"ENGLISH, YOU KNOW, QUITE ENGLISH."
Perhaps, the good old rule that, "You should never look a gift-horse in the mouth," cannot be so rigorously applied to gifts of pictures to the Nation as to other things. Nevertheless, Mr. Tate's munificent proffer of his Collection to the National Gallery, is surely too good a thing to be missed through matters of mere detail. Mr. Punch's view is—well, despite Touchstone's attack on "the very false gallop of verses," there are two things that come most insinuatingly in metre; offers of love, and of friendly advice:—
English Art no longer paints
Those "squint-eyed Byzantine saints"
Mr. Orrock so disparages.
Martyrdoms and Cana Marriages
Over-stock our great Art Gallery,
Giving ground for Orrock's raillery.
Scenes in desert dim, or dun stable,
Than Green English lanes by Constable
Are less welcome, or brown rocks
And grey streams by David Cox.
Saint Sebastian's death? Far sweeter
Sylvan scenes by honest Peter;
There's a charm in dear De Wint
Cannot be conveyed in print.
Verdant landscapes, sea-scapes cool,
Painted by the English School.
Must be welcome to our British
Taste, which is not grim or skittish;
Rather Philistine, it may be.
Sweet on cornfields and the Baby;
Yet of Romney's grace no spurner,
Or the golden dreams of Turner.
Moral? Will a moral, bless us!
Comes like that old shirt of Nessus.
Still, here goes! An Art-official
Should be genial, but judicial.
When an Art-Collection's national,
It is obviously rational
It should be a bit eclectic,
Weeding out the crude or hectic.
He who'd have his country's honour,
As a liberal Art-donor,
Thinks more of his country's fame
Than of his particular name.
Would you win true reputation
As benefactor of the Nation.
Trust me 'tis not "special room"
Keeps that glory in full bloom.
Punch is a plain-speaking chap;
Here's his view of things. Verb. sap.!
Pictures in the Haymarket.—"And there stood the 'tater-man, In the midst of all the wet; A vending of his taters in the lonely Haymarket." So sang one of the greatest of Mr. Punch's singers, years agone. If he had sung in the present day, he would have substituted pictures for 'taters; for surely this pleasant thorough-fare has become a mart for pictures and players rather than potatoes. Look in at Tooth's Gallery, and you will stay a long while, indeed you will age considerably, and may be said to be "long in the Tooth," before you come out, as you will find the exhibition so paletteable. Then having refreshed your eye with the spring sunshine—if there happens to be any about—you will turn into McLean's salon and see a marvellous picture of Jaffa, by G. Bauernfeind, and other works by English and foreign painters. The County Council will have to change the title of this street into the A-market, "A" standing for Art, of course.
A Fancy Portrait of my Laundress, judging by her Handiwork.