Page images
PDF
EPUB

1865.]

It is proposed that the constituency
of Academicians and Associates
shall be augmented from 60 to 90;
that the Associates shall receive
an accession of powers and privi-
leges, among which is included the
right of voting in the election of
Academicians. Fortunately, the
Academy possesses funds amply
sufficient for the erection of a build-
ing which, being thus entirely its
own, will enshrine the independence
rightly guarded by the Academy
with jealousy. We confess to con-
siderable anxiety as to the actual
details of an arrangement which can-
not fail to influence for evil or for
good the wellbeing of Art for many
But we trust,
years yet to come.
on the one hand, the Government
may act with the liberality which
befits a great nation, in a matter
that in no slight degree affects the
glory and the honour of our people;
and on the other, we hope that the
Academy will be ready to surrender
its exclusive and obnoxious pre-
rogatives, to enlarge its too narrow
boundaries, and to act generally for
the welfare of the entire profession,
and for the best interests of the
collective arts intrusted to its guar-
dianship.

Enough has been said to indicate that England is rushing into what in history is called an art epoch. National wealth, the exigencies of

commerce, and the growth of lux-
ury, all tend to the same result. In
this, our northern renaissance, we
incline to think less is due to genius
than to the force of circumstances.
In Italy of the middle ages giant
artists came upon the stage who of
themselves made an epoch, and the
mind of the whole people also was
instinct with beauty. Under such
conditions architecture, sculpture,
and painting find spontaneous birth:
the act of creation is indeed a se-
cond nature. Those phenomena,
however, which are now in course
of evolution under our own eyes
There
present a different aspect.
is little reason to believe that Eng-
lishmen are specially gifted with
art-instincts, and certainly few great
architects, sculptors, or painters
have risen to mould the age anew.
This in some measure is the rea-
son why art is with us less a
creation than a compilation. This
is in good degree the cause why in
we have no style,
architecture
why in sculpture there is little
originality, and why in painting
we are reduced to naturalism. We
copy, but do not create; and thus
it happens that the congregated
works of an art-season testify to
keenness of eye, to fulness of me-
mory, to facility of manipulation,
but do not confess to imaginative
power.

E

CLEOPATRA.

HERE, Charmian, take my bracelets,
They bar with a purple stain
My arms; turn over my pillows-
They are hot where I have lain :
Open the lattice wider,

A gauze on my bosom throw,
And let me inhale the odours
That over the garden blow.

I dreamed I was with my Antony,
And in his arms I lay ;

Ah, me! the vision has vanished-
Its music has died away.

The flame and the perfume have perished—
As this spiced aromatic pastille

That wound the blue smoke of its odour
Is now but an ashy hill.

Scatter upon me rose-leaves,
They cool me after my sleep,
And with sandal odours fan me
Till into my veins they creep;

Reach down the lute, and play me
A melancholy tune,

To rhyme with the dream that has vanished,
And the slumbering afternoon.

There, drowsing in golden sunlight,
Loiters the slow smooth Nile,
Through slender papyri, that cover
The sleeping crocodile.

The lotus lolls on the water,

And opens its heart of gold,

And over its broad leaf-pavement
Never a ripple is rolled.
The twilight breeze is too lazy

Those feathery palms to wave,
And yon little cloud is as motionless
As a stone above a grave.

Ah, me! this lifeless nature
Oppresses my heart and brain!
Oh! for a storm and thunder-
For lightning and wild fierce rain!
Fling down that lute-I hate it!

Take rather his buckler and sword,
And crash them and clash them together
Till this sleeping world is stirred.

Hark! to my Indian beauty-
My cockatoo, creamy white,
With roses under his feathers-
That flashes across the light.

1865.]

Cleopatra.

Look! listen! as backward and forward
To his hoop of gold he clings,
How he trembles, with crest uplifted,
And shrieks as he madly swings!
Oh, cockatoo, shriek for Antony!
Cry, Come, my love, come home!"
Shriek, "Antony! Antony! Antony!"
Till he hears you even in Rome.

There-leave me, and take from my chamber
That wretched little gazelle,

With its bright black eyes so meaningless,
And its silly tinkling bell!
Take him,-my nerves he vexes—

The thing without blood or brain,—

Or, by the body of Isis,

I'll snap his thin neck in twain !

Leave me to gaze at the landscape
Mistily stretching away,
When the afternoon's opaline tremors
O'er the mountains quivering play;
Till the fiercer splendour of sunset
Pours from the west its fire,
And melted, as in a crucible,

Their earthy forms expire;

And the bald blear skull of the desert
With glowing mountains is crowned,
That burning like molten jewels
Circle its temples round.

I will lie and dream of the past-time,
Eons of thought away,

And through the jungle of memory
Loosen my fancy to play;
When, a smooth and velvety tiger,
Ribbed with yellow and black,

Supple and cushion-footed

I wandered, where never the track
Of a human creature had rustled
The silence of mighty woods,
And, fierce in a tyrannous freedom,

I knew but the law of my moods.
The elephant, trumpeting, started

When he heard my footstep near,
And the spotted giraffes fled wildly
In a yellow cloud of fear.

I sucked in the noontide splendour,
Quivering along the glade,

Or yawning, panting, and dreaming,
Basked in the tamarisk shade,
Till I heard my wild mate roaring,
As the shadows of night came on,
To brood in the trees' thick branches
And the shadow of sleep was gone;

255

Then I roused, and roared in answer,
And unsheathed from my cushioned feet
My curving claws, and stretched me,
And wandered my mate to greet.
We toyed in the amber moonlight,
Upon the warm flat sand,

And struck at each other our massive arms—
How powerful he was and grand!
His yellow eyes flashed fiercely

As he crouched and gazed at me,
And his quivering tail, like a serpent,
Twitched curving nervously.
Then like a storm he seized me,
With a wild triumphant cry,
And we met, as two clouds in heaven
When the thunders before them fly.
We grappled and struggled together,
For his love like his rage was rude;
And his teeth in the swelling folds of my neck
At times, in our play, drew blood.

Often another suitor

For I was flexile and fair-
Fought for me in the moonlight,
While I lay couching there,

Till his blood was drained by the desert;
And, ruffled with triumph and power,
He licked me and lay beside me

To breathe him a vast half-hour.
Then down to the fountain we loitered,
Where the antelopes came to drink;
Like a bolt we sprang upon them,
Ere they had time to shrink.

We drank their blood and crushed them,
And tore them limb from limb,

And the hungriest lion doubted

Ere he disputed with him.

That was a life to live for!

Not this weak human life,

With its frivolous bloodless passions,
Its poor and petty strife!

Come to my arms, my hero,

The shadows of twilight grow,
And the tiger's ancient fierceness
In my veins begins to flow.

Come not cringing to sue me!
Take me with triumph and power,
As a warrior that storms a fortress!
I will not shrink or cower.
Come, as you came in the desert,
Ere we were women and men,
When the tiger passions were in us,
And love as you loved me then!

W. W. S.

THE LATE ELECTIONS.

THE elections are over, and to all outward appearance they have resulted less favourably to the cause of constitutional government than we had hoped rather than anticipated. The Liberals tell us that they have gained twenty seats at the least. It remains to be seen whether in this, as in many other incidents in human life, that which seems to be really is. A gain of twenty seats, counting as forty votes on a division, would, however, be something to boast of were it quite sure. But is it quite sure? We think not. In the first place, the Liberals, looked at as a party, are but a heap of sand. There is no real bond of union among them, and the absence of such bond will, unless we greatly deceive ourselves, become even more apparent in the the new Parliament than it was in the old. In the next place, the new House of Commons is made up of a larger number of untried men than any which has met for the transaction of business since 1832. Till the push comes, no one can say how six out of eight of these gentlemen will vote. No doubt there has been, to a greater extent than on any previous occasion since the Reform Bill, a readiness among Liberal candidates to pledge themselves to whatever seemed to be the favourite crotchets of their constituents.

But

this circumstance, among others, goes some way to assure us that the measure of the Ministerial success is by no means what it seems to be. Men most prompt to take pledges are not always the most firm in redeeming them. It is a lax notion of morality which compels them, in the first instance, to substitute for their own convictions that which they believe will gratify their constituencies; and the same lax notion of morality which hurried them into rash promises at the

see

hustings, will bear them out in falsifying their honour without a pang, whenever the proper inducements are presented to them after their seats are secure. It appears, then, to us, that the shout of triumph set up by the Government and their supporters in the Liberal press is, to say the least of it, rather premature. Wait till the Houses meet. Wait till we what the policy of the Queen's Ministers is; and till it shall be clearly ascertained under whose auspices the business of the session is to be carried on. Then, and not till then, we shall be able to determine whether Liberalism, in the well-understood sense of that term, has really gained or lost by the issues of the general election. Meanwhile, our business is to look a little narrowly into the details of the contest which has just closed, and to draw from the premises thereby established such conclusions as the case may seem to warrant.

We begin by acknowledging that, however much we may regret, we can experience little surprise at the turn which events have taken. Not that our belief is at all shaken by it, in the spread of Conservative opinion throughout the country and among the constituencies. But Conservatism is still, what it has always been as a motive power, forbearing rather than aggressive; more prone to put up with ills which are not positively intolerable, than eager to stir up and mix in strife with a view to get rid of them. You cannot rouse this spirit to active exertion unless you are in a position to appeal to some obvious peril hanging over the constitution. Remote dangers, the slow but steady advances of the enemy, attract indeed the notice and rouse the vigilance of the observing few. But the masses are

« PreviousContinue »