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EXHIBITION OF THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

Few of man's works in this country, at this day, display more positive and distinct evidences of the influence which social changes and extra- neous circumstances exercise over every branch of human art, than the annual exhibition of the Royal Academy ; and this year, perhaps, the characteristics which have been gradually creeping over it have become more pronounced and are more exclusively in the ascendant. We ob- serve a steady advance in certain excellencies,—a steady and most satis- factory disappearance of the inferior style of picture, while those which are not in the highest rank are very rapidly drawing close towards the ability which is displayed in the superior. It would be invidious to name particular artists in this kind of comparison, but the reader may compare almost any second or third class pictures, especially in works of story or landscape. With all this progress, which is substantial and unmistakeable, there is also a retrogress,—a steady advance in the direction of deficiency; and that not only amongst individuals but amongst classes. We have fewer historical pictures than used—if we may use so strong an expression—to adorn the walls of the Royal Aca- demy; and those which are vouchsafed give us far lees of action, or even of that moral action which may be exhibited in forcible expression. The quietness of our times, which makes men adapt themselves to a certain costume in modes of thought as well as in manner and outward dress, has neutralized the tendency to positive action which usually finds its last lurking place in the professors of art. Our moderate and wadies& " ways tend to minimize strong feeling as well as strong action, unless it be the strength of emotion which consists in self-repression ; and in the present exhibition the moralist es well as the painter may find pl

illustrations for studying self-control carried almost to an extreme.

propoproportion of pictures which exemplify this anti-passion is very striking. rtion practical tendency of the age, the writings of Ruskin, the successes of the pre;-Raphaelites,who may be considered the Peel party in paint • ing,—the illustrative influence of the photograph, the effect of competi- tion, the influence of taste as enforced by the selection of purchasers,— all help to direct any positive capacity of art into the direction of repro- ducing " realities," such as we actually see with our own eyes in the world around us. It needs scarcely be added that such realities as everyi-f body can see in the world around him, by simply looking for them, mtudt, in the main, lie on the surface. Accordingly, art in all its branches-his_ become to a very great extent the art of scene-painting. The greatest genius of our day vies with the painter for the theatre or the panorama, emulates the photograph, and produces a style of work peculiarly cha•-t raeteristic of the age, distinguished by special beauties but also by spe- - cial deficiencies. In this respect, the pictures of every variety partake a common character ; the exceptiona, too, being of a very striking kind. • The larger number are set scenes, or tableaux vivans.

Passing by one or two works of merit, the first picture which arrests attention is John Millais's- "Vale of Rest," a work of astounding force.

It is a burial ground, in the midst of which sits a sister of charity, who has been watching•another sister, but has turned towards the spectatoras if to see who was approaching The companion sister, with her arms, is digging a grave. The scene consists of the level ground at its edges to a higher bank ; a wall, overgrown with rvy eorneictel enclosing the scene; while beyond there are the liquid yellOw and deep blue tints of the setting sun. It is a marvel of painting. The figures stand out as if they were in the very life. The reality of the wall, al- most to every brick, of the ivy which shrouds it save in some few spots, —the little sprigs which stand out against the sky —the perspective,— the liquid light that glances coolly upon the edges of the leaves, the tops of the shrubs and the outlines of the women's figures, while the flesh looks bright and distinct within the warmer shawdows,—the flat tomb- stones, between which you can almost feel the cool air,—all convey not only the reality of the scene, but the moral implied in the title. But after all, what is done ? It is a fact mirrored; a piece of moral scene- painting, as well as physical.

Egg's "Night before Newby" gives us Cromwell saying his prayers at the opening of his tent, the camp lying before us in solemn obscurity; while a restricted light exhibits the figure of the revolutionary leader, his face in deep shadow, his spirit under the awful emotion of the com- ing day and its responsibilities. It is very striking ; but, again, it is a picture of moral scene-painting. John Phillip's picture of "A huff," is among the exceptions. Phillip has not only been in Spain and has returned with a living portfolio full of ideas under his hat, but he retains the strong sympathy with vivid life

which naturally belongs to art. In Spain, he finds it principaillusperhaP8

of a physical kind, but striking for its intenseness ; and, with living pencil, he turns our English eyes straight into the interior of Spanish society. Here is a beautiful woman triumphing in the sense of power which she has over the cavalier who is riding away in the distance, and whom she has slighted ; while the group around her exemplify the many traits of Spanish life, not the least being admiration for the glorious beauty. There is not much done here, but, although it is a picture principally of the surface, and of the emotions, still there is story in it, and action.

On the other hand, Mr. F. R. Pickersgill's "Warrior Poets of the South of Europe contending in Song,"—painted diagrams of fairly co- loured "ideal " figures arranged in a certain theatrical grouping— amounts neither to story nor to scene-painting. It belongs to one class of pictures that have not felt the influences of the day, though not the higher class.

Idealise's picture of "The Poet to his Wife," illustrates one of Moore's Melodies, in which the poet preaches the policy of treating this world, as the wife does her garden bower—rejecting the weeds and keeping the flowers' by way of making "a heaven upon earth." It is a pretty picture, less than usual in the paper-stainers colouring into which Mediae had fallen lately ; and it would make a very pleasing illustration to any new edition of the Melodies. Maclise has, in some degree, felt the influence of the day; while nothing can altogether quench the spark of life that is in him, nor quite subdue him to the repose which is essential to the best painting. "Marie Antoinette listening to the Act of Accusation the Day before her Trial" is one of the most powerful pictures from the easel of E. M. Ward. It is history painting in the sense that Hazlitt said of Holbein- " his pictures are documents," only with more life and truth. It is startling, but no doubt very proper, to see the lovely Marie Antoinette- represented as rather a middle-aged dowager. She is sitting with her hands clasped, but not violently clasped, listening patiently, without any intense suffering in her face, to the parchment record which is read by a bedizened revolutionary official,—Fouquier Tinville ; who sits jauntily and impudently on a table, like a street tumbler, suddenly promoted to the post of Provost Marshal. Hanging on the chair which the Queen has drawn near her is a golden crucifix; on her lap, laid down to hear her accusal, is an open Testament. The woman is "every inch a Queen ; " her beauty survives even the heavy form which maturer age has brought to her. The picture is complete ; but it is most powerful in the completeness with which it illustrates repression.

The visitor will give a glance at Sir Edwin Landseer's "Doubtful Crumbs," in which a little black terrier is debating with himself whether he shall venture to take the leavings of a mastiff who seems to sleep ; his large picture of the stag swimming the torrent, and distancing the hounds,—the latter with plenty of action in it, but without Landseer's full power, while the mastiff looks as if it were painted from a dead dog. The "Prize Calf in the Care of a Highland Lassie" is a happier memento of Landseer.

One of the most perfect pictures of its kind is Herbert's "Mary Mag- dalene with spices approaching the Tomb of Our Lord," a study for a larger picture. Mary is an exceedingly sweet and beautiful woman whose loveliness does not conceal the traces of past suffering, nor is it disturbed by present sorrow ; a paleness overspreads her complexion while a pale sunset sheds a soft and gentle light, a sort of universal paleness over her whole figure. The delicacy of the forms even in the outline of the landscape, with its distant trees tenderly rising against the evening sky, conveys a sense of sweetness, as if purity overcame death and destruc- tion. In order to be properly seen, the spectator should isolate the picture with his hollowed hand, the stronger colours around it injtning the effect.

Mrs. J. B. Hay's " England and Italy," an English and an Italian boy standing in a scene of 'Val d'Arno is a powerful piece of reality-paint- ing, only the two types—the purely. happy boy for England, and the oppressed suffering boy for Italy—might quite as rightly be transposed; but there are force and truth in the work.

Dyce's "Good Shepherd opening the Gates to the Lambs that are to be folded," is precisely what might have been expected from the subject and the artist.

Mr. Cope's " Cordelia receiving intelligence how her Father had been fil-treated by her Sisters," literally surprised us. The face of Cordelia is exactly like the countenance of one of the ladies from the "Fashions," with a tear painted, and not very well painted, on her cheek, the counten- ance absolutely without emotion. Correct drawing, if drawing without organic action in it can be correct, neat outline like ealigraphy, and clean painting as it were for a shawl pattern, do not make either drafts- manship, colouring, or historical design. Leslie has two pictures, "Hotspur and Lady Percy asking her hus- band what carries him away," and "Jeanie Deans and Queen Caroline; both of them, especially the latter, cleverly painted designs of the indi- vidual characters ; but so flat, so placed in hard flat backgrounds, that they look like pictures compiled out of figures cut from engravings, put together, and coloured. Leslie falls short of scene-painting.

" Charles 'Dickens in his Study," by Frith, " The Emigrant's Last Sight of Home," a traveller turning back to look across the valley to its

hills, "Friendship Endangered," by Stone, two young; ladies who leant their rivalry from the receipt of a letter,—each has its story well made out, especially the first, for the portrait of Dickens vigorously handled, is in itself a story; but there are two more pictures .in the first room which we would more especially point out as striking specimens of the completely worked out style of the day. One is Horsel y's Milton dic- tating his Sampson Agonistes to his wife, Elizabeth Minshull, Thomas Elwood, the young Quaker, sitting behind." The poet is sitting at an organ from which his fingers have slipped though they still rest on the edge of the keyboard; his left hand lifted, his dark eyes closed, the head slightly inclined as he is following out the idea that dawns upon his mind, his wife who has risen with her note-book listening for his words, Elwood patiently waiting. The group is natural, emphatic, com- plete. The other picture is low down near the ground, it is by Mr. Emerson, painter of another which is almost too high up to be clearly seen. The one we notice is called "The Gamekeeper's Daughter, twilight." It is, with a slight mannerism in the handling to catch the effect of indistinct- ness among the leaves, a very pretty piece of scene painting ; the scene being a copse with tranquil water, an evening sun shining on the water, while a young girl is wending her way calmly along the grassy path with a load of game across her shoulders ; a sweet, innocent, thoughtful countenance being turned up to catch some object in the woods. The chaiacteristics of perfect womanhood in its dawn, the perfect vegetation in its wildest yet gentlest aspect, and the perfect evening purity, are beautifully caught.