FINE ARTS.
ROYAL ACADEMY: STORY PICTIIRES CONCLUDED.
IT is when we escape altogether from history, and come to the pictures of genre or designs from pure fiction, that we find the strength of the collec- tion. Manners, or the expression of human nature as seen under the as- pect of every-day life, best fetches out the strength of our artists. The pictures in this class are rather numerous, and even among the minor pro- ductions considerable merit is to be notioed. Mr. Rankley's " Ruined Spendthrift," for instance—a little picture that occurs early in the Catalogue, and represents a gallant of the last century returned to the home of the poor country clergyman—is a clever homily; though it is not equal to the picture of the scoffers in church, exhibited by the same painter last year. Mr. Rankley merits the attention of religious societies, for his pie- tures are more eloquent and effective than most moral tracts. As an af- fecting incident of every-day life, Mr. Goodall's group of poor Irish peo- ple watching " the Departure of an Emigrant-ship" tells its story well. Mr. Eastlake's "Italian Peasant Family on their way to a Village Festival—Pri- soners with Banditti," may be contrasted with Mr. Uwins's " Vintage in the Claret Vineyards in the South of France, on the banks of the Gironde"; Mr. Eastlake throwing over the Italian scene a sombre form of the ideal, while Mr. Uwins paints a scene of real life in the most smiling view. The various characters, the gayeties, the frivolities, and even the serious pas- sions, that show forth in the ball-room, are cleverly caught in Mr. Solomon's "Ball-room of the year 1760." The jealousy of the neglected young lady is well contrasted with the perfect innocence and trust expressed in the face and whole figure of the young girl whom the seductive hero of the scene is leading to the dance. The Marriage Settlement—time of the Restora- tion," by Mr. Marshall, is an ingenious reminiscence. All these are com- paratively matter-of-faot pictures.
As we come to the more inventive clogs the design still improves. In Mr. Redgrave's country cousins there is more to be found than appears at the first glance on the face of the incident. The simple, straightforward good faith of the visitors from the countay—their gaucherie, and the dul- ness which blinds their sense of a slighting welcome—are well contrasted with the sharper expression of the town cousins; who look at once amused and supercilious at the sight of the intruders. The elderly gentleman, who continues to read the paper while he glances at the visitors, is a good specimen of the sneer which recoils upon the satirizer himself
But it is interesting to remark how the fullest development of the in- ventive faculty returns to the simplest aspect of nature, and becomes in one sense still more matter of fact than the mere transcript is. Some of the pictures that we have just noticed may be regarded as compilations: the designer has carefully enumerated to himself the incidents and traits of the scene which be has depicted; he has collected by industrious research the proper accessories—the rags of the Irishman, the rush chair, the homely bread and cheese of the country cottage, the sword and wig of the last century; the distinguishing characteristics of town and country life, human or canine, living or "still," the exponents of such traits, are fairly enough painted; but the stories are transferred piecemeal to the can vacs, and form a sort of original cento, in which the spectator perceives in the unconcocted materials the process of compilation. The literal matters of fact are as it were put in evidence by the artist to prove the " truth" or the "nature " of his composition.
When similar materials have undergone a more complete process of imagination—when the studies of the artist have been used to enrich the stores of his own mind, and have not been crudely transferred to the can- vass, but have been duly assimilated, and reappear as parts of a scene which has been properly imagined—the effect is recognized not less in the general harmony and unity of the whole design than in a greater fulness of literal truth; and the effect of a more complete return to nature imparts even a more matter-of-faotaspect to the whole production. An equal abundance of accessories in Mr. Frith's picture of a witch accused before a country jus- tice in the time of James the First might have been collected together by a mere process of compilation; but unless the painter had really viewed the scene as a living thing in his own imagination, it would have been im- possible for any industry to throw such an immense mass of incidents, traits, and accessories, into one complete homogeneous whole, with such perfect harmony and subordination of parts, with such force of reality, such perfect simplicity of action, and such purely fortuitous manner in the mechanical portions. The scene is the justice-room in the house of a country gentleman. In the middle of the room, with its side towards the spectator, is a longish table, near the head of which, on the left side of the picture, seated m an arm-chair, is the Justice; his wife leaning on the back of the chair, their little child beside them. Near the other end of the table, but between it and the spectator, is the with,—a woman bearing distant traces of former beauty, but pale and unsexed by extreme age. The aged father of the supposed victim stands near, with his back to the spectator. At his feet crouches the girl. On the other side of the table, towards the background, is the mother; a coarse, red- faced old matron, who leans across the table clutching at the witch while she makes her loud brawling complaint. A stupid constable is endeavouring to moderate her noise. Behind the witch is a man who lifts over her head a black cat of diabolical aspect, in corroboration of the charge. Behind him, the glances of the two women point to the real bewitcher; a hand- some young huntsman, who is watching the scene with a mixture of in. terest and apprehension. Further on, a constable, stuuted and stupid, is opening the door to another witness; a matron, fair, fat, and forty, who is loquaciously claiming admittance by right of further evidence, in the shape of a sickly baby carded by a girl. Now glance at every part of this picture, and you will find on every portion the stamp of literal truth, with perhaps one exception: the girl, a lovely creature, scarcely looks enough reduced by sickness to warrant either the chine, or the quotation in the Catalogue, which indicates that she is pining from concealed love. Too mach, however, must not be made of the ex- ception, for the bewitchment may be recent. But scrutinize the rest. Take, for example, the head of the witch: she has been handsome— the head is a fine one; but the expression is invaded by the extreme dreaming imbecility of old age, just of the kind that would pervert mumbling denials of the charge into a show of corroboration. Bat the delicacy, the natural refinement in this aged head, is well contrasted with the coarse form of the accusing mother. Again, compare the hunts- man with the justice. The huntsman is a proper hero for the picture; very handsome—the fit object of a girl's fondness, picturesque, and even graceful. But he is not the huntsman of the stage, with doublet from the wardrobe and unused boots. He is worn to the rough work of country life, and, however handsome, is a contrast to the justice,—a tall slender man of middle age, with the composed self-possession, the neat features, slender limbs, clean joints, and finished grace that indicate blood and high breeding. Yet the justice is no dandy; his clothes too, although they areof finer staff, are not put on for the first time: his chair is adorned with gold, but it is worn with the use of years. The same closeness of truth is to be observed down to the lowest accessories: the green cover on the table shows its wear and tear; the carpet on the ground is a good one, but it has long been trodden; the very tatters on the coat of the old father are not recent tatters, contrived for the purpose of being " natural"; but are the veritable long-established tatters of thrifty penury. These traits, however, do not obtrude themselves on the notice; you find them so when you look for them. They happen in the picture, as they happen in nature. From each part the action and expression of every figure returns the attention to the centre of the design; and the interest of the scene is still felt to lie in the living emotions of angry affrighted ignorance, the uncertainties of con- cealed love, the helplessness of accused decrepitude, and the calm compo- sure of presiding justice. The two smaller pictures by the same artist—the stage-coach scene, .a mere group of character—and the scene from the Bolnyeois Gentilhonsms, who is asking the lady to retire that he may have room for his third bow —exhibit the same traits: but we must pass to the other works whith illustrate our position, Mr. Malready's and Mr. Webster's. " The Butt," by Mulready, was described at our first glance of the col- lection. The incident of the picture is a trifle: a laundress's boy, seated on a bundle of clothes, is shooting cherries into the month of a butcher-buy. The interest of the picture lies in the elaborate development of the " nes turaL" Thus, the truth of the youthful forms in the marble-shooter, the fixity of expression in his face, the screwed-up eyes, please and amuse the spectator by the consummate skill with which such passing traits are caught. The well-fed butcher-boy, his meat-like complexion, his greasy blue coat, his wiry dog—his perfect devotion to the abnormal experiment in the art of -marble-shooting—the natural impudence of his countenance combined with its critical repose—charm us by uniting the fantsetic with the real: they set the fancy to recall the traits of life, and, after having ex- cited that agreeable activity of mind, completely satisfy it. Dotheboys Hall, with its nauseous brimstone and treacle, its odious eco- nomy, and youthful despairs, reappears in Mr. Webster's little picture: but the ether one, " A Rubber,' illustrates what we have been saying in the highest degree. It consists merely of a party of rustics playing at whist in a cottage, with a girl perforraing some domestic office at the fire, and a spectator looking in through the window. The countenances of the whist- players are admirable. Two middle-aged men are playing against an old man and a boy. The two middle-aged men are losing: one of them has just played, and, holding his chin, is shut up in a painful retrospect of the game. The old gentleman, big with a triumphant manoeuvre, is looking at his partner; the radiance of joy subdued by the momentous responsibility. The man who has to play after him is in a state of most portentous absorp- tion; while the lad, whose back is towards yen, leans with both elbows on the table, which he taps with his fingers in listless expectancy, awaiting the deliberate movements of his maturer companions. There is not a line in the features of the players, not a fold in their dress, which is not marked by the reality of life. Such perfect spontaneity of mien, such transitory play of expression, is not to be transcribed by the copying process, is not even to be called up for the occasion in the model at the will of the designer: the painter of such a picture must, through a long course of years, have exercised his faculty of observation, and have proportionately developed his power of recreation; his experience has gone to enrich the stores of his own mind, to strengthen the play of his own faculties; and las designs, instead of being transcripts, are the proper product of his own imagination—a creation in the same sense that poetry is so. In this per- fect spontaneity, which imparts the last crowning character of life, cement, the reality of Mr. Webster's designs. He excels Wilkie, whose train= of real lite, however accurate and ingenious, are too much set.
compiled more than Webster does.
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