THE WATER-COLOUR EXHIBITIONS.
[To THE EDITOR OP THE " SPECTATOR." I SIR,-I cannot resiet the temptation of sendingyon myhumbleprotest -against-the opinions expressed in your last number as to the rival merits of the old and new Water-colour Exhibitions. A genuine country cousin, a true lover of Nature; and an amateur of water-colour painting (in a humble way), it is alwaysone of my greatest pleasures; during myrare visits to London, tosee the picture exhibitions, especially the two Water-colourGalleries. Now, it is about four years. since I have seen,. the Institute, and I expected great things of it in its new-rooms. So one day last week I arranged with a lady friend' —almost as provincial as myself, and, also given to daubing in water-colour—to have• a happy afternoon at the Piccadilly exhibition. Betour agreeable: expectations were doomed to disappointment. There were, indeed, three great rooms full of pictures, but those worthy of the cost of their frames would not, according to our benighted ideas, have more than half filled one of those spacious chambers. Deserts of rubbish occupied the walls, diversified occasionally' by oases of merit and interest. We wandered wearily around, lamenting the decadence of our favourite art, and finding our chief consolation in the reflection that if such productions were considered worthy of admission and admiration, we might, perhaps, send up some of oar own performances, with a reasonable hope: of getting hung, and, perhaps, even sold, which would be glory indeed! But it was with sad hearts that we left the exhibition, and I registered a mental vowto waste no more of my afternoons there.
It chanced two days afterwards. that I was in Pall-MalUwith an hour to spare, and the entrance,of the Old. Waterneolonr_ caught my eye. The place brought pleasing associations to my... memory, and I went, though. I scareely.espected anything but. a repetition of my former disappointment, Again: were my.; anticipatiOns reversed,lbut in a .very different manner, kir here I lound:s charming:exhibition. Not-, indeed;.a.very'largecnl; but there was seareelra -single: picture that was not deserving of examination; and most were admirable specimens of-water
-colonr art. As to rubbish, there was literally none; that had been carefully weeded out by the authorities, and had, I conclude, taken refuge in Piccadilly. I looked, and lingered, and longed to buy. I realised that I could not paint; but I rejoiced greatly to see that there were still English artists who could truly represent the lovely landscapes of England, so dear to -every lover of Nature, and of home and country.
I compared the two exhibitions to two novels,—the one to a brilliant production, in a single delightful volume, without the encumbrance of one superfluous sentence ; the other to a lengthy story in three prodigious tomes, containing, indeed, occasional good scenes and flashes of genius, but all smothered in a dreary mass of verbiage.
This is the genuine impression of an ignorant critic— without correct ideas of Art—who read your articles with such blank astonishment that it kept her awake till midnight, considering the marvellous difference of taste that must exist between your contributor and hersolf.—I am, Sir, &c., N.
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