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THE SOCIETY OF BRITISH ARTISTS.
SCENE-the Gallery. VIATOR is discovered with a catalogue in his hand, limneth it of a calm evening." staring wildly at the walls. To him enter SCRUTATOR.
SCRUTATOR." Give thee good den! Art studying these pictorial phantasies, Oh, VIATOR ?"
VIATOR.-" Ay, marry, that am I. What think you of the show?" Sc.-"Tis a passing good show, and such an one as I cannot mind me to have seen this many a long day."
VI.-"Here be hugely good painting, i' faith. I would I were
Sc.-"Nay, never be discontented! But, come, we will make the grand tour of the Gallery. This Beau's Stratagem,' now, is a clever picture. 'Tis deftly limned, and the yellow velvet of the gallant's doublet is e'en excellent."
VI.-"And the maiden's garb, too, is charming-who is the painter ?" Sc.-"BARNES!"
VI. "Not the Common evidently-he's above that. Here now is a noble work by COLE. Of a truth the sunlight is ably done." Sc.-"It is. And, methinks, LUDOVICI hath well portrayed the seclusion of the cloister hero."
VI.-" He hath, of a truth. But did you mark another canvas by BURR in yonder chamber, the presentment of a lad nursing his little brother?
Sc.-"It did not escape me. It is a prettily-conceived work. But there be some rare gems in the smaller apartments, notably a twilight by the sea, which BARNES hath painted."
VI.-"Tis infused with the very spirit of true poesy. Dost not think THOм paints well? See the pilferers here in the orchard by the river-side."
Sc.-" And makes thee plaguy ill. But come, take heart of grace, and let us go see how quietly the Thames looks when C. J. LEWIS VI.-"Aye, that is more to my taste, and minds me of the time when I was wont to wet a line with good MASTER IZAAK WALTON." Sc.-"Here be noble moonlight passages in GILBERT's picture. What say you ?"
VI.-"It beseemeth me I have seen the like before, or what nearly resembleth it."
Sc.-"You must go look at DONALDSON's Roman view, if ye must needs have originality and novelty."
VI.-"I took note of it but just now. It is ill placed, but 'tis brimfull of truth and reality. It likes me much."
Sc.-"Where be the critics one is wont to meet at the private views, Master VIATOR? By my halidome, I have not clapt eyes on one this whole noontide."
VI." There be other galleries open privately this day, and since they belong to dealers the critics have flocked thither."
Sc.-" Is it so? It seems it would be more becoming to do honour to a Society of Artists first, and go honour the dealers afterward." VI.-" Aye, marry; but Societies don't give dinners and bals masques, the which your dealer doth at times."
Sc.-"Say you so? Then my faith in critics is like to come to diminishment."
VI.-" Mine cannot be diminished."
VI.-"That is the point-which, as gossip Euclid putteth it, hath no size nor magnitude."
Sc.-"You are pleased to be satiric. But now let us go and drink beer. It is a performance full of pleasure after a picture-gallery." VI.-"Spoken like a philosopher. I am with you! Dost know a handy hostel?"
Sc.-"Within a petronel's shot of this. What say you of the gallery as a whole ?"
VI." The best exhibition I have seen here this age. But see what a capital collection of water-colours we have yonder?" Sc.-""Tis a capital gathering, and one that might run alone instead of following on the heels of the other department." VI.-"It might, of a verity. But we must not linger." Sc.-"Have with you!"
Loon: Pinted by JUDD & GLASS, Phanix Works, St. Andrew's Hill, Doctors' Commons, and Published (for the Proprietor) by W. AI DER, at 80, Fleet-street, E.C.April 13, 1867.
OUR LIBRARY TABLE.
Two publications which bear upon the Paris Exhibition lie before us. The Art-Journal supplements its usual contents with an illustrated catalogue, which is got up in admirable style. To judge from the accounts received from Paris, we should say that purchasers of the Art-Journal this month will have seen more of the Exhibition than the season-ticket holders have as yet, for the catalogue is profusely illustrated. The subjects are chosen with taste, and drawn and engraved with skill. The other portion of this long-established Art publication is up to its usual standard.
MESSRS. JOHNSON AND SON's Complete Official Catalogue is very handsomely turned out. Its exterior appearance is certainly more pleasing than that of the huge shed whose contents it enumerates. Our readers would not believe us if we were to say that we have read the volume carefully, so we will not say so. But we may venture unhesitatingly to assert that it is just the sort of book one is likely to take up at odd intervals and put down again.
We have received from MESSRS. ROUTLEDGE AND SONS the first number of The Book of Pigeons, by MESSRS. TEGETMEIER AND HARRISON WEIR, with coloured portraits-not of the gentlemen, but of the birds, of course. MR. WEIR is the artist par excellence for the work, and MR. TEGETMEIER is a profound and sound student in Natural History, and has turned his attention specially to pigeons. We are not aware whether he is the author of those touching lines"How happy the little birds must lie,
With their legs sticking out of the crust of a pie!" but we should be inclined to attribute them to him.
THE same publishing firm also send us two of their Household Manuals. The first is How to Preserve Fruit. The only plan we ever found to answer was to put broken bottles on the top of the garden
WHAT do I care if it's MILDRED or MILLIGENT?
Language of looks is a dangerous game.
Friends we were both when our silly eyes met, you know, Only a night ago, still it's absurd,
Knowing we've heard of each other, and yet, you know, Neither exchanged a soft whisper or word.
Conventionalities preached by society,
Cannoned against us and left us in "baulk;"
Gave us of chattering friends a satiety,
When we were longing to cut them and talk.
Classical fable has told us of TANTALUS,
Trying for ever to moisten his lips;
Love, like the Danaïd daughters or Dryades,
Doves for a moment and afterwards stars!
Facts we shall find leave a nauseous sediment,
ON A NEW PARTY.
WHY by the name of "Peacock's tail,"
Each individual opinion,
It's all made up of "I's."
But where so many leaders are,
To call it "Heads and Tails?"
Oh, no! The Peacock title's best-
With that description blent;
wall, lock the gate, and lose the key. The second manual is Good Food: What it is, and How to Get it. This ought to be popular at the price, for there are thousands of people whose chief difficulty in life is "how to get food "-good, bad, or indifferent. A handbook of Fishing, also issued by MESSRS. ROUTLEDGE, seems admirably adapted for its purpose-a guide to angling for boys. We should recommend MESSRS. ROUTLEDGE to dedicate the next edition to the CHANCELLOR OF THE EXCHEQUER, who is, if we may believe MR. BERNAL OSBORNE, an adept at the gentle craft.
Laboratory v. Gasworks.
A NEW Scientific journal, the Laboratory, which is intended to record the results of the investigations and experiments of Science, makes the following statement :—
"Dr. Frankland's course of lectures on coal gas has unseated the popular belief respecting the conditions of luminosity of a gas-flame. They have also disturbed the peace of the London Gas Companies.
The popular belief touching the luminosity of a gas-flame is-thanks to the gas companies-that there is precious little of it. We are glad to hear that the peace of the gas companies is threatened, for they have thrown a gloom over every household that used their gas, and ought to suffer for it.
line to be adopted by the Liberal party, should on the very night of the debate, when he had his course cut and dried, be intercepted in the lobby, by a deputation from a small tea-room party, with the observation, "Oh! you"--Well, "Oh! you seasonable politician!" Whether the month has other surprises in store for other people, at present there is no saying, but I don't think we shall reach May without some more startling and unforeseen novelties.
THERE has been some correspondence in the Oxford Times on a subject to which I alluded some time since-the conduct of some of the undergraduates at the lectures and entertainments at the Town Hall. I am sorry to think there is no improvement. "A Citizen" writes on the subject endorsing the remarks of the reporter, who had animadverted on the indecorous behaviour of some of the "young gentlemen" at a recent entertainment. "Catcalls, hisses, stampings, groanings, curses, and coarse and offensive remarks" are enumerated, and it is stated that a lady who was singing was not spared such insults. The young men are also described as paying for the back seats, and forcing themselves into the reserved places, attacking the man in charge when he remonstrated, and overpowering him by numbers. This letter, I regret to say, stands uncontradicted, a Master of Arts writing to admit and deplore the charges, and suggest that the entertainments shall no longer be sanctioned. Such a step would be one of greatunfairness to the inhabitants of the town, who surely ought not to be debarred from rational amusements because Alma Mater cannot lick her cubs into shape. It seems to me that if undergraduates were forbidden to go to the Town Hall without taking and booking places beforehand the difficulty would be met, and the only inconvenience in the arrangement would be experienced by those who make such a step necessary. While I am grumbling, let me add a protest against the betting spirit which has of late marked the Oxford and Cambridge Boat-race. Books are made on the event, and the speculations have in some cases assumed gigantic proportions. It is a very lamentable thing that the money element should become a chief feature of the brotherly contest between the two Universities. When it becomes a question of lucre instead of laurels, the race loses its principal charm, and the crews are reduced to the unenviable position of Derby cracks, that it is worth the while of unprincipled men to try and hocus.
I WENT to the Lyceum the other night to see the revival of The Duke's Motto. What a capital play it is! The plot is told with clearness and vigour, and every act is constructed on true principles. It is quite refreshing to come back to so genuine a piece after the trash of the sensation dramas we get nowadays. FECHTER still plays Lagardère with the same go and spirit-and the same tenderness-as ever.
THE Excelsior Readings, published by MR. MURBY, to which I alluded some time since, have reached a fourth part, and the published series lies before me. The selections seem judiciously made, and are arranged with every care. The binding, to which notice is particularly drawn, is a novelty intended to ensure strength and durability, two qualities which will recommend themselves to parents and guardians, though they may not command much popularity among the youngsters.
SIR MORTON PETO, according to promise, got up in the House the other night to ask for an inquiry into the affairs of the London, Chatham, and Dover Railway. The motion, as might have been expected, was refused, so the honourable gentleman had to carry his bucket of whitewash out again. He was much buttered by the leaders on both sides, but unfortunately that does not help in any way to remove the cloud which envelopes the matter, and we are no wiser than we were, for in introducing his motion, SIR MORTON was particular to avoid explaining some of the mysteries. When he had tried and-no doubt to his great disappointment-failed, there came a fracas, touching a motion for an inquiry into the doings of the Grand Trunk Railway in Canada. If one may judge from a pamphlet, containing a report of a recent meeting, the Grand Trunk seems to be in the wrong
single-barrelled bill. The present Government were so determined that THE Reform Bill of the late Liberal Ministry was condemned as a introduced duality of franchise, so that theirs was a double-barrelled the same epithet should not be applied to their measure, that they bill with a vengeance. We doubted, however, whether such duplicity would be persisted in.
Stirring him up with the Wal-pole. ALTHOUGH the Home Secretary has respited WAGER, it is no odds, for he has not proved himself TOOMER-ciful.
(An Intercepted Communication addressed to the Editor of NOTES AND QUERIES.)
SIR,-I have just lighted upon the following curious extract from a Venetian newspaper of that indefinite time known as "the period," from which you will see that Parliamentary language-which sometimes conceals the thoughts, and always amplifies the expression-is not peculiar to these later days, but prevailed in those from which Shakespeare drew his materials for the tragedy of "Othello." The discovery is also valuable as illustrating that disdain of originality which is one of the most daring characteristics of the Immortal Bard. I need scarcely add that the speech, reported in modern style, is that of the Moor to the Venetian Council upon the subject of his elopement with Desdemona. I give it textually as it stands in the debate. "General Othello, Commanding in Chief, then rose, and addressing the most potent, grave, and reverend signors-if they would allow him to call them so said that he (the hon. and gallant gentleman) was free to confess that he had taken away the old man's daughter; it was also true that he had entered into a matrimonial alliance with that lady; but this he considered to be the extent of his responsibility. He admitted that his manner might be wanting in suavity, and deficient in the conventional modes of expression which belong to a tranquil state of existence. For since his (the hon. and gallant gentleman's) arms had advanced to so approximate a period of maturity as the age of seven years, until their present condition, which had been one of comparative inactivity for the space of nine months, they had employed the action in which his fondest affections were concentrated, in fields of battle adjacent to the encampments of the army which he had the honour to command. He (the hon. and gallant gentleman) was competent to speak but to a limited extent of the great world-not, indeed, in a more extended degree than would relate to martial achievements; and he considered, therefore, that he should add but little to the object he had in view by attempting the advocacy of his own interests. Nevertheless, he was prepared, without, he hoped, unnecessary intrusion upon the patience of the assembly, to make a statement (which he could assure them should be distinguished by rotundity, and characterized by an absence of artificial adornment) of the entire career of his affection, including the nature of the chemical preparations, the inducements of an illegitimate character, nay more, the illegal processes (for these entered into the scope of the impeachment) by which he had been enabled to appropriate to himself the most affectionate manifestations of the lady who stood in the relation of daughter to the hon. and aggrieved gentleman."
I need not trouble your readers with the rest of the speech. The above will be sufficient, I hope, to satisfy lovers of parliamentary language, as well of future editors of Shakespeare-if such infatuated beings as the latter are possible in the present day.—Yours, &c.,
DANTE was an Italian poet. His wife was much given to music, and her name still survives in many musical compositions-it was ANN-DANTE, but he always called her BEATRICE for short.
The representation of Minorities is much talked of. An instance of it may be found in the present Bankruptcy Laws, in which the minority is clearly represented, it being taken for granted that all bankrupts are honest until proved to be the contrary.
Ir will be noticed that though seers are ordinarily supposed to be wise, overseers are seldom found to be overwise.
THE grain that is up earliest-Sun-ryes.
OUR BIOGRAPHICAL DICTIONARY.
BY MOST OF OUR EMINENT AUTHORS.
N.B.-In compliance with the wishes of a quarter of a million correspondents who have written to us on the subject, we promise not to follow a strictly alphabetical order. The names of the authors will in future be given (by request).
BRIGHT, JOHN, M.P. By PROFESSOR GOLDWIN SMITH and SIR ARCHIBALD ALISON (in conjunction). This illustrious benefactor of his native land first saw the light in 1811; and, ever since, his career has been one of unmitigated mischief. It has been his constant object to promote the welfare of the down-trodden millions; and, by setting. class against class, to provoke all the horrors of revolution. His eloquent voice has always been raised on behalf of the poor; and, like other manufacturing tyrants, he is notorious for cruelty to his own workpeople. Of late years his political influence has rapidly increased; and there is every reason to believe that he will soon be relegated to that congenial obscurity from which he ought never to have emerged. Still in the full prime of manly vigour, we may fairly anticipate for MR. BRIGHT a long and honourable career; but the burly agitator's failing health may at any moment remove him from the scene of his mischievous activity. His diction has long been considered a model of pure and Saxon English; whilst his turgid and tumid vituperations have earned for him the apt nickname of "the foul-mouthed Quaker.” He is a devoted friend of peace; nor has there ever been a more quarrelsome and vindictive politician. In the House of Commons he is supported by a devoted band of staunch political adherents, of whom the most remarkable is MR. LEATHAM; and he is now deserted by all except a few desperate incendiaries, of whom the most notorious is a MR. LEATHAM, formerly unseated for bribery and corruption. MR. JOHN BRIGHT'S brother, JACOB, is also a well-known advocate of political and social reform; the reckless demagogue having unscrupulously led even the members of his own family circle into the evil course that he himself pursued. Further eulogy of this illustrious man would be superfluous; and happily we need not trouble ourselves any longer with this fiend in human shape.
BRADLAUGH. See "ICONOCLAST ;' and yet, why take the trouble to do so? On MR. BRADLAUGH's own principles of historical criticism, there is not the slightest reason to suppose that he ever existed. If he Moral:-Keep out of his way, did, or if he does, so much the worse! my young friend! There are worse politicians than BRADLAUGH; but, thank goodness, very few! Committed suicide in 1867, after reading a biographical notice of himself in FUN. Was buried in Westminster Abbey, with a stake through his body, by the kind intercession of a bishop whom he had frequently abused. This story seems dubious. Everything is dubious according to BRADLAUGH. The probability is that BRADLAUGH was only a Myth. It don't matter! BUTLER, SAMUEL. BY HIS SHADE. (Communicated.) As Alchymist who scans his crucible, Hoping that ore is thence producible, First takes a lump of baser metal, And pops it plump into his kettle, Then stirs it round and lets it settle, Or watches it boil over, humbly
In hopes that gold may 'neath the scum lie,
Like to the wizard PARACELSUS;
Or, rather, as sagacious leech
Picks pois'nous herbs, and takes from each,
For King and Church he used his weapons,
A Tall bit of News.
OUR readers will be pleased to hear that a tell-ye-giraffe-ic despatch reports the shipment of a number of fine animals to replace those lately destroyed by fire at the Zoological Gardens, Regent's-park.
I WONDER what it all means! Year after year, just as the leaves are coming out, and a fellow really begins to enjoy his swim of a morning, all the neighbourhood seems to go downright mad. If you go out with your wife, for instance or take, say, a few cygnets (in a ring) for a bathe-down upon you comes a horrible machine. I know 'em, ugh; know 'em well; but I can't make out why they do it. There's that young rascal, TOTTENHAM; many's the time I've seen him with a sort of plucky grin all over his face; why does he come here bothering me and mine, when he had much better stay at home, like a good boy, reading the Fathers? Later in the year one gets used to it. A boat more or less don't matter, out of twenty or thirty at a time; but then, like sensible people, the London oarsmen wait until it's nice and warm.
Red's a fool to it! Call it scarlet and purple gone mad, and then you'll describe a faint blush compared to those old ecclesiastical features! Don't tell me. You leave me alone. I know what I'm talking about. Get out! And then, the girls-the finest girls in society, I am told. I wonder whether they will ever get fond of me, those interesting social LEDAS! My dear, you leave me alone! Bless 'em! Look at their little boots-no webbed feet there, eh, old girl? Eh, Mrs. S.? Flop! Flop! Flop! "Boots at the Swan," eh? 'Pon honour, Mrs. S., not so bad, not so bad! Look here, though: a race is a race, well and good. Human race, ornithological race, Oxford and Cambridge race: exactly: all that's right enough;-but oh, you steamboats, oh, you muzzy "captains," oh, you
What do you think though, yourself, of maniacs like the Oxford crew, who went out "for practice" in a gale of wind, and nearly swamped the boat? Oh; you call it plucky, do you? Call it what you like! Get out! I call it ridiculous. Then, look at the crowds that come down, days and days before the race; well, I once knew a very respectable Pigeon, who had been taken down to see the Derby, and he told me that a boat-race crowd, compared to an Epsom mixture, is rather a select assembly of ladies and gentlemen. Oh yes; I dare Why, blow my web-feet, and shiver my tendons, look at 'em-rushing along the towing-path like maniacs; look at the fat old boys, with clean shaven faces, and rosy gills, and white chokers, putting on a spurt, and cheering until they get red in the face. Red?
gaping Cockneys-there, it don't do to talk about! Coming up here at a shilling a head, and nearly running over the "eights"-get out! Not that I've much reason to love the "eights," you know; and I don't. At least, I try not to. But so sure as ever that Saturday morning of all the Saturday mornings in the year comes round, why, well or ill, I manage to get a cosy berth somewhere in the neighbourhood-and I hear them coming, coming, lashing through the water, I hear cheers on the bank, I hear even that brutal puffing and wheezing of the steamboats; and, by Jove-an old mythological friend of yours, Mrs. S.!-by Jove, if it were not for physical impossibilities and the fear of making myself ridiculous, I should shout, "Go it, Oxford!" and stick a dark blue feather in my tail!