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246 HETHER the present Exhibition at Burlington House be, on the whole, of less or greater interest than its forerunners, seems, as usual, matter for pretty general discussion, despite the eternal futility of drawing comparisons between things so obviously impossible to compare as pictures — so diversely appreciated by their critics and the public at large. At any rate, those now gathered together for a while, under the Academic wing, present a sufficiently varied, and, perhaps, somewhat kaleidoscopic collection. The heights and depths of artistic expression are sounded suddenly, almost with violence ; while antitheses of excellence may be felt together here in sharpest con- trast. Passing from a room where Turner and Etty, Leslie and Augustus Egg jostle one another in strange proximity, we find Watteau and Lancret well-nigh side by side with Jan Steen in the next. In the third room are some superb Rembrandts in company with portraits by Gainsborough and Romney ; while Rubens is there represented by two canvasses of ample dimen- sions. Galleries iv. and v. are filled with a selection from the works of Frank Holl ; and tlie Water-Colour Room rejoices in a number of delightful sketches by Timier — notably in those fascinating ' Reise-bilder,' his Rhine Sketches. Returning to the first room, and going straight through in the conscientious fashion so frequently exhibited by lady visitors to our admiring eyes, David Roberts's ' St. Jacques Bruges ' (hung somewhat high) caia hardly fail to arouse some admira- tion and interest, not only by its fine and skilful draw- ing, and the subtle mingling of greys and yellows in its scheme of colour, but by the obvious truth of the values successfully sought and preserved therein. Then, amid the arid and depressing vulgarities perpe- trated by Egg and Leslie, with all their unlovely and metallic unreality, the eye lights with relief upon the ' Coral Finder,' perhaps one of the most beautiful pic- tures ever painted by Etty. Intensely rich, and, at the same time, luminous and limpid in coloiu- to a high degree, it would seem to have been painted in one of the artist's happiest moods, — that is to say, at a time when he most strongly felt the influence of Venetian art. A golden boat glides softly over the sea towards a sloping shore, where white temples glimmer through the groves, and in the barge reclines Aphrodite, a neai'ly nude female figure, partly relieved against a sky of intensest, almost palpitating, blue. There are other lovely and graceful figures in this enchanted barge, and beside it swim two Naiads ; while from the sky a chubby winged child scatters a profusion of roses upon the group below. Next to this picture hangs another by the same hand, forming another liarmony of pure colour and form. The beautiful nude figure of a woman stands ankle-deep in a pool, partly overshadowed by autumnal trees, the opalescent quality of her admirably-painted flesh harmonising pleasantly with the russet foliage and warm cloudy sky. ' The Bouquet,' by J. F. Lewis, is a most dainty little garden idyll, rendered in pre-Raphaelite fashion. A woman dressed in pale, yet vivid, red brocade, stands with a sheaf of flowers in her hand, relieved against a mass of pink and white roses; the treatment is absolutely minute, and yet the effect is light, delicate, and far from untruthful. Very different, and beautiful exceedingly, is Quinnell's 'Windsor Forest,' with its great trees and stretch of sunlit greensward ; and what a fine example of his skill and insight into nature is his 'Kensington Gravel-Pits.' I wonder, by the way, if any one knows exactly where, in that new modish expanse of bricks and mortar, these gravel-pits, with their surrounding pastoral landscape, once would be? Here, their broken incline occupies the foreground, and workmen labour energetically therein, while behind is a green meadow, where a red-roofed farm-house stands against a luminous sky. To an unprejudiced observer, it may be interesting to remark how many points in common — notably the sincerity of treatment — this picture shares with the work of some more modern seekers after truth. There is still another good Etty in this room, ' A Nymph and Young Fawn Dancing,' in gorgeousness of colour, making one think of Makart ; a finely romantic Turner, 'Quille-boeuf,' showing a stormy sea and sky almost, as it were, enveloping the town, and a strange shower-like flight of white gulls, lit up by the setting sun.

Close beside a large and inexpressibly meritless canvas of Augustus Egg's hangs a small study by Bonington of a woman in a green dress, so clear and forcible in its jewel-like colour and fresh technique as to form, despite its insignificant size and obscure position, yet another oasis in this glaring desert.

It is with a sense of relief that we leave this room and pass into the next, for, although it contains much that is admirable, the Maclise and Leslie element seems unduly dominant. Not so in Gallery No. ii. Here we find sober and delightful truths associated with no note that is actually discordant. Perhaps one of the finest pictures in this room, in point of actual beauty, is the 'Portrait of a Lady,' by Cornelius Jansen. It is a half-length portrait of a woman, in a square-cut black dress, standing against a grey-blue background. Astonishingly beautiful is the masterly modelling of the pure pale face and neck, the treatment of the black drapery, and the absolutely refined colour of the whole. If Jansen's portrait be beautiful, how interesting is the portrait, painted by Michel van Musscher, of William Van de Velde! At the same time spontaneous and scrupulously conscientious, what insight it would