pile of building is now in course of erection, on the western bank of the river Thames, immediately adjoining Westminster Hall. This structure is to be called "Her Majesty's Palace at Westminster;" and is to be devoted to the purposes of a senatehouse, wherein her parliament, consisting of Lords and Commons, is to assemble. When completed, it will certainly be an ornament, not only to the metropolis, but to the whole kingdom itself, especially if all the proposals and plans which have been mooted upon the subject, should ever be successfully carried out. The queen has been pleased to appoint commissioners for the purpose of enquiring in what manner, upon an occasion of such national importance, the fine arts, for which our country is distinguished, can be best encouraged, with immediate reference to this great undertaking. That commission accordingly issued a notice in the spring of last year, to all British artists, that the commissioners would be ready at a certain time, to receive drawings in chalk, charcoal, or any similar material, but without colors, as designs from which fresco paintings might afterwards be made, for the purpose of decorating the walls of these houses of parliament. The drawings were not to be less than ten, nor more than fifteen feet in their longest dimensions; and the prominent figures, as large as life. The subjects were to be selected from British history, or from the works of Spenser, Shakespeare, or Milton. As premiums were to be awarded for eleven of the best of these designs, a powerful impulse was given to British art, especially among its younger devotees, to whom both fame and money, were in many instances, of first-rate importance. Accordingly, by the first week in June, of the present year, no less than one hundred and forty immense drawings, all on paper, and without frames or any extraneous decorations, were sent in to Westminster Hall; a building as admirable for its architectural beauty, and especially its fine roof of carved oak, as it is interesting from the historical associations connected with it. As soon as these cartoons were properly arranged, to effect which, it became necessary, from their size and number, to divide the hall longitudinally, the public were admitted to view them, at first, by a small payment, but afterwards, gratuitously, and without any stipulation as to age, station, or personal appearance. This gratifying fact, is one of many, characterizing the times in which we live. The old and foolish prejudice that knowledge raises men above their proper position in society, is fast giving way, and the world seems, surely, though still, perhaps, slowly, to be coming round to the opinion, so well expressed by Dr. Watts. "Were I as tall to reach the pole, Or grasp the ocean with a span, The mind's the standard of the man!" For this reason we were rather pleased, than otherwise, to find so many of the lower orders availing themselves of this privilegeto find them conducting themselves with such unimpeachable propriety, and to hear their passing comments, which, however rudely expressed, bore testimony to their good sense, and in many cases, to habits of reading and thinking, far beyond what their standing in society would have led us to expect. One sultry afternoon in August, we first paid our visit to this exhibition. Glorying as we do in the name of Briton, it seemed almost a duty to give our sanction to so national an undertaking; a sight intimately associated with the annals of our beloved land, and so generously thrown open to all its sons and daughters. We passed through a narrow doorway to the left of the grand entrance, and found ourselves closely packed amongst artizans, shop-keepers, and servants. Men, women, children, and even infants in arms, of every grade and calling, pressing us on all sides, and the incessant orders of the police to "move on" made our situation, none of the most agreeable. The cartoons had been well arranged; the poetical pieces occupying the whole of the wall on our left; and the others, as well as their different dimensions would permit, being placed in chronological order on the opposite screen, and almost entirely filling both sides of the farther avenue of the building. Our first feeling was one of admiration. The beautiful drawing, the striking effects of light and shade, the interest attaching to many of the subjects, at once recognized as parcel of the national annals; the varied contour and expression of the figures, but, perhaps, more than all, their colossal dimensions, impressed us with emotions which it is not easy to describe. We stood immersed in deep thought for a few moments, scarcely knowing where to begin, but were soon reminded, in terms sufficiently polite, that we must not stop the way, but move on; slowly, if we pleased, but steadily; being assured at the same time, that we might make the circuit of the fine old hall again and again, if a single tour did not satisfy us. Of course we complied with this intimation, which, however decidedly, was courteously conveyed, and scarcely allowed ourselves a glimpse at the richly carved corbels and groinings of the antique roof, gleaming in the softened light above us, as we went forward, from picture to picture, casting but a very partial glance at each. As the poetical pieces, many of them very excellent and effective, had little or nothing of a national character about them, we resolved to pass them by altogether; and making our way to the farther end of the hall, determined, in studying this pictured history of our father-land, to begin at the beginning. We paused before the cartoon occupying the south-eastern corner of the building; it was named in the catalogue "Cæsar's first invasion of Britain," and obtained one of the highest premiums, of three hundred pounds. There were the naked barbarians, our forefathers, struggling with the better disciplined, but not more courageous Romans, who had come over to murder and to pillage their weaker fellow-creatures, for no other reason than because they could do so with comparative impunity. There stood Cæsar, conspicuous amongst the reckless group, and giving his orders as became the master of the world; and there, bruised and maimed, dead and dying, lay heaps of human bodies; men, guilty only of less prowess than their fellow-men! The picture itself was one of highest merit; the drawing, bold and vigorous; the grouping good; and the whole story well told. Too well, indeed! For, who that looked upon it, would not shudder at the tales of murder and of robbery, it conjured up! I hurried to the next picture. There the tables were turned; the Britons had the mastery; but it was still the same story; violence and carnage, colored, too, by that detestable hypocrisy, which, in the language of the battle-field, is called a ruse. ambush had surprised one of the Roman legions; and our progenitors were staining the harvest-field with blood. An Another, and another, and another picture, brought before us the same grievances. Outrages the most flagrant; warfare the most unjust; judicial murders, rank with superstition, or intolerance, formed the mass of subjects brought before us in these pictorial annals of our nation's greatness! True, there were some of these cartoons illustrative of incidents of which we may well be proud; there were counsels of our grave forefathers, where the matters in debate seemed pregnant with important issues; but even there the blood-hound, and the spear intruded; there were demonstrations of high daring, and lofty resolve; acts of heroism, noble in every thing but their origin, and instances even, of Christian disinterestedness; but sad to say, they formed the exceptions, rather than the bulk of this interesting exhibition. There, in one of the ablest pictures of the collection, rudely throned, and surrounded by the ancients of the land, sat the great Alfred, presiding at the "First Trial by Jury." We looked with pleasure on his calm, intelligent, and manly brow, bent in thoughtful contemplation towards the pleading child before him: we looked with all a Briton's enthusiasm, at the speaking countenances of the twelve assessors; we felt our hearts warmed at the new and noble process of the trial that was going forward; but again the thought of blood and violence rushed across our minds as we saw, in the same picture, the resolute and savage murderer, tameless even at the bar of his country, and reeking from the slaughter of his fellowman! There, too, beneath the leafage of a broad and sturdy oak, deep in the mysteries of druidism, were the magnates of pagan Britain; chief, bard, counsellor, and priest. High intellect and stern command beamed from their eyes, and played around their majestic foreheads; but warfare and superstition, the foulest and most inhuman idolatry, and moral ignorance, brooded over their deliberations, and the stains of human blood were on the skirts of that assemblage. The old wood was resonant with the cries of children made "to pass through the fire unto Moloch;" and the stars that glimmered through its covert, looked down on rites of which it were a shame to speak. There, too, animated with more than mortal courage, we saw a British queen, the very prototype of dauntless heroism, haranguing her astonished subjects; but again, her theme was blood. Revenge has been deified by heathens; but is it seemly for a Briton in the nineteenth century, to swell the chorus of its praise? We could not see unmoved, the fainting hero of Zutphen, braving the fierceness of his own thirst, to allay that of the poor dying soldier. But at the same time we stood aghast, at that reckless pouring out of his own life-blood, which rendered necessary the cup of cold water, so honorably conceded to another. O England, England! Is blood the only currency that buys you worth or greatness? Have you no god but Moloch? And is there no way to fame but that which leads across the drear Aceldama of war? Shame, that in such a truly national exhibition as that before us, the whole head should be made sick, and the whole heart faint, with scenes of wrong and carnage! But softly, softly; are there no redeeming traits amongst these pictured records? Surely, in a collection illustrative of British history, there must be some that speak more flatteringly of British character. True. If you wish to see real greatness, turn to this design-" Paul preaching to the Britons." How our heart warms as we think of his fervid eloquence; the noble singleness of his object," Christ Jesus;" the intrepid manliness with which he looked death in the face, and smiled away the terror of bonds, imprisonments, and heartless scourgings. We should glory more than in royal blood, if we could believe ourselves the veritable descendants of those who knew Paul after the flesh. The picture is indeed "a splendour among shadows." But the subject is apocryphal: the apostle of the gentiles never visited our favored isle. There are who say he did; but happy should we be, could we believe it. It is refreshing, too, to contemplate the fine form and holy placidity, in another of these cartoons, of Joseph of Arimathea, under the same questionable mission, holding forth the lamp of life to our bewildered and benighted ancestors. Did he ever come thus far upon this enterprise of mercy? Shame on us if he did; and we are yet so slow of heart to believe the truths that he taught-that eighteen centuries almost, should have rolled over us, whilst our land still lies unredeemed to so vast an extent, from the horrors of heathen ignorance, and the curse of superstition. Have we, then, nothing in all this exhibition really bearing out k k |