the country of its birth.

Upon the walls of Westminster Hall, there hangs, at this time, such
a Something. A composition of such marvellous beauty, of such
infinite variety, of such masterly design, of such vigorous and
skilful drawing, of such thought and fancy, of such surprising and
delicate accuracy of detail, subserving one grand harmony, and one
plain purpose, that it may be questioned whether the Fine Arts in
any period of their history have known a more remarkable
performance.

It is the cartoon of Daniel Maclise, "executed by order of the
Commissioners", and called The Spirit of Chivalry. It may be left
an open question, whether or no this allegorical order on the part
of the Commissioners, displays any uncommon felicity of idea. We
rather think not; and are free to confess that we should like to
have seen the Commissioners' notion of the Spirit of Chivalry stated
by themselves, in the first instance, on a sheet of foolscap, as the
ground-plan of a model cartoon, with all the commissioned
proportions of height and breadth. That the treatment of such an
abstraction, for the purposes of Art, involves great and peculiar
difficulties, no one who considers the subject for a moment can
doubt. That nothing is easier to render it absurd and monstrous, is
a position as little capable of dispute by anybody who has beheld
another cartoon on the same subject in the same Hall, representing a
Ghoule in a state of raving madness, dancing on a Body in a very
high wind, to the great astonishment of John the Baptist's head,
which is looking on from a corner.

Mr. Maclise's handling of the subject has by this time sunk into the