FINE ARTS.
We have already had occasion to allude-to the -works of 'Messrs. Mails' and Hunt—works-the principle of which it is essential to understand at the outset ; for-they are amcrnethe very-felt-in-the .Acadenly-whose prin- ciple can be clearly stated aneapprehendeil, or indeed which are animated by any, apart from the mystifying traditions or conventions ofthe studio. This principle may be broadly laid down as "the truth, and -nothing but the truth" : we should add, "the whole truth," were it possible to reproduce the facts of nature, instead of merely representing-them word- , mately. But, it is to be asked, the truth of-what ? for surely every rib- jectin nature is not -per se a subject for a picture. The objection-is-will founded, but ill addressed : let the still-life painters answer 'it—the flower, the animal-painters—any, in short, before those who deal-with the highest-themes of human life and emotion. But, as certainly as painting ' is an imitative art—and thatit is so who will dispute ?—so certaialyis-the correct and .faithful preferable to the careless imitation of the accessory portions of a picture. Thus stated, our assertion seems an-impertinent truism : but it will not become so until the conscientious labour bestowed on such accessories, as on the more important parts, shall have ceased to be matter for-ridicule.
One other objection to the literal-rendering of a subject is advaneta, and appears at first sight entitled to some respect on intellectual grounds yet we believe that, when at all closely examined, it will be found.
cious and self-refuting fallacy. It is said that no one sees thetliing-acti- ally as it is, but through the medium of his own feelings; and that-there- fore the strict external representation is, for the higher purposes of art, not true, but false. Accepting this assumption, we would inquire bow it is possible, whether desirable or not, that the artist should produce other ' than an ideal, his own ideal ? Or we may take the converse of the pre- position, and ask how the spectator, who cannot help idealizing nature in the mere act of vision, should find Le literal copy of nature more imprac- ticable? Either- way, the objection appears wholly untenable. We have entered thus far on a consideration of the leading qualities of the "pre-Raphaelite" pictures, because we think it evident that the art- ists have not picked up their principles at random, and that these might not therefore to be cried down in any hasty clique spirit. We-believe that, irrespectively of the mere deserts of the pictures themselves, they exercise an influence of the -very kind most needed in Engligh art, -and will continue to do so at a potent rate of increase. Had we proposed-to undertake the defence of the artists, instead of simply desiring to letthem stand forth for what they are, we should have found our task much short- ened by what has been done "in another place." Perhaps a somewhat juster notion-will prevail henceforward of the distinction between "archaic art" and "archaic honesty" ; and less parrot hearsay about false per- spective and snapped draperies will be abroad. Mr. Millais's largest picture this year is from Mr. Patmore's poem-of " The Woodman's Daughter" (799). We can scarcely call it the most elaborate, seeing that the others are no,less complete ; but it is the one containing the greatest multiplicity of detail. To point out to any one who has visited the exhibition, that in the landscape here there is more laborious minuteness, more patient, humble-hearted subjection to nature, than in whatever other the gallery contains, would be quite superfluous. The scene is deep in summer with its profuse luxury of vegetation ; the air throbs with penetrative light and warmth. The head of the aristocratic boy
is a triumph of delicate painting and the " sullen tone " of embarrassment which Mr. Patmore's fine observation led him to note is expressed with the most masterly truth, not 'only in the -flushed face, but in the angular tension of the limbs. Prejudioadmust.be.the eye which ascribes this con- strained position to any system other than the close study of nature. In the girl's figure the distinctive character of the peasant-child has been en- forced to the detriment, as we think, of beauty : but allowance is to be made for the evident fact that, in its most important portions, Mr. Millais has had to work against time. When we add to this a doubt whether some of the shadows on the figures are not too decidedly blue, we have summed up the defects of one of the most truly delightful pictures within our knowledge. "The Return of the Dove to the Ark" (651) is treated by the same artist in a singularly charming and natural composition. The arrangement is simplicity itself; while in breadth and selection of colour, and in the quality of flesh-painting, this is perhaps the most advanced, if not ab- solutely the best work Mr. Millais has yet produced. The foremost figure certainly is not one of those time-honoured blanket-draped persons whom it has been orthodox for some centuries to consider the types of Scrip- tural women : she may indeed not be peculiarly suggestive of a daughter of Noah ; but she has a large human sincerity of character, a health- ful freshness, primal if not primeval, which is as far above affected prettiness as it is unlike stilted convention. Mr. Millais's third picture (561) is the desolate Mariana in the moated grange. The sentiment is of utter dearth and life-weariness ; no hope for the future, no present stay. A day is past, and nothing more ; for the morrow will bring her no nearer to the goal. Throughout the long day's watching, the moist leaves have drifted in, and lie unheeded on her table ; a mouse, fearless of disturbance, has come out from "behind the mouldering wainscot " ; and sunset lights up in the casement the emblem of the broken lily. In the dusk of her chamber an oratory-lamp burns dimly ; and the bed waits to receive but not to comfort her, after one more day gone in the heart- sick vain longing. Mr. Millais has expressed the weariness of mind by an outward action which might be thought too obvious were the sentiment simple lassitude or grief: but it is more than this—it is the fruitless close of hope deferred, the piteous abandonment of a prolonged effort against despair : thewhole past day is in the moment. And, as though to show his independence of merely physical means, the painter has to an almost ha- zardous extent divested his theme of its attributes of squalor. A glowing richness of hues surrounds the forlorn Mariana : the house is haunted only by a thought.
But among the works embodying the principles referred to, that on which its size and subject confer the greatest importance is Mr. W. H. Hunt's "Valentine receiving (rescuing?) Sylvia from Proteus" (594). This picture is certainly the finest we have seen from its painter : it is as minutely finished as his " Rienzi," with more powerful colour ; and as scrupulously drawn as his " Christian priest escaping from the Druids," with a more perfect proportion of parts. The scene is the Mantuan forest, deep in dead red leaves, on a sunny day of autumn. Valentine has but just arrived, and draws Sylvia towards his side, from where she has been struggling on her knees with Proteus, whose unnerved hand he puts from him with speech and countenance of sorrowful rebuke. Sylvia nestles to her strong knight, rescued and secure ; while poor Julia leans, sick to swooning, against a tree, and tries with a trembling hand to draw the ring from her finger. Both these figures are truly creations, for the very reason that they are appropriate individualities, and not self-seeking idealisms. Mr. Hunt's hangers may claim to have prevented the public from judging of Sylvia much beyond her general tenderness of sentiment : the exquisite loveliness of the Julia there was no concealing. The out- laws are approaching from the distance, leading the captive Duke. The glory of sunlight is conveyed in the picture with a truth scarcely to be matched ; and its colour renders it a most undesirable neighbour. It might have been well, however, to avoid adding to the already great diffusion of hues by the richly embroidered robe of Sylvia. We are tempted to dwell further on the position assigned to Mr. Hunt on the walls of the Academy, in connexion with the importunate mediocrity displayed at so many points of the "line" : but, in speaking of the work, we recall the solemn human soul which seems to vibrate through it, like a bell in the forest, drawing us, as it were, within the quiet superiority which the artist must himself feel ; and we would rather aim at following him into that portion of the subject which is his domain only. There are great delicacy and ingenuity of idea in Mr. Collins's " Con- vent Thoughts" (493)—a young nun contemplating a passion-flower. The primary suggestion of the subject is caught at once; while a se- condary and more special direction is given to its symbolism by the missal which she holds opened at the crucifixion-page. For honest in- tensity of work Mr. Collins yields to none : no task could have been undertaken with more hearty purpose than is evident in the painting of his convent-garden. In one point—the foreground of mirrorlike water, with its admirably studied lilies and its pure reflections, which the gold fish seem actually swimming into without disturbing them—he has realized the full poetry of his attempt. In other portions a certain cold- ness may be objected to—some deficiency of that vivid all-informing power which raises exquisite imitation into a higher sphere than it belongs to merely as such. The sky is not only plain but blank. Yet we ad- mit that the feeling of the picture has something to do with this and the flat stretch of convent-wall. But the nun's narrowness of limb, and her cramped action in holding the flower, as tending towards the ex- treme of a style, are less defensible. For all this, the picture is one to which we always return with peculiar pleasure, thanks to the beauty of the objects represented, and the perfect good faith of the artist.
We have dwelt at length on these pictures, believing them to be works "of great pith and moment" in their general bearing on art, as well as for their own sake : others we must dismiss more summarily than their merits, in some cases, might warrant. Mr. F. R. Pickersgill's No. 399, "Rinaldo destroys the myrtle in the Enchanted Forest," is an advance in colour, and a deeper depth in conventionalism. Mr. Cary's " Abelard and Heloisa " (773) deserves attention for its Italian repose of feeling ; Mr. Horsley's " Allegro and Penseroso " (592) as a work of some importance with a good point or two ; Mr. Severn's "Keats, at Hampstead, when he first imagined his Ode to the Nightingale " (821) for its subject, and the peculiar qualifications of the artist for treating it ; Mr. Ward's "John Gilpin delayed by his customers" (430) for its clever expression ; Mr. Hook's "Brides of Venice" (361) for its share, such as it is, in the artist's pleasing qualities ; Mr. Solomon's "Awkward Position" (817)— an incident from Goldsmith's life—for its revolting incompetence. "Don Juan and Haidee " (681), by Mr. Pittar, is the very careful and promising work of a young artist ; well considered in its constraint of strong feel- ing in the group of Haider and her father ; somewhat operatic in the rest.
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