The Sun.
London, England, 1865-05-01 00:00:00

topics than military exploits. I cannot say that I
regret this, for of course whatever conduces to the
happiness and prosperity of this country must
always be most acceptable to the service to which I
belong. It is not our wish to see wars engaged in ;
on the contrary, it is our business to try and avert
the calamities of war, and if we can succeed in that
respect I flatter myself we perform our duty as
successfully, and are as much entitled to the good
opinion of our countrymen as if we performed our
duty gallantly on the field of battle. (Cheers.)
But besides this, I trust I am not mistaken in sup-
posing that the artists of this country have a real
affection for the service with which I am associated,
forming, as they do, one of those Volunteer corps
which have just been mentioned from the chair.
(Cheers.) I am happy to find that the Artists Corps
have been in no respect reduced either in number
or efficiency—(cheers)—and I feel persuaded
that while they have on this and many other
other occasions with their peaceful arms deli-
neated so agreeably the representations of various
kinds which we see around us on these walls,
they would with their warlike arms be prepared to
grasp the rifle and the bayonet, and do good service
to their country, should the hour of need arrive.
(Cheers.) I trust, however, that hour of need will
not arrive; and that it will be the good fortune of
the army and navy to do the fighting part without
the assistance of the Volunteers. I sincerely hope
we may often have the pleasure of seeing them in
their military capacity, but that their duties may be
confined to the peaceful position of Brighton or the
extended battlefield of Wimbledon-common.
(Cheers and a laugh.)
The Duke of SOMERSET—It is my duty and plea-
sure to reply on this occasion for the honour you
have done to her Majesty's navy. It is true, as his
royal highness has already said, that in these days
neither the army nor the navy are called upon for
those great exertions which in former times they have
performed, and which again they will perform when
duty calls upon them to do so. But whenever the
opportunity has been afforded—whenever the navy
has had occasion to be employed, as lately in New
Zealand, in Japan, and I might add in the River
Plate, where one of our finest vessels was suddenly
enveloped in conflagration—the officers and men
have shown that they retain that high character of
courage, attention to discipline, and ready obedience
which have enabled them in former times, and in
more serious conflicts to uphold the honour of the
British name and win for themselves the enthusiastic
admiration of their countrymen. (Cheers.) I will
not trespass on your time by dwelling on the merits
of the navy. It may be true, I think it is, that the
navy has not of late done much for the arts, and I
am afraid that the vessels we now build will not be
very decorative on your walls. (A laugh.) But they
tell me it all depends on the proper education of the
eye—(a laugh)—and if you will but educate your eye
I am in hopes that even these square-looking dark
things without any masts may still be the objects
of your admiration. But it will, I fear, require a
great deal of education. (A laugh.) In the mean-
while, without further trespassing on your time,
allow me to thank you for the honour you have done
me in connecting my name with the Navy. (Cheers.)
Viscount Bunt—It has become' the habit of late
years to associate the toast of the Volunteers with
the Army and Navy. It may be that in times to
come, if the Volunteers, as I sincerely hope they
will, continue to form part of the defences of Eng-
land, they will, as a matter of course, be associated
with the two services ; but now, almost in the infancy
of that force, no Volunteer worthy of the name can
hear the toast proposed without being reminded
that it is only by the kindness of the company that
they are so associated. I should, perhaps, speak
with rather more humility on the present occasion
as a Volunteer if it were not that his Royal High-
ness the Commander-in-Chief has already reminded
you that the Artists' Corps forms part, not the
least distinguished, of the Volunteer force of the
metropolis. (Cheers.) I have myself had that dis-
tinguished corps under my command, and I cannot
tell you how exceedingly proud a "vain man dressed
in a little brief authority " must feel in being able
to order the members of such a corps, animated
with the love of nature, or with a pretty girl on the
line of march to look straight forward. (A laugh.:
I cannot but remember, with that melancholy satin
faction with which we look back on the merest
trifles connected with those who are gone, that that
distinguished artist whose name has become his-
torical—I mean John Leech—was a volunteer—
(cheex s)--and that I had the honour to teach him
the goose step. (A laugh.) His Royal Highness
has said that he hopes our Volunteer force will
always confine its efforts to the bloodless fields of
Brighton and Wimbledon. I, too, trust that will be
the case, but we must remember that the Volunteers
are Englishmen, and in whatever capacity they are
called on to do their duty they will do it. (Cheers.)
The PRESIDENT—Gentlemen of the Royal Aca-
demy, the toast which I have now the honour to
propose, and which I give in the form prescribed of
old, is "The health of the noblemen and gentlemen
who this day honour the Academy with their pre-
sence." (Cheers.) Whatever may be the station
or the profession of those to whom we now desire to
offer the expression of our respect, we are entitled to
regard them all as well-wishers to the fine arts—a
taste for which is, happily, compatible with every
position and with every occupation. As represen-
tatives of the still increasing class of cultivated
amateurs, we owe them renewed acknowledgments,
for to their favour, whether evinced by the direct
encouragement of the fine arts or by an enlightened
interest in their progress and applications, the pre-
sent widely-spread feeling for art among all classes
is greatly to be ascribed. (Cheers.) That favour
may be said to have been manifested of late years
in one sense more distinctly, producing correspond-
ing beneficial results. The time was when appre-
ciation of the fine arts, though displaying itself in
many substantial forms, was rarely indicated by any
open avowal. The very earnestness of a predilec-
tion is sometimes opposed to a public confession.
The friends of art seem to have looked upon it much
as Goldsmith regarded his love of poetry, which he
describes as—
. " My shame in crowds, my solitary pride."
This reticence has given way to a sense of duty, and
on occasions when public utility has been tho all-
sufficient motive for departing from it. The change
to which I allude has been chiefly brought about by
the application of the fine arts to what is called in
_ - _

dustrial art, and more especially in schools of de-
sign ; for, by a natural reaction, the tangible uses
of art again invite attention to its more refined
adaptations. (Cheers.) Many a nobleman, many
a member of Parliament, and some whom we have
the honour to see here to-day, have, at various
times, felt it incumbent on them, in support-
ing such schools, to address very mixed audiences
on subjects connected with the arts of design ; and,
although on such occasions the ostensible object has
been to further the tasteful improvement of manu-
factures, the speakers have not unfrequently been
led to enlarge on the purposes of art in a wider sense,
and by recommending the study of nature and of
works which nature has inspired they have at once
stimulated industry and awakened a taste for rational
enjoyments. (Cheers.) These duties, considered as
possible means of promoting the public welfare and
material and moral improvement of many, have been
readily undertaken by distinguished and disinterested
individuals; and there can be no doubt that such

intercourse has, of late years, been a prominent cause
of the progress of the general public in the intelli-
gence and enjoyment of the fine arts. I give you
the health of the noblemen and gentlemen who have
honoured us with their presence this evening.
(Cheers.)
The Archbishop of CANTERBURY said—Sir C. Eastlake,
your Royal Highness, my Lords, and Gentlemen—I desire

to tender, in my own name, and in behalf of all those who
have been privileged to be your guests on the present occa-
sion, our cordial thanks for the honour you have thus done
us in proposing our health. It is, indeed, a privilege which
we justly prize, as I think may be clearly evinced by the
response which is annually made, sir, to your call, and by
the unfailing assemblage of the heads of the Church, of
the most distinguished ornaments of the legal and other
professions, of the foremost men in literature, in science
and art, to partake of your brilliant hospitality. (Cheers.)
We gather around you, sir, to bear our willing homage to
genius, and to testify our gratitude for its splendid results
as exhibited on these walls. (Cheers.) This is not the
time at which to enter on any lengthened disquisition
on the art of painting, but it is the occasion on which all

its devoted admirers will rejoice in expressing the de-
light they experience year by year in witnessing the
fresh triumphs it achieves—(cheers)=how, by its creative
power, it embodies in form and colour the facts of history
and the fictions of poetry, adding a fresh charm by the
magic touches of the pencil to the graphic narrative of the
one, to the thoughts that breathe and words that burn of the
other; how it commits to the canvas in faithful and glowing
colours the stirring events of our own days (pointing to Mr.
Frith's picture of the Royal Academy)—how it commemo-
rates with marvellous power and matchless grace the early
efforts of kindred genius, efforts which were one day to be
crowned by an undying celebrity (pointing to Mr. Phillips's
picture of Murillo as a youth) ; how with its mute eloquence
it can raise the soul to devout aspirations, as we gaze on the
saints and seers of Sacred Writ, rapt in holy:meditation (re-
ferring to Leighton's " David") ; how its present efforts
will in time to come recall, as it were, to life and action the
great and good who are no more, exhibiting to future gene-
rations the mind and character revealed in the lineaments
and expression of the countenance ; how it presents to the
imagination many a moving incident of real or fictitious
life, which kindles our sympathy with the joys and sorrows
of our fellow-men. (Cheers.) These, sir, are some of the
obligations for which we acknowledge ourselves debtors.to
the members of the Royal Academy and their associates ;
and I know not that we can find any more appropriate way
of repaying that debt on the present occasion than by the
offering of our fervent wishes for the continued and in-
creasing prosperity of the Royal Academy. (Cheers.) May
its mission ever be, as it has been in times past, to touch
and teach the heart while it charms the eye—to subserve
the cause of morality and religion, by awakening through
the creations of genius on the canvas such pure emotions
and such elevating thoughts as may delight while they im-
prove the beholder. (Cheers.) I request you all to accept
the toast of " Prosperity to the Royal Academy," and to
drink to the health of Sir Charles Eastlake, who so ably
vindicates the principles of his art, and so worthily pre-
sides over this institution. (Loud cheers.)
The PRESIDENT, after duly ackowledging for himself and
colleagues the honour conferred on the Academy, said,--It
is most desirable that these recurring exhibitions should
keep pace with and confirm the public feeling at present
so strongly manifeked in favour of the fine arts, and the
observations to which we have had the pleasure of listen-
ing justify the conclusion that such is the case. Those
observations, the general estimate of the exhibition, the
allusions to particular works, and the reflections suggested
by them, must have been gratifying alike to the friends and
the professors of art. Our regret from time to time is that
we miss the productions of those who had long contributed
to the attractions of the annual display. On the present
occasion we miss the admirable portraits of Sir John Wat-
son Gordon, whose active and honoured life came to its
close soon after our last meeting. More recently we have
had to deplore the Loss of David Roberts. His pictures are so
familiar that it is quite unnecessary for me to speak of their
merits ; but whoever has had an opportunity of seeing the
exhibition of his drawings which has recently taken place will
probably have conceived a still higher idea of his powers.
The very existence of a large proportion of that series was
scarcely known to his intimate friends, so unostentatious was
the artist's character, so genuine his love of art for its own
sake. (Cheers.) Of living Academicians, it is not to be sup-
posed that all who are absent from these walls have not
been zealously employed. Some, as is well known, are en-
gaged in the Palace of Westminster, and I take this oppor-
tunity of announcing that Mr. Maclise has just completed
there another of those gigantic works which, I cannot re-
frain from saying, will contribute to immortalize his name.
(Cheers.) With regard to the present exhibition, as the in-
creased employment of art necessarily increases the number
of exhibitors, so it involves the painful impossibility of ac-
commodating in our present apartments all the meritorious
candidates for space. It is unnecessary to dwell on this too
familiar difficulty, a remedy for which will, we trust, in
time be provided. I have to propose, as the next toast, the
health of a nobleman and a statesman who, in the midst of
political cares and duties, has over been duly sensible of the
public advantages which the cultivation of the fine arts,
as a branch of education, can confer. I have the honour
to propose " The Health of Earl Russell." (Cheers.)
Earl RussELL—I have to thank you, Sir Charles, for the
honour you have done in proposing my health. Had my
noble friend Lord Palmerston been here I have no doubt
you would have drunk his health in connection with the
toast you have just given, and I only regret that some slight
indisposition prevents the gratification he must have expe-
rienced, as we have all experienced, on this occasion. With
respect to myself I may say I have had the honour of an;in-
vitation for some 40 or 50 years to your meetings, and it
has always given me the greatest pleasure in being able to
attend this anniversary. I have every year derived great
delight in witnessing your achievements ; but, at the same
time, I must say that having had.long experience allowed
me I have almost every year had the misfortune to miss
some favourite artist, and thus to mix regret with the en-
joyment which I have received. You have mentioned one
now no longer among us:whom I used to congratulate every
year on the merits of his pictures. I refer to the late much
respected David Roberts. (Cheers.) Sir Walter Scott,
speaking of Edinburgh, called it his " own romantic town."
Ills taste was first employed there, but from the colours in
which he showed London I may say ho had given UR a
right to apply that epithet to London. (Cheers.) Among the
pictures I have seen to-day there is one that could not fail
to strike me, particularly as you have drunk the health of
the most rev. and right rev. prelates who are now present—
I mean the picture described in the Catalogue as Queen
Elizabeth's Toothache." (A laugh.) [ The scene is taken
from the "Lives of the Queens of England," and represents
the determination of the Queen to resist the extraction of a
tooth, till Aylmer, Bishop of London, stood forth, and told
her that although an old man and not having many teeth to
spare, she should see a practical experiment of it on himself,
if she would thereby be encouraged. Whereupon the surgeon
extracted one of his teeth, and the Queen's unwillingness
was ultimately overcome.] I compared that with another
picture I see before me, named in the Catalogue as " The
Connoisseurs." One would have expected to see under such
a title two or three very shrewd-looking gentlemen disposed
to tell the artist, according to Goldsmith's well known story,
that the picture might have been much better if he had
taken more pains, or making some remarks of that kind.
But instead of that I was much surprised to see two dogs
looking over Sir Edwin Landseer's shoulders, as if criticis-
ing the picture he is drawing. (A laugh.) From the obser-
vation of these two pictures a gentleman was led to remark
that it was much better to bo ono of Sir Edwin Lanseer's
dogs than one of Queen Elizabeth's bishops. (Laughter.)
Sir Edwin evidently has the greatest regard to the comfort
and happiness of his dogs. (Cheers and laughter.) But I
will not trespass on your time by further remarks. I beg
again to express my admiration of this institution, and my
thanks for the honour you have done me. (Cheers.)
The PnEsmExT—Without adhering to the strict order of
the toasts in.the list before me, I will now beg to propose
" The Interests of Literature." This toast, accompanied by
our emphatic acknowledgment of the debt which art has
ever owed and will over owe to letters, comprehends a large
proportion of the distinguished personages here assembled.
Many of those who deign to be our guests, and who have
earned great literary success, are renowned in the Senate;
others are conspicuous ornaments of the Church or of the
learned professions. In the practice of the formative arts
there is generally a decided line of demarcation between
the professional artist and the amuteur. In letters it is not
so—there are no amateur writers. All literary candidates
for fame come before the public on nearly equal terms, and
the consequence is that the author by profession has not
only the whole world to please, but the whole educated
world to contend with. In selecting a representative at
once from the aristocracy of intellect and the aristocracy of
rank, I am therefore not departing from the catalogue of
public contributors to the literary attractions of our time.
In connection with the toast I have the honour to propose
the health of a nobleman who has solaced the intervals
of important and useful public labours by a happy in-
tercourse with the greatest poet of antiquity. I have the
honour to propose " The health of the Earl of Derby."
(Loud cheers.)

The Earl of DERBY, who was loudly cheered, said—Sir
Charles Eastlake, my Lords, and gentlemen, to the great
majority of thoso who are honoured with invitations to

attend this anniversary festival, it is one not of the least at-
tractions that wo can enjoy the company and feast presented
to our eyes without being called upon to perform any part of
the ceremony ourselves—(a laugh)—and, with the exception
perhaps of those members of the Government called on to
return thanks in some official capacity, or those connected
with some of those societies which this illustrious Academy
delights to honour on this and other occasions, your other
guests come with the happy consciousness that they may
enjoy in silence that which is presented to them. (A laugh.)
It was in that happy:conviction that I came here this even-
ing, and I must say I never was more taken aback than
when, immediately after wo sat down to dinner, you, Sir
Charles, informed me of the cruel kindnessyou had destined
for me. (Cheers.) I confess I had at the moment a very strong
disposition to be seized with a sudden and violent indisposi-
tion—(a laugh)—for I felt myself very much as if I were
the wrong man in the wrong place—(cheers)--in return-
ing thanks for such a toast ; and when I looked around me
and saw so many who are identified with general literature,
with literature in the various walks of fiction, poetry, his-
tory, science, and divinity, I certainly felt that you had
committed what indeed is not a frequent circumstance with
you, a great error in judgment, in calling on mo to return
thanks in the name of literature. (Cheers.) Why, Sir
Charles, I really feel, and I am sure those I am addressing
must feel, that I have no claim to respond for the literature
of the country, any more than any person might have a
claim to bo admitted to the distinguished honour of belong-
ing to this Academy on th3 sole pretension of having pro-
duced ono single copy, however faithful, of one of the groat
masters. (Cheers.) It is true I have had before me in that
great work to which you have done me the honour of
alluding a masterpiece of art. And if it be true that at
picturapoesis—if it bo true that poetry is word-painting and
painting is visible poetry, then I think I may venture to
claim for that great original I have endeavoured to copy,
that he was among the greatest painters of any country in
the world. (Loud cheers.) For, let me ask you and this
assembly what are the great qualities which are required
to form a distinguished painter ? First, I apprehend, they
are fidelity to nature, a genuine appreciation of the beauties

of nature—a vivid imagination—a correct and anatomical
knowledge of the formation of the human frame—a correct