It must be that the multitudes go to such an exhibition more from curiosity than from any love of art. Nor is love of art likely, in the first place, to be there implanted; for, in most cases, a certain love of art, commencing, perhaps, with a mere love of imitation, precedes taste—that perception of what is good. If we were to collect only for the masses, we should have a very worthless gallery. Nor would “the people” ever even learn, from a chronological collection, that history of art, which it seems, in the opinion of the Commissioners, so desirable to teach them. Art, which is not valued for itself, will not, in general, be valued for its history; and without the love for itself, a knowledge of its history is nothing but pedantry. High art is a common prate; it is in every one’s mouth, but in very few hearts. It is not difficult to find the “reason why.” High art treats of high and noble sentiments, of generous actions, fortitude, patience, sublime endurance—all that is great, and good, and pure—all tending to a real “elevated taste.” If it be true that “Similis simili gaudet,” the recipients of delight from this High art should, in some degree at least, be recipients of these high virtues themselves. It must be a large nature for High art. Such a nature may not always be good; but if it be large, even if it be viciously great, it may be possible that it will have a perception of what is great in art, though it may lose its finer qualities. But narrow and utterly selfish minds are altogether out of art’s pale. There are degrees of narrow-mindedness and of selfishness, and there is a condition which may be free from these vices, yet of no very elevated virtue. We do not wish to put all our fellow-men in the worst category, but we do maintain that there is a general lack of moral training—of moral habit—and not confined to one branch of society, which operates as a bar to the acquirement of a real taste for art. We live in too mercenary an age. There is too great a worship of mere money—there is cold calculation where there should be feeling. The romance of life is a term of contempt. What is useful supersedes what is good. Take classes with their characteristics, and see if they be fit for the enjoyment of the Fine Arts. The Parliamentary class have established new maxims. Expediency has taken the place of honour, and perhaps of integrity. To say one thing and mean another not only meets with no reprobation, but is justified and applauded. Statesmen make sham speeches and false promises; politicians bribe and are bribed. Is it likely that _High_ art, whose essential being is good, great, and noble, and, beyond all, truth, should find a real love among such? We deny not exceptions, we speak of that which prevails. View the large and important class, the manufacturing, the great fabricators of wealth—they are encouragers of art, but of what quality? Shall they who thicken their cotton goods with flour, to give them a deceitful