It is impossible to consider the influences which have affected and the powers which have regulated the art of the last twenty years, without referring to the name of Mr. Ruskin, and to the appearance of "Modern Painters." Writing, as he did, at a time when architecture and painting had sunk so low that no living man could build a convenient church or habitable house in the old national Gothic, and when the greatest landscape painter the world has seen passed from among his generation scarcely heeded, it would not be too much to say that the

one of them which had not been disregarded or forgotten in England for many generations; and that most of the well-wishers of real art would have to go to school again to learn those primary principles without which no good results could be expected. His sympathies could have been shared by few at the time he wrote; for he had been, to a degree then very rare, familiarised from childhood with the matchless Gothic of Italy, and had grown into manhood with such forms before his eyes as Sta. Maria del Fiore, and its perfect bell tower, with the

exquisite carving of the Venetian palaces, and the glorious colouring of St. Mark's. His eye had been trained to know the beauties of those churches left in the Val d'Arno by the great Lombard race, compared to which our Norman piles are grim and cold indeed; at a time when it was scarcely realised in England that there was any wider range in architecture than that of our own insular Gothic, of which the best specimens were all either destroyed or mutilated. He met, so far as we can gather, with little else in the higher ranks of criticism but abuse and invective; but if his own generation refused to recognise his teachings, he became the chosen leader of all that was best and most hopeful in the art of its coming years. In one of his later books he observed, that though his statements had been met by every form of denial, not one of them had been controverted by fair argument; and it is curious, in glancing over the Reviews of the period, to see how emphatically true this remark was. One writer, in a periodical of high literary character, after exhausting all the vocabulary of personal and literary abuse, ended loftily with the remark, that as life is short he did not intend to waste it by doing battle with Mr. Ruskin's theories; and pronounced the ominous-sounding prophecy in conclusion, that the just penalty of evil-doers would overtake him—to wit, that his evil deeds would remain. We will put that sentiment in another form, and say, that we think his works have followed and will follow him to the end of his life, in the thousands whom he has educated to a truer knowledge of the principles of noble art, and a higher appreciation of the immortal works of other ages; we might add, in the many for whom his kindness and liberality have smoothed, and his ready sympathy softened, the hard path of art toil.

In 1849, the "Seven Lamps of Architecture" was published, and this work, intended though it was for general readers, and by no means claiming to be a handbook for architects, yet aroused a storm of indignation from the professional men of the day. One well-known architect was reported to have said, that Mr. Ruskin wished to make the profession work in chains; another, that he was nearly mad; though whether considered in the light of a madman or only a wild enthusiast, most people prudently agreed to abstain from too much controversy with him. The fancifulness of the title and division of subject in this book, however, combined with less reticence of language on religious and other matters than had characterised his first work, laid it open to criticisms which tended to embarrass and hinder the noble teaching with which this, Mr. Ruskin's first essay on architecture, is full. That there is much to be regretted in the book there is no doubt; and Mr. Ruskin has intimated his own hesitation to endorse all the conclusions of his early work by a refusal to republish it. But the stern sense of truth and unflinching condemnation of all that was false, ignoble, and contemptible in modern architecture, which were the chief characteristics of the book, must infallibly have done their work in the minds of thoughtful people, and opened out a vista of new and nobler possibilities, as they carried conviction with them. There is a somewhat sad tone pervading the

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book, as of a man who had no real hope of his words producing any effect, while yet trying to so take heart for the future as to do his share of the world's work. It is now more than thirty years since he wrote, and his prophecy, that the architectural movement then begun would progress but little farther, has been well-nigh fulfilled. Closely following this work, and in some sense connected with it, came the "Stones of Venice." More valuable still, in their effect on the popular mind, were public lectures given at different places on domestic architecture, such as those published under the name of 'Lectures on Architecture and Painting," delivered at Edinburgh, in 1854. Written in a popular form, these lectures probably did more towards demonstrating the errors and follies of the street architecture of the day than his great work of the "Stones of Venice." The Army and Navy Club had that year been completed in London, at the cost of £40,000; and a large proportion of that sum had been expended in placing a quantity of most elaborate sculpture at the top of the building, under the cornice, and consequently in an invisible position,-a blunder which gave Mr. Ruskin an opportunity of explaining the fallacies of modern Greek architecture, and its chief characteristic of top-story decoration. The whole system of Greek architecture," he concluded, “ as practised in the present day, must be annihilated; but it will be annihilated, and that speedily. For truth and judgment are its declared opposites, and against these nothing has finally prevailed, or shall prevail.”

The Arundel Society has been, during its existence of nearly five-and-thirty years, a great means of extending a knowledge and appreciation of the works of the early masters of painting. It was founded by a small number of gentlemen, most of whose names are well known as munificent patrons of English art. Lord Lindsay, the Marquis of Lansdowne, and Mr. Ruskin were of the number; and it was named after Thomas Howard, Earl of Arundel,- -a name which should be well remembered in the annals of English art. Its avowed object was to raise the standard of public taste by the publication of the well-nigh forgotten works of the Pre-Raffaellite masters, engraved or otherwise reproduced. The wish of its founders was also to preserve the records of some of the most valuable monuments of medieval art, which were fading from the walls of Italy as year after year of neglect passed over them, and darkened the walls whence the spirit of Giotto and Fra Angelico once looked forth. In 1857, they had been sufficiently successful to enlarge their original plan, and publish those coloured copies of Italian frescoes which are so well known to all lovers of early religious art. At the time of which we are speaking, however, the art of medieval Italy was a dead letter in England, and the effect which these efforts of the Arundel Society have had over the educated classes of England is almost incalculable; and is an evidence of the amount of influence which may be exercised over the public mind by the earnest united action of a handful of men believing in their own principles. Their rooms in Old Bond Street, open free of charge, placed before the public a series of

drawings such as had never been seen before in England; and so great was the success of the society that, in 1863, they were able to establish a special fund for the purpose of copying the decaying works of the old Italian masters. The influence of the society on the general public was also immensely increased by the fact that it was independent of criticism and disapprobation to an extent which no private publisher could afford to be; and that it was able to command attention, and outlive unpopularity.

The Exhibition of 1851 may be considered in the light, either of a great international commercial enterprise, or as the embodiment of those æsthetic tendencies which had been gradually developed, more especially in England, during the past twenty years. It would be idle to deny that the wild and enthusiastic expectations which centred round this inauguration of the triumph of modern industrial art have been in a great measure disappointed, or that too much stress was laid on the value of the international competition which was thenceforth, it was thought, to give an impetus to all branches of art. It was thought to be the first step towards a veritable Utopia, perhaps towards the Millennium itself. It was compared with the Pyramids, the Rhodes Colossus; it was, in its way, to surpass all the "wonders" of the ancient world. A new era was predicted for Europe, in which universal peace was to reign, as the result of this first act of co-operation; and the benign influences of universal civilisation, education, and refinement were to pervade society, and to extend themselves over the coming half-century in ever-increasing triumphs over human evil. "Nobody," said Prince Albert, embodying the popular feeling in his opening speech," who has paid any attention to the particular features of our present era, will doubt for a moment that we are living at a period of most wonderful transition, which tends rapidly to accomplish that great event-to which all history points-the realisation of the unity of mankind." Of the fallacy of this hope, so strongly impressed in our century, of regenerating mankind by the effects of civilisation, refinement, or philanthropy, we are now learning somewhat. An able writer at the time pointed out the dangers of this theory, with the warning that refinement is not all, not even chiefest, among the causes of a nation's welfare; and forcibly impressed the never-to-be-forgotten truth, that art, directed exclusively to the gratification of sense, causes religion and humanity to be forgotten.

The idea of the Exhibition of 1851 was first conceived by the council of the Society of Arts about 1845. Gradually the idea matured into a definite purpose, and, the royal patronage having been obtained, the chief difficulty which remained, that of a suitable erection for the purpose, was overcome by the talent and indefatigable energies of Mr. Paxton, resulting in his admirable plan of a temporary glass and iron building. The general outline is briefly described. A vast glass church, banded together by iron, with nave, transept, and aisles; the transept surmounted by an arched roof, as it was originally intended that the whole building should be. We cannot wonder at the admiration and

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delight with which this new and original idea was received, nor even at the prophecies that it would inaugurate a new era in architecture. It was indeed a "splendid phantasm,” and, glittering as it did with colour and light, it was a novel and attracting spectacle for English eyes. The execution of the colouring, of course necessitated by the tendency of iron to rust, was given to Mr. Owen Jones, and modified by the commission. The colours used were more positive than had ever been tried on iron before; the relative proportions being about eight of blue, five of red, and three of yellow. This was, however, necessary to some extent, from the size of the building and the distance at which it was seen. The roof was chiefly of blue, so as to harmonise with the sky. Eventually Mr. Jones was allowed to have his own way, though meeting with great opposition in carrying out his designs, chiefly from the popular dislike to bright colour. "Our ideas on this subject," wrote some one during the controversy, are very peculiar, and savour of coal smoke with a dash of puritanism. We, in this nineteenth century, and in this small island, are so attached to grey, slate colour, and drab, that could we get at the gaudy blue sky or the glowing sunset, we should paint them out, of a soothing bronze tone." The Crystal Palace was not architecture, nor could it ever materially affect or influence the region of architecture. It was, as was said by the eminent German ecclesiologist, Herr Reichensperger, "a tent, not a building; a work of contriving reason, not of creative genius:" it was a great undertaking, conceived and carried out with the most praiseworthy energy and adaptation to circumstances. It was also a new discovery that glass and iron could assist and supplement the efforts of architecture. An immense space had to be covered in a very short time. Arrangements had to be made for the various kinds of exhibitions, and ample light provided. All these problems, with the many and grave difficulties involved in so unprecedented a work, were satisfactorily worked out by the great engineering triumph of the Exhibition building. And it was a clear point in its favour that the construction was evident and real, and that shams and concealments were not resorted to for effects of beauty.

With the contents of this great museum of the world's products we have nothing to do beyond the English manufactures. Utilitarian art formed the staple of our exhibitions. All that is necessary for the comfort and luxury of a civilised nation was there to be seen in the most useful forms; the supply regulated, as ever, accurately to the demand. Thus, all forms of useful pottery were there, both in a better and cheaper form than any other country could have produced them; but, with all the resources of an immense trade, little that was praiseworthy of an ornamental kind.

One great evil attended the art products of the Great Exhibition, arising from the very nature of a competitive scheme which was not affected by the question of cost, An enormous amount of valuable labour and exquisite skill were thrown away by efforts on the part of exhibitors to produce some one article which might attract tho

admiration or curiosity of the visitors, at the same time being quite unsaleable. The wholesome tendencies of ornamental trade were rather checked than forwarded by this kind of display; for it was easy to load a work of art with splendour of material and delicacy of workmanship which were only to serve the purpose of an advertisement, like the crystal jelly in a pastry-cook's shop. As a specimen of this, we may mention that a bouquet of jewels was exhibited in which the flowers were modelled from nature; each sprig was made separate, and fitted afterwards by mechanical contrivance; and the number of diamonds used was 6,000.

The price of a work of art, or the sum for which a piece of furniture can be ornamented, must always be a primary question in trade; and in a competition unregulated by price there was much to hinder the real interests of industrial art. The same cause led to the production of monstrosities and unnatural developments of skill, such as carving in pith, writing in a microscopic hand, and other innumerable unhealthy efforts to effect impossibilities, in defiance of, instead of in obedience to, material.

The English exhibitions suggested to a thoughtful writer at the time the idea, that "all our inventive power was gone into machinery." This last branch of trade would seem to have developed enormously, and the power of the nation seemed concentrated in it; America being her only great rival. But there was something radically wrong in all our art produce. An enormous supply of cheap ornament, vulgar in design and bad in execution, imitative of every school which the world has ever seen, yet learning nothing from that which it basely copied, filled the market. Wonderful ingenuity was required, and labour used, in producing the mere materials for modern English ornament; and whereas all other ages have taken such material as the country and period produced, and simply worked on it, subordinating their work to its properties, modern English skill has been wasted in the multiplication of processes, such as cements and compositions, for the purpose of imitating the productions of the genuine art of different nations. Processes were made the end, instead of the means, of art production-thus reversing the true rule of the fitness of things; and mechanical skill had petrified the intelligent artisans of the country into living machines, uneducated to perceive, and undisciplined to obey, the eternal laws of beauty.

This, and much more to the same purpose, the Exhibition of 1851 taught us; rebuking our insular pride by forcing us to feel and acknowledge our inferiority to other nations in various branches of industrial art. To know one's own failures is always the first step towards recovering from them. Where shall our industrial classes look for guidance and education? became the question of the leaders of public opinion; acknowledging that the great lesson which the Exhibition had conveyed to us was our utter ignorance of the principles of design and colour.

It would be wearisome to go through the different courts of the Exhibition containing specimens of English art workmanship, feeling as we do how unsatisfactory they were, and how little we could say in their praise.

Sculpture was perhaps the most universally acknowledged to be a failure, though it is doubtful whether English art in this respect was any worse than continental. Without any exception we can call to mind, it set at defiance all the laws of noble art: devoted chiefly to representations of undisciplined passion, or trivial incident, it descended into vulgarity the moment it ceased to be exciting. A statue of Dr. Jenner, seated in a gigantic easy chair, earned the criticism, that the chief thing which it suggested was the "great law of nature, that a body at rest will continue at rest." It was indeed said that the committee, with an instinctive presentiment of what was coming, had purposely placed the sculptureroom out of the way, behind the medieval court. Goldsmiths' art had sunk equally low. It was deplorable to see that this, so deservedly ranking among the noblest branches of art throughout the Middle Ages, and training, as it did, some of the greatest artists of Italy,* should have sunk to a mere manufacture, in a large measure machine-made, and in all respects employing only mechanical labour. It was a relief to turn from these exhibitions to the medieval court, where, if there was the crudeness and pedantry which often accompany a reactionary revival of true principles, there was yet genuine effort after a higher standard of taste, and a better knowledge of the laws of construction and ornament. This was referred to in warm terms by the Jury appointed to report on the Exhibition. It was chiefly the result of the ecclesiological movement before noticed; and Mr. Pugin, with Mr. Hardman, of Birmingham, had the superintendence of it, and were the principal exhibitors.

The revival of glass-painting has been accompanied with many and great difficulties, arising chiefly from the ignorance or misapprehension of the limits and capacities of the material, and from the tendency to rank it too much as a separate art. Stained glass windows pre-suppose surroundings of glowing colour, of which the windows are an accidental continuation, and to which they must be toned and harmonised. These conditions being, in the character of modern architecture, wholly changed, stained windows have become simply patches of colour on dead walls; and thus the principle of harmony which called forth the art and regulated its limits can no longer be appealed to. The inevitable result of the losing sight of this leading principle was, that windows, being the only portion of a building available for internal decoration, came to be regarded as occasions for pictorial effort, so that even so great a man as Sir Joshua Reynolds could be surprised and disappointed at the failure of painting in light and shade on glass, as exemplified in his celebrated window at New College, Oxford; and in our own century the most miserable imitations of oil-paintings were attempted, in defiance of all artistic possibilities. Such was the condition of the art of glass-painting when Mr. Pugin, allying himself

A.D. 1871.]

with Mr. Hardman, first essayed to reform it; and that the indefatigable efforts of the two combined effected much, especially in regard to design, there is no doubt. We must pay a short tribute here to the memory of the man to whom, more than to any other, is owing the revival of glass-painting, and who left an influence behind him which was felt in many other branches of art-M. Henri Gérente. English on his mother's side, he always preserved his sympathies with our country; and, as a member of the Ecclesiological Society, did some very successful work for Ely and Canterbury Cathedrals. His learning and talents placed him far above any other artist of the day in his profession, and his passionate devotion to, and thorough comprehension of, his subject carried him successfully through his many difficulties. His life, so full of singular promise, was suddenly cut short in its prime, and, in 1849, he died at the age of thirty-five. It was perhaps partly owing to his influence that the French stained glass of the Exhibition was so much superior to the English; and although none of his glass was exhibited, his brother, who carried on the works, sent specimens, which more or less represented his work, and which were unquestionably the best in the Exhibition. We should, however, except Hardman's glass in asserting the general inferiority of the English specimens. Before quitting this branch of artwhich, it is satisfactory to record, has been gradually but steadily improving since the time which we have been noticing we must not pass over without mention the works of Mr. Morris. His admirable efforts towards attaining that richness of tone and tint which characterised mediæval glass, and his enforcement of the principle that colour, not design, is the primary consideration in arranging transparent glass, deserve the highest commendation. We may add, that it is not only in glass - painting that Mr. Morris and his Morris and his coadjutors are endeavouring to educate English taste. There are few branches of industrial art for domestic purposes to which they have not turned their attention; and although the faults incidental on a singlehanded effort, such as sameness and stiffness of design, may be visible, yet the spirited effort is bearing fruit in the improving taste of the furniture of our houses; and the successes which have already been achieved in woollen stuffs, embroidery, and tile-painting, point to fresh hopes for the future domestic art of England.

One more name demands our attention among the exhibitors of 1851—Mr. Skidmore, of Coventry, of whom it is not too much to say, that he has been the reformer of modern metal-work, both secular and ecclesiastical. His specimens of church-plate in the Exhibition were so exceptionally good and original, that certainly they deserved more than the passing commendation bestowed by the Jury. For years past we believe he had carefully studied the processes of medieval metal-work, though his name was but little known in the year to which we are referring. His work stood out in striking contrast to that of any other worker in precious metal among the exhibitors, except, perhaps, that of Mr. Keith, who had worked under Mr. Butterfield's directions for

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some years, in the revival begun by the Ecclesiological Society. Mr. Skidmore's work was the production of an original mind, though educated too thoroughly in the traditions of medievalism to command at that time the attention he deserved, and has since gained. He first introduced the beautiful niello-work, the process of which had been, we believe, entirely lost in modern Europe, and his work in the Exhibition was characterised by this, and his enamelling. Ten years later his talents were more appreciated, and he gained the prize at the Exhibition of 1861 for his beautiful screen, now in Hereford Cathedral.

The report of the Juries on the art produce of the Exhibition, and the tendencies which it showed, probably gave a strong impulse to the growing desire for a higher standard of design in England. They deprecated the lack of disciplined thought, and that total disregard of all the laws of ornament which characterised the English manufactures, and of which instances abounded in every branch. Carpets, in which the very suggestion of unevenness is discomfort, had water-lilies floating all over them; fruits of monstrous size, in high relief, scattered about; lions and leopards on the hearths. Glass was tortured into useless, and almost impossible, shapes; furniture loaded with mindless and ill-modelled carving. The "manufacture of ornament," they emphatically said, was the vice of the age; the functions of material were ignored; the principles and meaning of ornament forgotten in putty, papier-maché, and gutta-percha.

The fatal evil of modern ornament is the continual, restless search after novelty. The object of the producer is to have, or invent, the fashion of the season; of the consumer to possess the newest and most unique thing. Where are the possibilities of noble, thoughtful work amidst such ignoble conditions? What hope is there for content among the working classes, so long as the yearning of every human soul to leave the immortal impress of its life upon the earth in its brief passage is unsatisfied among our thousands of intelligent workmen, save by such mockery of fame as a "season's run"? We see this element of changeableness more clearly perhaps, because most universally and most increasingly, in the dress of the upper classes. The detrimental effect on trade, of the "run" on one material or manufacture, to the exclusion of others equally depending on support, for a short given time, must be incalculable. We have seen some of its effects in such sad stories as that of the Coventry weavers, whose destitution was said to have been chiefly caused by the fashion of wearing velvet for trimmings having superseded that of ribbons. In like manner, the fashion which prevailed a few years later for a particular kind of lace is said to have forced numbers of skilled lace-makers to forsake their own employment, in order to learn an entirely new method, which would, in turn, probably become useless to them after the lapse of a few years.

The result of the movement towards improving the state of national art was, that the surplus funds of the Exhibition were devoted to form the nucleus of a Museum of Manufacture for the use of art-students, composed of