes," before mentioned, forms the chief ornament of one of the Committee Rooms; and its quiet tone, broad and diffusive manner, as well as agreeable and harmonious colour, show in favourable contrast to the other pictorial decorations of this chamber. It is on canvas, and very large, reminding one in many respects of the fine examples of the Venetian school. Nothing can be more commendable than the spirit in which this picture is produced. Perhaps Mr. Watts has done ⚫ nothing better. Its modesty, reticence, and large grasp, both in arrangement and material, are highly creditable, and do honour to the place that the picture occupies.

Of the works in the Upper Waiting Hall, or Poets' Hall, as it has been called, so little remains, that, as we believe they were amongst the first paintings of the palace, and, therefore, may be considered tenative efforts rather than completed and conclusive performances, it will be only charitable to leave them in the hands of time, and hope for something greater and better when they have quite vanished from the walls.

We have thus completed a cursory survey of some of the principal works of

brous surfaces of mural pictures which now present so unsightly an appearance. We might at least have ideas before us, however broadly or generally expressed. There is no doubt that working in this material would contribute to largeness of conception and compel a dependence upon sound artistic qualities, since there would be no concealment of weakness in material, no glossing over incapacity of internal power by means of surface-texture, colour, or any other adventitious accessory. The work must be at least vigorous and intellectual, and be done from a high point of view, or its failure would be apparent, and its condemnation inevitable. If we adopted this method our oil-paintings might be preserved in more carefully-constructed galleries, removed from the deleterious influences of a building lighted with gas and on the banks of a river. As a precedent we might instance St. Peter's at Rome, almost all the large altar-pieces of which are executed in mosaic. Many of the churches also of Rome and Ravenna, to say nothing of St. Mark's at Venice, exhibit this kind of decoration with great nobility, power, and effect.

"Usava dire Domenico, la pittura essere il disegno, e la vera pittura per la eternità essere il musaico." Vasari "Vita di Domenico Ghirlandajo."

The other alternative is that of adopt-! done, as we suggest, in a simpler maning canvas pictures in oil, which, when ner, and made their appeal from the force properly painted, are known to be inde- of the idea conveyed, rather by a few structible by ordinary agents, always excepting the natural decay of time. This would allow the full play of artistic genius in a medium to which the public are accustomed, and with which painters are perfectly well acquainted. It might be done as well on a large scale as a small one. Some of the largest pictures in Venice are rendered in this material: and even for decorative purposes, when kept in a right tone, it offers quite as many advantages as the unproved means we have recently adopted, without the same danger of insecurity. It would be desirable, that the simplest earths and purest oils should be used, and allowed to get quite dry and hard before being submitted to the gaseous dampness of the Westminster walls.

grand lines than an infinitesimal number of pencil-touches and a realism which is alike inartistic and offensive, in case they had exhibited symptoms of decay, we might have afforded to lose some of their technical qualities, without the destruction of everything that was valuable in them; and even if they had gone altogether, we might have found an available power, if not able fully to supply their place, at least capable of giving us something from the same point of view. As it is, our failures remain to us a monument of our weakness and inability to meet what ought, in a nation possessed of our wealth and means of culture, to be a common and not at all an extraordinary occasion.

All that remains to us now of our prescribed task is to compare the modern English school of painting with another of universally accredited soundness and excellence, which embodies in the largest degree the general elements required for the formation of all good art, of whatsoever school or manner. These are chiefly harmony of colour, unity of line, directness of appeal and impressiveness of action, skilful massing, comprehensive and easy distribution, together with that union or fusion of all these qualities, which places every part of the work in a perfect consonance and agreement, both with itself and with the harmonies of nature, on whatever key the work may be constructed or in whatever relationship it may be viewed.

Perhaps the great secret of the failure of the Westminster Palace paintings is an over-elaboration of means. With all the most durable frescoes of Italy the means of production were of the simplest. Fortunately the painters of the time at which they were executed did not know too much. With every complexity, every additional material, the danger is increased, the chances of permanency lessened. There have been far too much money, time, labour, and talk spent upon these works of ours. Even if we accept the present material as the best that could have been devised or thought of, the whole process of decorative painting is for the most part so thoroughly misunderstood, that their failure as works of Art in relation to place and purpose is For this purpose there is room for a equally signal. A few vigorous, unob- pretty wide selection among those distrusive strokes from the hand of a master tinguished for undoubted excellence: (if such could be found) with a proper some of them, indeed, reaching to what' sense of fitness and propriety, struck out would appear to be the utmost perfection of the power within him, rather than in- of which their manner and material are debted for their expression to the means capable; each differing from the other, without, would have been worth all the nevertheless, in the broad ideal set before agglomerations of pigment and misdi- it: for the function of Art is various; it rected elaborations which, as a rule, has many missions and many modes of rather disfigure than ornament the walls fulfilling them. There is one school, upon which they are laid. As an exam- however, universally allowed to combine ample of how much may be conveyed by more noble qualities than any other; and the simplest means, we may instance the that is the Venetian school of the early floor of the Cathedral at Siena, which is part of the fifteenth and the sixteenth laid in two or three colours of marble. centuries. In it culminated all the accuThis material has been found sufficient to mulated excellence of the best thinkers express some of the noblest scenes and and workers, when Art was not an amusecircumstances of Scripture, with a force, ment nor a commercial business, but a vivacity, and grandeur, no trace of which mission of the soul, an inspiration from is discernible in the overworked studies heaven, a vocation of the highest, by at Westminster. If these had only been' which the minds of men were fed with

lessons of wisdom and truth; a serious | of the Venetian school of painting at calling, having an object before it real Venice, where it can alone be studied to and definite, with no regard to merely perfection. In the illustration, however, pleasing the eyes of children and dilet-of the principles arrived at, we shall refer, tanti. Generally the subject was a reli- whenever it is possible, to the works of gious one, sometimes social or ceremo- the masters of this school in our National nial; but in either case the object was Gallery, or to those otherwise accessible always stern, solid, unmistakable in its to stay-at-home students. end as it was decided and definite in its utterance. That this Art should have assumed its highest phase in Venice is neither inexplicable nor surprising. It was there, between sea and sky, that men's minds were touched by the loftiest and tenderest tones of thought. For who could see the wakening dawn stealing over the silent city, and not have his soul kindled by it; or who could watch the glowing evening pour out his gold on turret and campanile, or the silvery moon rise above the blue lagoon, and not be soothed by it to tender and beautiful thoughts? Who could go among her palaces, and see her robed senators and picturesque populace pass to and fro, and not long to paint them? Every human emotion was pent within the city. Wealth and power found their fittest symbols in its rulers and its people. "Religion" assumed her most splendid garb. Nothing was wanting to generate and sustain the conditions, external and internal, of a noble school of art. It was

inevitable that Venice should attain it.

It is far too late in the history of Art to begin to point out the special characteristics of the transcendent masters of this school-the subdued glory of Carpaccio, the glowing splendour of Titian, the titanic power of Tintoretto and Paul Veronese, the penetrating sweetness of "John Bellini, the spiritual grace and stately simplicity of Palma Vecchio, the full-blown richness of Bonifazio and Giorgione for they are already sufficiently well known. We will at once, therefore, enter on an analysis of their work in general, without actually instituting a close comparison with modern Art at every stage of the inquiry, but leaving the intelligent reader to form his own conclusions from that which we shall lay before him.

For the clearer elucidation of this part of our subject it will be better to divide it into three separate heads for consideration first, the character of Venetian painting; second, its manner; third, the mechanical means used in its production. It may also be premised that the following observations will roughly embody the results of many months' very careful study

First, then, as to character: by this is meant choice of subject and general mode of thinking. This had a wide range, but not an unlimited one. For instance, it never included the modern imitation for imitation's sake. It took no delight in furniture or fine clothes; nor even in flowers and landscapes, except in so far as they were accessories to something, for them, infinitely more important: that is, to men and women. Not that the Venetians were incapable of producing these and every other object to the utmost perfection if they wished it. In the low-toned pictures of Bassano the various vessels, vegetables, viands and articles of domestic economy are reproduced with the faithfulness of a Dutch painting. They, however, centralized all their great powers on humanity, its feelings and emotions. The human face was the most lovely and interesting thing they could find, therefore they painted it again and again, and were never tired of painting it; and although their interminable Madonnas and saints may be pronounced tedious by sacrilegious tourists, to the thoughtful student each face in the best pictures of these noble masters—many of them overflowing even to rapture with the most delicious tenderness of the sweetest of all earthly relationships, that of a mother, "the holiest thing alive,”will speak with a new and powerful voice to him who listens to it.

It is hardly necessary to pursue this branch of the subject farther, since all are familiar with the Venetian character, as to choice and composition, by means of engravings, photographs, or other reproductions, even where the pictures from which they are taken are unknown.

Of its manner a little more may be said; for, in a great measure, it was special and representative. It did not propose to itself many or diverse ends, but where it aimed it reached the mark. One is almost amazed at the simplicity of means these painters used. No sparkling lights flickered about their canvases, disturbing the mind and dazzling and perplexing the eyes of the spectator; there were no spots of scattered colour to in❘troduce distraction into their work and