Ever willing to extend our protecting ægis to the weak and unsupported, we feel ourselves called upon at the present juncture to step into the arena as the defenders of several meritorious individuals whom we conceive to have met with the most unworthy treatment in regard to the exhibition, or rather the non-exhibition of their productions of art in the Crystal Palace. We have received a number of communications from artists of first-rate talent, complaining of the exercise of undue influence in official quarters, but we have been more immediately led into an investigation of the circumstances connected therewith, by a communication from Mrs. Peachey, of No. 35, Rathbone Place, Oxford Street, artiste in wax to Her Majesty. That lady's statement is nearly as follows:—that about twelve months ago, when the erection of the building in Hyde Park was spoken of, and the nature of its contents mentioned, she, feeling anxious to prove to the world that the very high and royal patronage she enjoyed was not unmerited, sent in her subscription of five guineas towards the construction of the building, and intimated her intention of sending in some specimens of her own works. She was immediately assigned a most elegant site for her display on the ground floor, in the avenue near the fountain.
Nothing could be more consonant to her wishes, and she forthwith sent in her pedestals and minor portions of framework, etc. Some time since, however, on questioning this gentleman as to the certainty of her getting the desired position, she was astonished at being told she must send her articles to No. 29, in the gallery. This she refused to do, and the consequence has been that the Exhibition has been deprived of some of its rarest specimens of art. The reason Mrs. Peachey assigns for not sending her works to the gallery is the impracticability of their being carried up stairs without being, from their extreme fragility, seriously injured, perhaps mutilated. Even were they to be slung up by tackle, she says they would be subject to the same risk, and her two principal works, viz.—an enormous bouquet of the most exquisitely modelled flowers, and a gigantic vase of fruit, she values at no less a sum than £1000.—Sunday Times.
A visit to Rathbone-place, is a stepping from the ordinary exhibitions of mere art to a miniature garden, in which may be seen grouped together the beautiful flowers and fruits of every season and every clime. We shall not attempt to describe with too nice minuteness the wonderful creations of this gifted lady's hand, but freely give our impressions as they came on our inspection of these completions—these perfections of art.
To name all the blushing subjects so fairly representing the rich and wide domain of Flora, would be far less easy of accomplishment, of enumeration, than to say that queen roses—the English rose—the delicate, the beautifully clothed lily—the crimson fuchsia—the acacia, and gorgeous tulip—the Victoria Regia, in all its stages of development, bud, blossom, flower,—were as the realities of stilly life, which seemed to say, in the expressive language of flowers—"put aside from us our glassy veils, remove our crystal shrines, that we may nod kisses to the wooing zephyrs."
Pomona, too, was there. Her thousand fruits clustered under transparent concaves. Grapes that might have moved Bacchus to press them with his rosy lips—peaches, melons, shiny currants, inviting strawberries, and crowning pineapples—all worthy the pencil of a Lance—glorious as the painting of nature, mockingly tempted us to seize the fairy prizes—reminding us of an anecdote of Swift. The facetious dean, with several friends, was invited to walk the rounds, and admire the delicious fruit bending the countless trees to the earth in the orchard of an "old acquaintance," who kindly pointed out to his most admiring guests the charming sweets by which they were surrounded; but, "sour grapes to them"—asked them not to make themselves "at home," nor offered pear nor apple. This was too much for Swift, who had a happy knack of inventing scraps of poetry to suit his purposes, and thus applied himself on the occasion; "I remember that my old grandmother had a saying:—
"Always take a peach
When within your reach."
Action suited to the words quickly followed. The quick arch wit of St. Patrick's put forth his hand, and his good example was followed by all the company, who each took a peach, when within his reach. Now, we must confess that we were almost tempted to essay a similar feat of onslaught on Mrs. Peachey's magic garden, but were, fortunately for all future sight-seers, withheld by the consciousness that those many rainbow liveried sweets to the eye, were not for ourselves or Covent-garden, but were the triumphs of a skilful artiste.
And are these the works that have been, which are refused a fitting place in the high field of universal, peaceful rivalry and competition in the Crystal Palace for the works of all nations? What! Can this be possible? Here are the works of our own nation not there—excluded! Surely for the credit of the Exhibition—for the honorable name of the Executive Committee, there should be enquiry. The works cannot be said to be excluded upon their merits, for they have not been inspected by the authorities. There was, nay, there is room enough in the building in Hyde Park for this peerless and costly challenge of an English woman as an artiste. England in fair competition against the world! We looked for these gems of art in the Crystal Hall—but found them only in the catalogue! We asked where they were, and the nymph Echo answered "where!" If there be any unworthy motive for this, to us, incomprehensible exclusion of native art, let such be dissipated by the breath of public opinion. But we would fain persuade ourselves that there must be some misapprehension. The works of a lady—patronized by the Queen, to be excluded from an Exhibition open to the people of all nations—we cannot comprehend it; but for the honour and fame of the nation, hope to see in their proper places, works daily visited, and admired by the aristocracies of rank, wealth, and refined taste.