The best boon the trustees of the National Gallery can confer upon the nation, is to resign in a body. Surely there is now little to induce them to remain where they are, and as they are. This step would compel the Government to do what they have found it necessary to do in other cases—appoint a paid and responsible minister; and, if it be thought worth while to have a National Gallery at all, to provide liberally the means of obtaining it. It will never do, on every trifling occasion, to have to go to Parliament, and to be met in a huckstering spirit. We must break some of the shackles which the modern utilitarian school is ever imposing; we must learn to view the fine arts as a constitutional part of the liberal arts, which must be treated liberally, if we would have them permanently established.
We must now return for a little space to the subject which, in the commencement of this paper, we proposed to discuss: “What are we to collect?” We shall make a great mistake indeed, if we are led by Mr Dyce as an authority, to pass contempt upon either the works of, or the admiration felt for, the genius of the greatest men in art—if we put chronological series in competition with excellence. He overdoes his part, and can gain nothing by such language as this:—“Turgid, unmeaning panegyrics of Raffaelle, Michael Angelo, Titian, Correggio, and the rest.” These “and the rest” are such pre-eminently great masters, that, in some shape or other, we would have their works ever before the public. Where we cannot have originals, we would have copies, and the best that either have been made and can be acquired, or that can now be made. We cannot think a gallery perfect without them. We would have a portion set apart especially for copies of the best works, and also for prints. In them we might have the designs, and the light and shade, the great and beautiful ideas represented: and here we cannot but lament, that the perfection to which the art of engraving has been brought should in this country be given up to inferior and almost to worthless things. Our engravings indicate the public taste, the causes of the low state of which we have already remarked upon. If there be really a desire to instruct the public—and without instruction there will not be an encouragement for a better devotion of that beautiful art—let the collecting the best engravings, whether old or new, be a great object with the purveyors of a National Gallery. Nor would we have the grand works to which we allude put away in portfolios, but glazed, and hung upon walls specially appropriated to them. Let us have, at least, good things—the best originals we can procure, and the next best, copies, and engravings of the best; and not waste time and squander means in searching out for chronological histories, the attenuated deformities of the Byzantine schools, the hideous performances of those predecessors in art, who had not yet acquired the knowledge of drawing with any tolerable correctness.
We are earnest to make this protest against the chronological scheme, and we hope it will be dissipated by the general voice, because Mr Dyce’s pamphlet seems to have found favour in the eyes of the commissioners. They almost adopt his language—or at least, with little variation of phrase, his argument, and his illustration. They too speak of an “intelligent public,” which has no existence as to art, and is but the translation of Mr Dyce’s Latin quotation, “docti artis rationem intelligunt.” With him, they snub the admirers of “Raffaelle, Titian, and Correggio,” and adopt his literary illustration, and a very bad illustration it is, for the rubbish of books in the world is even greater in bulk than the picture rubbish. Some of the book rubbish may indeed bear affinity to art, and come within the scope of the scheme’s arrangement. The woodcuts of our earliest spelling-books, of Jack the Giant-killer, of Pilgrim’s Progress, and the “specimens” heading last dying speeches and confessions, may yet be discovered with some pains, and no very large cost, if a Parliamentary commission would bespeak Mr Dyce’s acceptable labours. How gratifying to such collectors would it be to trace the rise and progress of that particular branch of the art now so much in fashion, from the earliest “specimens” of designs in popular editions of Æsop’s Fables, to Mr Landseer’s last costly print. Nor should the old glazed picture tiles, that used to amuse our early childhood, when the glow of fire-light illuminated the “animali parlanti,” warmed our young affections, and heated our incipient imaginings, be omitted. The “intelligent public” might perhaps hence learn not only a little in the history of art and its progress, but somewhat also of the history and progress of cruelty, when they see how much artistic labour has been bestowed, and what a large price is given, in our modern improvement days, in getting up and in the sale of that “perfect specimen,” Mr Landseer’s “Otter Hunt,” where the poor creature is writhing upon the spear of the huntsman, and the howling brute dogs are in sympathetic delight with the human bigger brute than themselves. It will be then not uncreditable if the “intelligent public” retrograde in their taste, and for once agree with Mr Dyce in rather admiring the attenuated and ill-drawn deformities, which, after all that can be said against them, were a less libel upon man and brute than some later and more perfect “specimens.” To this extent the chronological idea must go for completion, for Mr Dyce, the favourite of connoisseurs and dilettanti, will not allow them to stop short of it. “Notwithstanding appearances,” he says, “I do not imagine the trustees of the National Gallery ever seriously contemplated the establishment of an index expurgatorius of pictures.” Such opinions he considers obsolete. We must have all “specimens,” however bad; for he says, in emphatic italics—“The collection can aim at no lower object than to exhibit the whole development of the art of painting; the examples of which it consists must therefore range over its whole history!” The “ςηματα λυγρα” of Zellerophon were not of a more deadly character than would the contemplated collection be to all true notions of the Beautiful in art—the collection of inhumanities, the doleful horrors of saints and demons, and worse and more awful representations which preceded perceptions of the Beautiful.
We ought to be glad to learn from any who know better than ourselves, but we very much question if our perpetual appeal to the practice of foreign galleries, in the way in which it is made, is at all a healthy sign. We are not sure that some of the examples we seek may not rather be warnings. It is a confession of imbecility and mistrust in themselves of trustees and commissioners. Foreign architects, foreign directors, and foreign galleries, bear too prominent a part in our blue-books and our pamphlets. We are confident in our own men, if not in the “intelligent public.” We have men quite able to devise galleries, and to know how to fill them. The misfortune has been, not that we lack men of ability, but we do not employ them. And why? Our governments have no better taste, no better knowledge, no better desires, with regard to the arts, than the “intelligent public.” They have never entertained serious views upon the subject. In conclusion, we would ask if the series of Hogarth’s pictures have been removed from our National Gallery, on which they conferred an honour and importance of a kind that no other gallery in Europe can boast of possessing, with the object of forming a chronological series of the British school. We hope to see them transferred to their old places. Our National Gallery should not be deteriorated, to give a grace to Marlborough House, however much it may want it.
THE REFORM BILLS OF 1852 AND 1854.
The postponement of the second reading of Lord John Russell’s new Reform Bill, until a later, and it may be a protracted period of the Session, is suggestive of some important considerations. It shows, in the first place, that even the author of the bill is by no means confident in his power of carrying it through the House of Commons, else we may be perfectly certain that no departure from the original arrangements would have taken place. It shows, moreover, that other members of the Cabinet—or, we should rather say, the members of the Cabinet collectively—do not consider the provisions of this measure of so much importance as to justify them in allowing it to interfere with the more immediate exigencies of the state. In one sense of the word, Lord Aberdeen and his colleagues are thoroughly conservative. They want to keep their places; and they have no idea whatever of sacrificing themselves through the impulse of Quixotic gallantry, or of allowing Lord John Russell’s pledges to imperil their tenure of office. But they have an obstinate and pragmatical man to deal with, and cannot afford to affront him. Without Lord John Russell, the Coalition could not stand, and therefore, in some matters, they are compelled to allow him more license than is agreeable to their own inclination, or in accordance with the interests of the country. Thus, they not only permitted him to prepare his measure during the recess, but they gave it real importance, by introducing it as a material part of the ministerial programme, as announced by her Majesty from the throne. At that time there was no more probability of a pacific settlement of the Eastern question than exists just now; so that every objection to the measure, founded on the impropriety of exciting internal agitation at such a crisis, must have been foreseen. There was still time before the development of the measure, and the publication of its intended details, to have postponed it without any loss of credit. No one would have blamed the Ministry had they done so—even the most ardent reformer could scarcely have maintained that they were bound to force it through Parliament, just as if no war were expected, or as if the country emphatically demanded it. But Lord John Russell would not consent to that. He was determined that the whole details of his project should be laid before the public; and he accordingly did so in a speech which fell flat on the ear alike of the House and of the country. He fixed a day for the second reading; but before that day arrived, postponed his bill until a later period of the Session, with a statement that, even then, it would depend upon circumstances whether he should proceed with it or not.
This is not such conduct as the country has a right to expect from the ministers of the Crown. They were entreated, both by friends and opponents, not to bring forward their measure in the midst of warlike preparations, and in the total absence of any demand on the part of the country for an immediate change in the representation. Those entreaties were met by silly, bombastical, and vapouring speeches about the sublime spectacle which Great Britain would afford to the world, if, while waging war abroad, she applied her energies to the remodelment of the constitution at home! We need not pause now to demolish that most pitiful pretext. It has virtually been given up by the Ministry; for they now acknowledge, that the time originally fixed for the second reading of the English bill was not seasonable; and they indicate, that if we should be actively engaged in war on the 27th of April, the bill will not be proceeded with; so that the notion of the “sublime spectacle” is thrown aside, whilst the cause of the irritation, made worse by the divulgence of the scheme in detail, is still continued.
No really united cabinet would have ventured to act in such a manner. It is in vain to tell us of concert and cordiality, when the public measures of one week belie the bragging language used in that which immediately preceded it—when bluster is followed by postponement, and extreme recklessness by an affectation of patriotic caution. The prevalent opinion is, that the bill will not be proceeded with; and if the Ministry had said even so much as that, there would have been no occasion for any further discussion; but they will not say it. Lord Aberdeen, on the 9th of March, when urged by Earl Grey to withdraw the bill altogether, is reported to have replied, that “the second reading of the bill had been postponed by Lord John Russell till the 27th of April, in sincerity and good faith. Whether it would then be proceeded with, depended upon the state of Europe; for no one could tell what a day or an hour would bring forth. Government, however, would act consistently with the interests of the country, and with a due regard to their own honour.”
We cannot predict what the Government may do hereafter, but we know what they have already done with respect to this matter; and it is our humble but deliberate opinion, that they have neither consulted the interests of the country nor their own collective credit. We should have been very glad, indeed, had they allowed the subject to drop; for we should then have been spared the necessity of criticising their conduct. But, threatened as we are, though by no means agitated or alarmed by the suspension of a most clumsy weapon over our heads, we must take the liberty of reviewing the proceedings of these Dionysians.
Let us assume, which we really believe and devoutly hope to be the case, that, notwithstanding the professions about sincerity and good faith, this bill has been absolutely sent to limbo. Let us look upon it in the light of a scheme abandoned. That, however, cannot acquit Ministers from the serious charge of having played fast and loose with the country, by embodying in the Queen’s speech, at the opening of Parliament, a distinct recommendation of internal organic change, when war was staring us in the face. They knew then perfectly well that there existed no probability of the settlement of the Eastern dispute without a direct appeal to arms; and it was their bounden duty to have interdicted the mooting of such a question at such a time. We maintain, that no cabinet has a right to countenance this species of deception. No specific measure should be announced by a Ministry, much less recommended by the Crown, unless it is seriously intended that it shall be carried through, not at some indefinite future period, but in the course of the existing session. This is not the first time that the country has been annoyed by this indecent and reprehensible practice, introduced, we believe, by Lord John Russell, of rash ministerial pledges. We do not think that even a premier is entitled, towards the close of one session, to announce distinctly the ministerial policy of the next, or to bind himself by a specific pledge; for even a premier is not allowed by our constitutional custom to act autocratically—he must carry along with him at least the majority of the Cabinet. He cannot accurately predict who may be his colleagues at the opening of the ensuing session—he cannot foresee what events may occur or causes arise to render a change of the intended policy not only expedient, but necessary. If a premier is not entitled to do this, still less is a subordinate like Lord John Russell; and yet we see him, session after session, blabbing about future schemes, and pledging himself unconditionally to their introduction. This is really intolerable, and it is full time that the nuisance should be abated. If the noble lord is of opinion that, notwithstanding all which we have heard and seen, he has still power and reputation enough to head an independent party—let him leave the Cabinet, and then, as a plain member of Parliament, he may pledge himself to his heart’s content. But while he remains a minister and servant of the Crown, he is bound to maintain the dignity of his position, and preserve a due decorum, instead of acting like a popularity-hunter and a partisan. Of late he has let himself down woefully. We are not accustomed, in this country, to see ministers, while in office, engaging in literary squabbles—and exposing themselves to damaging rejoinders by petulant paragraphs and absolutely deplorable sneers. Their duty is, not to write or edit gossip and scandal, but to devote themselves, heart and soul, to the affairs of the nation and the service of their sovereign; and, if they are not willing to abandon their favourite pursuits, they ought at once to withdraw. With less than this the nation will not be satisfied; and we really think we are acting a friendly part to Lord John Russell to tell him so, in as many words. If he doubts our sincerity, let him ask the opinion of his colleagues upon the point; and we are ready to stake our existence that they will be unanimous in their agreement with us. We believe also, that, if the question were fairly put them, they would be unanimous in recommending him, for the future, so long as he is a member of the Cabinet and acting along with them, to abstain from that system of specific pledging, the result of which, in the present instance, has by no means tended to raise them in the estimation of the country.