of carrying water
colour to its greatest possible depth and power, and certainly, in this
respect, the attainment is wondrous. In design, and other character,
this society more than keeps its ground. We remember last year noticing
Miss Setchell's little picture, as one of the best of the year; we have
still a perfect recollection of the most lovely pathetic expression of
the poor girl. We were greatly disappointed that no work of Miss
Setchell adorns the walls. There is a picture, however, which, if it did
not move us equally, at once arrested our attention, and again and again
did we return to it. The character of it is not certainly moving, as
Miss Setchell's, it is altogether of a different cast--it is one for
thought and manly contemplation. The subject is "Cromwell and Ireton
intercepting a letter of Charles the First," by L. Haghe. Cromwell is
standing reading a letter--Ireton adjusting the saddle in the recess of
a window, near which Cromwell stands, is a table with a flagon, the
scene is an inn in Holborn. The attitude of Cromwell is dignified ease
and resolution. In his fine countenance we read the full history of the
"coming events"--we see all there, that we have learned from history.
The very curtains and stick seem to the imagination's eye convertible
into canopy and sceptre. There is great forbearance in the painting--we
mean that there is just enough, and no more, of water-colours' ambition.
More depth would have injured the effect. It is a very striking picture;
well finished, and with a breadth suited to the historical importance of
the history. Mr Warren's "Christ's Sermon" is of the ambitious school.
If we contrast the quiet, solemnly quiet, tone of that sermon of
beatitudes, with the coloured character of the picture, we must condemn
the inappropriate style. We should say it is immodestly painted; the
picture and not the subject, obtrudes. The head of Christ is weak. It is
a picture nevertheless of great ability, but with a gorgeous colouring
ill suited to the subject. But we must speak with unqualified admiration
of a little picture by Mr Warren--the "Ave Maria." It is a lady kneeling
before a picture of a saint in a chapel. The depth and power is very
surprising, and much reminds of Rembrandt, with the exception of the
picture of the saint, which struck us at first as too light by a great
deal, so much so that we noted it down as a glaring defect, but
returning to the picture, we looked, not only ti