Put iris.
THE SOCIETY OF BRITISH AETISTS.
"Every man at his worst" is the character of the Exhibition of the Suffolk Street Society which opened to private -view on Saturday last. There is a peculiarly sodden and exhausted air about it—a flavour as of isboiled tea-leaves. We have seen the same thing fifty times before, and not only the same, but less bad of its kind. This display is an es- pecially unlucky one : but indeed little can be hoped from an artistic corporation numbering such members as Messrs. Clater, Hawkins, Noble, ridding, Salter, Shayer, Woolmer, and Zeiter, and of which even the better members—as Messrs. Hurlstone, Pyne, or West—have settled down each into his own particular routine of picture-spinning, with scarcely a conception of variety, or an aspiration after progress. In such a state of things, almost whatever good the exhibition contains mast come from the outsiders. And we may add, en passant, that the Cor- poration of British Artists is not alone in this unnatural condition of in- ternal poverty and stagnation, disastrous bath to themselves and to the artiste who exhibit with them. To refer only to the two exhibitions most nearly comparable to that in Suffolk Street, the National Institu- tion is in precisely the same state, while the British Institution seems to have nothing but chance to drift by. The wonder is what becomes of the ordinary stock of pictures in any of these annual displays? Row can any one buy them ? and how is the life-business of producing them made to pay? It is really depressing to think of Mr. Cktter, for instance, producing, for some thirty or forty years perhaps together, his annual crop of seven or eight excessively ill-painted exhibited pictures, all of such subjects as "Gossip on the Way—The Wedding-Ring—News from India—Stirrup Oil—The Lovesick Lady—Going to School--Playing at Buttons."
The most excellent piece of fine art in the whole oollection hangs in a corner of the Water-Colour Room. It is a " Reminiscence of Algiers—a Negro Fete," by Mr. Leighton; and clenches, quite as much as any of the more conspicuous works he has exhibited, his title to be considered a true undoubted artist, born and bred. Admirable in couleur locale, brilliant and beautiful in colour, with a certain strangeness of manipu- lation which makes its individuality complete, it recalls, but always in a manner of its own, the intense Orientalisms of Decamps. The scene is a white arcaded hall, with lovely tints of blue mosaic. Wild, but ordered groups of gaunt Negresses stand round, or sit upon the stone benches,, watching the mazy evolutions of a female dancer, whose muffling et white scarf sways here and there to every motion of her supple body. This drawing does not eater into competition with the delicate elabora- tions of such a man as Lewis : but, of its kind—broad, rich, vivid, and fascinating—nothing more perfect has been done by an Englishman.
"The Wife's Remonstrance" continues the series of truthful and powerful renderings of British domestic life for which Mr. Campbell is becoming known. Just outside the stone fence of a park, a poacher in ilagrante delicto, dead hare at feet, is compunctiously undergoing the se- vere yet affectionate npbraidings of his wife for the reckless course of
life which brings himself to shame, and her to misery and hollow-eyed want. The faggots which her industry has been collecting drop from
her apron as she grasps his hand, and his little daughter clings round father's knee with appealing eyes to enforce the woman's remon- strance. The story is visibly written in the expressions and actions of the three figures ; that of the wife—laborious, pinched, and careworn before her time—being especially excellent ; while the quiet but thorough truth and solidity of background and detail merit the highest praise. The poacher and child seem to be leas successful in artistic rendering ; but we fancy that the very unfair position in which the pie- is hung has something to do with this appearance. "A Visit to the Old Sailor" speaks even more strongly to the painter's executive
power' —or at any rate can be more closely examined. It is a sea-side view : the old fellow, dark in the shade of his boat-house, loading his pipe, and preparing for a yarn to a youth and a little girl to whom his retreat is probably a familiar lounge ; in the background, a charming
lighted glimpse of the sands, and the donkeys and bathing-machines
going out. Faithful, observant, and in earnest, Mr. Campbell is almost always right in what he does : the quality which he should now steadily
work for in addition to his other merits is that of grace and natural de- lightfulness. The youth in this picture is somewhat dough-facedand un- pleasing, and the girl has the expression indeed, but little of the sweet- ness of childhood : while in the other picture, excellent as it is, each fi- gure has a tinge of squalor and painfulness. For the next-best specimens of figure-subjects we must look in holes and corners. A small picture by Mr. Kearney, a "The Dansant " of Irish peasant-life, luta genuine character and expression given with har- monious ease. The manner too is artistic, though too vapoury and un- defined, like the generic French style. "A Pastoral Evening in the Suburbs of Rome" shows that its painter, Mr. Mason, has studied in a good school and with pictorial aptitude ; possessing, small as it is, some- thing of the grandeur of Leopold Robert in similar subjects. The performances of the habitues are much as usual. Mr. Henzell's and Mr. Cobbett's coast-gronps and peasant-groups are of their best quality; pretty, attractive, but worn sufficiently threadbare, and never rising quite out of the sphere of eye-catching to the dignity of plain truth. "Waiting the Fisher's Return," by the former gentleman, and the "Farmer's Daughter," by the latter, are, however, as good as the skill of the respective painters, working under the itch for popularity, admits of their being. There is something of the grandeur of a young Fate in Mr. Hurlstone's "Fisherman's Daughter of Mola di Gaeta," winding her thread: in "The Modern Silenns," it is curious to specu- late upon the system of artistic convention which can venture to present such a mystification of bedevilled whity-browns as the tone of an Italian sky. Mr. T. Roberts, who promised better things last year, does no- thing higher than commonplace in aim, and vapidly dexterous in execu- tion. The portrait of "Mrs. Cowell" is more like flesh and blood than most of Mr. Buckner's : that of "Signor Gardoni" is recognizable in likeness, but done less for the likeness's sake than as a modern taavestie of the Vandyck type of portraiture. " Mozart's Last Chorus," where the composer, on his deathbed, joins his friends in taking parts from an opera of his own, is an interesting subject, treated by Mr. Morgan without offensive display, and with some suggestion of subdued pathos, though it does not reach far. The bro- thers Foggo, reinspirited by British valour in India and the Russian campaign, resume the "historic" brush for "Kars and its Defenders," among other subjects ; a large and crowded canvass not much more hopeful in an artistic sense than previous failures, but still with some- thing respectable in its endeavour and aspiration, in these days of mean- ingless small subjects, and the very still-life of humanity. Mr. Earle quotes the noble verse of Browning to a very wooden young lady, whom he christens "Love among the Ruins" ; Mr. George Smith's head of a young girl, "Simplicity," is about the best we recollect of his numerous productions ; Mr. Russell's " Glom° Felice," an Italian organ-boy play- ing that air on the highly appropriate occasion of a London yellow-fog, is amusing in idea. "Professor Faraday Lecturing at the Royal Insti- tution" before the Prince of Wales, by Mr. Blaikley, ranks rather as a record than a picture, but still is like the thing. Vulgarized Prwraphael- itism is the character of Mr. Storey's " Phillis " ; and incapable ambition that of the large St. Peter, Lucretia, and Marmion of Messrs. Rolt, Wa- terhouse, and Montaigne. The members of the Society take higher relative rank in the landscape of the gallery than in its figure-subjects. Mr. Pettitt is seldom less than honourable in his works, and sometimes really fine. "The Studio, Foss Novyn, on the Conway, North Wales," is a good average specimen of his powers—with its clear, dark, bubbling water, (an effect caught with even greater illusion in another picture, "Otter-hunting,") and its sun- gleams striking from left to right upon the tree-clad cliffs. The artist is presented sitting down to his work in a business-like resolute manner, and the picture leaves the impression of his having done so in reality. "Evening," with the heron solitary at the river-bed, and the rounded furrows of the water-worn stones, green-toned in the dusk, has a solemn tender beauty. " Twilight " we like less, as it generalizes the trees of that lovely time—blended, but always exquisitely subtile—almost into monotony. "The Windings of the Wye, an Autumnal Noon," is a very important and striking picture by Mr. Boddington; the lofty point of view well chosen for impressive effect, bringing the river's delicate line of green-tinged azure right forward from the back to the foreground in one grand sweep, its waters rapid and eddying : to right and left, the high grounds toss, swell, and dimple; and the mists wander and cling among the hills. The picture has all the artist's readiness and skill of execution, carried as far as the general taste demands ; something a little farther would make it a first-rate example of the prevalent English landscape. Mr. Gosling has not a correct eye for the colours of vegetation, nor for the full-bodied solidity of objects : but for this, his landscapes and sheep- pictures, possessing as they do very evident qualities of truth at first sight, would be sound and satisfying, as well as agreeable. There is brilliancy and power and great fulness and ease of foliage-painting in his scene from Sherwood Forest; variety and truth of action in his sheep huddled between the close banks (No. 443.) Mr. Clint is not chargeable With Poverty and sameness of aim : his works are generally suggestive and Picturesque, with lively feeling for natural effects; but the execution wants refinement and discipline. " Lynton, Coast of Devonshire" is, on the whole, the best—the little town nestled in the rocky coast-valley, and gleaming like a precious cameo in the pencil sunbeam, forming a splendid pictorial theme. Mr. Fyne ranges wide enough for subjects, but sees them all from one point of view : pale bright, opaque colour,—form blocked out without definition or modelling. However, he is generally, more or less, enjoyable, unless one is a very rigorous stickler for truth instead of any alluring sophistication. The water-colour, "Porto del Cala, Palermo," is as good as any ; others are catalogued as painted in "Mr. Hawke's Anglo-medium colours," which seem to give just the kind i of effect Mr. Fyne addicted to. The "Sketch" of a grey mountain- tarn, and the "Village near Ilfracombe," of Mr. West, and the "Land- scape and Cattle" of Mr. Cl. Cole, are creditable specimens of their ac- customed classes of subjects. We do not understand what colour-effect of vegetation it is that Mr. Niemann has intended to represent in "Eastring Bridge, Godalining." The sky is that of a bright early afternoon, while trees and shrubs mourn in one suit of olive-russet. The picture is a clever one, nevertheless. There is nothing particular in the two small Calabrian and Lancashire views of Mr. Linton : yet they stand out from the mass of frivolity and commonplace as the works of at least a trained artist. A series of Welsh and other water-colours from the same hand presents little noticeable.
"The Ferry," by Mr. Linn, seems to be modelled on this painter's pe- culiar manner : it is slight and flat, but not without truth and energy in the splashing of the iron-grey tormented water against the headland. A somewhat similar effect, on the marine scale, and with more freshness of colour, appears in "The Needles, off Hearth," by Mr. Faulkner—a pic- ture of some promise. Mr. Hayes again splashes and drenches with a will his "Dublin Breakwater during a Heavy Gale, Springtide "— which, is perhaps the most artistic of hisalways very natural effects of this kind. We fancy there is some value in "What are the Wild Waves saying ? " by Mr. R. Collinson, but it is hung quite out of sight. "Watching the Packet," by the same artist, presents, on the other hand, a spacious bay, filling nearly half the picture, intensely calm and blue, making the work a pleasant one to dwell upon, not through any extra- ordinary artistic merits, but through the delightfulness of the subject. matter. "Stonehenge at Twilight" is a conspicuous work by Mr. Nalder, with a certain monumental simplicity and depth about it which promises well in a subject only too liable to be treated either with the- atricality or with mere literal coldness. Another good-sized landscape is the Gertrude and Waldegrave in the Forests of Wyoming" by Mr.
Varley ; whose manner, old-fashioned and the reverse of brilliant, is yet impressive too in its way—atmosphere and foliage brooding in primeval quiet. Great pleasantness and nice unforced style mark two or throe English landscapes by Mr. Vieat Cole ; and there is an appearance of originality and steady intention in Mr. 1. W. B. Davis's" Scene in Cum- berland—Evening Mist Rising," and Mr. Buckstone's "Clearing up after a Wet Day on the Coast of Scotland." "A Sketch," by Mr. Hayllar, of a growing corn-field, bright in sunshine by a river-side, and against a background of dark copsewood, is a very sweet little bit : nor is there any better still-life among the oil-paintings than his "Christmas," whose opposition of blue-purple raisins and deep red oranges is well found, and less hackneyed than most of the combinations of this sort of painter's material.
The Water-Colour Room is the more especial home of still-life : but it is not particularly well stocked. MSS Jolly's " Primroses " are good, Mr. Burcham's still better : Mr. Brett's defunct" Bullfinch" is very subtile in tinting and feather limning. " Llyn Idwal" is a noble piece of • mountain-drawing, majestic and beautifully delineated by Mr. Whaite, the same artist of whom we spoke at the National Institution ; indeed it is much the highest specimen of landscape-art in the gallery. Mr. Smallfield has some excellent studies of juveniles and fishing-village life
brilliantly elaborated in colour; the Young Gossips" and " Roast: chestnut-seller " more especially from Mr. Chapman, who has done credit for the last two years to himself and. the exhibition, we regret to find nothing at all worthy of his capacities—unless it may possibly be the girl "Enlarging the Collection" in her scrap-book, which is not within range of sight. The name of C. Cattermole may attract attention to a drawing, "The Monastery-School," clever enough, and much in the manner with which the same family-name has so long been identified. Of the remaining designs, some of the best are furnished by Messrs., Penley, Bowles, and C. P. Knight
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