"OUR CRITIC" AMONG THE PICTURES. IN my visits to the Academy Exhibition Room, I often catch myself asking this question, sometimes of myself, sometimes of MR. GILP, the eminent painter, sometimes of SQUENCH, the distinguished critic what is a Painter." One can understand what the painter was, in the early schools, when religion demanded his chief service, when his employers were priors, and cardinals, and Popes, or pious laymen anxious to propitiate a saint, or record a mercy, or honour an ancestor, in the family chapel. Painting in those times was a thriving and honourable trade-the studio was called a shop-the master employed apprentices, who ground his colours, cleaned his palette, swept the painting room, and carried on, under the master's eye, all the elaborate processes, with earths, and minerals, and oils, which the SIR EDWINS, OF MR. LESLIES, of that day, performed for themselves, WINSORS and NEWTONS and ROBERSONS being unknown.

chambers of rulers, and, more rarely, in the arcades of great men's houses. But a picture hanging against a wall, as a moveable ornament of a room, was unknown to those times. What pictures there were, then, in private houses, were on the foot-boards of beds, or on the outside of trunks and cupboards, or on the cases of musical instruments, or in similar undignified places, put there, I suppose, to heighten the value of what was in itself valuable, and to lend a grace and charm to objects of household use.

Now-a-days we have changed all this. The painter, now, is an artist, and would be very angry to be called or thought a workman. Meanwhile, the workman has ceased to be an artist. We have separated the domains of the useful and the ornamental. Freestone owns no kin with marble. House-painter, in fustian, takes off his brown paper cap humbly to Historical-painter, with R.A. after his name, dining with dukes, and figuring in the Morning Post among the distinguished guests at Buckingham Palace. Painting is not in demand for churches or chapels. Establishment taboos her, and Dissent looks upon her as diabolical. Only poor half-and-half Puseyism ventures to coquet with her, and now and then breaks out into an altar-piece, or a chancel arch decoration, amidst much dread of sturdy Protestant church-wardens, and disapproving Bishop. She is as much a stranger to palaces as to churches. National council-halls have as yet been closed to her in this country, though their doors are ajar at last. She has been reduced to the dimensions of drawing-rooms, and confined within three-foot frames, and parcelled out in ten-pound infinitesimal doses to Art-Union prizeholders.

And thus it has come about at last, that the devout and stately muse of medieval Italy, amongst us, is fain, with a painted face and dwarfed body, to hustle her way painfully into the Annual Exhibition of the Royal Academy. She must eat, poor creature, and is glad to suit herself for Baker Street dining rooms, and May Fair boudoirs, and Belgravian drawing rooms; or, in her highest flight, for Bridgewater and Grosvenor galleries. She no longer prompts our devotion, nor inspires our recollection of the past, nor beautifies the passages of our common life; but she makes our respectable dining rooms still more respectable, by perpetuating our host and hostess and their charming family, and divides attention in our drawing rooms with the elegant furniture, and splendid window-curtains, and gorgeous carpets-in short, she makes a very comfortable livelihood, in the way of roomfurnishing to a considerable extent.

Our artists, in fact, have ceased to be workmen, if you will, but it is Well, in those days, there was no mistake about the painter. He by becoming upholsterers-ticklers of the eyes of the rich, ministerers was a workman, just as much as the carpenter or mason. In fact, any to the vanity of the vulgar, contributors to the gratification of the distinction of artist and workman was altogether unknown at that time. ostentatious. They elbow one another for room on the walls of the The same hand that squared the beam, designed and carved the Exhibition; and, like impudent ladies in other places, strive to attract intricate tracery or delicate foliage of boss and finial; the chisel that attention by the thickness of their rouge, and the brilliancy of their dressed the stone of the arch, sculptured the angels who hold up the colours-Non musa sed meretrix. corbeil from which it springs. It would seem, after all-though In this sad struggle for the poor function of pleasing JOHN BULL'S MR. GILP protests vehemently against being put on the same footing as eye, no wonder that painting has almost forgotten to ask itself whether a house-painter-that the world gained more from this arrangement it might not yet, perchance, speak to his imagination, and stir his than the artist lost. It was to this that we owe the basilica and mind. In the upholsterer's work the painter has acquired the the cathedrals, the Hotel de Ville and Rath-Haus, the palaces of Venice, upholsterer's taste for fine fabrics and gay colours. He has looked at and all the marvellous blacksmiths' work, and carpenters' work, and life with a decorator's eye, till he has got to value nothing but what he masons' work, and armourers' work, and goldsmiths' work, of the calls picturesque. The men and women round about him are unfit for thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth centuries, in all the civilised his purposes, except as the originals of portraits-for portraits pay. countries of Europe. Most of us have travelled and seen more or less But, for all else, he asks, helplessly, what is to be done with our of the wonders of those times. For those who have not, are there present unpicturesque costume? And, thereupon, finding that the not Wardour Street, and the old curiosity shops? tailoring of the time is unfriendly, he turns away in disgust from the time altogether, and plunges wildly into the reign of CHARLES THE I suppose most of the painters of those times went merrily and con- SECOND, and LOUIS THE FOURTEENTH, and WILLIAM and MARY, tentedly about their business, without much notion of their own dig- where he can disport himself delightedly among brocades and velvets, nity, or the aesthetics of their calling. They would be men of all and gold lace, and peach-blossom coats, and blush-coloured stockings. dispositions and kidneys-the clever jolly dogs, facile and heedless, who And all this while he flatters himself that Art is honoured, because R.A.'s only thought of getting over the ground, and touching the ducats of the sit at great men's tables, and entertain Dukes at Academy dinners. prince, or prior, or abbot, who was their employer for the time No, my dear MR. GILP. Art is more of a trade now, than it was when being the slow and conscientious hands-the feeble imitators-the RAPHAEL'S studio had no other name than bottega-in English, shop; and original thinkers-in short, the usual variety one might look for on the moreover, it is an emasculate and man-milliner sort of a trade, instead of one rolls of any craft. We may be sure the great geniuses were about as demanding strong brains, and a brave and believing heart. It is a trade rare then as now; and that few of the number who worked were im- mainly conversant with miserable things and petty aims-with vanity, pressed in any particular way by the sublimity or beauty of the religious and ostentation, and vulgarity, and sensuality, and frivolity-no longer subjects which the habits of the time confined them to. Still, when dealing with themes of prayer and praise, with the glories of beatitude, there did come a painter with a nature which could rise to the height or the horror of damnation, with the perpetuation of family dignities of his common themes, he had his Heaven to soar in, or his Hell to sink and devotions, the recording of great events, the dignifying of public to. There was room for all the sweetness of motherly love that a and national, or the beautifying of private and individual life. It is a RAPHAEL or a GHIRLANDAIO could dream on to his canvas, for all trade in ornament, and its Academy is a shop, and its Exhibition a the grand horror wherewith an ORCAGNA or a MICHAEL ANGELO display of rival wares, in which the best hope and the sole aim of the could fill the dwellings of the damned, or for all the brooding faith many is to catch the eye of a customer; and he who "colours most of a FRA BEATO, in the work that these men had to do. There highly, is sure to please." MR. GILP interrupts me here, with indigwere no Art- Unions in those days-no Royal Commissions of nation, to ask if I think that this is the artist's fault? the Fine Arts-no Academy dinners or Annual Exhibitions; in fact, My dear MR. GILP, I have never said it is. I do not think it is. I no R.A.'s, incredible as it may appear-no distinguished patrons believe it to be all our faults-the critics', the buyers', the people's, to pay for picture-galleries, nor disinterested picture-dealers to the Government's. Oh! there are enough of us to bear the blame, fill them with undoubted originals. The artist, as we have said, and we really need not quarrel about the distribution of it. Let was a workman-and his work was called for in churches and chapels, us rather think if there is any way to better matters. Suppose we and Campo-Santos, and baptisteries, and town-halls, and in the council venture a hint or two next week.

GRAND DEMONSTRATION OF PUBLIC FEELING IN THE BRITISH

MUSEUM.

MR. PUNCH! MR. PUNCH! I have got such a bunch of ideas, from

And I tremble with fright, as I sit down to write what I saw t'other night in the British Museum.

I had loiter'd till dark in that overcramm'd ark, looking into each case in the mighty collection,

And wearied with that, you know young MEMNON's Statue,-behind

it I sat, you must know, for reflection;

On my elbow then sinking, so long I sat thinking, never heeding the deepening shadow of gloom,

Not dreaming 'twas late, or that every Curator had vanish'd, and left me alone in the room;

When, lo! with much clatter, the head of a Satyr, which I thought

Seized a conch that hung near it, and, blowing to clear it, with a blast

loud and drear it quite startled the hall;

At a summons so stunning, pell-mell there came running all the creatures whose features I'd marked in the day;

Mummies rush'd from their places, and close on their traces, birds and beasts from their cases march'd forth in array:

Cats, Bats, Scarabæi, Dogs, Frogs, and Uræi, all clustered with glee round OSIRIS and HORUS;

While ZEUS and POSEIDON contrived both to ride on the crupper and

LAYARD'S Bulls next advancing, and prancing, and dancing, so fill'd the

young MEMNON with pious emotion,

That he cried, "Sure each shape is our much beloved APIS; let's hasten and show the dear things our devotion."

Then kneeling before them, he strove to adore them, while THоTH, who of AMMON and ISIS the scribe is,

'Twixt the Bulls took his stand, with his Ibis in hand, well knowing "in medio tutissimus ibis ;"

And ArOLLO said, "Really! our beasts fatted freely, when I served in the pastures and stalls of ADMETUS;

But if Bulls such as those e'er had enter'd our shows, I'd have laid ten to one they would certainly beat us."

From the Elgin room crawling, and sprawling, and falling, such cripples
came bawling for help to each other;

Some, of arms quite bereft, with the limbs they had left bore the trunk
Time had cleft from the legs of another;

And next, to surprise us, came young DIONYSUS, like ST. DENIS, his namesake, without any head;

While a THESEUS, deprived of his two feet, contrived on his stumps to hop, WIDRINGTON fashion, instead.

Thighs look'd after their calves; of a Torso the halves from opposite corners sought vainly to meet;

While a Head, in a funk, cried, "Oh! where is my trunk? Where can it have slunk to without any feet ?"

But at length, with much patching, and sorting, and matching, they were all of 'em join'd, save a Lap of LATONA,

Which all helplessly lay, as advertisements say, of no use to any excepting the owner.

From the upper rooms rushing, the larger beasts crushing, came, most with a very disconsolate air,

Because the Mastodon their great toes had trod on, as they jostled and push'd in the crowd on the stair;

And the poor Hippopotamus murmur'd "Od rot 'em," as he walk'd

by the side of the large Polar Bear:

"They've christen'd me Zekoe-that's Cape Dutch for Sea Cow!" and the great Irish Elk added, looking quite grave,

"It's a shame thus to serve us; they've labell'd me Cervus, and all the world knows that's the Latin for slave!"

As I pass'd through the Hall, I could hear one and all making bitter complaints of the places assign'd them.

The Colossi all swore they must break through the floor of the room in which Fate and the Trustees confined them;

Here DIANA complain'd that all day she was chained, vis-à-vis with that fellow, ACTEON; while VENUS

Said, "PARIS stands near me, sweet youth! but, oh dear me! they've planted that frump, EPICURUS, between us,

And my own little CUPID behind that great stupid Sarcophagus stands, looking mopish and dreary;

Quite hidden, poor fellow! much like that puella, in VIRGIL, quæ se cupit ante videri."

"Your griefs, I opine, ma'am, are nothing to mine," said a Bison, who near to her chanced to be standing:

"Oh! I pine and I sigh for the days long gone by, when I lived by myself in a case on the landing;

I had room then, I ween, both to see and be seen; but they've
packed us so close in this classification,

That the Yac from Thibet will do nothing but fret, and the Brahminee
Bull is consumed with vexation;

While the Buffalo Cow her fear scarcely knows how to conceal, lest
the Aurochs, who's stationed between us,

Should insert his fierce tusk in the sides of the Musk, or commence an
assault on the whole of his genus."

As the Bison thus spoke, on a sudden there broke from the head of
RAMESES, just over the door,

(Though it's not got a chest) a strong voce di testa, such as opera
critics ne'er dream'd of before;

And it said, "My fine fellers! the things in the cellars are soon to be brought up the stairs to this floor;

There's an end to our glory, for soon, on each story, there'll be just room enough for our worthy Curators

To take care lest a Trustee find us damp or dusty; but there 'll not be an inch of space left for spectators!"

CCASIONALLY Punch throws himself into the critical chair; and this is such a timely work, and its distinguished author has of late-whether fortunately or not for himself we will not pause to inquire-challenged so much of public attention, that his book has become almost a national work. Let Mr. MURRAY look to his scarlet covers; for the noble EARL OF MARMALADE has here produced a work that demands a place in every traveller's portmanteau.

The noble Earl has a very original notion of the relative importance of Englishmen-or rather their relative nothingness to the country, especially if the country be Italy, in which they may travel or reside. Always conform to custom, is, evidently, the philosophy of the noble writer. When in Greenland, eat walrus and drink whale-oil-in fact, do as Greenland does. The Earl, however, particularly advises young Englishmen to take anything that an Austrian officer may provide them, whether it be the flat of the sword or the edge, with the most perfect stoicism. "Let us suppose," says the noble Earl, addressing the young British traveller, "that you are hustled, or even kicked off the trottoir into the middle of the road by any soldier, native or mercenary to the place; well, it is the worst of ill-breeding to put yourself in a boxing-attitude, like any low coalheaver, or anything of that sort, as though about to knock the soldier down: because soldiers are men of the highest and nicest honour; especially Austrian soldiers: in Italy, the flies are not even permitted to settle on them. No, my advice is to the young Englishman to slack his temper, or quicken his pace."

66

(To" slack a temper" is, assuredly, an odd phrase; but it is evident that the noble Earl- the instances abound in his book-is above common expression, making a language entirely for himself.) The noble Earl continues. "If, however, the Englishman's blood will rise when hustled, shoved, or kicked; and if, in an unguarded moment, he begins to double his fists, and commences to square his elbows," (original style again), and has his skull cut through by the officer's sword, that is not, according to regimental orders, to be insulted; why then, the young Englishman is to be open to an apology, and any amount of money that his ambassador in the place, or his Secretary for Foreign Affairs in England may think sufficient for him. I am assuming," writes the noble Earl, "that the young Englishman is of a commercial character of mind, when money will be all that is necessary. But I cannot hide it from my conviction that I have known Englishmen, and am open to confess I should like to know them again -for such noble spirits save a great deal of trouble to a Foreign Secretary-who, upon being cut down by an Austrian lieutenant would, when able to leave the hospital, send the lieutenant a challenge, and so, making the quarrel a matter of honour, blow the lieutenant's brains out; or, should the lieutenant be the better shot, take the penalty of the lieutenant's bullet. This was according to the good old plan of thirty years ago. A man's honour is always safest in his own hands: that is, much safer than in the hands of a Foreign Secretary. I know it is not Christianlike to try to shoot a man; and yet, I don't THIS trial being concluded, it was found necessary for public health know that gentlemen in Tuscany at least they were not thirty years to fumigate the Court. The taint of friar's balsam, and smell of Roman ago-should be bound by fastidious notions of Christianity. This, candles, were most dreadful. All the walls were whitewashed, pounded however, I will say: I advise no young Englishmen to sojourn camphor strewn upon the floor, chloride of lime sluiced in abundance, especially in Tuscany, and more especially in Florence, without hairand every means adopted to render the place as clean as possible, after triggers." the abominations brought into Court by DOCTOR NEWMAN. We regret to hear that more than one juryman, of delicate constitution, is at present suffering severely from the moral miasma arising from the examination.

As he ceased, such a loud wailing rang through the crowd, that I
started; and, lo! by the sun's ruddy gleam,
Through the windows, I knew I had dream'd, but yet you will allow
that it wasn't entirely a dream.

Queen's Bench.-Achilli v. Newman.

EPIGRAM ON AN UNCONSTITUTIONAL ACT.
THEIR Constitution whilst the French bemoan,
JOHN BULL believes he has preserved his own:
Oh, great mistake!-but not found out, until
They closed the gates on Constitution Hill.

THE AGRICULTURAL LABOURER REPRESENTED! THE MARQUIS OF GRANBY said, in the Commons-"I represent the agricultural labourer!" Punch has received several letters from agricultural labourers protesting against any such misrepresentation.

We have now, we hope, culled sufficiently from the book to do justice to the full-blown reputation of the EARL OF MARMALADE. The work is dedicated in German to LIEUTENANT FORSTHUBER, of the Austrian army, quartered at Florence. In conclusion we must observe, that no traveller's portmanteau will be complete without the book andduelling pistols.

Quiddam Honorarium.

ONE of those troublesome fellows, commonly called "Wags," who sometimes unconsciously hit the right nail on the head, was heard to observe the other day, that the new practice of referring affairs of honour to the lawyers is very suggestive of the old notion of "honour among thieves."

CABINET NEWS.-"Ministers are to eat their white-bait dinner next week."-Daily News. They have already eaten their words.-Punch.

VOL. XXIII.