SUBJECTS FOR PICTURES. A LETTER TO EUSEBIUS. DEAR EUSEBIUS, — Your letter of inquiry reached me at Gratian's, just at the moment we were setting off to pay a visit of a few days to our friend the Curate, who had ensconced himself in happiness and a curacy about an easy day's ride from his former abode. From that quarter I have no news to tell you, but that the winning affability even of Gratian cannot obtain a smile or look of acknowledgment from Lydia Prateapace. She passes him in scorn. We found the Curate and his bride on his little lawn, before the door of the prettiest of clerical residences. She was reading to him, and that I know will please you; for I have often heard you say that a woman's reading inspires the best repose of thought, and gives both sweetness and dignity to reflection; that then the true listener is passive under the fascination and sense of all loveliness, and his ideas rise the fairer, as the flowers grow the brighter that bend to the music of the sweet-voiced brook. If every reviewer had such a reader, criticism would fall merciful as the "gentle dew,"-ink would lose its blackness. They rose to greet us with the best of welcomes; and like less happy lovers, "That day they read no more." The house is simply, yet elegantly furnished. To the little library with its well-filled shelves of classical and English literature, female fingers had lent a grace--there were flowers, and the familiarity of work, to humanise the severest author in this living depository of the thoughts of all ages. The spirit of Plato might look through his mesmerised binding and smile. The busts of ancient poets seemed to scent the fragrance, and bow their heads thankful. I could not resist the pleasure of patting our old acquaintance Catullus on the back, as I passed, which Gratian saw, and said-"Ay, ay, that's the rogue to whom I sacrificed swine." A few spaces unoccupied by books, were filled with choice prints from pictures by Raffaele. The most appropriate was the "School of Athens," not the least pleasing that portrait of the "gentle musician." The Curate saw how much these prints attracted my notice, and said that he would give me a treat on the morrow, as he expected a package of prints all framed and glazed, which a wealthy relative, with whom, however, he added, he was not very well acquainted, had sent him-and he expected us to attend the unpacking. It is a present, he said, to furnish my curacy, but I know nothing of the giver's taste. I wished at the time, that my friend Eusebius had been present at the unpacking; for I did not augur much of the collection, and I thought the grace of his, that is of your wit, Eusebius, might be wanted either in admiration or apology. For if you happened not to like the picture, "I'll warrant you'll find an excuse for the glass." Shall I describe to you our doings and our sayings on this occasion? imagine the case before us and in the words of another old song, "It is our opening day." Well-it is opened-now, Eusebius, I will not particularise the contents. The giver, it is to be presumed, with the patriotic view of encouraging native art, had confined his choice, and had made his selection, entirely from the works of modern English painters and engravers. And do not imagine that I am here about to indulge in any morose and severe criticism, and say, all were bad. On the contrary, the works showed very great artistic skill of both kinds; indeed, the work of the needle and graver exhibited a miraculous power of translation. That the subjects were such as generally give pleasure, cannot be denied; they are widely purchased, go where you will, in every country town as in the metropolis; the printsellers' windows scarcely exhibit any other. These prints were therefore according to the general taste,-and therefore the Curate must be expected to be highly gratified with his present. Perhaps he was-but he certainly looked puzzled; and the first thing he said was, that he did not know what to do with them. "Are they not framed and glazed?" said Gratian: "hang them up, by all means." "Yes," said the bride, delightfully ready to assume the conjugal defence, "but where? You would not have me put the horses and dogs in my boudoir; and the other rooms of our nest have already pictures so out of character that these would only be emblems of disagreement; and I am sure you would not wish to see any thing of that nature here-yet." But let me, Eusebius, take the order of conversation. GRATIAN.-There is a queen tamer of all animals, and though I would not like to see the Curate's wife among the monsters, I doubt not she could always charm away any discordance these pictures might give. And look now at the noble face of that honest and well-educated horse. He would be a gentleman of rank among the houyhnhnms. I love his placid face. He reminds me of my old pet bay Peter, and many a mile has he carried his old master that was so fond of him. I have ridden him over gorse and road many a long day. He lived to be upwards of thirty-three, and enjoyed a good bite and annuity, in a fat paddock, the last seven or eight years of his life. AQUILIUS.-Gratian's benevolence, you see, regulates his tastes: he loves all creatures, but especially the dumb: he speaks to them, and makes eloquent answers for them. You know he has a theory respecting their language. : CURATE.-And Gratian is happy therein I wish I had more taste of this kind, for these things are very beautiful in themselves; they are honest-looking creatures. In that I have been like Berni : "Piacevangli i cavalli LYDIA. If they are honest, there are some sly ones too. What say you to this law-suit of Landseer's? I think I could make a pet of the judge. AQUILIUS.-Great as Landseer is, I like this but little. The picture VOL. LXIII.-NO. CCCLXXXVIII. was surprisingly painted, but when you have admired the handiwork, there is an end. The satire is not good: something sketchy may have suited the wit, but the labour bestowed makes it serious: we want the shortness of fable to pass off the "animali parlanti." CURATE.-Gratian, who ought to order a composition picture of "The Happy Family" all living in concord, knows all the race, in and out of kennel, and should tell us if these dogs are not a little out of due proportion one with the other. GRATIAN.-I think they are; but do not imagine I could bear to look upon the "Happy Family," though the piece were painted by Landseer. I never saw them in a cage but I longed to disenchant them of the terror of their keeper. They all looked as if they could eat each other up if they dared. No, no-no convent and nunnery of heterogeneous natures, that long to quarrel, and would tear each other to pieces but for fear of their superior. I love natural instincts, and am sure the "Happy family" must have been sadly tortured to forget them. CURATE.—I certainly admire these animal portraits, they seem to be very like the creatures; but I really have no gallery-menagerie where I can put them. They appear to me to have been painted to adorn the stable residences of noblemen, gentlemen of the turf and kennel. You smile, Aquilius, but I mean it not to their dispraise, for in such places they might amuse in many an idle hour, and give new zest to the favourite pursuits. AQUILIUS.-I only smiled at the thought, that though many such noblemen and gentlemen "go to the dogs," they would not quite like to see them among the "family portraits," and was therefore pleased at your appropriating these productions to the stable and the kennel. I am not surprised that you do not know what to do with them. I believe Morland was the first who introduced pigs into a drawing-room; for my own part, I ever thought them better in a sty. GRATIAN.-Hold there, I won't allow any one to rub my pigs' backs M but myself, and you know I have a brace of Morlands, pigs too, in my dressing-room. LYDIA. And if the pictures in any degree make you treat your animals more kindly, Morland deserves praise; and, in that case, all such works should be encouraged by the "Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals." AQUILIUS.-If Gratian is kind of his own nature, his familiarity with all creatures is of another kinship than such as art can bestow. He would have given a litter of straw to Morland himself, had he met him in one of his unfortunate predicaments, and thus have made him happy. But I fear we are not quite safe in thus commending our choice artists, on the score of the humanity they are likely to encourage. CURATE. - Why not? Has not Landseer dedicated to "the Humane Society" the portrait of the noble Retriever; and is that not his "chief mourner,' promoting affection be tween man and beast? GRATIAN." O si sic omnia!" I love all field sports, and river sports too; but it is when horse, dog, and man all agree in the pleasure, and the bit of cruelty-for such, I suppose, we must admit it to be-is kept out of sight as much as possible, that we are willing to adopt the Benthamite principle into the sporting code, "the greatest happiness to the greatest number." Yet I don't like to refine away feeling in this way, and say, many enjoy, and one poor creature is hunted. I rather put it all upon nature. There is an instinct to hunt and be hunted, and perhaps there is a reciprocal pleasure. I like our good old sporting songs; they dwell upon the health and enjoyment of refreshing animation, the sociality, the good humour (and sometimes with a nice touch of pity too) of sport; they take no pleasure in dwelling upon the hard, the cruel necessity. AQUILIUS.-Then are our balladmakers more tender-hearted than our painters! GRATIAN.-And there is need they should be; for some of our painters, and not only ours, but of all countries, have, to my mind, too much indulged in representations of cruelty. I have often wondered how many of the old pictures, your martyrdoms of saints, came to be painted. Who could take pleasure in looking at them? CURATE.-The best were works of high genius, and were painted for religious places; and though cruelty is necessary to the story of martyrdom, it is seldom made the subject-it is the triumph, the angelic choir, and the crown, and the sublime faith,-all combine to make the sublime subject; the mere act then becomes but the accessory; and such pictures, seen in their proper places-the chapels for which they were painted, and with the mind under a religious impression -are of the noblest interest, of most improving contemplation. I have heard such pictures condemned, because they have been seen in uncongenial places, and under antagonistic impressions. They are not for banquet-rooms, nor ball-rooms; nor to be commingled with the low-life subjects of the Dutch school, nor amidst the omnium-gatherum of galleries. The art cannot offer a higher pleasure than the contemplation of these sublime productions of Italian genius, seen when and where they should be exhibited, and alone. I have seen some that make their own sanctity, which seems to spread from them in a divine light, and diffuse itself into the outer obscure, in which all that is unfitting and minute is buried; and the great work of mind has created its own architecture, and filled it with the religious awe under which we gaze and wonder. And are we not the better? AQUILIUS.-I fear this age of domestic life is against the reproduction of such works. All that can adorn the home, the house, and not the temple, we make the object of emulous search. Even our churches, if they would be allowed to receive such works, open as they are but an hour or so in the week, could scarcely have influence, and make such creations felt. In Italy, the passer-by has but to draw aside the curtain, and enter, and receive the influence. In such places, the martyrdoms of saints gave conviction of the holiness of faith, the beauty and power of devotion. GRATIAN.-True; you will teach me the more to admire old Italian art. I confess, the great power you describe has but seldom come home to my feelings; perhaps they are naturally more congenial with home subjects; and I have been too often disgusted with pictures of horrors. A friend of mine I once found copying a picture of the flaying a saint. There was a man unconcernedly tearing away his skin; and the raw flesh was portrayed, I dare say, to the life. He told me it was a fine picture. I maintained that it was too natural. It was, in fact, a bad picture, for the subject was cruelty; unconcealed, detestable cruelty, not made the means of exhibiting holy fortitude. There was nothing in it to avert the absolute disgust such a sight must raise. I would as soon live in the shambles, or in a dissecting-room, as have such a picture before my eyes continually. My friend thought only of the painting; the naturalness and the skill that drew it and coloured it to the quick-not to the life. I have seen so many of the Italian pictures of a gloomy cast, that, for my part, I have rather enjoyed the cheerful domestic scenes of life and landscape of the best Flemish masters, and English too. CURATE.-Art has no power of injunction, or the hand of many an artist would be stayed from perilling a profanation. Minds of all grades have been employed in the profession. The Italians have not been exempted from a corruption of taste and of power. Yet, without question, the grandest and the most touching creations of art have been the work of Italian hands, and the conceptions of Italian minds. I fear I am telling but admitted truisms. AQUILIUS.-I know not that. I doubt if the pre-eminence will be admitted as established. What works do our collectors mostly purchaseyour men of taste, your caterers for our National Gallery, those to whose taste and discernment not only our artists, but the public, are expected to bow? We have heard a great deal of late of encouraging the fine arts. We have had a premier supposed to be supreme in taste. Nay, as if he would cultivate the nation's taste, show the importance of art, encourage collecting, and teach how to collect, has he not, of late, opened bis house almost to the public, and exhibited his collection; and what did it show? doubtless, beautiful specimens of art, but specimens of the great, the sublime, the pathetic? Alas, no! I did not see mention made of a single Italian picture. Now, what would you think of the taste of a man who should profess to collect a library of poets, and should omit Homer, and Eschylus, and Dante, and point with pride to the neatly-bound volumes of the minor poets, and show you nothing higher than the "Pastor Fido," or the "Gentle Shepherd?" LYDIA. Or in a musical library should discard Handel? GRATIAN.-Well, that is strange, certainly; but if we are becoming a it not right to encourage the producmore home-comfort-seeking people, is tion of works for that home market? I cannot agree to put in the background our more domestic artistsand at least they avoid the fault of choosing disgusting subjects. I AQUILIUS.-Do they? I am not quite sure of that: we shall see. suspect they fail more in that respect than you will gladly admit. GRATIAN.-Now, what fault can Do you not like to see the faithful, you find with my favourite Landseer? poor dumb creatures ennobled by his pencil, and made, as they ought to be in life, the humble companions of mankind? CURATE.-If humble, not enno bled! GRATIAN.-Master Curate, do you not read-"Before honour cometh humility?" AQUILIUS.-I agree with you, Gratian. I quite love his pictures: they prising truth, and in general his subare wonderfully executed, with surjects, if not high, are pleasing. Yet I hardly know how to say, in general. could wish he were a little less cruel. there are so many exceptions. I LYDIA.-Cruel! how can that be? his pet dogs, his generous dogs, and horses, and that macaw, and the ging dog. The most gentle-minded familiar monkey, and that dear beglady I am acquainted with is working it in tambour-and has been a twelvemonth about it! GRATIAN. And has he not a high poetic feeling? the "Sanctuary," and the" Combat," -I believe that is the title of the picture-where the stag is waiting for his rival? AQUILIUS.-They are most beautiful, they are poetical; there is not an inch of canvass in either that you could say should have a touch more or less. The scenery sympathises with the creatures; it is their wild domain, and they are left to their own instincts. There is no exhibition of man's craft there, let them enjoy their freedom. Even in the more doubtful "Sanctuary," we have the assurance that it is a "Sanctuary;" but I see, Gratian, that your memory is giving you a hint of some exception. What think you of the fox - not hunted as you would have him painted, wherein "the field" would be the sport-but just entering the steel trap, where you see the dead rabbit, and think the fox will be overmatched by man's cruel cunning? GRATIAN.-Why, I had rather hunt him in open field, and give him a chance than trap him. CURATE.-Even Reynard might say with Ajax, if man must be his enemy “ Εν δε φαει και ολέσσον.” GRATIAN.-I give up that picture; it is not a pleasing subject. LYDIA. I am sure you must like his "Bolton Abbey in the Olden Time." AQUILIUS.-What! with its wholesale slaughter of fish, flesh, and fowl, to feed the gross feeders of the convent? I take no pleasure in it: I could take part with the "melancholy Jacques," and rate "the fat and greasy" ones in good round terms. Who wishes a picture of a larder? LYDIA. Here is his "Hawking Party;" will not this please you? You at least see the health and joy of the sporting are not the hawkers delighted? AQUILIUS. So much the worse, for their part in the transaction is quite subordinate-in the back ground. What is the prominent subject?-the bloody murder of the poor heron. It should have been the accident; it is made the cruel principal: without being squeamishly tender-hearted, I shall never look upon that picture with pleasure. In how different a manner did Wouverman paint his hawking parties! He represented them as scenes in which ladies might participate-the domain, the mansion-gate, the retinue, the grace, the beauty, the cheering exercise, the pleasure of all, even the animals engaged: he does not make the bloody death the subject. GRATIAN.-I must confess Wouverman's was the better choice. You seem prepared with a collection of examples. AQUILIUS.-In this I am only taking what is before me; but worse remains for more severe remarks. You have, I sec, the "Otter Hunt," is it possible that picture can give you any pleasure? What is the sentiment of it?-debasing cruelty. I say debasing, because it puts human nature in the very worst position: the dogs are using their instinct, and are even then defrauded of their game, which the huntsman holds up conspicuously in the picture, (and which is in fact the subject), stuck through with his spear, and writhing in agony. Surely this cannot be "The dainty dish To set before the Queen." It is said to be in her Majesty's possession. There is in Lucian a description of a picture of a Centaur and his family, a magnificent group: the father centaur is holding up a lion's skin to the gaze of his young progeny, to excite them to deeds of courage. If this poor agonised deathwrithing otter is to be perpetually before the eyes of our young princes, they will not learn much good from the lesson. For my own part, I look upon the picture with entire disgust, and would on no account have it before my eyes. I know not in what mood I could be to endure it. LYDIA. I think we really may dispense with the hanging up this picture anywhere. I cannot bear to look at it. It is a picture to teach cruelty. As a test of its impropriety, imagine it placed as an ornament in our Sunday school: we should have the children brought up savages. CURATE. Thanks, dearest Lydia. I well knew this picture would not be to your taste; we will, at all events, set it aside. Happy are we, that our women of England can be mothers of |