be amiss. In the Glasgow gallery, among the many good etchings, are two by Mr. Alex. M'Gibbon of parts of Glasgow Cathedral. Consider how many such drawings would be required to represent even in this soulless conventional fashion all the charms of that one magnificent work of art! The lifelong labours of a Prout or a David Roberts would yield but a sorry substitute for the original, and transmit to us not even an echo of its harmonious and impressive eloquence. So it is in varying degree, but unvarying certainty, with every work of architecture.
The architect, like every other artist, speaks through his art, which even in these degenerate days may be made the vehicle of a noble language; but if he shoidd masquerade as an etcher or a water-colourist, let him use the appropriate accessories and the appropriate tongue — not an imintelligible jargon; and above all things let him make it perfectly plain tliat he is not exhibiting himself as an architect, but that he desires his art to be judged by what he does in his true character, and by that alone. How different would our estimate be of the artistic merit of men like Inigo Jones, or Wren, if we had only their drawings to guide us! Compared with the painter and the sculptor, the architect is always sufficiently handicaped without subjecting himself to gratuitous depreciation. Even if he confine himself to his own proper work, he labours under the enormous disadvantage of being hampered by vexatious conditions and limitations, so that it may almost be said that lie never has an opportumty of doing his best. As a rule lie has to make the sorrowful confession that he has only done as well as he could in the circumstances. This is a condition almost unknown to his brother artists. As a rule the painter may tiirow his whole soul into liis work, and without let or hindrance lavish upon it liis wealth of imagination, skill, knowledge, and love. How different the arcliitect's unhappy lot, tied and bound by inexorable economic conditions! From the very conception of his theme he labours under a cruel disadvantage, for which no allowance is made in estimating the artistic value of his completed work. Hence from the very first he is misunderstood, even if he stick religiously to his "last." But since he cannot do his best to begin with, and since he cannot exhibit even what he does except through the imperfect or distorted medium of a conventional representation of it, which is not recog- nised as such, surely there are strong reasons why lie should abstain from challenging invidious com- parisons, which have always hitherto resulted in his relegation to a third-rate jjosition in the world of art, and which must inevitably under the same conditions always have the same result. John Honeyman.
LONDON EXHIBITIONS.
The New Gallery. — The news that some of the leading promoters of the Grosvenor Gallery had felt themselves obliged, from conscientious motives, to sever their connection with it, was received everywhere with interest by Art lovers, when it first came out some months ago. This interest increased when it became known that a new Gallery was to be opened, for the purpose of placing on record what those who had seceded deemed best in the art of the season, to the exclusion of the bad elements that had crept into Sir Coutts Lindsay's Gallery. It was felt that as the Grosvenor had lost its primary characteristics, an attempt to pro- vide for these elsewhere was well-timed, and that an opportunity had occurred which the developments of recent years had rendered even more promising than that which presented itself to those who erected the Grosvenor. It is unfortunate, there- fore, to find that while, as in the case of the Grosvenor, the difficulties of accommodation have been more than sufficiently met by the erection of a handsome building, skilfully planned and well adapted for the purpose in hand, the main object of the under- taking appears to have unaccountably slipped from the hands of its promoters. The Exhibition is of works by one or two notable men, simply in echo of the somewhat inferior Grosvenor of recent years, which in its time had come to be little better than the Academy, whose abuses it was formed to protest against. That the opportunity has thus been allowed to pass cannot but be disappointing to those who have for years perceived the necessity of doing something better than repeating the errors of the Academy and bolstering up the fictitious reputations created by that body. No severer condemnation could be passed than that which the Committee have passed upon themselves, by placing in the centre of one of their Galleries an absurdly helpless production by Sir John Millais, and allocating other important positions to works whose chief characteristic is a seeming conventionalism of the tamest, but, none the less, of the most pernicious kind. While, however, the general effect of the Exhibition is of this usual mixed and characterless description, it is the case that a few of the best and most complete pictures exhibited in London this season are shown here. Prominent among these are works by Signor Costa, Messrs. E. Burne Jones, Watts Legros, Mark Fisher, Corbett, Richmond, La Thangue, Christie, Peppercorn, and D. Murray.
The Maris Exhibition. — We have only a few lines to devote to this interesting collection in the Goupil Gallery. Nearly seventy examples are hung, including half a dozen by Matthew Maris, and about a dozen by the youngest brother of the third William Maris. The examples of James Maris, which form the tenth of the exhibition, vary from one of his very earliest works, painted in 1867, which has a decided feeling of Pieter de Hooghe, to his most recently executed 'Dutch Port,' which as yet is raw when compared with his earlier work, over which the refinement of age has thrown a charming quality. Recently James Maris has been p.ainting figures both in oils and water-colours, and it might almost be said he excels more as a figure-painter than as a landscapist. Matthew Maris' very subtle qualities are scarcely adapted for an exhibition room: they are more like jewels to be kept under lock and key, and examined alone and at leisure. William Maris paints cattle in Dutch landscapes, but he lags somewhat behind his illustrious brothers.
