fitu Art5.
ROYAL ACADEMY EXHIBITION: DOMESTIC SUBJEOTS.
he department of domestic art is more than commonly stocked with superior pictures. The first for deep earnestness of aim and high quality
of execution is "The Awakening Conscience" of Mr. Bunt. In truth, it
does not rank as domestic art at all in the sense in which people are ac- customed to use the word from having seen its efforts almost restricted hitherto to trivial literalities of small boys or facetious bumpkins, or at best to facts which, being destitute of hold on the thought, are not events. This, on the contrary, is of all pictures in the Academy the one which most challenges, and most is painted for the express purpose of challen- ging, grave practical thought in the beholder. The subject is a painful one, and there are those who will consider it better left alone ; but no one can doubt that it has been produced, not in lightness or disregard of opinion, but in all seriousness of mind. In an elegant interior stands a lady in a loose morning dress. The piano at which she has been sitting remains open. Her fashionable "protector" has just come in. He has thrown himself into a chair before the piano, touches the notes carelessly, and sings something-perhaps Tennyson's "Tears, idle tears," the music of which he has brought with him ; some- thing, at any rate, which, while to him merely sweet sound, strikes in her heart and conscience a chord that thrills. She holds her hands hard together; a quick spasm is in her averted face ; the eyes fill with bitter tears which do not fall, and a bitter pang sharpens the parted lips. Won- derful is that beautiful stricken countenance. The man's is less unim- provable. You see that he is singing ; but the play of feature is not quite easy enough, and the expression, as distinct from the action, not free from ambiguity. On the carpeted floor, suggestively introduced, a sparrow which has entered from the garden escapes as the cat whose deadly paws are playing with it glares up startled by the singing. The room is all in cool shadow, save fur some ray of light which catches a point of polished surface here and there ; but the background is lighted by the delusive reflection, in a glass, of the fresh garden-trees, seen through the opposite window. This subdued tone and the relief of clear pleasant light are originally and exquisitely managed; and the accessories-reversed worsted work, piano, and or-molu clock under its glass shade-details of furniture and details of costume, are perfect ; bright and new, as they ought to be, yet not distracting in effect. From the lady's scarf alone we would be willing to spare some excess of bright pattern. Less or greater excellence, however, in points of the execution of a picture by Mr. Hunt-which is sure to be finely executed as a whole-is a matter, we may say, of no importance. Here the execution is splendid-that is satisfactory ; but we rest the no- bility of the picture upon the fact that the thought which dictated it is to be honoured, and the feeling with which this is expressed admirable. We rejoice to find the earnestness and unflinching thoroughness of the Pre- raphaelite school applied to subjects of our own day, which, properly treated, are among the highest of all; supremely difficult, but free from uncertainties, and possessing for succeeding times a value such as no other subjects can pretend to,-a truth to us, and to our children a record. "Life at the Sea-side," by Mr. Frith, is the popular favourite of the exhibition. It deserves no less praise than it receives, for lively fidelity to the aspect of things selected, and for recherché nicety and completeness of execution. All that is aimed at is attained ; everything is in its place, -cheerful, lounging, recreating. It is Mr. Frith's masterpiece for ade- quacy of means to end. But, when all this has been heartily ad- mitted, we must ask cui bono ? Could no more have been made picto- rially of life at the sea-side; and, if thus much only is taken, is it worth the labour expended upon it ? We cannot but think that much more might have been made of it. No work of art admitting :of a varied dis- play of life is complete unless it has something serious ; no treatment of the sea-side can be the best without some passage of external nature as intensely felt as if the general subject partook of the epic rather than the genteel comedy ; be it serene sea, or dashing surf, or fathomless sky, or what not, though but a point, there it imperatively should be. Neither of these requirements could at all detract from the prevailing look of holiday enjoyment ; the picture would lose no jot of familiar character or the tone of society. Now we find nothing that goes deeper than the surface in Mr. Frith's capital work ; every one is being amused, or beset by the caterers of some entertainment, (of whom there is a slight glut,) or killing time. Of the sea there is but just a line in the foreground,-well enough painted to be quite in keep- ing with the rest of this skilfully handled picture, but not so dwelt upon as to be a repose and a delight. Perhaps there are few to whom these remarks will not appear strained and hypercritical : we shall not be persuaded that they are so till we learn that painting is to be a catching-up of profitless externals. That Mr. Frith has an eye most acute for externals this work swarms with proof; the old lady indig- nantly nervous at the pertinacity of the Jew vendor of " tomboli," but still immovably deaf to his appeal, would alone prove it to demonstra- tion. The artist's other contributions are small ; a puny modern "Anne Page," two groups from Scott's novels, in one of which the Ravenswood is very sneaking, and a natural portrait of "Mrs. E. M. Ward." Mr. Cope is again at his private domesticities ; and, so long as he paints them as engagingly and admirably as "Baby's Turn," we can scarcely regret, spite of their weaning him from the loftier subjects he is well capable of treating, that he has become the father of apparently a pretty numerous family. This little work, where " baby " is being fed by her sister, is a most charming one, elaborated truly con amore to a pitch of the highest finish and effect, and replete with beauties of naïf childlike expression. Paternity may wait long before it obtains such a group from the com- missioned portrait-painter. "The Friends," where the same baby, or a scarce elder sister, is enjoying, with her brother, a good look at an illustrated Robinson &woe, is rather less agreeable, but still ex tremely true and well studied. The grimy texture to which Mr. Cope is not seldom addicted appears here somewhat prominently-in the boy's hair, for instance ; though the light and the vigour of handling tell out excellently at a few paces' distance. "A Breakfast Party" is the best of Mr. Webster's three small pictures, and a good specimen. "A Villager's Offering" is mean; "Peasant Chil- dren," ugly : both, in their sphere, true ; but it is a truth which can afford no pleasure to a beholder who requires that a work of art should convey some message to his mind or some beauty to his feelings. Mr. Webster probably does not perceive the necessity for either. Mr. Stone is equally blind to the former requirement, and thinks that the latter is pfte well enough answered by a mild dose of prettiness. "The Old, Old "dory "-a young man, or more properly boy, making love to a Breton peasant-girl-is in his bands a story quite superannuated. This year, however, he has slightly modified the well-worn type of his countenances. # pleasant little homely pastoral is Mr, Horaley's "Pet of the Common," where a village errand-boy is fondling a donkey's foal to the accompani- ment of its dam's maternal brays. Mx. Goodall's "Swing" is evidently a portrait group, and owes to that fact such superiority as it possesses over the vapid smartness and sparkle of the artist's inventions." Mr. liwins shows to greater advantage than for a year or two past ; there being some rather graceful feeling and glowing though crude colour in his contributions. Hopeless is the depth of sentimentalism at which we find Mr. Solomon in "The First Clam," and "The Second Class,"-the sentimentalism of flirtation, and the sentimentalism of family affection ; in both, common to the degree which may be called vulgar. In "A Jury," Mr. G. B. O'Neill represents the one impracticable juryman, rather deaf to the voices, and deaf beyond deafness to the reasonings, of his col- leagues ; one whom not even a night to be spent without fire, light, or food, shall avail to melt or convince. The expressions, if not free (sine burlesque, are true and ingenious : but why will Mr. O'Neill paint iii such vile slates and brick-dusts ?-it is a lamentable propensity. Mr. Feed had given promise of better things than his "Morning-Reapers going out" : but he deserts living truth for dexterous commonplace. We have in this picture makebelieves, at here its characteristic, there its hu- morous, there its poetic aspect; nowhere anything real or hearty. In "Peggy," from the Gentle Shepherd, the background is wretchedly des- titute of feeling.
E. Davis is a name new to us ; but it vrill be soon known to all who can appreciate quiet unaffected sentiment and honest painting, if its owner continue to produce works as good as the careworn old man at his fire- side who passes under the title "Meditation." Every inch of this is
common matter of fact, yet free from commonness. Parting Words," though pretty well done, is not worthy of the same hand. We have be- fore remarked the little bits of Mr. Dell, and must again cordially praise his nice design and bright harmonious individual quality of colour. His "Irish Stack-yard" is capitally made out in each particular ; even on the dunghill he bestows artistic propriety. "Italian Peasants, San Ger- mano kingdom of Naples," by Mr. Dickinson, indicatesa sense for grandeur of form but little for colour. The artist seems to have been scarcely independent enough in this respect. Mr. Cary's "St. Valen- tine's Day" is an agreeable fair one, not to say transparent one, in a style hesitating between Mr. Leslie's and Mr. Stone's ; and Ilia; H. Carpenter's " Sketch " is a clever female head. One domestic picture remains, and a most remarkable one it is. We do not retain a recollection of any previous work of the same gentleman, Mr. J. Stirling, of Aberdeen ; but, on referring to the Catalogue for 1852, we find that he exhibited in that year, and is indexed as an " M.A." His "Bible Class in a Scottish Parish School examined by a Committee of Presbytery" bears symptoms of the amateur, but an amateur of extraor- dinary powers. Whatever may be his attainments as M.A., Mr. Stirling is a born painter. He has the observation of twenty little observers in him, and the stuff of twenty small manipulators. He doesn't try to concoct a picture for you, but to show you a fact. While he is at work giving you downright portraits, hardhanded urchins, diligent well-to-do visitor, and a wonderful old Scotchman for the schoolmaster, Heaven save the rules of composition ! No mincing matters with him ; every inmate of that school-room shall be at the precise pitch of ugliness and uncouth- ness which Nature prescribed, so far as in him lies to render it. But he sees character as well as ugliness, and colour as well as character. His heads have much the quality of photographs, but the resemblance most immediately suggested is to William Hunt the water-colour painter; • nor is the general handling without a hint of Holman Hunt in an immature state. Though in the rough, Mr. Stirling has the powers of a strong draughtsman and a strong colourist. His work is the work of a man, and cries shame on the puling insipidities of nine-tenths of the painters, among whom he shines more honoured in his unartiatic amateurship than they in that art which is a polite name for falsehood.
Previous page
