and we steamed cautiously astern, repeating the experiment as often as requisite until we had made a channel of some length; we then steamed ahead through it, and the impetus we acquired enabled us to break the ice at the other extremity with our bows, though, be it said, much to their detriment. We continued to force our way through it, again passing our friend the barque, still hopelessly frozen in, until one P.M., when we finally extricated ourselves and rushed out into clear water.

Having now a fair wind and plenty of it, we made sail, put the fires out, hove our screw up, and directed our course for Kiel Bay, where we expected to find Vice-Admiral Sir Charles Napier in command of the Baltic fleet, and communicate our intelligence to him.

It was dark on the night of the 24th when we anchored in Kiel Bay, but we received the intelligence from a pilot boat that none of the fleet had been seen there. At daylight we again weighed, and made signal for a pilot. On observing one approaching, we began to clear away the accommodation-ladder to enable him to come on board, when the carpenter's mate, a very fine young man, fell from it into the water, the ship at the time going about seven miles an hour.

The engines were instantly reversed, the life-buoy let go, and the first lieutenant, with the boatswain and ten hands, sprung into the cutter, which was immediately lowered, and pulled away to his assistance. But, alas! before they could reach him the waves had closed over him for ever. He was seen at first to strike out bravely, and make desperate attempts to reach the life-buoy, which was within a few yards of him, but encumbered with the weight of his clothing, and probably paralysed by the intense coldness of the water, his efforts shortly ceased. Such is the fate of many a sailor: one moment in the enjoyment of life, youth, health, and vigour, the next moment in eternity. Such an occurrence on board ship to men accustomed constantly to face danger, and who as a necessary consequence of such a life become indifferent in a measure to the wants and sufferings of others, does not produce the same sensation that it would on shore. A few words of regret are uttered, a few more in his praise, had he been deserving of any his hammock, and bag containing his clothes are taken charge of by the master-at-arms, to be sold as "dead effects" on the first convenient day-an entry is made in the ship's books, and the thought of the accident passes away, like the accident itself.

It blew nearly a gale of wind against us as we steamed up through the Great Belt during the day. In the afternoon we observed a squadron of steamers lying off Nyborg, which proved to be the Leopard, 18 guns, flag of Rear-Admiral Plumridge, Captain G. Giffard; Valorous, 16, Captain Buckle; Dragon, 6, Captain Wilcox; and Bulldog, 6, Captain W. K. Hall.

When opposite to them we hove to, and the captain proceeded on board the Leopard. On his return we heard that the grand body of the fleet was at anchor some twenty-five miles further up the Belt, and we accordingly followed our course in that direction. A fine screw-frigate, the Dauntless, 33 guns, Captain Ryder, passed us shortly afterwards, on its way to join Admiral Plumridge's division; and another, the Tribune, 31, Captain the Honourable S. T. Carnegie, was anchored off a shoal on our way, to mark out its whereabouts to the liners, and warn them to pass outside her. Taking up their buoys in the Baltic will avail the Russians

but little, if we can make our screw-frigates feel the way, and act as substitutes.

Night now closed in, and it being very dark, and blowing exceedingly hard, we anchored until daylight, when we weighed, and proceeded to join the Baltic fleet now in sight.

A magnificent spectacle presented itself to our view. The morning was fresh, clear, and beautiful, and a light breeze blowing down the Belt caused the admiral to signalise the fleet to weigh under sail. The flagship being the weathermost vessel, we passed up the whole line; the splendid ships, beginning with the leewardmost, weighing nearly as we passed them. They consisted of the

The captain went on board the "Duke," and communicated our intelligence to the admiral, who expressed himself highly pleased with the success of our cruise, and ordered us home to refit, much to the discomfiture of many of us, who would rather have gone onward with the fleet, and had a hand in anything that was to be done than turn backwards.

Repairs, however, were absolutely necessary, as subsequent experience proved; for, when taken into dock in Sheerness, the greater part of our copper was found to be torn off, and some of the bow planks ground through within an inch and one-eighth-a small space that, to guard us from the inroads of salt seas.

Little more need be said. The excitement and interest of our cruise were over; we coaled at Elsinore with all despatch, and reached Sheerness again on the morning of the 2nd of April. May our next cruise have something in it better worth narration than the last!

C. W. B.

OUR ANNUAL PEEP INTO THE ROYAL ACADEMY.

OUR own personal experience, and the accounts which have reached us from various quarters, combine to justify the prediction with which we may assure our readers that the Royal Academy Exhibition for 1854 will be one of the most attractive that has taken place for a long time. In 1853 we had to regret the absence of many distinguished exhibitors, and although there are a few absentees this year-Egg and Millais being the most prominent amongst them-the short-comings of the approaching season are not of a kind to create a positive void in the Halls of the Academy, while that which has been accomplished is of a quality infinitely superior to the later productions of Art in this country.

If the fact has more than once been controverted, that the greatest painter whom the present century has brought forth is DANIEL MACLISE, those who denied his claim to the first place based their opinions, less upon what it was always evident he was capable of performing, than upon that which his genius had neglected. Admirable drawing, skilful composition, and great power of expression, were attributes universally conceded to him, but these, his opponents said, were rendered almost negative by his want of knowledge of colour and the true distribution of light and shade. It was vain to point out to them the grandeur of his conceptions, as in the Play-Scene in Hamlet and the shadowed apparition of Banquo at Macbeth's Supper ;-the exuberance of his fancy, as in the Vow of the Peacock;-his mastery over detail, as in the exhibition of Caxton's types before Edward the Fourth. The old answer was invariably returned: "He has no eye for colour, no feeling for repose." Such objections might have been fairly met by an appeal to many of his bestknown works, but as there are those who will not believe, even though they have Moses and the Prophets, their disproval was left to Time. And Time has justified the appeal. Of the thousands who will throng this summer to the rooms of the Academy, none, with "considerate eyes" and minds art-educated, will turn away from the magnificent historical picture which Maclise has just sent to the Exhibition without acknowledging that, while all his former excellences are retained, he is no longer open to the reproaches with which he has been so lavishly assailed.

The subject of this-his greatest work-is the "Marriage of Eva," the daughter of Dermot McMurrough (or Mac Murchad), King of Leinster, with Strongbow, Earl of Pembroke, on the battle-field of Waterford; an event of the highest political importance in connexion with the history of Ireland, and replete with incidents for Art to appropriate. "The still reeking horrors," says Moore," of the sacked and ruined city, were made to give place to a scene of nuptial festivity; and the marriage of Strongbow and the Princess Eva, according to the promise pledged, to that lord at Bristol, was in all haste and confusion celebrated." To do justice to such a scene, at such a moment, required nothing less than genius of the highest order, and the genius of Maclise has been fully equal to the occasion. The central group in the picture is formed by Strongbow and Eva, whose hands a priest, in rich sacerdotal costume, is about to join. The face of Eva, which is of the true Celtic type, is singularly beautiful, and strikingly opposed to the harsh features of her father, the savage

King of Leinster, who stands beside her. Strongbow is of the noblest presence, a fitting representative of the Norman chivalry, by whom he is surrounded; he is attired in complete armour, his left hand resting on the hilt of his sword, the right, still gauntleted, ready to clasp that of the gentle Eva. Attendant upon the Earl of Pembroke are his warlike followers, Raymond le Gros, Robert Fitz Stephen, Maurice Fitzgerald, and other gallant knights, while the lovely daughter of the fatally fair Dearborghil-the heroine of the Prince of Breffni's Lament is supported by a train of maidens scarcely less beautiful than herself. The proud Norman, the exulting Mac Murchad, the bride and her companions, personify the joy and triumph of the hour; its sorrow and its degradation are shown in the lifeless forms of the slain-in the agony of the women who weep over the dead-in the deep dejection of the vanquished. Variety both of form and expression give wonderful animation to the picture in one place a wife who has lost her husband is uttering, with outstretched arms, the loud cry of despair; in another, a bevy of hired mourners follow, after the ancient Irish custom, the bodies of the dead as they are borne off the field; in another, again, an aged harper, his Clairsearch half unstrung, sadly deplores the conquest of his countryAlready, the curse is upon her,

And strangers her valleys profane;
They come to divide, to dishonour,

And tyrants they long will remain;

-but the Rosg-Cathor is heard no more and the "Sun Burst" is trampled under foot, while proudly wave the banners of the Norman victors, as they flout the sky with the bearings of De Clare, De Courcy, De Burgho, D'Evreux, Fitz Eustace, Villiers, and Saint Lawrence. To select one remarkable head from the many, we may single out that of the ferocious Mac Murchad, of whom it is related as follows:-" After the battle (with the people of Ossory) three hundred of the heads of the slain were laid, as a trophy, at the feet of Dermot, who, turning them over, leaped with delight as he recognised the different faces; and then, holding up his hands, shouted a loud thanksgiving to God. It is likewise added, though hardly to be credited, that perceiving in the midst of the frightful heap the head of a man whom alive he had mortally hated, the barbarian seized it by both ears, and lifting it to his mouth ferociously bit off the nose and lips." Equally stern in his resolves but humanised by that civilisation which the Norman race so highly cultivated, the lineaments of Strongbow strongly contrast with those of the King of Leinster, and both with the sweetness which shed so soft a charm on the countenance of the youthful Eva. Adequately to describe this picture many pages would be necessary, but before we finally commend it to our readers, we must say a word about the exquisite finish of all the accessories of dress, of weapons, and of ornaments. Strictly correct in an archæological point of view, their texture and hue are so carefully and brilliantly handled as to demand for them the closest and most minute inspection; and this success in details has not been attained by the slightest sacrifice of effect. When breadth and accuracy are thus combined, the painter's triumph is great. We are ignorant whether or not the Government propose to purchase this noble work for the Nation,

but it cannot fail to be a subject of deep regret if the opportunity of acquiring it for the new Palace at Westminster be suffered to pass by.

Mr. M. E. Ward has painted another grand historical picture, "The Sleep of Argyle," which, like "The Execution of Montrose," is to adorn the House of Commons; it is in some respects a finer work than even that masterly production, a circumstance which arises chiefly from the fact of the interest being more concentrated. The story of Argyle's last slumber is well told by Macaulay in the following passage, which has supplied Mr. Ward with the leading incidents in his picture. After speaking of the Earl's ignominious and cruel treatment, having been threatened with the torture of "the boots" only the day before that appointed for his execution, Mr. Macaulay thus proceeds:

"So effectually had religious faith and hope, co-operating with natural courage and equanimity, composed his spirits that, on the very day on which he was to die, he dined with appetite, conversed with gaiety at table, and, after his last meal, lay down, as he was wont, to take a short slumber, in order that his body and mind might be in full vigour when he should mount the scaffold. At this time one of the lords of the council, who had probably been bred a Presbyterian, and had been seduced by interest to join in oppressing the church of which he had once been a member, came to the castle with a message from his brethren and demanded admittance to the Earl. It was answered that the earl was asleep. The privy councillor thought that this was a subterfuge, and insisted on entering. The door of the cell was softly opened; and there lay Argyle on the bed, sleeping, in his irons, the placid sleep of infancy. The conscience of the renegade smote him. He turned away sick at heart, ran out of the castle, and took refuge in the dwelling of a lady of his family who lived hard by."

In Mr. Ward's picture there are only three figures. Argyle has not long left the table at which his last meal was eaten, and, fettered as he was, has thrown himself on the truckle-bed of his prison, and with the Covenanter's Bible beside him has fallen into a deep and sweet sleep; at the half-open door of the prison stands the "renegade," decked in the paraphernalia of the rank which has rewarded his treachery, and gazing on his victim with an expression of mingled remorse and shame; the third figure is the gaoler, a man of harsh and brutal aspect. It is impossible to convey more faithfully than Mr. Ward has done the effect of complete and tranquil repose. Argyle not merely sleeps, but by the smile on his placid features it is evident that his sleep is that of a man who has made his peace with all the world: it is the foreshadowing of that heroism with which in a brief hour or two afterwards he met his fate. The courageous bearing on the scaffold of Montrose partook, as was natural, of the exaltation which belonged to his character: that of Argyle was equally characteristic, and exhibited the calmness of a mind sustained by a powerful sense of moral and religious conviction. Montrose had grace and beauty of person; Argyle little of either; but it is upon Argyle's face, as we look upon it here, that we please ourselves to dwell the longest. A rare quality in this picture is, that criticism can find nothing to object to.

The Camp at Chobham has furnished Mrs. Ward with a very agreeable theme. She has chosen a very picturesque bit of military life in the exMay-VOL. CI. NO. CCCCI.

E