IMAGE EVALUATION TEST TARGET (MT-3) // // ^ .**J<^ ^d- Kmae'«»/ov A.m^. Ufr f«K «9« flOOASIOlt, AWD StBtBfTHO AT THE MtOftAKfOlif HAL MKMUA» P«#]|UA«Y 97, 18||5> ^ " >•» ■ gjMongi ^fffinitibt'pii^ti^ 1m iuj't I '^ p,m. *'i'J f'/ ^|!^• ^; i 1 ->ll \., n J* , f < t4 -^! .* * :?*(«!»*.,>.. K*r , ,. J ,. * &tfl' j 1BG5. c=> C .A^T-A-XjO Q-XJlf3 ov OIL AND WATER COLOUR PAINTINGS ENailAVlNGS, niOTOCillAl'US, AND OTIIEtt ^ATOIiKS OF j^:R'r, LENT FOR TlIK OfCAWiOX, ASU EXUIUITED AT THE MECHANICS' IIAJ. L, MONTREAL, FEBKUAKY 'J 7, 18 05. -•-••- Cundi (I'Mnt hicrHmqne cxpcclent pvarmia palm';. -»•»- Pontrcul : IIKUALD STEAM PllESS, 20'J NOTIIE DAME STREET, 18G5. •-^. OIL PAINTING. I. lu one notftblo wny English n: t (lificrn from Unit of nil otlirr Kuropoan hcIiooIs. They have thoir root more or Ichh in nicdiai^val times ; ours, in iiiodeni. They arc intlu(>nc(>(l in stylu or Huhject by nativo tuirlior masters ; we, by fon-ipners only. Our eightocnth century painters liad to create the belief that Knglan*! was ablo to proilueo Art : Italy, i ranco, Germany and tlio Netherlands could point to former triumphs with pride, or study them with emulation. The key to tlio first period of the English school is given by this peculiar position of circumstances. II. It is not intended, in this and the following summaries, to give a catalogue of names, or attempt to characterize every painter represented in the Exhibition; but to sketch the spirit of each School in its main phases, with the causes that guided its development. Tliis will be done best by following the course of tlio greater artists ; for these, like the greatest men or greatest books of any period, not only embrace ti»e aims of inferior minds, presenting them in a fairer and clearer form, but add to what they could do, all that lies within the prerogative of genius. Four such men — a largo number for one century — occur in the eighteenth: — Hogarth (1097—1704); Wilson (17i:{— 1782) ; Koynolds (1723—1792); Gainsbor- ough (1727 — 1788). Thus the life of Gainsborough, the latest born, covers thirty- seven years of the life of Hogarth, the earliest, llow then did previous Art atl'ect these great contemporaries ? By what elements of their own did they found an English school in a country which had liitherto known little but the naturalized art of Holbein and Zuccaro, — of Rubens, Vandyke, Leiy, or Kneller ? How far did they carry native painting? A reply to these emiuiries will at once contain the essential story of the British art of the last century, and prepare us, in some degree, to understand that of the present. III. In his life not less than in his Avorks, Hogarth presents a sturdy protest agaiur.t all previous styles. No man more distinctively and decidedly original and creative — not e\cn Phidias of Athens, or Giotto of Florence, — ever handled art: no one, for good or for evil, was «ver less affected by pre-existing influences, or by contemporary criticism. The modern ait of Europe began as compietel" .vith him as its modern poetry with Dante ; and as Dante's fellow-countrymen a. i . at first unable to believe that a great poem could be written in their mother toi ^uc, so Hogarth's were incredulous that England could produce a painter. He first, with a serious and widely-extended scheme, put into painting what Fielding put into novel-writing ; he brought the canvass down from mythology and pageantry, and made it tell the real story of common life, — its pathos, its meanness, fashions, humours, tears, laughter, triumphs, and depths of degradation. Clowns, fops, lords, rebels, politicians, gamblers, labourers, soldiers, brides, mistresses, spend- thrifts, poets, musicians, madmen — nay, the v»uy wigs and queues and walking- sticks of the age, — all move and live on the stage of his marvellous theatre. In a sense true of no other artist, Hogarth held up his mirror to nature, and gave back the form and pressure of the time with a strength only equalled by his subtlety. Shakespeare (always exceptional) excepted, no artist, not even Crabbc, has drawn so many characters for us, has given us so much healthy laughter — so much of ' the sorrowing by which the heart is made better.' Yet, in this prodigality of power, one thing is wanting — not perhaps to his mind, but to his pictiir(^8, — the charm of beauty is not conspicuous here. Occasional touches of grace or repose occur, the severity is not without sweetness ; yet the higher «|)hero of lovliness is hardly reached ; there is no clear sense of the poetry of nature. 'Ihrough his stern, honest-hearted rejection of Italian art, abused and ill-estimated as he saw it by the men of taste about him, ho missed this gift in marked intensity. IV. Not so with Hogarth's immediate successors. The sense of beauty, the love of innocence, — no artists have enjoyed these more deeply than Reynolds and Gains- borough ; nor in management of color, in light and shade, in gracefulness of line, and delineation of chanicter, have they been often equalled. Their art, in technical Olli I'AINTINO. )inlnts, wnK liiiMil (HI timt of tlit'ir (^rcnt foifipii pmlrccHsorH. In thrni r>ii<1c*1, in tin-*, tliiit iiolil)! mI,\Ii'ci|' |i whicli iMjfuii uilli (iiorj;ionc mid Tit'mn in Italy, mill wiis (■(iiitiiiiifij hy \'«'lnM(nu'/, ill Hpiiiii, in Fliiniltis \ty Vantl.vko ami KuImmih. It is li» ilii-Kc Inter iiK II, lidwcvcr, tliat tlifir likcncsH is mast viHildc. ItnbcnM and \iiiMlykr Ix'!,'!!!! tlif iiiiidcin manner in itortraitun', intinduoinj; jjroator variety in eiijor, dress, iind liiiniltno, and, as sacreil ail was dedininjj, ^jivinp tlieir pdrtrailH a mont oriiainental and indcpend*^nt cliariu'tor. u rortuliu^ in tlio brrsMt ut' tli«) iirtiHt, wliii'li lio irt uIwuyH labouring to itiipart, und which bn dieit at Iwtt without imparting.' VI. lIogiirt!i was tho inoitt ori<(inal of thoHt* nicu ; Wilnon thu Icnrtt. Yot hiit liicturt'H |irov(! that if Imrn in u nioru intultiecut ngr, ho woul«l hiiv«> frfoil hiniMolf from tho niiinncriHiii of liin uri'docvMHorH. liiti landscHpi' wants th*< );r»n*l coQc«Hqu(>noHs, tho accuracv of detail, to which wo aro accuHtontcd. Hut naturo, in th»f word nioHt often applii-d to her by tho oldest poctH, in pr«-ominenlly rflrwrf, — she hati largoncHH, not Ichh than ininutciu>.rliii|tH, iiii(l»)ri|tli(iriiMo reason. Vet it is iniliNputalilo tliat tho ^,'iowtli of tiio IiK'uli'iit Htylc in puiTitin^j ruiiH parallel witli tluj (jrcat out- IniiHt ot* novel writing from alioiit 17'.M» onwanlH, witli llie soeiul eliiin}:fe whidi jjiivc tlie patronaffe of art rather to the mercantile than to llie ediu-atetl ehisscH, with that fusion ol ranks anil interenfs whieh (in another Hplierc;) foiinil expres'tion in lliiriiM, hictttt, ('lahhe, ami WonJHWorth. It woiiUl he rash ami inviilioiis to attempt to name i»rccl«uly tlie urti8tM of this npo who mijflit he niatuil in the fir«t rankwitli the lour of tlio last. Iliit of thone wliose claims to excellence nonewill tlcny, Wilkie and Millrcftdy represent the ntylo most salisfactorily, and will he liein treated as typical ot many (»th«'rs. Kvery lesser master, if a true man, has iiiidouhtedly, like tlu! j,Meater, his own ^iflH and methods ; yet llie aim of many known men Ih cii- cnmscrilKid on tlie wlnde hy llu! limits ahove detlned ; ami space lails here to trace their individual characteriHtics, allhoujjh two ilearly marked divl»ionH of this sidiool must ht^ noticed. Historical incidents, viewed mainly in their pictnres(|iie (diaracter, or in the lifflit of Hentiment, have heeii chosen hy one ; scriptural, hy the other division. Thn grace and didicacy id' I'.astlake, to whom the latter direction of i;ii;;lihh art is mainly duo, have not ycd heeii ei|ualled l>y his followers. X. In Hogarth's pictures u direct moral is generally dominant; they are Do l''oo on canvasH. In Wilkie's (I7^^) — |r«li»)the moral is subdued heiieath the wish to paint the scene in all its humours, comic or serious, llu is thus more truly and i'Hseiitially an artist ; hut the cirdo of Wilkie's eriiations is Hnuiller, lying mainly within tho field of Scottish peasant lifo. Here, however, like IJiinis, he reigns and triiimidiH ; and, like tho poet, in proportion us he recedes from it, is less and Ici^s successful. Wo think of him always as tim painter of ' The Jtent Day,' ' 'I'lio Fiddler,' and the ' JJlindman's JlulV ;' yet his later works havo a charm and a variety, which show that hut lor tht! early failure of hand and eye, ho might not, in such Hcetu\s, havo fallen helow his earlier excellence. In exchange fur the minute liiiish of his lirst painting, these are executed in a hroadcr style, more sweet, if U'.hh expressive ; they make us fe(d tho loss, of all lo.sses the most irrepoverahlo, which a nation sustainH in the premature death of geiiiuH. Not so w ith Mulready, who has heen spared to our advantage through a long life of unusual gifts, unitiMl to unusual iudu.'itry. His powisr ot invention is prohahly less spontaneous than Wilkio's, his prosentmcnt of tho Hcene less dramatic, his suhjects drawn ol'tcner from hooks ; hut with ferndty of line, what a deep and (Jrecian grace are they exhibited ! No Kng- lish work for tho tirst fifty years of this century, (Mpials Mulready'.s muHtcrly draw- ing, no laudflcapo-glimp.ses excel his in finish and beauty ; no one has brought so pure and poetical a thoughtfulness to tho a.spocts of conmion'life; others have given grander, none more brilliant or sweeter colouring. XI. To draw thoroughly and colour truly, are tho first fundamental necessities of i)ainting as art ; nor will graceful feeding, or depth in thought, or sense of lifo and humour — no pictorial intention, in a word, however cxcelh;nt — atono for Avant of these primary requisites. Two men may bo named, amongst many, who have hence fallen short of tho ]dacj for which they appeared marked out by nature — Stothard and Leslie ; they must bo looked at, almost less as painters than as designers. J5ut viewed thus, we owe to Leslie many scenes of a thoughtful, delicate, and gracious humour in which tho very genius of Addison seems to reproduce itself ; to iStothard, many which in tenderness, purity, and a certain mysterious and incftaltlo grace, rank second only to tho designs of Jtaphael. And as Stothard reminds us of Florence and Konio, so tho glorious days of Venice nro recalled by the last great figure-painter (not jjrofesscidly historical) of that half-century, — Etty (I7H7 — 18'1'J). /Jlo alone amojigst his contemporaries successfully devoted himself to represent the pure human form, which he painted with a brilliant transparency of colour rarely seen beyond tho limits of A'enetian art. It is true that he tried portrait, landscape, subjects sacred and historical, and often with Imppy, almost always with striking, results ; but his love for human form restricted him in tho main to what may bo called subjects of fancy. This was unfortunate ; for scenes from mythology — whether the genuine mythohigy of Greece, or that later artificial mythology, which for three centuries has infested Europe — cannot have for us the least genuine, head and heart-felt interest, liiit if a less unreal theme engaged him — when he was with Cleopatra in her glory on the Cydnus, or Youth at the prow, or 'where clcrual summer dwells' in the gardens of Hesperjdes — Etty produced • •11. I'AlMINli. Murks (vliicli iirr fur all tiinc, aiiil rnnk amon(;st mir Ixst tintioiial tri>u.»iiri>. Ml. Mill;iiit'H >vuiK, like Mtty'rt, ^tlkn ill all Us vuFH'ty, I'roin kuii^lit to cliiirl, Nilcctiii;; alwa,vs, tlmii^li tint alwavH uitli ciinal HiK-n-NH, tlitinrH wliicii ajijiiul strun^ly to iiasximi ur to iiiia;;iiiritioii Millais, with Iloiiiiaii Hunt, iiiav )>•■ hiihI to Imvi' takoii up tlio inlii'iitaiuf or«-olotir iVoiii Ktly. iiltli"u;i:li uitli tlio pitt tlicy liav«- not t'ollo\vil a-<|irrts, ami in all is allkit ininiital>lc ; hut that Vision which >vr i-nll Art, t'lom tiino to lini*^ liiriiH to Miirrur soiiic oim of her iillrihuti'S which had iMloro htcn Ic-^s iciinsriiltd. 'I'hiis, iMui'tt prrsislintly than any hirnicr artists, Millais ami iliiiit, with otht-rs, liavo iiiiiiril at tiih'lity ami niinnti-ii<>ss, trustini^' ics^ to rcni* inhrancr than to tart ; ami thcrf is Ik'Hii' a .-nhtlrty of' handlin}^ ami ot'cxprcsMion in their work.s ot wliifh iho ri^rhtuciith ci'iitnry, and tho artiHtH trained in that Htylo, Hn|i]dy lew cxaiiiphs. Ih-ro also wo tin I the (,'eneral .iccordanfe hetween ait and tlie prevalent la- displayed in an accurate i'ictoria! n'nderin;^ ol past !i;je.s or i'oici^jn haliits to whicli modern historians and travellers havo aecustonied us. Many of Ihtnt's pictures uro proof's of this tendency, yet they are not realized throiii^h ininiili- tietail ; the details, w itU the main idea, are rather vivilii-(l hy hi.s own inteiisu inner faculty of realization. A Horions, an almost traj;ic, interest |iervades hi-t work ; it Hirikes us with a stranpe earnestness. Nor has any other Kii^iish ariisi rivalluti him in the lorce with which he has thrown tliesti <|ualilies into reli<;ious ail. Xlll. An a|.j() in which pictures an* mainly desireil for tlm adorninj,' of private houses, and tho suhjects popular are domestic, incident or landscape, will he un- }renial towards the historical st^le, even when rii:jhtly understood and Ireateil with vitality. We have liere hut a scanty list : — llaydon, who.-^e ahortive ahility fell short (d" his early prtuni.so ; Martin, in whose art perspective powerfully treated i.-<, however, tin* only real element of art present ; and more recently (to jiass over minor, or hitherto hartlly proved, aspirants). Cross and Madise. The latter, thou^,'li not very Huccessful in harmony and prace, or in nuina;^ement of li;^ht and shade, has j^iven ns many fiiu; inventions, in his latest designs reachin;^ an elevation and a power which are m»t often conferred by tho years of advanced maturity. Cro.ss (l!^l'.> — IHtll), littlo known durinjj liis briid' career, has received a tanly and too late rocof^nition. A few worku wliicli tho strufjglo for subsistanco left him leisure to o.xecntc, tliouph, liko tho.sc of Madise, delicient in the frraces ol colour, are ainonyst our highest historical pictures indmniatic truth, grandeur of arrani^ement, and beauty of line ; nor in tho weak point of English art, lile-size delineation of human form, has any Knglish artist shown greater mastery. XIV. E.xcept by tt nuuo nunute accuracy and greater aim at realization ol tho scene in all points, tho historical art of this century does not essentially ilitVer trom that of the eighteenth ; but landscape painting, as already noticelo sight of Westorn Scotland, or Naples, or Monto Kosa, lias inspired tho wish to transfer to our walls what, in verso or iu actual vision, has so charmed our senses : perhaps the poetry of physical science has enlightened and «'u- larged our Hympathi»'S : jierhaps tho very contrast with the civilization which onable.s men to travel readily, deepens their appreciation of the scenes in which civilization has no part, and oven tno powers ot man seem but a littlo thing before the nnijesty of nature. However this may bo, tho lovo of landscape has been a glorious gain to modern English art, and gives it its most essijntially original character. Wi- no longer seo trees and mountains through the imperfect ey<'S of Claude or Poussin ; we do not measure the sunbeams bv tho standard of Cuyp, or tho twilight after the proportions of Kembraudt. Vet thi.s great advance wa.s not made at once. A few artists, of whom Crome and Bonington were perhaps tho most gifted, worked in a uii.xed style, blending tho teachings ot nature with tho traditions of tho schools. Others felt tho inadequacy of earlier attempts, but bavo been ablo to I'rcc themselves entirely from a differcut iutlueuce. iijomctbing of tho OIL rAIKTING. if art of the stage is uuitod with tlio {jennino art of Stunfiold ; moro with that of Danby and Kobtirts. Yet) tho careful pictures of ancient loniplo and castlo, of catlicdral and palace, which wo owo to tho last, are almost withunt nrocodcnt — certainly without rival — in all former centuries. The scenery of iJanoy, whothor that of 'perilous seas in fairy lands forlorn,' or of tho hardly less marvoUoua equatorial ocean, is a creation beyond tho fancy of any earlier painters, as tho splendid drawing of Stanficld in rock and sea and lake scenery, was beyond their adiiovouiont. Foreign subjects are familiar to these men ; others have more ex- chtsivcly painted our own England. Constable, tirst in time though not in rank, deticiont in drawing, iinc(iual in execution, ungifted with grasp or variety of con- ception, has, however, rendered a few asj)ect3 of English landscape with torce, and freshness, and noblo simplicity. Croswick has a grace and a poetry to wliich a ii\onotonous manner hardly allows full play. These artists have taken tho level and tho copse, tho gray of dawn or of shadowy skies for their special portion. Linnell has given us tho glory of sunset over vast plains, or the clouds which gather and glow above forest abysses ; Hook tho azure and emerald of the Atlantic, or tho cliffs and meadows of south-western England — not only painting such scenes as they glitter to the traveller's I'yo beneath full daylight, but penetrating into tlin life ot their inhabitants with something of poetical, not less than pictorial insight. Othcis, as Lewis, have brought foreign lauds, — Greece, Egypt, and Syria, betoro us : — their work, moved by the now impulse for moro detailed and accurate dolinu- ation, which corresponds with tho mechanical invention of photographv, belongs to a school of yet undetermined issues ; with many moro, who cannot bo nere enuiuor- atod. True, that but one artist, if any, has hitherto held np tho mirror of art to nature in her whole variety ; that in lightness of touch and transparency of tono few of these painters are conspicuous ; that tho breadth and grandeur of some earlier men have been exchanged for tho successful pursuit of other qualities of the land- scape : that none, perhaps, belong to tho little army of high Imaginative masters : yet true also, that to tuem. Englishmen of this century aro indebted for delights and for lessons, second only to those brought to our firesides by their oontomporaries in another art, from Scott to Tennyson. XV. Life in the works here alluded to, is rarely prominent, or touched on in any of its deeper forms. Something of tho poetry of the shipwreck has been handled by Staniiold ; something of tho poetry of labour appears in the Idylls of Hook : tho moaning and moral of the scene aro not altogether absent from many of our land- scape painters. Yet it is not this sphere of art which is suggested by their laud- scape. Two names, however, remain : one, — with exception ot J. Ward, — our only great master of tho animal world ; the other, of nature as reflecting the passions and tho fato of man, tho interpreter of tho soul of tho universe. To Landsoer and to Turner, as to Shakespeare or to Wordsworth, wo owo, indeed, so much, that it is, perhaps, rash to try to judge them: of those artists who have fulfilled their course during this century, they have dono most for England. Others, certainly, have shadowed out more deeply than Landsoer tho mysterious animal nature, and have brought to their pictures a finer sense of colour, a higher instinct for grace or for grandeur; but no painter has embraced a range nearly so extensive in animal repre- sentation, or, again, has gone into the active life of a few wild creatures with such profound and poetical svmpathy. The fury of tho lion had been painted by Kubens, the roposo of the cattle by Ouyp ; but Laudseer it may bo said, has grasped tho story of tho dog and the deer in its wholeness. His pictures differ from most others as tho animals of Scott — the bloodhound of tho Lay, or tho Gustavus of tho Legend — differ from tho animals of tho zoological treatise. Wo have, not a painted list of their likings and characteristics, but tho romance of their lives ; and this (in accordance with the analog already so often noticed) stirroundod by that bright background of iaudscapo, or pi^ituresquo variety of accessories, by aid of which tho great novelist also has painted moro vividly for us tho living characters of his immortal drama. XVI. Like that of every great artist, whether in words or colours, tho Avork of Turner is stamped with tho gradations of his own growth in mind and in experience. I'^rom tho time when his stylo was formed, his oil-painting difiors essentially from all other men's in this, — that it is thought of as water-colour painting, and, even almost beyond what the material admits of, conforms to the treatment of watei - colours. The reason for this treatment is seen in tho result. No landscape but his adequately rendered what is tho first and tho last feature in all real landscapes, — the sense of air, space, and light. Others' work looks like a copy on canvas ; Turner's, like *> vision. So far as this marvellous and only truo effect depe nds ou Oli, FAINTING. 9 tuchuical method, ho gained it by ropeatinff in oils tho transhic(r colourg. This Turner leurned early from the great water-colourists. Cozens and fiirtin, who influenced his youth. Yet the lesson was not fully felt till his manhood. Ills first stylo in oils (alloyed by the imperfect art of former landscapists, though carclul and imaginative far beyond their grasp) is not free from the heaviness and artificial arrangement which he heard praised in Poussin and Vandeveldo. Like Gainsborough and Reynolds, this Englishman also had to wage war with the blind- ness <»f those who could see in nat'*ro only what the Fleming or the Frenchman had seen before them. But Turner " was silent, and lot the crowd speak," working on, meanwhile, with an industry rare amongst even the highest men, to the glory and the grace of his maturer years. During these, ho atfemptcd almost every phase of nature in her beauty and her desolation. To dcscribo his subjects Avould bo more than to rc'Write the landscapes of all the poets. And then, though sight and strength wt^ro failing, Turner finally set himselt to paint what would have foiled Titian or Tiutorot in the flush of their youth, — scenes which the eye can hardly see for their splendour, or the mind grasp for their delicate and evanescent magnificence. To be unable to present, with the relative degree of imitation possible when faintor lights and simpler landscapes are chosen, the sun in his strength, or the twilight in its tendernuss, is inevitable to art and her imperfect materials. All she can give, even when most utterly literal and imitative, is an ofl'ect, an imaginative remembrance, a hint of far-ofl glory. Turner, in these later works, is alone in a circle no others have dared to tread. The I'tnitations of painting considered, his success hero is not less than theirs within narrower and more practicable regions. XVII. 'The name of Sliakspoare,' says M*-. llallam, 'is the greatest in our litorature — it is the greatest in all literature.' Tiirner is one ot the very few men to whom similar words might bo applied without exaggeration. He is the greatest of Hnglish landscape painters ; ho is the greatest of all landscape painters. Others have rivalled him iu quality of colour, others in fidelity of detail; he has failed at times from over-ambition of attempt, at times from obscurity of purpose ; he trusted occasionally too nmch to facility in execution, he was led away by caprice of fancy — yet lie is still the Shakspeare of another and a hardly less splendid and poetical kingdom. No one has penetrated so deeply into the soul of nature ; no one has so hurprised her in her sympathy with man ; no one so nearly rendered her infinite mysteriousness, her multitudinous variety. Aspects, which to others almost singly engrossed their strength, are but modes and moments in the torrent of his prodigal creativencss ; yet each of them is treated with a vitality and a fullness which the best musters had not attained to. Compare him with Titian in the forest, Rubens iu the meadow, Rembrandt in twilight, Cuyp at midday — with the storms of Salvator, or the repose of Claude ; Stanfield's sea, Linnell's woodland, the coast-scenes of Hook, the glens of Laudseer — but this one has included and surpassed them all. — Yet, if praise ended hero. Turner's most peculiar merit would hardly be expressed For whilst he has made the closest approach to painting tho infinity of nature, he is almost alone in his rendering of her deeper po«(try. That deeper poetry springs invariably from tho presence ot human feeling — either contrasted with or embodied in iiaturti : nor without the touch of humanity, are our profoundest sympathies ever awakened. To impress on his work this sentiment, tho painter does not necessarily require, that man should form a part of his representation. There are pictures by Turn«>r more peopled in their waste wildness, than the most elaborate figure-land- scupos of Claude or Canalctti. But it is still the sense of tho Human clement which gives loneliness to tho desert, and splendour to the citv ; which recalls tho past in me ruins of Rome, and speaks of the future in the fields and coasts of England. — There is a terrible seriousness about his work, a moral sadder and deeper than Hogarth's : 'the riddle of the painful earth' flashes out through many of these scenes of more than earthly loveliness. Everywhere he contrasts the fate of man, his passions, and his achievements, with the landscape around him, or makes tho liiiulscape itself a reflection of the drama of life on tho more august theatre of nature, liirth and death, stories of man's strength and degradation, passion and despair, are written in tlu; scarlet and azure of Turner's skies, or revealed by the seas, hill- sides, and rocks he painted so lovingly. In bis art there is a spirit stirring in the tree-tops, and a voice of more than what wo rashly name Inanimate Nature in the torrent : — The liglit that nevtr was on sea or land, The cousccratloD uni the poet's dream. XVIII. What a straugo power and fascination we have here ! What an art more 10 OIL rAINTISO. magical than iim^'ic ! What a inuto and iiioxprcHHlble poetry ! Ilut there is that in all great art which runs far boyoml words — else why shouUl men have car\'ed or painted 7 If these brief notes in any instance lead the spectator to the right fraoio of soul for appreciating excellence, let him forget them, and pass on to what they describe. And, in strict proportion to his own reach, vivacity, and truth of mind, he will find no idle or easy tusk before him — so various are the styles which such a collection presents, so many the phases of thought and feeling displayed, so much to be learned from the sight, — so much, perhaps to bo unlearned. Yet to sympathi/.o with each great Master, and (what follows only on such sympathy) with each lesser Master, after his merits, fervently and impartially, without fear and without fanci- fulness. is no doubtful gain to the purer pleasure and higher education of the soul. For, as with the affections and the conscience, Purity in taste is absolutely propor- tionate to Htrength ; and when once the mind has raised itself to grasp and to delight in Excellence, those who love most will bo found to love most wisely. WATER COLOUR PAINTING. I. In some fuHbion wutcr-colour paintiug is the oldest form of the nrt. Bcsidon its employnicnt for fresco in. Egypt and Assyria, (Jreeco and Italy, early papyri and M88. '\Tero thus decorated ; although it is probable that not before the period awkwardly named the Middle Ages was the art, ' called Iliumination at I'arls,' carried to complete elaboration. A f(>w painters in France, Italy, and Bolgium (as itiuminaiion proper faded before the priutiug-press) tried some form of water- colours ; but Diirer is the only great artist of the time who felt the use to which they might be turned. No school, however, was founded by his attempts, although thence onwards, notably amongst the Dutch, occasional drawings of considerable Huish occur. But as an independent art, partly distinguished from oils by subject, more by the effect which it secures and the comparative facility of the process, water-colour painting had hardly existed for a hundred years, and this so far most conspicuously in the country where it was developed, that it is not thought need- ful hero to speak of any but the £nglist\ School. Nor will long exposition be requii'ed. In exact opposition to the case of sculpture, spectators are both familiar with this art, and happily accustomed to test it by reference to Nature ; whilst the causes under which love of landscape has become a modern passion are elsewhere noticed. II. Brief os its career has been, our Water-colour School has passed already through three phases. In the first, the stained drawing, as it was called, consisted of a design in brown or blue-grey wash, strengthened more or less by a pen outline, and touched over in the lighter parts, the sky, or water, or foreground, with a little colour. The colour is rarely of positive tint, and the brown wash itself is kept to a moderate tone, as if unwilling to grasp extreme effects of light and shade. This system secured a peculiar and pleasing character of breadth and repose, when the artist brought poetry in his heart to the work, and the nature of the subject allowed it. But in figure-scenes, or the architectural designs for which the art was at first specially employed, these qualities, in particular when the pen lines are prominent, are not seen, and hence many of the early water-colour drawings show tamely beside the brilliancy to which we are accustomed. Those, however, that bear the names of Cozens (died 1794) and Girtin (1775—1802), the founders of the school, always deserve notice. By the first, the art was practised in the most nrimitive fashion, — Girtin added cautious washes of colour, till in his later work tne tones of Nature, in her sedater moods, are nearly reached. Much of the same poetical feeling passed into the style of J. S. Cotman, a rather later artist, whoso tender ond imaginative appreciation of Nature plices him above many to whom fame has been more partial. Many who, for the first time, see these early drawings will be apt to turn away from their calm gray or golden tenderness : let the spectator study them with care, concentrating his mind on the scenes represented —Italian vallejrs, or northern lakes, or the romantic ruins of England — ana ho will find the poetry of the painters sink into his heart with tranquil persuasion, as be stands before these visions of sweet serenity. To the same school, in figure drawing, belong Cristalland Liverseege ; and in it also were found two men singularly contrasted in their life and in their genius, gifted respectively with exquisite fancy and intense imagination, and to whom England is indebted for a long series of works, which, take them all in all, no other water-colourists in this style have equalled. But it is hardly as art that the strange creations of the visionary Blake appeal to us ; the drawing and execution are rarely succesful ; it is in the force of the penetrative imagination that their value lies, — in their almost painful intensity,— in their sublime suggestions of some earlier world of patriarchal days, or the mysteries of spiritual and ecstatic existence. Such was not the region familiar to the gentle-hearted Stothard. Sharing in some degree the deficiences of Blake as an artist, and hence unsatisfactory in his larger oil paintings, in his water-colour designs he shows a delicacy of feeling and 12 WATER COLOUR PAINTINO. i i t 1 i i i III 11 i !i I I i ! I II praco, than which Art hwt no more cndurinply-uttractivo qualities. Especially ill his youthful works there is an airy charm, a power of seizinpf evanescent motions and lines of momentary lovelineSA, in which, with exception also of Reynolds and (iainsborough, English art has been seldom fortunate. But, as lllake saw all things through a morbid Imagination, so w^ must admit that Stothard's world is too much the creation of lominant Fancy— another and a bettor world, it may be, than tliis, yet without the depth and iinpressiveness. as it is without the woo and warfare, of real existence. III. Let us turn to the great artist who sympatliizcd more deeply than any since the days of Tintoret with Life and Nature as they are in all their vast varii^ty, who flaw the shadows and the stains of the world with the whole force of passionate imagination, — who, by the discipline of such thoughts and the studies to which tlM»y led him, trained nimself finally to paint the glory ot light and the sweetness of sunset with a perfection never before attained by art. For the leading characteristics of Turner's genius, readers are referred to tlie summary of English oil painting : here, a brief indication of Turner's position in our water-colour school and of the stages of his progress is all that can bo attempted. IJut, with reference to what follows, and indeed to these Prefaces in general, the writer desires to add, that his criticism, though carefully weighed, is expressed with diffident hesitation : — that the essential excellence of this or any great master is traly ' beyond and above expression : it is a truth inherent in every line, and breathing in every hue, too deli- cate and exquisite to admit of proof.' Ho would wish it remembered, — by those who do not feel the correctness of the praise given to a Reynolds or a Turner, and even more by those who do, — that • all truths of the highest order are separated from those of average precision by points of extreme delicacy, which none but the culti- vated eye can in the least feel, and to express which, all words are absolutely meaningless or useless ;' and that, consequently, these remarks are written only in the spirit of hint and analogy. Turner when young worked with Girtin, and shared with him in the first advances of water-colour painting. But he seems to have felt from the beginningthat thorough knowledge of drawing and of form was the only safe foundation for the art : and as no man had erer more of that unwearied and humble-minded industry which is tlio surest sign of genius, ho gave much time to pen and pencil sketching from Nature. His earliest works are executed in the gray and brown tints alone ; but already show were to mark him with delicate green, and then with gold ; the browns in the foreground became first more positive, and then were slightly mingled with other local colours ; while the touch grew more and more refined and expressive, until it lost itself in a method of execution often too delicate for the eye to follow, rendering, with a precision before unexampled, both the texture and the form of every object. This style may bo con- sidered as perfectly formed about the year 1800, and it remained unchanged for twenty years.' Turner appears to have followed it with this constancy because it gave perfect freedom to make Form, Space, and Size the predominant features of his work : although, meanwhile, in his smaller drawings, ' the play of colour ' begins to show itself. And under this simple system, ho set himself to master every variety of landscape form : treating no subject as too high or too low for him : and gaining from this universality of interest the subtle power of expression which enabled him to transfer, we had almost said, Nature in her universality, to paper. ' Throughout this whole period ' (represented here by Sir A. A. Hood's series of drawings), * Turner appears as a man ot sympathy absolutely infinite — a sympathy so all- embracing, that I know nothing but that of Shakespeare comparable with it. — Nothing can be so mean as that it will not interest his whole mind, and carry away his whole heart; nothing so great and solemn but that he can raise himself into harmony with it.' Having now mastered Form, Colour was pursiied with the same resolute industry, the same natural quickness of eye : the suDtlety of handling, learned in his long Satient pursuit of Form, enabled him to lay his tints with a rapid and delicate eoision, of which all who have ever tried one faithful study from Nature will know the enormous difficulty. It was not only that ho now added colour to his drawings —essentially the painter's quality, when once tmderstood, it can never take a second place — his designs were henceforth primarily conceived in colour. Hence a change of subject became necessary. Turner from tliis time selected often the natural WATER COLOUB rAnOTNO. 18 scenes richest in tone — sunriso nnd sunset, lakes treinl)lin(» in miiMay liprht, or where the moon of suninior bathes river-side trngs luul ruins with hiizy .silver. — And from the same date, flndine that the earlier landscape painters, whom he hud hitherto frequently followed in their form and arranpement, cauld tench him nothing; in colour — nay, that, on the system of Poussin or Vandevc !do, truth ami vivueity in colour were impossible — ho worked in a manner cxclu.sively his own. This second stylo may bo briefly characterixed as showing ' delicate deliberation of handling, cheerful moods of mind, brilliant colour, dctiauco of precedent, and effort at ideal composition;' gradually passing, till within a few years of his death, into 'swiftness of handling, tenderness and pensiveness of mind, exquisite harmony of colour, and perpetual reference to nature only.' To this perfection of water colour the Sunset at Sen, views in England and Hyrio, and iteiddhrrg, belong. They illustrate, lastly, Turner's method of execution — delicate and decisive, little aided by the mechanical expedients of 'sponging' or ' rubbing,' but relying mainly (m pure colour laid in once for all, with absolute determination of its effect. Like the star described by the poet. Turner's hand seems to have moved ' without hurrying and without staying;' and although some ingenious aids to the art am ascribpd to his invention, yet liis general practice in water-colours was of that simple and direct kind with which perfect knowledge is always satisfied. IV. To the same pure school of water-coUurs belong Trout, Vnrley, Kobson. IJarret, Copley Fielding, David Cox, Dewint, Hunt, and others. They are men of various and unequal gift, but alike in their sincere love of Nature, in the careful selection of their subjects, and in the poetical aspect from which they are regarded. Fielding, after Turner, is our greatest master of space and air, and in rendering certain effects of mist, sublime in their vastness and their mystery, he has never been surpassed. Front, in his method most resembling the earlier period, seized especially on the picturesque in the works of men, and, with English energy and patience, brought home to us innumerable records of cathedral and castle, market- place and town-hall, from every city of Europe ; and this precisely at the time before the prosperity of the long peace and the restlessness of tuis century had effaced the relics of ancient days, and the times when architecture retained beauty of form and originality of treatment. How many must have received their first impulse to travel from Front's views ! — how many have felt, when they saw their subjects, that they owed much of their poetry to their painter ! But this noblo quality appears with even greater depth and power in the work of David Cox. If Front delights us with the picturesqueness of foreign lands, Cox has an attractiveness more intimate and more forcible — the grandeur und the beauty of onr own. There is a wide difference between bis strangely daring stylo and the subtle dolicay of Turner ; yet Cox must be ranked only second to Turner in his profoutidly poetical conception of the landscape. Those who are ignorant will hero learn to know the intense imagination which penetrates his work ; what majesty he saw in the common field or cottage ; with what an inner eye of sympathy ho watched the wreathings of the stream beneath the gloom of forest greenery, the visionary sadness of wide horizons and dreary heaths, or the last red gleam that ebbed away from the h( ights of Craig-y-Dinas : — those who know him will care little for any words of eulogy. Lewis and W. Hunt may be also set side by side as our two most splendid colourists, not of tho landscape, but in figures seen near, and what is absurdly called ' still life.' In both, as we saw with Turner, an admirable eye lor tint has led them straight to an admirably simple and decisive method of painting ; whilst that sense of the large relations of light and shade which always marks a great, as opposed to a brilliant or a pretty colourist, has kept their work broad in its refine- ment and magnificent in its minuteness. Here, also, we find that division of labour and of subject which has only been possible to modern art in tho Locomotive Ago. Whilst Lewis has brought the life of^ Spain and Turkey home, familiarizing us with tho fretwork aud arabesques of Seville, or the ralley of Egypt with its emerald and amber tints, Hunt has glorified our own fruits and flowers with a mastery almost iinknown to any former painter. Their respective scales of colour are adapted with equal skill to their subjects — treated with pervading tenderness by the one, by tho other with suffused glow : It might bo said that we see the iridescence of the opal in Lewis, the fire of the carbuncle in Hunt. V. Many other known names might bo added : MUllcr, by whoso early death wo lost an artist of brilliant promise ; Cattormole and ilaag, distinguished for figure- painting ; Nash, Roberts, and Hagho, in architecture ; Cooke and Duncan, for sea- pieces ; Harding, Q. Fripp, Uastinoau, Uoyce, Davidson, and many more, for dififercnt : I 14 WATER COLOUn PAIXTINO. n^))ccts of tlio landflcnpc. ThcHe nnmcs bring us to our own days, and to tbo Inter 080 it to danger from an opposite source. 'Among our artists,' says the writer already quoted, ' the chief waut is that of solemnity and definite purpose. We have too much picture-manufacturing, — too much making-uu of lay figures, with a certain quantity of foliage, and a certain quantity ot sky, anu a certain quantity of water ; a little bit of all that is pretty — a little sun and a littlo shade, a touch of pink and a touch of blue, a littlo sentiment and a little sublimity, and a little humour and a littlo antiquarianism, — all very neatly associated in a very charming picture, but not working together for a definite end.' It is probable that imaginative minds, and men zealous of carrying out with their full might all they set their bunds to do, will often repeat these criticisms, and feel, with pain, that so much manual skill and observation are not turned to their highest purposes, or employed tor the most avail. Yet it must not be forgotten, also, that this art addresses itself pre-eminently to landscape ; that tho poetry of nature, and her hold on the human heart never ceases ; that among our painters there have been some already, within tho spaco of but fifty years, who rauk in the same class with Wordsworth or Keats, or Tennyson. One of these men, looking back on his childhood, complained that the visionary gleam and tho glory of his early years had passed : There was a time when meadow, crove and stream, The earth, and every common sigut To me did seem Apparcird in coloBttal light. The glory and the flrcBhnosB of a dream. It is not now ae it has been of yore ;— . Turn wheresoe'er I may. By night or day. The things which I huve seen I now can see no more. It is hoped that many readers will remember the lesson of deeper consolation with which this great lover of nature concludes bis poom. There seems no reason why •oincthing analogous should not be extended to the career of modern art. < ail li ; 1 \ ' . ' f ENORAVIN6. I. This, ut° all thu Fiuo Artu uf dvHign tho most popular tind tiiu iiiuHt ):^eiu>itilly (1iflfu8cd, (ippeurs to bo at tlio sumo time tiiut of which the tfciiniful procosHCH nro least faiuiliur. It is, theroforo, thought that a lew words mainly uu this point will be the most useful introductiou to the niastcrpiecos of iiiodcvu work lieru collected. The three forms of £u^raviu(; which includu almost the whole art employ respectively the surfaces ot Wood, Stoue, and Metal to pive the impression. In the first, the ink i.s laid on projecting portious : in tho second, on portions of plane surface chemically prepared to receive it : in the third, within hollows sunk hi-low the surface, whence it is removed by wiping. lu Wood Kns^raving what the artist cuts away, forms the light ; what ho leaves, tho lines. In Litiiography, — whether plain or in colours, — what he lays ou with ink or chalk is repeated on the paper. It is ou metal only that the lines he cuts in are reproduced by tho printing-ink. This latter art is therefore Engraviitfr in tho strict sense, and the one which boars the namo by custom. It is also by its nature capable of the greatest variety in style, and of the most powerful or of the most delicate elTocts in execution. The texture of wood does not carry cuttings of tho freedom and complexity possible in metal, and strokes cannot bo laid over strokes to strengthen and gradati tho etluct. Nor can the surface-lines of lithography in its different forms, drawn with ink or chalk, approach the united force and tenderness of the lines which may be sunk into the steel cr the copper. Engraving on Metal thus holds the first rank, and may claim precedence in our brief notice. II. Of the three principal forms of Engraving on Metal that in which the design is entirely expressed by Lines is the most powerful, durable, and dltlicult. Line Engraving is, therefore, confined to important workv, or those executed witli sufficient care to be capable of bearing complete reproduction. In its first form it was thus employed by Kaphael's Engraver, Marc- Antonio Kaimondi, to multiply his master's designs, and by tho great German painter, DUrer, to publish his own. These early works aim exactly at the effect of fine and finished drawings : small in size, simple in handling, and never rendering either tho texture of objects or tho effects of sky and air in landscape, — they are, however, of uueij nailed grace and power in lorm and Expression. As tho Sixteenth century advanced and Painting degenerated, these qualities were lost from tho companion Art : and before long. Engraving took a new direction, attempting to reproduce not Draw- ings, but Pictures. This attempt required larger size, greater complexity and care in tho set of the lines, more attention to tho texture of objects and to landscape details ; — above all, tho preservation of tho tone and liglit and shade of tho original. Thus the modern stylo was gradually formed ; aiming* at translating Colours, Avhilst the old style fac-similarizod Designs. To trace the doTolopmeut of this Art would be to sketch the progress of Oil Painting : it must suffice hero to add that it was hardly before this century, that Lino Engraving, especially lu France, ful- filled its object by reproducing the complete general effect of I'ictures (so far as that efl'ect does not essentially depend on Colour) — whether figure-scenes or landscapes. III. The artists who probably contributed most to tho final advance in Lino Engraving are our countrymen. Strange, Sharp, and Woollett, who towards tho mid- dle of the Eighteenth century were among the first to take definitely successful steps in this larger manner. Strange is not always faithful to the expression of his originals, but in a blended tenderness and brilliancy of effect ho is yet unequalled, and to his invention is duo that curious network of lines by which modern En- gravers aim at representing every surface, however varied. The Charles J (after Vandyke), the Sleeping Child and Angel (Guide), are amongst Strange's matiter- pieccs. Sharu's work has more severity and meaning : his John 7/M»Ie thus followed, it will be readily seen, the natural treatment or law of his material; for the lines cut into the woodcut form the whites, as those cut by tho line-engraver form the darks, of the impression : and the proper direction of each art is indicated by this difference. Bewick's other gifts are shown in the exquisite simplicity, truth, znd inveuti-m of his well-known woodcuts. These cannot be too carefully studied : they have a directness in reaching their point, a breadth and largeness in style exactly analogous to the qualities of Velasquez. So little are perfection and greatness in Art dependent on size or material. If Bewick's peculiar excellence has not been since equalled, Wood Engraving has been both in France and England carried of late to a wonderful height in finish and brilliancy. Tho aim has, perhaps, lain too decidedly in this direction, as if in competition with etching :— a vain struggle, which risks loss in tho natural treat- ment and natural effects of the woodcut, already indicated. By a return within the strict limitB fixed by the material, by moderation and study Irom nature, the admi- rable skill which a multitude of artists have attained will, no doubt, be ablo to bring Wood Engraving before long to further perfection. ;-it if if :j>'^^ The preceding pages are reprinted from the Catalogue of the Fine Arts Collection at the Exhibition of All Nations, held in London in 1862. They are from the pen of F. T. Palsgrave, Esq., and give such an admirable sketch of Oil and Water Colour Painting, and of Engraving, that the Council have thought they could not do better tb iO copy them. I :]:''^^ The Council take this opportunity of presenting their thanks to Artists and others who have kindly furnished Pictures and other Works of Art for this Exhibition. Especial thanks are due to Messrs. Hewlett & Camp of New York, the latter of whom has lent us many valuable Pictures from his private collection. ^.•^\j; Those marked thus (*) are for sale. For prices, apply to the Curator. OIL PAINTINGS. NO. 1 2 3 i 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 13 13 U 15 16 17 18 19 20 21 BUIUECT. I'AINTEH. Scene on the Hudson near West Point. Pastoral Scene Sheep Death of the Duke of Guise My Mother's Grave Street Scene in Holland 'Do. do. do Portrait • • My Aia Fireside Lady Sealing a Letter Sandymount Sands The Adoration (15th Century) Group of Sheep Child's Head Owls' Head Mountain (sk( tch) fPortrait of the Bishop of Montreal. . ♦Ewe and Lambs Group of Sheep An Interior Port, of Lord Metcalfe (copy fm. Bradish) Sancho Panza and the Duchess Mignnt J. Mo{^(!arck Carpenter E. Castin W. McDutr Uoberto Canalctto do. J. S. Powers W. McDuflf Haseler McElroy Unknown C, Jones Greuzo J. Eraser J. Eraser H. Hancock Unknown tOSTRlBUTOK. .Tno. Cavcrhill Capt. Hiiync.H Mrs. McCulloch Capt. Uayncs Thos. MfDutr Mrs. IVIcCuUoch do. Artist Thos, 3IcDufr Capt. Uaynet Dr. ScoH Capt. liayncs Jno. Cavcrhill Mrs. McCulloch T. D. King J. Eraser (after Leslie) Artist Mrs. McCulloch C. A. Low E. Lawford Oir. I'AINTINtH*. NO. urii.rKrT. I I I l\ 22 2:{ 21 2*. 26 27 28 29 30 31 32 33 :M 35 36 37 38 39 40 41 42 48 44 45 46 47 Int«'ri(>r nf a WtNIi ('Mttiigo A Cottage Interior Lanilscnpo Slicrp Do Lainlrtcapo *Flowpr of the Flock Lantlscaj)(' Game and Fruit (after Wtrninx). Portrait Poultry A VViiitcr Scene Fuwiis Holy Family Smokers An 01(1 Couple Sunset *Vicw on the Hudson *Landseapr ♦Marine View *Fainily Happiness Card Players ♦Landscape ♦Drythm, South Wales *Kitchen Interior ♦Woodland View rXINTKIl. (i>NTUtnrT<»i». ('.A. Low (leo. And'-rson, U.A. .1. Mnir J. Meatlows I). Lt»rn McDougali T. S. C..(.p.'r. I{. A. do. do. Johann H. Hancock. .. JniititU) (jleo. Macon .... J. S. PoAvers . . H. Lcmmeus. . W. H. Beard J. ({. lirown. . Geselischap. .. Hicrstadt. . . . Feuschel Geo. Innes. . . I)c How F. Braekeleer. y John^ri. . . Durand Th.AVlnttlc. Notcrnian . . . . W. M. Brown. do. Artist D. Lorn McDougall Arti«t Artist T. Cramp (h). Artist (N.Y.) Mrs. McCulloch J. H. Herrick (N.Y.) (N.Y.) Artist (N.Y.) —(N.Y.) (N.Y.) Artist (N.Y.) (N.Y.) H. Camp (N.Y.) do. (N.Y.) T. 1). King (N.Y.) Artist (N.Y.) OIL PAI.NTINUS. tl Klltl KiK. NO. 4fl 40 ."iU Til 52 53 5t 55 50 57 58 50 60 m fi3 64 65 66 67 68 60 70 71 72 73 HI MECT. *Fox Iliintrr's Drciim A Sni Cimst View Feeding the Uahbits *Thc Humble l*rairic Ilcni' Qrconx nod Lake Bnmyftrd 8t';nc Jloonlight on tlic St. Lawrence Learning to Read Passing Storm ♦Landscape On Lake Memphrcumgog A Portrait (after Gerard Dow) Do Chagnon Mountiiin and Orford Luke . . Boys on tlic Ice Falls of the C'lmuditre Riv(!r St. Anne (below Quebec) bkating in Uolhi id French Flower Girl Card Playing Interior of a Chapel Rembrandt's Studio ,. . Portrait Evening on the Thames W. ir IU«nnJ. F. C.Wil:,...MS ... Th. Geriird A. F. nellowd W. H. Hays J. F. Cropsey A. F. Tuit (lignon Hourges Shuttuik J. F. Cropsey Kate DeGoulier. . . Brerkclamp do R. S. Duncunson . . . Williuin Ruphuel . . R. S. Duncunson . . . do. F. I)e Bmekeleer. . J. IL S. Mann A. Dc Brackclccr. . (after Leys) J. 8. Powers Leslie (O.MUMUTOK. ArtiHt, (N.V.) J. ('HniM J. C'avt rhill Artist, (N.Y.) H. (amp, (N.Y.) do. do. dc do. (N.Y.) View on the Androscoggin A. F. Bellows Artist, (NA ) Artist .fas. Muir do. Artist «lo. < A. Wilson do. (). S. Wood A. Wilson do. Artist do. A. J. Pell Artist do. do. do. Artist W. Cunningham Artist .Ino. McArthnr do. tPaiDteii by a young lady, aged 13 years. 24 OIL PAINTINflfi. ' i ; : 1 1 ! h\ ': Mm i :■.. NO. 12fi 127 128 121> IIJO i;u i:{2 i;j4 135 i:{C la: i:58 l:J!» 140 141 142 143 144 Mr, 1 40 147 148 149 150 151 8LII.IKCT. Mount Desert *Beiitin{^ up llio Thiimos .... *Tlie Quail Family ♦Chickens *Still Life *T!ie Swing *Thc Locket *( fathering Grapes *Tlie Pet Canary *Fruit *Vase of Fh)wcr3 *View on the Hudson '•"Sunset *Lanclscap(' Frederic the Wise *Woodcock Landscape Conversation Gahuitc Student of Munich Portrait Luliau Encampment ^Murray Bay Quebec from Montmorcncl . . . Ruin at Baiac . . . , Marine View Peter tlic Groat PAINTER. W. Hart E. C. Williams . . A. F. Tait do Mrs. S. Anderson. F. Rondcll Mrs. S. Anders Portrait, colored U6 Do. do 27 Ciuiiiiliun Scrnory (selections of ). . 2H Selections 20 Copies from ('. J. Way's Sketches. i 30 ! tCanndmn Scenery ritnTooUAPIIKn. t o .THIBl'TWi. W. N'otinaii J. Fruser Mltcliel Bros T. C. Doiinc do .T. Martin W. Notinan do W. Henderson . . . . W. Notnian do. Mitcliel Bros. T. C. Doane v«'ii I'mtiMit Wn\t II ill Silk Ciirtt -Kliiiht into K-rypt II. H. Small l)<». ('nicili.\i"ii (In. |)u. Dcscfiit iVom till- ( 'rns< ilo. ^I,(»( of I'ariiiii SlMliictlrs Mr. !'iitnii I'aiiaii StiitiKlli'. Sliiik-^iii'ic T. D. Kiiii,' Tariiiii Mii-nckln»Vf'n ISiijttI litiiii Kini,' nil lit on . ('. Davie t Hunt man King urasaa irphy J7. Hilton nnpson kV. Hilton Kino- idliani )n Bros. y: ,.f\r ■■■ ^■^^ •MMMMMlMlMMIMM IVOOBPOliATVD S8rciit: THE IWOST REVERENO THE LORD BISHOP OF MONTREAL AMD METROPOLITAN. Mb. B. Gibb. MnmBs. A. D. Parkib Ammsw Wumos Jauom CkmiNm Tarn. BofifSB I*.. Bk ' MAVfiuwi Mbsbrs. p. Rbofath. • B. Chaiibkslik T. D. Kwo T. SmcBBT Huirr F. Lawvob^ W^ hMiBK, CftRRmJ Mm. W. H. A. DAVms. Kr. E ttoAXUHGUX. lt«. & £. Dawsok. CstRlnri 1^ T. D. Knre. . iii»i ..i l l SM iMie-iMi ^«^«fc^i**^ jTiiiMliiiii W. Om ''Jli|-^;if AVUEII T. SiKBRT HUHT u ■ -.J" ! "" " ■ III ip |illi«»W