beg the question. The Catholic may urge that these strange signs have about them no mark of the divine; but their argument is weak, for they must allow that strange things do happen, when they regard the liquefaction of the blood of S. Januarius, and recognise the substantial truth of the story of the Sacred Heart. Besides, have not saints mysteriously received the stigmata? and were not S. Francis or S. Dominic seen to be raised from the ground in a state of ecstasy? Obviously, no religion can claim for itself a monopoly of miracles.

The latest defence of modern spiritualism has appeared where it was least likely to be found, namely, in the pages of the 'Fortnightly Review.' Mr. Alfred R. Wallace has entered the lists under the auspices of the most unsympathetic of periodicals. It is scarcely likely that the hardheaded and thoughtful editor of the 'Fortnightly' is a believer in Mrs. Guppy; but no one who knows his candour and broad intelligence can be surprised that he admits what promises to be an important controversy in a by no means unimportant matter to a philosophical ventilation in the columns over which he presides. At the commencement of the present year Lord Amberley wrote an article in the 'Fortnightly,' entitled 'Experiences of Spiritualism,' in which the whole thing was denounced as an imposture and a cheat. Then Mr. Dunphy wrote a paper in 'London Society,' which pointed to a very different conclusion; and Mr. Wallace contends that Mr. Dunphy has a better right to be believed than Lord Amberley, and he briefly gives his reasons. Lord Amberley assisted at fivo séances which do not appear to have been very successful, while Mr. Dunphy has a

much wider experience. Lord Amberley jumps at his conclusion, while Mr. Dunphy merely states his facts. Under an imperative sense of duty,' Mr. Wallace now undertakes the defence of spiritualism.

It is not my purpose now to go into a detailed criticism of Mr. Wallace's statements and theories. I have not space to do so; nor would it be fair, for Mr. Wallace's argument will not be concluded till these lines are in print. Still, I may say that, so far as he has gone in his historical sketch of spiritualism, and in his narration of facts, he has adduced nothing whatever to convince me that the phenomena related are due to the intervention of the souls of the dead, or that, to use his own phrase, spirits, as distinguishable from substantial human force, are the 'intelligent cause of the phenomena.' I have never been present at a séance, and therefore I will not dispute the accuracy of the apparent facts. I am quite willing to believe that tables are moved without the application of external force, for I have seen a tree torn from its roots, but I never saw the wind that overthrew it. I have not the slightest doubt that 'mediums" have been seen to float in the air, for equally heavy bodies can poise in the atmosphere hundreds and hundreds of feet above the surface of the earth with no perceptible action to sustain them, and we have no exhaustive knowledge of the laws of gravitation. I admit all Mr. Wallace's facts, unreservedly if he pleases, though I own to a professional weakness

It would be better if FREE LANCE did attend a few séances before resuming this subject. Scepticism that rejects inquiry becomes bigotry, and we must have a good reason for forming our opinions before we can expect the public to adopt them.-ED. 'LONDON SOCIETY.'

for cross-examination; but I am compelled, also under an imperative sense of duty,' to resist his conclusions, namely, that these abnormal manifestations are the work of spirits.

We

For it does not require very deep reflection to confess that we know nothing whatever about spirits, and that the very term 'spirit' merely implies an unknown quantity. We talk about space, and universe, while we are perfectly aware that we have no adequate conception of either. speak of eternity and infinity, but they are only terms which language has invented for the purpose of exchanging thought on subjects which are beyond the grasp of human intelligence. Spiritualists do not venture to go beyond the expression of their argument, that the phenomena they witness can only be accounted for on the theory that they are performed by supernatural agencies, and that they think that these agencies are to be imputed to the spirits of the dead. And they go on to say that these phenomena are strong proofs of the doctrine of the immortality of the soul.. But if they would consent to subject their theories to severe logical examination, they could not fail to see that their arguments, in a ratiocinative point of view, are very feeble. They come to this: a ponderous article of furniture is moved across a room without any visible agency. As it is contrary to all experience that such an effect can occur without apparent and explicable cause, we maintain that it is effected by the superhuman energy of the spirits of the dead. But to this the objector may fairly reply that a century ago nobody would have believed that it was possible to travel at the rate of seventy miles an hour, or that the result of a

boat-race on the Thames could be known in Calcutta and New York as soon as it is known in Bristol; and our ancestors might just as reasonably have urged that no such effect could have been caused without the agency of the spirits of the dead. Now, we know nothing whatever about the state of the departed. No record or tradition, strangely enough, exists of what Lazarus said and did after he had been summoned from the tomb; nor are there any ancient legends about those weird resurrections at the hour of the Crucifixion. Among all the strange romances that have emanated from the human brain, not one, as far as I am aware, has ever ventured to deal with the land beyond the grave. And therefore, when the spiritualist contends that the phenomena he witnesses are caused by the spirits of the dead, we cannot resist the conviction that the process of reasoning he puts forward is wholly arbitrary, and entirely unsatisfactory. He simply substitutes one difficulty for another. He places the world upon the shoulders of Atlas, but leaves poor Atlas no place to stand on. And we may fairly ask him whether he has any real reason for supposing that the spirit, when separated from the body, has greater power to move a heavy sofa across a room without the application of muscular force than when it was joined to the body? May we not ask him, further, whether what he calls the 'medium' may not possess some as yet imperfectly comprehended power which may be shown to be a sufficient explanation of the undoubted phenomena? I shall return to this subject next month.

Those who cannot get away this June weather, but are longing to

refrigerate themselves in Switzerland, cannot do better than go to the Exhibition of Modern British and Foreign Pictures at the Conduit Street Gallery, for here they will find some tremendous Alpine scenery, painted on a tolerably large scale by M. Loppé. In fact, the exhibition is principally M. Loppé's, a few other artists being permitted to fill the gaps between his pictures; and if I was M. Loppé I should be very much inclined to follow the example of Gustave Doré, and start a gallery all to myself. Possibly the artists whose works are exhibited between M. Loppé's, at the Conduit Street Gallery, are of much the same opinion; for there is a good deal of him. The principal objects in the room are his four great pictures, No. 11, The Matterhorn'; No. 31, 'Mer de Glace, Aiguille de Charmoz'; No. 53, Traversée des Seracs du Glacier du Géant,' and No. 79, 'Sunrise from the Summit of Mont Blanc.' The catalogue somewhat unnecessarily informs the spectator that each of these pictures can be seen best from the opposite side or end of the gallery respectively. Indeed the limits of the room do not permit one to get far enough away from No. 31, and the foreground of the 'Mer de Glace' looks too much like a sugar-loaf geometrically divided. The view of the Matterhorn is a fine picture undoubtedly, though perhaps the grey horrors of that fatal peak are not sufficiently prominent. There is an eagle hovering over the valley, which I am inclined to consider as a dramatic mistake.

'Sunrise from the Summit of Mont Blanc' is perhaps a little disappointing; but then M. Loppé has seen the reality, and I have not, so I cannot consider myself an adequate judge. I very much prefer the picture No. 29, representing sunset from the summit

of L'Aiguille du Gouté, which possesses wonderful effects of light, and is deliciously enchanting as a whole. Far the best of M. Loppé's pictures is No. 53; this is really magnificent, and one would like to see it in the large gallery at the Royal Academy, where it would have a far better chance. There are three smaller pictures by the same artist, Nos. 76, 77, and 78, representing respectively Lake Inverjelen on the Aletsch glacier, the Lake of Annecy in Savoy, and Mont Blanc at sunrise, as seen from the Breithorn. These are three of the most satisfactory pictures in the room; and though somewhat tame, perhaps, in comparison with M. Loppé's more ambitious attempts, they convey a sense of calm repose which is eminently refreshing in these highpressure days. Nos. 51 and 57, representing Alpine roses on the slopes of the Montanvert, by the same artist, are very pleasant to look at. Of the other exhibitors, I may mention that Mr. MacWhirter shows us two very good pictures, Nos. 61 and 81; the latter, 'Moonlight on the Coast of Scotland,' and the former, 'Into the Depths of the Forest,' a weird and ghostly production, eminently suggestive of Herne the Hunter, without his oak. Madame Henriette Browne exhibits 'Printemps,' a stately lady examining spring flowers; but there is a stony appearance about her ladyship which induces the spectator to think that hers must have been a very cold spring indeed. No. 43, 'The Private View,' by Mr. C. Hermanns, may be interesting within a certain circle, if intended for portraits, as it probably is; but for the public it is not calculated to win any great amount of fascination. Mr. L. J. Pott's Charles I. leaving Westminster Hall after his Trial,' is an old Academy friend, and has

Mr.

been sufficiently criticised. Holyoake's two pictures, 'Oxford' and Cambridge,' representing young ladies interested, apparently, in the boat-race, remind me too much of refreshment-bar sirens out for the day. Mr. V. W. Bromley's Launcelot and Guinevere' is very stagey; surely Launcelot never wore such a heavy black moustache, with no other hair upon his face; this most decidedly is not like my Launcelot.' Mr. C. A. L'Aubinière's Flowers' is excellent. I must not forget to mention four plaques, painted in raw enamel by Edouard Rischgitz, which are well worth a study. For the rest, it is sufficient to say there is no rubbish, and the collection will well repay more than one visit.

From such preliminaries as the Conduit Street Gallery, we turn to Burlington House. There is certainly no place of intellectual entertainment which is so popular as the Exhibition of the Royal Academy of Arts. Here is the delightful common ground upon which all may tread without fear of injuring moral toes, whatever may be said of the physical sufferings not unfrequently endured on a crowded morning. Painters possess an immense advantage, in these days at all events, over artists in other professions. They are spared the biting sarcasms and disagreeable personalities which distress the thorny path of the novelist, the dramatic author, and the actor. They may not find it always easy to find purchasers who are ready to take them at their own valuation, but at all events they are generally spared the agony of being held up by remorseless critics to public contempt and ridicule. Your work once admitted to its place on the

walls of the Academy, and there you are. Thousands of persons will flock to see what you have accomplished, and you certainly will not be passed by unnoticed. This, to ambition, must be very satisfactory. There are some names which we miss this year from the catalogue, and we regret their absence. But when we are told that some four thousand pictures were offered, and that it was impossible to find room for not quite fourteen hundred, we must express the hope that the rejected find some comfort in remembering that the space at the disposal of the Council of the Academy is limited. It is not for outsiders like myself, who merely have to report briefly to the public the ultimate result of the exhibition, to do anything but acquiesce humbly in the principle of selection; but I own I should like to see an extra exhibition of the pictures that were not deemed worthy to find a place in the Academy, or rather, I should say, which were considered inferior to those exhibited.

On the whole, the Exhibition of the Royal Academy of Arts for the year 1874 may be taken as eminently respectable, but somewhat dull; it is strong in the amount of artistic work and admirable painting, but a trifle weak in the matter of originality. It is very uncomfortable to feel that, as the years go by, history does nothing but repeat itself; things new and strange very seldom come to the surface; dramatic authors and novelists quarrel as to the origin of their respective plots, and painters travel in well-known grooves. Of the principal artists, Mr. Ansdell exhibits five pictures, 'A Highland Cot Cattle Fair in the Isle of Sky,' 'Goatherds in the Bay of Gibraltar,' 'Herd Lassie parting with an old Friend,' 'Outside the Cover,' and 'The Wounded Ram': of these I

decidedly prefer the Goatherds,' an exquisite piece of colouring, and there is a delightful little kid in a pannier-a real kid, I mean.

Outside the Cover' is a picturesque version of the actual thing. Mr. Armitage's picture of 'S. John taking the Virgin to his own Home after the Crucifixion' is touching, but does not rise to any very high level of conception: his 'Dream of Fair Women of Ancient Greece' is much more satisfactory, though the Cassandra is somewhat disappointing. Mr. P. H. Calderon exhibits three pictures; the best is decidedly Half-hours with the Best Authors'; three young ladies, our grandmothers in their youth, apparently, if one may judge from their costume, have seated themselves upon a spacious sofa, on a warm afternoon, tired with talking all the morning, determined to employ their minds with literature of a high class; two have yielded to the exigencies of the weather, or possibly of an early dinner, and have fallen asleep; the third, with her back to her sisters, and so uninfluenced by their example, or possibly possessed of stronger digestive powers, reads on bravely. I daresay she has got hold of Clarissa Harlowe,' or something equally exciting. The Queen of the Tournament' is characteristic of the artist; he has done something of the kind before. 'Queen' is about to place the crown of victory on the head of the victorious champion, and the best thing about the picture are the critical faces of the ladies in waiting; they seem scarcely to regard the brave knight with as much favour as he would wish; the grouping generally would be more cheerful if there was a little more light about it. Mr. Calderon's third picture is 'Cynthia,' a fair face, probably a portrait, but does not call for any special remark.

VOL. XXV.-NO. CL.

The

Of Mr. T. S. Cooper's four pictures, the best are Be it ever so humble, there's no place like Home,' and Separated, but not Divorced,' both being superb studies of cattle, let us call them Fronts des Boeufs. Of Mr. C. W. Cope's three pictures, the best is his scene from that very disagreeable play, the 'Taming of the Shrew'; it is admirably painted and dramatically conceived; it makes one hate Petruchio more than ever. Mr. Vicat Cole also shows us three results of his labours: 'The Heart of Surrey' is a splendid work, and, without the smallest exaggeration, presents to the spectator the unrivalled beauties of English scenery. There is a glorious richness about the picture which satisfies, but does not satiate. His forest and meadow scene, representing

The first soft light of morn

That melts the fairy silver of the frost,'

is truly delicious : an autumn morning-we can almost smell its freshness and witness the fading away of the suggestions of the frost. The best of Mr. H. W. B. Davis's productions is The End of the Day.' Mr. Elmore has two illustrations of romances, 'Alice Bridgenorth and Julian Peveril' from 'Peveril of the Peak,' and 'Mistress Hetty Lambert' from 'The Virginians'; but his third picture, 'Wandering Thoughts,' will probably afford the greatest satisfaction. Mr. T. Faed's strongest and best effort is unquestionably his picture 'Forgiven.' There is very little need of the long explanatory 'extract from a letter' which is given in the catalogue, for the canvas tells its own story. It is a tale of humble life, but it has been heard in every social grade. A girl has run away with a worthless man, who married her fast enough, but against the will of her parents. He deserts her; after 20