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vV‘. . “ lllrL ji k, r> H;iK/ . vS;:V.vr* 'ir'iixvi HMwil - ; : - ' ;i - : ■ V;:^: §|| \& >-:'V if- . 'A&&X -. K9m$mmm0 mMmmmmmim ■ •' ;>iK»rr **■;,* ’^V- 'S’ -: :.-■ tiMflMfe '■.rjjr - -"■: .'3:,;. -;. ■• --vi *e? s& SSKrv^ . kV N * f . , V' 'v f ■ ■ ' ' ‘ : ./- ■-■ ; .- - - + ^ ?: k-iki V.: ?v 4 <nsV« V >:v* I. .?g -:5C- ••*>•3 ’hife': 4 'Kiiv.i*: /:• ■ : ■ , >:;"\?v ; , ■' ; .. r v '5. « . ::- Ai - •$Vi;.y :• ' S inglP 'Sffc -S,M ;; viOT fj ' ht* •r.:S.“fe.-i»:»i.-f*i. x-uf '>'■•?£ NHi;x.-::>:;,-n. iw ■•; ;-f • ■' ' mmim fWm Ml I'; -'S *f * .- ?■;;.'■»! f&3 ? ik4'£ v,: ; r. „ T :y>, : i y:-! V-'. >T -1^1 s£3»a» m II &si$. » :.\- » &&?■ I itSite S ; 1 S'^lwilP^Si^ * ,■ .,' - .- •iw-. m :#fS»Siift i ■; ■:-. ";>.r - V-,;. ?£’,.•{<:< : c: ' .•' ’-'• •> ' V , '•: :- ■■>;,: , :j ' .■>, \ -. . £.; y. ; -., _ v1- r-^-. ;vAs - ; x?; v •: . .* ' .•/.-' ; •. ’:-■.} Y> .'V *• .-* '*‘‘S •••';. ' ‘ .' ■' , •» ■' ' . »;• .- •• :‘ ’ • ■ *-. .•• • ’ '’• . . • . -. sc • - .;. ** ‘ <- .v*-4 " ' ■■ \ v ■.'■i'v*.-.' ~ r~: '.•• m I f-M* V;-:- :<%a®r% : •r -iV^ .«• f w: . ■ I I I mm £■■: ;.>-j;-..,.*:v.. '. r>,-^ AVj-^; ■ NEW SERIES. "VOLUME V. 5tfl(\S33S jV? “M IllloOLUi^ [iiji-- HENRV M '?. LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS, ENGRAVINGS FROM SELECTED PICTURES. 1. THE ORPHAN 2. PHXEBE MAYFLOWER. 3. SPRING 4. SUSANNAH o. THE CAVALIER 6. CHASTITY 7. THE TROOPER 8. NEW SHOES 9. PAOLO AND FRANCESCA DA RIMINI 10. THE MAY-POLE .... 11. THE COUNTESS ISABELLE OF CROYE 12. THE BIRD-CATCHERS 13. THE WIFE’S PORTRAIT 14. THE PARTING .... 13. “HUSH! ASLEEP!” 16. THE FOUNTAIN .... 17. WRECK OFF HASTINGS 18. SPANISH CONTRABANDISTAS 19. EVENING IN THE MEADOWS. 20. THE STUDENT 21. THE BREAKFAST-TABLE. 22. HAY-TIME 23. WEARY TRAVELLERS. 24. THE CONFESSIONAL 25. THE POSTBOY PAINTERS. ENGRAVERS. PAGE T. Faed, R.A P. Lightfoot. 4 R. Gaves, A.R.S.A C. H. t Teens . . 12 T. Webster, R.A. — Pelee . 40 J. R. Heebeet, R.A. H. Bourne . . 48 Herring, Bright, and Baxter. J. C. Armytage . 72 W. E. Frost, A.R.A T. Garner. . . 76 Herring, Bright, and Baxter. C. Cousen . 100 H. Bourne. . . 11C J. N. Paton, R.S.A Ii. Graves , A.R.A. . 140 J. Nash C. Cousen. . . 148 A. Elmore, R.A.. J. Stanclijje. . 172 W. Hemsley R. Brandanl . . 178 A. Elmore, R.A S. S. Smith. . 204 P. F. Poole, R.A F. Bacon. . . 212 J. H. Mann J. Franck . 232 C. Cousen. . 240 J. M. W. Turner, R.A. TF. Miller. . 272 J. Phillip, R.A. . . . • .. TF. Ridgway . 288 F.R. Lee, R. A., and T. S. Cooper, A.R.A. J. Cousen . 298 J. Meissonier E. Gervais . 306 T. Webster, R.A. .... G. Greatbach. . 330 D. Cox F. Radcliffe . 344 Rembrandt .... Mauduit . 352 Sir D. Wilkie T. TF. Knight. . 364 F. Goodall, R.A E. Goodall . 380 ENGRAVINGS FROM SCULPTURES. SCULPTORS. 1. THE SLEEP OF SORROW AND THE DREAM) „. OF JOY [ E- Momti. 2. A SIBYL w. Story. 3. RELIGION J. Edwards 4. MONUMENT OF MAJOR-GENERAL THE HON. ) T _ ROBERT BRUCE ( J. H. Foley, R.A. 5. BRITANNIA UNVEILING AUSTRALIA . . G. Halse. 6. PART OF THE EAST FRIEZE OF THE PAR- I — . _ THENON JJ. Henkdtg. 7. THE MUSE OF PAINTING j, H. Foley, 8. SPORTIVE INNOCENCE Q. Bur-yard’ 9- OUPID Sir R. West: 10. THE FALCONER W. T. Fey R.A. . . E. IF. Stodart. . . 20 . E. TF. Stodart . 54 . . R. A. Artlett . . 92 . R. A. Artlett. . 156 . . E. TF. Stodart. . . 192 . 230 . . R. A. Artlett . . 256 . G. Stodart . 280 R.A. . . J. Thomson . . 320 • J. E. Car cio. . 372 CONTENTS. Albert Memorials, 126, 202, 381. Alfred Casket, Prince, 226. America, British Art in, 29. Angelo, Michael, 383. Arehmological Association, British, 322. Archaeological Institute, 9-1, 127, 290. Architects' Institute, 127, 19-5, 383. Architectural Museum, 94, 382. Architecture, Hindu, 250. Architecture in Rome, Etruscan, 201. Art-Collections for the Provinces, 351. Art in Continental States : — Antwerp, 277, 306. Berlin, 154, 190, 3S1. Bombay, 25G. Bordeaux, 17. Brussels, 48, 190, 217, 381. Canada, 155, 240, 300, 330, 354. Cape Town, 330. Carlsruhe, 123. Cologne, 48. Florence, 381. Frankfort, 123. Ghent, 48. Lille, 277. Madrid, 244. Melbourne, 255. Moscow, 123. Natal, 154. Nuremberg, 30G. Paris, 48, 123, 189, 190, 221, 2 55, 30G, 381, Rochelle, 190. Rome, 123, 154. Stockholm, 255. Sydney, 277. Vienna, 123. Art in Gold, 18. Art in Iron, 124. Art in Parliament, 125, 290, 312, Art in the Provinces : — Aberdeen, 344. Barnsley, 91. Bath, 192, 285. Battle, 322. Birmingham, 91, 123, 140, 285, 320, 321. Bolton, 54. Boston, 192. Bradford, 54, 381. Brighton, 154. Bristol, 225. Cambridge, 19, 192, 256, 381. Canterbury, 320. Chester, 19. Cirencester, 19. Cork, 19, 256. Devizes, 91. Devonport, 344. Dublin, 192, 195, 253, 381. Dudley, 91, 256. Dumfries, 320. Dundee, 19, 54. Dunrobin, 344. Edinburgh, 18, 137, 225, 285. Exeter, 91. Frome, 344. Glasgow, 19, 123, 154, 256. Halifax, 91. Hanley, 212. Hull, 91. Hulme, 91. Ipswich, 285. Irvine, 126. Keighley, 91. Kidderminster, 92. Leeds, 20, 192, 289. Leamington, 3S1. Art in the Provinces : — Limerick, 192, 225. Lincoln, 20. Liverpool, 21, 285, 290, 320. Manchester, 20, 54, 123, 192, 322, 344,381. Margate, 259. Newcastle-upon-Tyne, 92, 344, 381. Nottingham, 123, 225. Plympton, 54, 154. Portsmouth, 344. Preston, 20. Radstock, 320. Reading, 123, 154, 320. Salford, 192. Salisbury, 225. Scarborough, 20. Sheffield, 20. Shrewsbury, 344. Southampton, 20, 123, 192, 225, 2o6, 28o, 344, 3S1. Stourbridge, 92. Strathfieldsave, 285. Streatham, 123. Tiverton, 20. Torquay, 256. Whitehaven, 225. Windsor, 10, 123, 285. Winscombc, 320.]j Wisbech, 225. Witham, 192. Wolverhampton, 344. Worcester, 123. York, 92, 225, 285, 381. Artists and Amateurs’ Society, 94. Artists’ Benevolent Fund Society, 195. Artists’ General Benevolent Institution, 126. 195. Artists of France, Young, 30. Artists’ Orphan Asylum, 195. Art-Process, Ghost of an, 251, 269. Art-Schools, 382. Art-Season, The, 258. Art-Union Societies : — Birmingham and Midland Counties, 91. Crystal Palace, 125. Dublin, 381. London, 62, 94, 127, 158, 191, 244, 287. Parliamentary Committee on, 195, 244. Scottish, 285. Associated Arts’ Institute, 31, 382. Authors of the Age : — Campbell, T., 149. Cunningham, Allan, 369. Edgeworth, Maria, 345. Hemans, Felicia, 205. Hogg, James, 313. Mitford, Mary R., 117. More, Hannah, 186. Southey, R., 21, 49. Wilson, J., 81. Wordsworth, W., 245, 273. Autographs, Heideloff’s Collection of, 306. Bath and West of England Society, 225. Bird-catchers, 17S. Birmingham Art-Gallery, 31. Birmingham Arts and Manufactures, 222. Birmingham Society of Aids, 321. Birmingham Water-Colour Exhibition, 140^. Bordeaux and its Art-Exhibition of 1865, 17. Breakfast-table, The, 330. Bremer, A Memory of Frederica, 53. Britannia unveiling Australia, 192. British Institution, 69, 222, 263, 382. Brooches and Dress Fastenings, 46, 141. Bruce’s Monument, General, 156. Busts : — Fowke, Captain, 126. Hill, M. D., 159. Hume, J., 323. Mulready, W., 322. Thackeray, W. M., 30. Castellani Collection of Gems, &c., 115, 155. Cavalier, The, 72. Cestus of Aglaia, 9, 33, 97. Chandelier by Defries, 62. Chastity, 76. Christening Gift, A Royal, 55. Civil Pensions, 382. Commons round London, 89. Communion Plate, 95. Confessional, The, 364. Consumption Hospital, Concert for, 227. Cottage Prints, 95. Correspondence : — Art- Collections for the Provinces, 351. Dwellings for the Working-Classes, 287. Engravings v. Photographs, 351. Crewe Hall, Destruction of, 62. Croxden Abbey, Drawings of, 94. Croziers : how they were carried, 203.^ Cruikshank, Testimonial to Sir. G., 159, 195. Crystal Palace : — Art-Union, 125. Fire-work Display, 259. Picture Gallery, 62, 126, 211. Cupid, 320. Delarue’s Almanacs, 383. Dessert Service, Ancient, 226. Dessert Service for the Prince of Wales, 122. Donaldson, Professor, 127. Dore’s Bible Illustrations, 122. Dramatic College Art-Union Album, 355. Eastlake, Lady, 61, 258. Ecclesiastical Vestments, 357. Electro-Metallurgy, 286. Encaustic and Zopissa, 319. Engraving, Substitutes for, 87. Engravings v. Photographs, 312, 351. Etching, 293. Etna and Vesuvius, 261. Etruscan Architecture in Rome, 201. Evening in the Meadows, 298. Exhibitions : — Dudley Gallery, 70. Flatou’s Gallery, 377. French Gallery, 194, 374. German Gallery, 377. Hildebrandt’s Drawings, 30. International Society of Fine Arts, 159. MacCallum’s Pictures, 218. McLean's Gallery, 376. Morby’s Gallery, 288. Shaw’s Drawings, 53. Simpson’s Drawings, 258. Sketches by Mmes. Bodichon and Bardiil, 226. Sykes’s Drawings, 236. Tuscan Paintings, 210. Wallis’s Exhibition, 375. Winter Exhibitions, 373. Falconer, The, 373. Faucit (Helen), at St. James’s Hall, 22/. Fine-Art Catalogue, Universal, 159. Flowers, Drawings of Indian, 159. Fontevrault Effigies, 361. Footlights in Theatres, 383. Fountain, The, 240. CONTENTS. vii French “Exposition Retrospective,” 221. Furniture, Fine-Art Door and Bell, 361. Furniture, Mediaeval, 62. Gainsborough’s Tomb, 30. Garden Rock-work, 226. Gems, Castellani’s, 115, 155. Ghost of an Art-Process, 251, 269. Gibson, John, 61, 90, 113, 226, 353. Glass : its Manufacture and Examples, 25, 57, 181, 278. Glass, Salviati’s Modern Venetian, 290. Glass, Stained, 126. Gold, Art in, 18. Goldsmith’s Studio and Workshop, 155. Greek Art, Mr. Gladstone on, 45. Guildhall of London, 31. Hall by the Sea, 259. Hanover Square Rooms, 126. Hay-time, 344. Heath, Mr. Vernon, 62, Heraldic Art, 30. Historic Devices and Badges, 13, 109, 241, 325. Holbein, Hans, 29, 123. Holmesdale Fine Aids Club, 62, 355. Houses of Parliament, 29, 158, 290, 37S. “Hush! Asleep!” 232. Illuminated Scripturo Texts, 354. Industrial Exhibitions : — City of London, 124. Dublin, 195. Dudley, 91, 256. Frome, 344. Glasgow, 19, 154, 256. Hulmo, 91. Liverpool, 92. Manchester, 123. Melbourne, 255. Metropolitan and Provincial Working- Classes, 30, 290, 319, 344, 382. North-East London, 125. Preston, 20. Radstock, 320. Rochelle, 190. Shrewsbury, 344. Southampton, 123, 225, 285, 344. South-East London, 94. Staffordshire, 212. Stockholm, 255. Whitehaven, 225. Wisbech, 225. York, 285, 381. International Architectural Congress in Bel- gium, 277. International Exhibition of 1867 in Paris, 61, 147, 194, 225, 250, 290, 329, 354. Iron, Art in, 124. Isabelle of Croye, 172. Japanese Armour, 126. Jewellery of Kabyle, 190. Keble, Memorial of Rev. J., 290. Kensington Museum, South : — Hall of Arts and Sciences, 125. Leda and the Swan, 126. Mosaic Decorations, 10, 210. Officials, 195. Pictures, Condition of the, 158. Portrait Exhibition, 55, 126, 353. Pulpit, Giovanni Pisano’s, 353. Kirkup, Mr. S. S., 127. Lady- Artists in Rome, 177. Law Courts, New, 158. Leech, Drawings by John, 158. Lctts’s Diaries, 30. Liber Memorialis, 1, 65, 229. Line Engraving, 158. Lithography an Auxiliary to Photography, 250. Litho-Photography, 226. London (City of) Free Public Library, 61. Lough Erne, 195. McConnell, Mr., 323. Madrid Museum, 244. Manchester Academy of Arts, 20. Manchester Architectural Association, 54. Manchester Institute, 322, 381. Marble for Sculptors, 154. Maypole, The, 148. Medal, Exhibition Prize, 342. Metals, Preservation of, 300. Monumental Tablets to Thackeray and Leech 94. Monuments : — Archbishop of Canterbury, 320. Bruce, Major- Gen., 156. Carlisle, Earl of, 92. Duke of Wellington, 285. King of the Belgians, 285. Mulready, W., 353. Palmerston, Viscount, 125, 290. Mosaic, Modern Enamel, 257, 322. Muse of Painting, 256. National Gallery : — Additional Pictures, 225, 322, 379. Director, 62, 93. Proposed Enlargement, 29, 127, 158, 195 289, 322. Report of the Keeper, 100. Restoration of Pictures, 382. Trustee, New, 126. National Museums, 92. National Portrait Exhibition, 126, 157, 299, 353, . 354. National Portrait Gallery, 195, 31S. Nelson Column, 158, 290. New Shoes, 116. Obituary : — Bullangc, J. L., 217. Carpenter, W. H., 286. Dunbar, D., 320. Eastlake, Sir C. L., 60. Fairholt, F. W., 179. Farrer, H., 158. Fowke, Captain, 60. French, G., 217. Gibson, J., 90, 113. Gilbert, J. G., 217. Grant, W. J., 217. Harvey, W., 89, 126. Hay, D. R., 331, 362. Heim, F. J., 19. Howard, F., 286. Jaley, J. L., 240. Joy,’ T. M., 240. Lebceuf, C. F., 19. Leeds, W. H., 217. Morten, T., 364. Newman, A., 154. Newton, Mrs. C., 100. Petrie, Dr., 99. Richomme, Mme., 180. Shenton, H. C., 332. Spence, B. E., 364. Stewart, J., 19. Sykes, G., 153. Telbin, H., 332. Thompson, J., 153. Orphan, The, 4. Painters, Modem Belgian : — Claes, C., 266. Coomans, J., 302. De Block, E. F., 73. De Bruycker, F. A., 75. De Groux, G., 266. De Jonghe, G., 301. De Keyser, N., 5. Gallait, L., 101. Leys, Baron, 197. Madou, J. B., 37. Portaels, J. F., 133. T’Schaggeny, C., 334. Van Kuyck, L., 335. Van Lerius, J. H., 265. Verboeckhoven, E., 333. Willems, F., 237. Palmerston, Monument to Viscount, 125, 290. Paolo and Francesca da Rimini, 140. Papier Mache, 259. Parian Statue by Minton, 30. Paris Exhibition of the Beaux Arts, 189. Part, Dr. 354. Parthenon : part of the East Frieze, 220. ’arting, The, 212. ?eabody, Mr., 195, 258. Pencils : how they are made, 349. 5encils, Poisonous Slate, 258. fficebe Mayflower, 12. Photographic Lenses, History of, 143. ’hotographs : — Bassano and Davis’s, 159. Boulton and Watts’s Mechanical Pictures, 123. Photographs : — Campo Santo at Pisa, 319. Carbonic Drawings, Rawson’s, 62. Celebrated Pictures, 362. Copies of Pictures by Lucas and Groom, 94. Kaulbach’s Works, 62. Madrid Museum, 244. Negretti and Zambra’s Glass Photographs, 126. Portraits by Locke and Whitfield, 2S9. Sarony’s, 159, 354. Scenery by Frith, 323. Scenery by Jeanneret, 323. Scenery by Wilson, 290. Warwickshire Scenery, 383. Photography, Optics of, 321. Photography, Presumed early, 251, 269. Photography, Sarony’s Apparatus, 94. Photo-relief Printing, 60. Picture by G. S. N cwton, Assumed, 227. Picture Sales. The Collections of — Curling, Mr., 192. D’Espagne, Count, 123. Flatow, L. V., 157, 220. Grundy, R. H., 55. Martin, R., 259. Miscellaneous, 156, 220. Moore, McQueen, & Co., 191. Old Masters, 220. Pennell, G., 220. Reid, J., 191. Rogerson, G. B., 191. Soames, Rev. W. A., 156. Unwin, W., 354. Water-Colour Drawings, 124. Pictures : — Aurora Borealis, Harvey’s, 127. Burning of Santiago Cathedral, Hughes’s, 290. ^ Death of Nelson, Maclise’s, 126. Deserted (The), W, W May’s, 126. Falls of the Niagara, Mignot’s, 259. Festival of St. Swithin, H. Hunt’s, 289. Land of the Lotus Eaters, Dimcanson’s, 93. Life and Death of Buckingham, Egg’s, 95. Palissy the Potter, Mrs. E. M. Ward’s, 116. Portrait of the Queen for Mr. Peabody, 258. Riots in Hyde Park, Hughes’s, 354. Rocky Mountains (The), Beierstadt’s, 190. Studios of Painters, Ballantine’s, 29. Where they crucified Him, Morris’s, 94. Polytechnic Institution, 256. Porcelain, Lowestoft, 305. Porcelain, Marryat’s Collection, 289. Portfolios, Harvey’s, 30. Postboy, The, 380. Raffaelle’s Cartoons, 29. Religion, 92. Restorations, 34. Reviews : — Abbeys of the Border, Ruined, 31. Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, 32. Anatomy and Philosophy of Expression, &c., 95. Antwerp, Visit to, 196. Archers’ Register, 196. Architecture, Glossary of, 356. Architecture of Ahmedabad, 250. Architecture, Village and Cottage, 291, 384. Aid,, Essays on, 228. Art, Philosophy of, 127. Atlantic Telegraph, 64. Aunt Margaret’s Trouble, 324. Autocrat of the Breakfast-table, 96. Autographic Mirror, 96. Awake or Dreaming, 260. Beautiful in Nature and Art, 259. Benaiah : a Talc of the Captivity, 324. Bewick Collector, 268. Bible Dictionary, 196, 356. Bible Illustrations, 122. Bible Texts explained by Monuments, 356. Biblical Literature, Cyclopaedia of, 260 Bimiingham and its Products, 318. Book of Gems, 355. Boulton and Watt, Lives of, 160. Bremer (F.) in Sweden, 228. British Workman, 96. Byron, Selections from, 228. Cast away on the Auckland Islands, 228. Children’s Books, 32. Children’s Friend, 128. Christian, Portrait of Prince, 226. Reviews: — Christian Symbols, Handbook oi, 64. Church Furniture, Decorations, &c,., 355. Clifton and other remarkable Suspension Bridges, 96. Continental Guide-Books, 228. Dante’s Di-sine Comedy, 96. Diamond Dust, 128. Dictionary of Dates, Haydn’s, 128. Dole of Malaga, 292. Drawing from Nature, 95. Elijah the Prophet, 96. English Poets, Passages from Modern, 64. Ephemera, 160. Ethics of the Dust, 63. Fairy Realm, 127. Ferns, British and Foreign, 324. Fine Arts’ Quarterly, 323. Flemish Relics, 31. Foliage, Anatomy of, 160. Glass" Pain ting, 95. Griset’s Grotesques, 384. Gulliver’s Travels, 184. Herald and Genealogist, 291. Holbein und Seine Zeit, 291. Home Treasures, 63. Illumination, Art of, 3S3. Illumination, Handbook of the Art of, 342, Ingelow's Poems, 384. Island of the Rainbow, 32. Legends of Croquemitaine, 384. Jingles and Jokes, 32. Bangs and Queens of England, 196. Lamb of God, 128. „ Life of Man, 63. Lights in Art, 31. Little Songs for me to Sing, 64. Luther, Scenes in the Life of, 64. Lyrical Fancies, 63. Magic Lantern, 384. ' Marmion, 31. Mehemet, the Kurd, 128. Millais's Illustrations, 64. Munchausen, Baron, 63. My Beautiful Lady, 64. My First Sermon, 63. Nature and Art, 292. Norman Conquest, Stories of the, 31. Normandy, its History, &c., 324. Oberland and its Glaciers, 323. Old Merry’s Annual, 128. Our Children’s Pets, 136. Painters, A Century of English, 227. Painters and Engravers, Dictionary of, 259. Painter’s Camp in the Highlands, 260. Painting in Italy, New History of, 196. Photographs of the American War, 127. Piano-forte, A Little Book about the, 260 Pictures of Society, 32. Poems, Armstrong’s, 32. Portraits, Gossip about, 260. Portraits of Men of Eminence, 31. Pottery Marks and Monograms, 196. Prince Christian, Portrait of, 226. Prince of the Fair Family, 372. Prince of Wales’s Marriage, 323. Proverbial Philosophy, 292. Provincial Papers, 324. Queen and her Grandson, The, 62. Queen’s Messenger, 128. Raffaelle’s Frescoes, Prints of, 356. Records of 1865, 128. Recreations of a Country Parson, 228 Rome, Ancient and Modern, 258. Round of Days, 76. Shakspeare, Songs of, 160. Signboards, History of, 336. Reviews : — Snooded Jessaline, 64. Songs for Children, 40. Spain, Travels in, 292. Stories told to a Child, 96. Sunday Reader, 356. Sussex ; its History, &c., 260. Swiss Scenery, 218. Tower of London, Memorials of, 292. Transatlantic Sketches, 63. Up the Elbe, 128. _ Washington receiving a Salute, 228. Watson, Life of M. L., 379. Wayside Posies, 384. Westmoreland and Cumberland, Hand- book of, 324. Wilson, Sketches by Richard, 356. Winter’s Tale, Scenes from the, 64. Wordsworth’s Poems for the Young, 64. Yorkshire : its Abbeys and Castles, 31. Zeitschrift fur Bildende Kunst, 324. Rimmel’s Almanac, 383. Ritualism and Art, 297. Rome, Lady Artists in, 177. Royal Academy : — Banquet, 194. Cooper, Mr. A., 382. Distribution of Medals, 29. Election of Members, 194, 225. Exhibition, 161. Gibson’s Bequest, 93. Hangers, 95, 382. Lectures, 29, 61, 72, 94, 98, 147, 178, 382. Presentation of Books, &c., 127. Presidentship, 61, 93. Proposed Reform, 125, 158, 193. Removal, 221, 289, 322. Schools, Opening of the, 353. Secretary, Resignation of the, 290, 382. Royal Hibernian Academy, 3S1. Royal Scottish Academy, IS, 137. Royal Scottish Association, 285. St. Paul’s, 29, 2S9. Savoy Chapel, 62. Scandinavian Art, 290. Scharf’s Lectures on Portraits, 126. Schools of Art : — Bath, 285. Boston, 192. Bradford, 3S1. Cambridge, 19. Cirencester, 19. Cork, 19. Devizes, 91. Dundee, 54. Exeter, 91. Female, 61, 94. Glasgow, 123. Halifax, 91. Ipswich, 2S5. Keighley, 91. Eadderminster, 92. Lambeth, 45. Leamington, 381. Leeds, 20. Lincoln, 20. Manchester, 344. Nottingham, 123, 225. Reading, 123, 154, 320. Sheffield, 20. Shrewsbury, 344. Southampton, 20, 256, 381. Stourbridge, 92. Torquay, 256. West London, 323. Winscombe, 320. Schools of Art : — Wolverhampton, 344. Worcester, 123. York, 381. Science and Art Department, 290, 382. Sculpture by C. E. Smith, 290. Sculptures, Injury to National, 322. Seals, Ancient Scottish, 290, 304. Sibyl, A, 54. Sleep of Sorrow and Dream of J oy, 20. Society of Arts, 30. Society of British Artists, 145, 322, 353. Society of Female Artists, 56, 94, 383. Spanish Contrabandistas, 288. Sportive Innocence, 280. Spring, 40. Statuette of ‘ The Smith,’ 383. Statues : — Bacon, Lord, 31. Barry, Sir C., 93. Cobden, 30, 62, 290. Coeur-de-Lion, 354. Combermere, Viscount, 19. Eglinton, Earl, 381. Fielden, J. 383. Franklin, Sir J., 383. Guinness, T. H., 61. Herbert, Lord, 61, 126, 323. Hill, Sir R., 159. Josephine, Empress, 255. Locke, J., 91. Macaulay, Lord, 3S1. Marsh, J3ir H., 354, 381. Marvell, A., 62. Northbrook, Lord, 344. Oastler, R., 54. O’Connell, D., 29, 192, 322, 3S1. Palmerston, Viscount, 20, 133, 192, 226. Prince Consort, 277, 285. Queen, The, 306, 344, 354. Schinkel, 190. Scott, Lord John, 159. Seaton, Lord, 344. Sutherland, Duke of, 344. Watt, J., 320. Webb, J., 192, 256. Young Dancing-Girl Reposing, 383. Statues, Our Public, 3S2. Student, The, 306. Susannah, 48. Trooper, The, 100. Turner’s Hidden Drawings, 258. Valentines, Rimmel’s, 95. Visits to the Paradise of Artists, 41, 77, 105, 129, 213, 233, 281, 307, 337, 365. Wall-Paintings at Battle, 322. Water-Colour Painters, Institute of, 175, 373. Water-Colour Painters, Society of, 11, 126, 173. Weary Travellers, 352. Wedgwood, Mr. De la Rue’s Collection, 322. Wedgwood, Lifo of, 322. Wellington Monument, 125. Westminster Abbey, 29, 195, 289, 322. Westminster Chapter-house, 195. Wiertz, M., 217. Wife’s Portrait, The, 204. Windsor Castle, Albert Chapel in, 10, 123. Wood-carving, 112. Wood-earrings at Gatton, 258. Wood-engraving, A Substitute for, 16. Wood's Statue of the Queen, 306, 354. Workhouses, &c., Art in, 30. Working-Classes, Dwellings for the, 287. Wreck olf Hastings, 272. Wright of Derby, 352, 377. I ' -ifi THE ART-JOURNAL. THE ART- JOURNAL. London, January 1, 1866. LIBElt MEMOE1ALIS. BY PHILIP GILBERT HAMERTON. PREFACE. ■ HIS is intended to be a memorandum-book of those natural facts which concern artists and all who study or talk about Art. I se- * - — _ , lect the form of peri - odical publication for the first appearance of this work, because it is impossible to get the materials into proportionate order before the whole is completed ; and a periodical will allow me to recur to any portion of my subject if the acquisition of fresh matter should at any time render such recurrence desirable. The work cannot, in its first form, be altogether orderly ; but this fault may be corrected in a reprint, and an endeavour will bo made to keep materials as much as possible to- gether, under definite headings, so that each chapter may have a kind of separate completeness, like an essay. “Liber Memorialis” simply means a memorandum-book, as every male reader will know ; but as an unfriendly critic might make the remark that it would have .been wiser to avoid a title which recalls the Liber Veritatis of Claude, and the Liber Studiorum of Turner, it may be necessary to observe, that whilst no notion could be more remote from mo than any hope of, or pretension to, rivalry with those famous artists on artistic grounds, I may reason- ably hope, in tho course of this work, to direct attention to many facts of nature which were not illustrated either in the Liber Veritatis or the Liber Studiorum ; and in this sense the present work will no doubt be an advance on its predecessors, just as the labours of a very humble living geologist are an advance upon those of far more distinguished and talented geologists who have been for some time dead. The knowledge of nature is accumulative : we build upon the labours of past generations, and the men of the future will build upon our own. To stand as we do now, on what is for the present the highest tableland, raised by the labour of centuries, is indeed matter for thankfulness, but not for vanity. All that we aro we owe to the dead ; even our most original discoveries would never have been made by us if we had not been prepared for them by in- herited results of ancient toil. To add nothing of our own to this great inheritance of humanity would indeed be unworthy of us ; but though we give a little branch to knowledge, we have scarcely more reason to be proud of our individual achievements than the coral zoophytes of theirs. I limit myself very strictly to the artistic method of study. So far as science can serve me, I am ready to accept its aid ; but when a fact does not visibly affect such appearances as Art deals with, it does not belong to my department of observation. It is only on these terms that a writer on Art, who is at the same time a practical artist, can ever hope to master the very numerous kinds of knowledge that he needs. lie needs something of literature, to know the subjects treated by artists who illustrate literature, and to make readable writings of his own ; something of half a dozen sciences. But happily his researches in these fields may in every case be rigorously limited, and he must limit them. My rule has been to get a painter’s know- ledge of these subjects, and I neither aim at more nor hope for more. INTRODUCTION. ON THE ARTISTIC OBSERVATION OF NATURE. 1. LIow artistic sight differs from ordinary sight. — Men are so constituted that they see only those aspects of things to which their attention actively directs itself. True seeing is never a consequence of the passive reception of impressions, but of activo looking only. To look energetically we must consciously look for something — some object, or fact, or quality. If you have no aim in observation, you will see nothing and remember nothing ; if you have an aim, you will see that which you look for, but no more. Now, the difference between artistic sight and ordinary sight is occasioned by the fact that mankind generally do not look for those truths and qualities which artists look for. There is an unfortunate tendency in persons living habitually outside of Art to consider themselves contemptuously treated when we take it for granted that they are not likely to see, in the artistic sense of the word, so truly as we see, who have devoted our lives to that particular kind of looking. I desire to establish the distinction in the most decided manner ; and yet to do so, if possible, without con- veying to the unartistic reader tho notion, which is entirely foreign to my thoughts, that his presumed incapacity to see, in the artistic sense, implies, in my conception, any degree of intellectual inferiority in him. Those who see artistically have necessarily purchased the faculty by a great expenditure of time ; nor does it imply any general inferiority in others that they have devoted their hours to other objects. It is the business of artists to see artistically ; it is the bounden duty of all who write on Art to learn to see in that manner ; it is the happiness of all true amateurs ; but it can never be considered a power necessary to humanity generally, nor a virtue indispensable to a blameless human life. But though I wish it to be understood that nothing can be more re- mote from my thoughts than any feeling of contempt for the millions of active and respectable persons who are, in the artistic sense, permanently blind ; yet, at the same time, I may be permitted to express great regret that they should not be better aware of this. Their entire unconsciousness of deficiency in this direction leads them frequently to form estimates which are grossly unjust, and to use their influence in such a manner as to render their very possession of influence a misfortune. And yet this unconsciousness is inevitable. Let us only reflect how impossible it is that any human creature devoid of a sense should be able to conceive of it. Men use their eyes as channels of infor- mation about what they want to know. Y ou want to know the hour, and you look at the clock ; you are a farmer, and you look at the sky to see whether it will rain ; you are a lady, and anxious to see whether your rival has as good lace or as fine diamonds as yom- own, and you give keen glances to ascertain the fact. If I am careless about tho time, I may look at the public clock and not see tho hour it marks ; if the weather is out of my mind, I may look at the sky and read on it no prognostics ; and, as I am not a lady, lace and diamonds may float and glitter before me without leaving any impression of their value. The eyes are discreet servants : they only tell us what wo want to know. It is an optical fact, easily proved, that no two men ever saw the same rainbow. It is an a-sthetic fact, scarcely more diffi- cult of proof, that no two men ever saw the same appearance in any object whatever. What men will see is determined before- hand by very complex conditions of faculties, experience, and education. That is why no natural scone is ever exhausted ground ; a new artist coming to it will dis- cover new material in it. Landscape painters go in crowds to the same places — Bettws-y-coed, the Highlands, tho Lake District, the Talley of Chamouni, the Homan Campagna — and fresh generations may go there for centuries, they will never use them up. On the other hand, what one sees another cannot see. That which is as plain to you, as a closed turnpike gate to a coachman on his box, may bo as invisible to me as a thread of gossamer in twilight. If there are wide differences in this re- spect between artists and artists, still wider must be the difference between men trained as artists and the laity who have never devoted their time to the study of Art in a practical manner at all. The world in general — seldom thinking about beauty, not intending to paint, nor looking at nature with reference to Art — either does not see the (esthetic aspects of nature at all, or only sees them in disconnection, and without those ever-present counter-facts which the artist cannot at his peril for one moment overlook. What we call ordinary sight is not by any means all of one kind, but varies with our desires and our infor- o mataon. It may be broadly classed to- gether, however, in this connection, as non -artistic, in opposition to that which is artistic. The non-artistic sight is pene- trating, seeking always some special fact ; the artistic sight is receptive, trying to grasp all the facts, so far as they are visible, yet no farther. This attempt at universal receptiveness, though all honest artists make it, is nevertheless doomed to eternal insuccess, as every artist is narrow in comparison with the immensity of na- ture— narrow, I mean, not only in com- parison with the universe, but with the Spirit which pervades every fragment and detail of the universe. This theory will account for the wide difference of taste which severs artists from the world. What pleases the people best is that which gives evidence of the qualities they most admire and approve; the qualities admired and approved by the bourgeois mind are wealth and order and cleanliness, not artistic feeling and invention. It re- sults from this, that in buildings and fur- niture the bourgeois mind will always seek first for the expression of wealth and order and cleanliness, whereas these qualities are compatible with an entire absence of intel- ligence and taste and invention, for which the bourgeois mind cares infinitely less. Now, to the artistic eye, the costliness or cheapness of an object is always a matter of the most supremo indifference. A statue may be hateful and bad, though of pure gold ; and a sketch in common modelling clay may be precious and beloved as a trea- sure, if it is only good Art. Order * hardly ever seems to artists to compose woll (re- member the litter in Eubens’ pictures, and the foregrounds of Turner’s pictures). Cleanliness has seldom so great a charm as the pathos and sublimity which exclude cleanliness ; the cottages of the rustic poor are more pleasing to artists than the par- lours of the prosperous middle classes ; and gipsies on the march suit them better than gentlemen in a drawing-room. It is evident from this difference in taste between artists and the bourgeois world that there must bo a wide difference in the things they look for and like to see, and hence just as wide a difference in the things or qualities they actually do see. 2. That ordinary seeing may be blindness in the artistic sense. — Not to see anything is, so far as that particular thing is con- cerned, equivalent to blindness. That ordinary sight is blindness in the artistic sense, is very easily proved. When people talk of learning to draw and paint, they ought rather to say they are learning to see, for that is the main object of artistic education. Beginners in drawing continu- ally give proof that the uneducated eye scarcely sees at aE in the artistic sense. They cannot see the proportions of things, they cannot see the true colours of things, they cannot see the relations of things. Forms which to an educated eye are obvious, the beginner does not indicate. If you are working from nature, your drawing, after making due allowance for the necessities of interpretation, is the ac- curate measure of your seeing; if you work from memory, your drawing is the measure of your power of recollection. 3. That the faculty of artistic sight is to be acquired only by active artistic observation. — Artistic sight is not a natural faculty, but is acquired artificially. There is, no doubt, a natural gift which enables some men to * I mean what the bourqcois mind understands by order. There is in every trie artist an intense love of a far nobler and profounder order : every good picture, how- ever seemingly careless in its arrangement, is, in fact, an example of noble order. THE ART-JOURNAL. acquire the faculty more readily than others ; and there are wide differences in the degrees to which men are capable of cultivating themselves; but notwithstand- ing tho fact of the existence of genius, it is certain that no man, without educating himself or being taught by another, ever sees artistically. Artistic education gradu- ally reveals nature to us aesthetically, and develops in us a new sense. Writers who have themselves never been educated artistically often deny this, and say that the “eye of the artist” is no better than their own. They may enjoy natural beauty in some measure without this education, and they may feel much and truly, but they cannot see artistically without artistic training. At the same time, the mere habit of looking at pictures is much, though practical drawing in addition to it is a great advantage. 4. Utility of practical work in artistic observation. — Practical work is chiefly use- ful because it fixes our attention, and takes it surely over the whole field. It is well known that if you have lost anything in an open place, the best way to find it is to divide the ground in smaE squares by cords, number the squares, and examine each one separately. So, if you make a careful study of any natural object, you insure a thorough examination of it, and you can insure it by no other means. It takes time to see anything artistically. Tho time required by a careful study com- pels you to look at the object long enough to learn something about it, which, under other circumstances, no human being would have the patience to do. When Ingres painted the Duke of Orleans, he stipulated for a hundred and fifty sittings, and so had time, let us hope, to study his royal high- ness’s face.* Without the practical object of painting a portrait, no man would stare earnestly at another man’s face for hundreds of hours. Still less would anyone thoroughly examine the details of a landscape. Practical work is useful also for the constant comparison it forces us to make. The qualities of things are impressed upon us by nothing so strongly as by comparison. In merely looking at nature, we compare nothing, or at the best only one part of nature, with another part, but in working actively, we continually compare our bad work with Nature’s exquisite work, and so become much more acutely alive to the infinite beauty of the latter. I believe that every reader who has drawn much will agree with me, that he knew nothing about the objects most familiar to him until he had drawn them. I have had a striking illustration of this in my own recent experience. Though long accustomed to a country life, and (in a very small way) an owner of horses and cows, I never knew anything accurately about these animals until two years ago, when I began to make studies of them with a view to painting. Indeed I may very truly say that until last year I had never beheld an ox or a cow artistically at all, and, being clearly aware of this, postponed wilting a projected article on Eosa Bonheur from the humiliating conviction that although living summer and winter on a large French farm, and intimately familiar with aE the oxen on it, and their labours, personally friendly with them even, and calling them by their names, I had not yet, in the deep critical and artistic sense, seen them. The best way to know anything about an object, is to draw it over and over again in * If we may believe Alphonse Karr. I have read else- where that the number of sittings actually given was eighty. all its aspects. After that, whether we lose our drawing or not, does not much matter ; we shaE know the thing we have drawn, and know it in a manner of which no person who cannot draw is able to form any conception. 5. That artistic observation may be, and usually is, very limited in its field. — Even the best artists see only partially; tho nearer they approach to universality the better the work they do : stiE, even the very best are Hmited. The taste and knowledge of their contemporaries usuaEy erect impassable barriers around artists. If there is no feeEng or desire for a certain order of truth on the part of the pubhc, the artist wiE have no stimulus to study that order of truth ; nay, if he does study and render it, he will incur insult and abuse, and be thereby driven back into tho Ene of subject and treatment which his contem- poraries understand. There is a beHef amongst figure painters, that if you draw the figure weE you wEl, of necessity, draw anything else weE. No behef could be less consistently supported by experience. Whatever their powers of draughtsman- ship, men only draw those things weE which they have seriously studied. What figure painter ever drew the figure more tenderly and dcEcately than Leonardo da Vinci ? Yet his landscape, considered as a representation of nature, is puerile ; it is even occasionally ludicrous. And the landscape of Eevnolds, even that of Gains- borough, though always pleasant in tone and suitable as a variously tinted surface behind figures, how deficient it is in definite knowledge of natural objects ! They never drew the fracture of a rock, nor the build of a tree trunk, still less the anatomy of a mountain. And hi our own day, what school of painting has devoted itself' most consistently and laboriously to form ? The French school. And what artist of that school has, by the admission of aE his con- temporaries, most successfuEy reached the special aim of the school? Ingres. Yet the landscape design of Ingres (considered simply as design, and setting aside all ques- tion of colour and effect, to which he has no pretension) is entirely worthless. We have a hundred landscape painters who can draw landscape better than Ingres, yet Ingres is caEed the high priest of form, and landscape painters are usuaEy considered to be ignorant of drawing. Is there any particular kind of Art which in our day has afforded a proof of the limitation of previous artistic observation ? Yes ; the introduction of pure topography in landscape has proved that former land- scape painters have never accurately ren- dered the forms of natural scenery. The lowness of hiEs, the sHght degree of steep- ness in lines that seemed nearly vertical, the comparative insignificance of features which formerly appeared so important that every artist enormously exaggerated them, the general length of horizontal measure- ments in proportion to vertical measure- ments ; these are modern discoveries which prove to us in a manner not to be gainsaid, by the aid of demonstrations which cannot be disputed, that all previous landscape painters have drawn landscape with a degree of inaccuracy so gross, that it would have been rejected at once by the pubhc if this violent distortion and exaggeration of natural forms had not its reason in some deep-seated want or passion of the ordinary human mind. Even at this day, true topographic landscape is considered false, and careless sketching true, and it requires ; extraordinary manual skiE, or the choice of I scenery in itself of extraordinary natural THE ART-JOURNAL. 3 grandour, to make truth of design in land- scape acceptable. Until within the last few years, no natural scene was ever drawn as it is ; yet the art of drawing is hy no means so recent. I think that this affords suffi- cient evidence that even general powers of design are not enough to make one see a special object truly.* The reader who has himself studied to- pographically will believe this at once, or rather not believe it, but know it for him- self already ; others, who have made no experiment on the matter, may prefer to take what they may consider the painted evidence of hundreds of excellent landscape painters, and reject these verbal assertions. The evidence in my favour’ is, however, patent, and easily tested. Photography, being topographic, proves very much, but any one may ascertain how false are the popular landscape forms by simply marking the chief lines of a hilly landscape on a pane of glass held up between him and the scene. I hope to give engraved illustrations of some curious experiments connected with this subject in a future paper. G. That intense clearsightedness is com- patible with partial blindness. — This follows from the preceding proposition, but it is well to insist on it separately as a warning. English artists are intensely clear-sighted as to surface and detail, but they are often blind to matters of equal if not higher im- portance, to facts which more closely affect unity. Trench artists are, as a body, clear- sighted as to constructive truth in figures and animals, but blind to the truths of colour and to constructive truths in land- scape. In Art we easily perceive the blind- ness of others, but do not so easily detect our own ; if we began to be aware of it, that dawning consciousness would be a proof that our darkness was passing away, and the light of fresh truth breaking in upon us. 7. Difficulty of finding out when we are ourselves artistically blind. — There is a pretty theory that the spirits of the dead may often be with us in our daily life, but that the dulness of our grosser sense hinders us from beholding our ethereal visitants. Thackoray made use of a similar belief about fairies, and said that artists were enviable people who could see the fairies when others saw only what was common- place and familiar. The difference between artists and others is indeed something as great as this, but not every artist sees all the fairies, — some only see fairies of quite an inferior rank. Let us pray that the best of beautiful spirits may become visible to us. How can we know how many may still be invisible ? The only safe or progressive condition of an artist is to look at the world everywhere and every day with the humble hope and expectation of being permitted to see some new beauty and wonder there. Even in the things most familiar to us, there are yet a thousand discoveries to be made. Let us look at them always with untiring interest and curiosity. However successful as observers of nature, however famous as artists, let us humbly believe, what is most assuredly true, that with reference to very much of natural truth and beauty we are even yet in darkness ! This is our only possible chance of getting to see more ; but if we believe, as some do, that the whole truth is visible to us, the little we know will close round us like a prison, and the universe, for us, will narrow itself to the dimensions of a cell. 8. Utility of advice from many artists. — A good way of finding out where we are blind is to encourage many artists to criti- cise our work frankly in our own hearing. They will express opinions in direct con- tracuction with each other, and cause, per- haps, some degree of confusion in our own ; but wo shall hear, from time to time, some suggestion that will lead us to fresh ob- servations and discoveries. Any one who has really studied nature for himself is likely to have seen something that no one else has seen. Let us encourage him to tell us what that thing is, so that we also may get leave to see it. Every new friend who will tell us what his own observations have been may be as good as a new pair of eyes to us. 9. Critical study of many schools. — Artists record their observations in their works : the greater the variety of pictures we have the opportunity of studying, the better our chances of meeting with enlarging sugges- tions. Hence, the critical study of pictures may be an important part of the education oven of the practical artist. It is likely, at least, to save him from the besetting danger of narrowness. He will learn how various are the aims of Art, and select for himself those aims which are at the same time most compatible with his own powers, and most in harmony with his natural feelings and affections. One or two pictures by Con- stable, exhibited in Paris at a time when a new school of landscape was beginning to form itself amongst the younger men, sufficed to give a special direction to the efforts of that school, and their influence, transmitted through other minds, has not yet spent itself. 