SAMUEL PALMER'S ECLOGUES OF VIRGIL.* Tar: late Mr. Samuel Palmer,
of the Old W ater-Colour Society, was in some ways an unique figure in the Art history of the present day,—he had little, if anything, to do with what may be called the competitive commerce of Art; he was pledged to no picture-dealer, and advertised by no society. Living a quiet, restful existence, in a small country village, with placid interests of family and friendship and the companionship of a few books, he passed the greater part of his long life ; and there is, perhaps, no single quality of his painting so apparent, to all who care to look below the surface, as the atmosphere of peace which surrounds its splendour. Splendour is, indeed, almost universally present in Mr. Palmer's pictures; but it is splendour of a peaceful kind, always verging towards quiet- ness and rest. The record of his life reads like a page out of bygone history, so free is it from all trace of modern restlessness and modern diversity. He seems to have spent his life in the very manner in which he would have chosen, had he had the power of choice, in designing and painting, reading and writing poetry, walking about country lanes, and sitting over the fire in the evenings with a few chosen friends. With the exception of the death of his eldest son, from which " it is doubt- ful," says another of his children, "whether he ever wholly recovered," his life was unmarked by any great sorrow, and was free alike from the cares of wealth and the pressure of poverty.
The work before us, a translation of Virgil's Eclogues, is one upon which the artist spent great labour in the latter years of his life, and there is a space of at least sixteen years between the time of its inception and completion. The book is one of those elaborately printed, papered, and bound volumes which are so plentiful at this season of the year, and deserves rather a special word of praise for the good and quiet taste which marks its binding and its type.
It was not, however, till within two years of the artist's death that the illustrative etchings were began, and traces of failing power, are to be seen throughout the artistic portion of the work which, as it is here published, consists of etchings, more or less finished, and reproductions of drawings, from which the artist intended to etch. Of these the etchings are singularly inferior to 'those which Mr. Palmer executed in earlier days. We allude specially, in saying this, to their technical excellence as etchings. They lack delicacy of draughtsmanship, and have an uniform heaviness of shadow which is very unlike the soft, mysterious
• The Eclogues of Virgil. By Samuel Palmer. London ; Seeley and 00. gloom of the artist's earlier work. The truth is, that nearly all the etchings were left unfinished at the artist's death, and have been completed (at his express desire) by his son, from his father's notes and memoranda. It seems unkind to say that he has spoilt the plates by this completion, but that he has done so, is evident, and any of our readers who take an interest in such matters, would do well to notice for themselves the manner in which the quasi-mechanical work of the son, takes all the real artistic beauty out of the father's work. Look at the etching which illustrates the seventh eclogue, which is one which was finished entirely by the elder artist (by the way, this is errone- ously described in the index as a fac-simile of the drawing), and compare the gradation of shadow therein, with that of any of the other etchings in the book. The difference is too marked to escape even the most untrained eye. Look, too, at the work on the sunset sky, and contrast its softness and brilliancy with that of the comparatively coarse cross-hatching in the succeeding plate. Here, again, the difference is too great to be mistaken.. Some of these plates have been very much more injured than others, but the one which represents the seventh eclogue, is the only one (of the etchings) which is in any way a true represen- tation of Mr. Palmer's work, and the second illustration to the eighth eclogue has suffered more than any. The fax-simile of a drawing in illustration of the sixth eclogue, is one of the most interesting, and would have made a singularly beautiful etching. It represents a shepherd piping to his flocks on a calm summer's evening just after sun-down, and is bathed in a gentle glow of lingering sunlight which is very lovely. It may be noted that this is one of the few drawings in which Mr. Palmer has de- picted an evening sky, free from clouds, and unbroken by heavy masses of trees. The composition, too, is of a more extended kind, and does not present the artist's usual characteristics of heavy masses of shadow to right and left, divided by a valley through which the light strikes across a dark hill-side, or through the thick foliage of a tree. If is true that of this form of composition Mr. Samuel Palmer was a perfect master, and that he used it with the greatest science to intensify the meaning of his work ; but it almost degenerated at times into a trick, and a change to a quieter and less accentuated form is very pleasant.
As we are on this subject of illustrations, we would ask why it is that where fine-art publishers produce in the same work etchings and fac-similes of drawings made by one or other of the photographic (or photogravure) processes, they should think it necessary to place round the facsimiles a sham plate-mark. It surely cannot be that they wish the public who are unlearned in Art matters, to suppose that the photographic reproductions are etchings, and so sell the book practically as one which is illustrated by etching, instead of photography. Of course, it is not for this reason, for this would be scarcely honest; but for what purpose it is done, we cannot understand. It is, however, a great mistake, for this reason, that in looking at the illustration the eye catches the plate-mark first of all, and so regards the picture as an etching; and looking for the qualities of an etching, and not finding them, is apt to be dis- appointed and put out of conceit with the whole work. And it is probably still more frequently the case that, owing to the want of technical. acquaintance with the character of an etched plate, the casual inspector of the illustration takes the photograph for the etching, and so gets any little bit of instruction that he might have received from the work perverted and destroyed.
To conclude about these illustrations, the facts are as follows : —There is one etching of Mr. Palmer's own, which is good ; there are five etchings begun by Mr. Palmer, and completed by his son, which are interesting, but of no value as works of art ; finally, there are eight photo - engravings from Mr. Palmer's drawings, some of which have been touched by his son,—these are good of their kind, and better almost in inverse ratio to the quantity of alteration they have received. Compare, for an instance of this latter assertion, the two illustrations to the first eclogue. It will be seen that the horizontal clouds in the first have been reinforced by the etching- needle, and also portions of the foliage, and a little work on the ground. On comparing this with the second illustration, in which there has been no perceptible alteration made in the mechanical reproduction, it will be noticed how, in the first instance, the free-hand work stares out, in comparison with the uniformity of the photograph, distracts the eye, -and renders the whole picture of uneven quality.
We have left all remarks as to the translation of the Eclogues to the last, chiefly because Mr. Palmer, though a poet-painter, was not, after all, a poet ; and though the translation is very carefully and lovingly done, it will, we fear, only take a place amongst the curiosities of litera- ture. It reminds us of Browning's " One word more," it is like Dante's angel or Raphael's sonnet,—a labour of love, done once in a lifetime by a hand and heart which had spent their best energies in other directions. Perhaps we cannot close this review more fitly than by quoting a verse in support of our estimate as to the kind of value which this version of the Eclogues possesses. The verse is one which we took by chance, as the book lay open before us, and in its concluding lines it seems to apply strangely enough to the painter who wrote it :- " 0 fortunate old man !
Then these ancestral fields are yours again, And wide enough for you. Though naked stone, And marsh with slimy rush, abut upon The lowlands, yet your pregnant ewes shall try No unproved forage. Neighbouring flocks too nigh Strike no contagion, nor infect the young.
0 fortunate ! who now at last, among Known streams and sacred fountain-heads, have found A shelter and a shade on your own ground."
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