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We shall not pretend to determine, continue to operate, this, by being the who was in the fault : perhaps the one most lucrative branch of the art, will miglit demand too much attention ou the also become that most geveralıy pracscore of obligation, and the other be un- tised. For interesting beggars, a comwilling to concede sulficiently to the claims plete representation of age and misery of gratitude: but even this is but a mere coupled together in old men and old woguess! It cannot be denied indeed, that men; for ruthan robbers and midnight both in the capital and in the coun- assassins, perhaps Opie bad vo_equal try, Wolcott befriended the painter whom among his contemporaries. lle also was he had first extricated from the bottom of one of those artists, who were employed a saw-pit. It was be also, who inade him to embody the thoughts of our grear draknown to Mrs. Buscawen, by whom he matic bard, and he accordingly pamted was introduced to the late Mrs. Delaney; several pictures for the Shakespeare Galand the latter lady, having afforded an lery.* opportunity to the royal family, to see When the Royal Institution was formhis “ Old Begyar Mail," the painter of ed, it becaine necessary that an artist that picture was soon afterwards honour- should be found out, who could delied with an order to repair to the Queen's- ver lectures on the subject of painting, house. On this occasion, Ilis Majesty and Mr. Opie was accordingly selectpurchased some pictures of himn, not in- ed for that purpose. It must be fairiy deed at a loyal, but at a “gentleman's owned however, that nature had not renprice:" a circumstance which assuredly dered bim eluquent; that be was destiproved serviceable to the reputation. The tute of those graces which are calculated talents of the artist himself and the new s- to please a polite auditory, aud that as a papers aid the rest; as public curiosity public orator he possessed no other quawas not a little excited by the accounts
the power of instructing respecting a self-taught boy, “ drawn those to whom he addressed himself. out from a lin-inine in tlic county of Corn- No soone: did the professorship of wall.”
painting in the Royal Acadeny become Success now smiled on the labours of vacant, than Opie started as a candidate Mr. Opie, and, as is usual in such cases, for the prize; "he however resigned his he changed his place of residence with claims in favour of Mr. Fuseli: but on the his change of fortune. Having originally appointment of the latter to the office of resided in a little court in the neighbour- keeper of the academy, he renewed his hood of Leicester-square, he renoved pretensions, and was elected without any first to a house in Great-Queen-strect, difficulty. The lectures delivered by him Lincolu's-Inu-l'ields, and then to Ber- at Somerset-House, rather added to, ner's-street, Oxford Road.
than detracted from, his reputation; and In 1786, he was known as an he is allowed to have been far more hibitor at Somerset-House, soon after successful there, than in Albeviarie which he aspired to academical honours. street. He accordingly became, first an Acade- In respect to the fleeting politics of mician Elect, and then a Royal Acado- the day, Mr. Opie took uo part; but mician. For some little time he enjoyed be was warmly attached to the pothe profit and reputation of a fashionable pular principles of our constitution. portrait-painter; and where ftreogtb, Indeed, he was always known to breadth, and character were demanded, be, and was always considered by his pencil was deservedly celebrated, in
respect to the male figure. Ile is thought * We wish we could here present our rea- however to have been less fortunate in ders with a catalogue of Mr Opie's paintings,
the personification of females, being ei- but we can only enumerate those that follow: ther unwilling or unable to create those 1. The death of David Riszio, this ap. elegant fecting, gnuscous sprite-like mo- peared at the exhibition some yeurs since, deru ephetneral forms, partly encased in and excited considerable secsation ; 2 The transparent drapery, and partly unveil- Murder of James. 1. king of Scotland; 3. ing all their charms in the broad glare of Vox; 5. Artliur ; 6 Juliet in the Garden i
The Presentation in the Temple; 4..Jephtha's day. Our national vanity and national admirable beggar, now in possession of Dr.
7. Escape of Gil Blas; 8. Musıdora ; 9. Aa riches, however, induce us to render por- Walcott. trait-painting by far the most valuable in In the exhibition of 1806, he bad eight point of emolument in this country; and portraits ; in that of 1807, six; is neither of while personal and interested molives these, appcarod any other subject wbationes.
bis intimate friends, as a stickler for li born in a very humble sphere, which deberty. In respect to mental qualifica- nies that education necessary to the extions, he had improved himself greatly; teusion of intellect, and for giving briland at his leisure hours, according to re- liancy to talents. When taken from his spectable authority, acquired a know. obscurity, he exhibited no uncommon ledge of French, and also sıvne notion of powers of mind; be possessed no literary Latin and music. “ The Life of Rive treasure, and knew nothing of the art in nolets, published in Dr. Wolcott's eil ion which he atterwards grow conspicuous. of Pilkington's Dictionary,” it is 'led, His forin was rather slender than ath
was the first specimen of his literary letic, and his visage cast in one of the al.lities. In this he displayed a profound cuarse inoulds of nature; at the saine knowledge of the subject, a quick and time it must be allowed, that his eye par. powertul perception of distinctive cha- took of penetiation. racter, and a mastery of language little Ilis mamers, however, in general were to be expected froin a youth who was destitute of that urlanity which recomsupposed to have been destitute of learn- iends a man to the favour of society; ing. He next published a Letter in the while his address was aukward and upMorning Chronicle, (since republished couth, liis conversation abrupt, and totally in " An Inquiry into the requisite Culti- a stranger to Muency: there was yet good ration of the Art of Design in England),” sense in it, and an acuteness of observain which he proposed a distinct plan for tion that displayed more than an ordinary the formation of a National Gallery, tend- intellect. ing at once to exalt the arts of this coun- He loved argument, and as though he try, and immortalize its glories: to this had taken the late Dr. Jolmson for his he annexed his name, in consistence model, delighted in contradiction; but with the openness of character which at although he loved reputation, he seemed all times distinguished liis actions." careless about it: nevertheless Fame
No sooner did Mr. Opie perceive bim- caine forth to meet him. self advancing in the road to fame and His fuperad, of which the following fortune, than he determined on marriage, short account may not prove wholly unas the means of adding to, and securing interesting, was conducted with a consihis felicity; but on this occasion he was derable degree of magnificence. uniserably disappointed, for the feinale in On Monday, April 21, 1807, the remains question had not been many years a wife, of the late John Opie, R. A. were removed when she encouraged a paramour, which from his house in Berners-street, to St. led to its natural consequences—a sepa- Paul's Cathedral. The procession which ration, a law-suit, &c. &c. His second cominenced at one o'Clock was conducted in match was forined under more propitious the following order : circumstances: he saw, he admired, and
Six mutes with black staves and hatbands.
Nine horsemen two und two. became united to Miss Alderson of Nor
A funeral banner of ostrich feathers, borne by wich, a lady possessed of a tine taste for
a Mute. poetry, who survives him; but by nei- The Hearse with the Body drawn by six ther of his wives has he lett any children. horses, and crowned with ostrich feathers.
While enjoying great domestic lappi- Thice mourning-coaches, drawn by six horses ness, and high reputation in his art, he cach, with the tas suddenly seized with a mortal dis
Earl of Carysfort, case which baflled all the skill of his phy
Lord De Dunstanville, sicians.t He expired on Thursday,
Earl Stanhope, April 9, 1807, in the forty-sixth year of
Sir John Leicester, his nye; and as the symptoms of liis dis
Sir J. St. Aubin,
Mr. West. Mr R. Smith. order were ut no ordinary kind, dissection ensaed, when the lower portion of Mr. Whitbread, Mr. Hopper, Mr. Favel,
and Mr. Shee. the spinal marrow and its investing membrane were found slightly inflamel, and
Twenty-seven mourning-coaches, drawn by
two horses each, filled witá eminent Artists, the brain surcharged with blood.
and the friends of the deceased. The following character is the produc
The empty carriages tion of a man well acquainted with his Of His Royal H. the Duke of Gloucester, merits:-- John Opie, or rather Oppy, was
The Earl of Carysfort,
Lord de Dunstanville, &c. + Doctors Ash, Vaughan, and Mr. Carlisle, The procession, on reaching Temple-Bar, fint; and then Doctors Pitcairn and Baillie, was met by the city marsbals, who precedea attended tim in conjunction
the fupcral to St. Paul's. MONTULY Mac, No. 157.
On arriving there, the body was taken from blood-For goodness fake, my friends, the hearse and conveyed to the choir, the do not expect I should pardun him. noblemen and baronets from the three first All his Friends.--Oh! by all means. coaches supporting the pall.
You mult indeed paidon him, When the funeral service was performed, Voltaire (hri/ky). Then I do pardon the body was removed to the vault, and de- him ; and may be enjoy a long and posited near the remains of Sir Joshua Rey- happy life, and continue railing without molds.
moleiiation ! LITERARY CONFESSIONS OF
Ah, gracious heaven! what a host of
enemies have I had to encounter with! VOLTAIRE.-Concluded.
I do not hate men of real learning, it is (The Soiréis de Ferncy, printed at Paris in that cloud of insignificants that I despite :
1802, has not received an English dress, . men who, without resolution or abilities It appears to be the work of fome French to follow the mechanical occupations of Boswell, who has been as successful in ex: their fathers, have taken the more hiviting Voltaire in conversation with his friends, as our Boswell has been, in the intamous, because more ealy, employe fame respect with regard to his friend ment of decrying the pursuits of others; Johnson.
obscure vermin, whose exittence is only From this publication, which may be called noticed by the mischiet
' they are capable Voltaire's Table Talk, have been telected of doing; the Cerberi of biterature, who such articles as cannot fail to be interesting snap, snarl, and yelp, to gain a livelito our reader:.]
hood ; manufacturers of lampoons, hireTHAT Friend.
Iliflory of Peter the Great? pilers, editors, a fwarın of infectious It proves, in my opinion, that you do not infects thatyet feel the effects of age.
Friend.-I muli interrupt you in this Volt. Many have thought that I flat- violent declamation. Do you forget that tered the Crar in it; and that is not to theie are fatirisis, and that all the tehe wondered at, for my materials were tiritts are your brethren? But tu not furnithed me from Rutlia. You take no rail at the journalists; there are many notice of iny translation of Ecclefiaftes. amongst them who are men of very reIt is no capital performance, but it is speciable characters. If you are dif equal to Corneille's imitation of it. By posed to cenfure, rail at college pedants, the bye, my friends, I am now naking who set up for critics; and fay, if you my confeflione, but do not enjoin me for please, by way of drawing a compariton, penance to compofe works of piety. ihat an afs might compile a Literary
But come, let mc fum up my confef- Journal, if he could be taught to read fions, according to rule. As I told you and write. before, my firit literary fquabble was Polt. I thank you, my friend, you with Rouleau. I was mucli hurt by the have furnithed me with an excellent farcontempt he thewed me; I quade a fu- casin, drawn from the conversation of the rious attack, and I added to his mortisi- fervants-ball, and I thall be fire to recations.
member and make use of it upon a The Abbé Desfontaines was likewise fitting occasion. But it is in vain that one of uv enemies. I was a great means you recoinmend moderation to me, mb lft of delivering him from his confinement I am furrounded by troops of envios15 in the Bicèire, though he merited im- pocts, with budgets of lainporns; by prisonment for life.
coffee-houfe orators, perpetuaily declaim You remember my pleasantries upon ing scandal ; by tale-bearers and retailMaupertuis. I lost my pention, my hoe ers of fcurrilous anecdotes and news, nours, and the gracious favour of Fre- who go about spreading their lies abroad; deric the Great. I was obliged to quit by the presidents of suburb-academies Prufiia. Maupertuis stood near Jupiter, of wits, the glenners from Nomhly Jourand be opened the phial of his wrathi, nals; by learned idiots, who call these and the implacable Beaumelle-ah! his felves theologists, the fpasn of convents name rouses all my resentment with bloated with pride and meannefs; by what rage, with what fury did he burst melancholy devotees, who hate all mase upon me! He swore, in one of his let- kind, and think they ferre God brit; ters, that he would follow me to the by fupercilious Jantennits, fupid fanavery jaws of hell ; and that he would tics, fenselefs vifionaries who fappole proferute his malice with his last breath. themselves Pafcnls; deferters from ine His libels caused me to thed tears of naiteries, couventual fugitives, daring and deceitful, fawning and treacherous, Friend.—But why do you eftcem them polite and pluusible, who, disguised in so little? the cloak of religion, wriggle themselves Polt. --Because their philofophy is but into families, becoine the contidants of quackery; because, like Socrates, they ibe leads of thıcın, enrich themselves pretend to have their demons; because with the spoils of untuirecting credulity, their works are mere tritles, and because and in return tow the feeds of difcorü, they are exceedingly proud. hatred, and contusion: montiers engen
ftill hate M. Ledered in hell, and vomited forth on earth frauc? tu be minisiers of its vengeance
Polt.--My friend, I forgive himn. But Blod. Denys.-- Nercy on us ! my dea: his poetry is grating to the ear, and his uncle, yoll frighten ue! What a picture Memorial to the hing is an aukward you have drain !
picce of pleasantry. Vult. Could I but stop to finish il- Friend. And what do you say with But I mult proceed with iny conllellons, respect to M. Freron. and will not digrets from them agaill. Bolt.--I forgive him too; but upon My enemies have declared that one half this conditioư, that he shall not write my of my works are plagiaritias. My friends, epitaph. I proteit here, in presence of you ail, Friend. And with regard to the Abbé that I am entirely clear froin this charge. Trublet. I have borrowed puthing from any known
Volt.-I confess that I was in the author; fuch, for example, as Corneille, wrong to quarrel with him. He is a good Racine, Moliere, Buileau, and Quinault. fort of inan; and I willingly retraćt what Those whom I have imitated, may be I have faid against him in that bitter coufined to Lucan, Aretin, and Bayle. caufic poem, which I have intitled The In my literary pursuits I have derired Poor Devil. very little allillance from friends.
Friend.–And what have you to conFriend.---But the Encyclopædifts ! fels with respect to M. Greffet?
l'elt.-They are worthy mnen; they Volt.--I forgive him likewise: but I have always spoken well of me; they should wish, in the new edition of his write to me, and I write to them; they works which is in preparation, he would On my word, you have put me to a trike out from his Méchant a few lines, flaud.
which my enemies have applied to me. Friend. And that embarrassment of Friend. And as to Chaumcix? yoans requires a clear explanation. I l'olt.-Oh fic! lec well, that policy alone
Friend.-Why do you say fo! Surely, Toit.-You have glefled it. I have you do not know that be is writing a book no reatons for loving them: I ljave, in your praise. bakever, my obligations to them. I lear Polt. --Ile write in my praise! I do them, and leticem them.
not know how to credit that, Friend.- Why do you not love them? The jame friend.—But nothing is more
Volt.-Because I am fure they do not true. lule me.
l'ol..--Then I forgive liim, on condiFriend.-But what obligations have tion lie never timithes it.
Friend. And father Hayer, and faFoll. They bave styled me, that great ther Berthier : what fay you of thein? man; and they have chosen ne preti- l'oli.-That I forgive both of them. dent of their fociety. They have cried Friend. But will they forgive you? every where aloud, Pjupko is u God; Come, you must write to every one that they have aliited ine in combatting pre- has been mentioned. Your letters must judices, in muelling our country, and be fubinillive, and in the tiyle of a chrifin paliliing the age, which we have nick- tian; and you mult beg pardon for any named philophicul.
offence you have given. "I see nothing Friend.-TV by do you fear the Ency- more proper to be done, nor any thing clopæditis?
you can do fo diverting. volt. - Because they rule the public Volt.-What do you meao, my friend, jaind despotically; and if I were to of- by diverting? Do you look upon my trud them, they would unfay all they confeflions as a mere banter. has said in my favour. They would Priend.-But betwixt ourselves here, rwise up prophets again ine, and lower it is a laughable matter, and you do not the pstimation my works are in.
declare every thing.
you to them?
Voll.-That, my friend, is artifice. you. I cannot say I have entirely There is nothing more caly than to de- got rid of it at this moment. The reclare every thing, but we ought not to collection of your former wiched devices do every thing that is easy. But let is marle me-but I ought to look over it, proceed with the letiers, which it is and forgive you. You were very young recommended to me to write, for I am at the time; Maupertuis was your adwilling to write them. I will send for viser, and you withed to obtain a naipe my fecretary this inftant, and dićtate by a quarrel with a man of celebrity; each of them. Let us begin with We were of different religions, tos); and 11. Freron.
me, perhaps, because I was a Sir, I am in a dying state, and I have papist
. Let us from benceforth be rebeen ordered to write to you as I now conciled: do you feek for falvation in do. They say, you have cause of com- your faith, as I will in nine; and let us plaint againtt me: I know of none. meet good friends in the other world. They say again, I have reason to com- I am tired of letter-writing, it tårigues plain of you: do not believe a word me. of it. Forget the injuries I have done Mad. Denijs.- I am surprised, uncle, you, and I will buy your Journal. Do that you have diérated no letter for the not print this letter in it. Pardon the Fathers Hayer and Berthier. shortness of this epistle, for I am îtraiten- Volt.-Oh! I am sure they will fored for time; and you know what it is to give me, without my writing to them for write in a hurry.
the purpose. You ought to be well faTo M. Lefranc.
tisfied with me, my friends: In truth, I Sir, Let us be no longer enemies, and bare found no great difficulty in what I make ourselves laughing-stocks. Alas! have been doing : there is nothing to we should not have been so, if you had easy as doing a good action. never been adınitted a member of the A Friend.---And you have done many French Academy. I am given to under- in the course of your life. stand, that you are employed about a · Volt.-Indeed, I have; churches I poetical trantlarion of Virgil's Georgics. have rebuilt, Janfenifts I have burlesqued, But tell me, Sir, with all that genius I have refined religion, wrote verses to which it must be owned you are poflefled the Pope, and collected alms for many of, why you have always been a tran- poor poets. I have given France an flator only?
epic poem ; I have remonftrated againit TO M. Greffet.
abuses, and some I have removed-as, Sir, In spite of all I could do, I have for example, the stage-benches in our ever honoured your virtues. I could theatres. only have wished you had been somewhat I educate, at my own expence, the less admired, and somewhat lefs at your grand-niece of the celebrated Corneille, ease. Continue to be both happy and and do not make a boast of this act of admired, retain the respect and friend- generosity. I have acquired wealth, I thip of all good men; impart your secret have enjoyed afluence, and led a life of to all authors, and especially to that pleasure. I have made myself glorios; worthy good man Fréron, for he has a and I wall write to the lait moment of great many enemies.
my exilience. But it is high time to To M. Chaumeir.
clofe my confefsions, for to he tedious Sir, I am at a loss to thank you for is to commit a sin. your civilities. I have not yet fecn the This conversation held so long, that work
you have written in my favour: M. de Voltaire was exceedingly indifsend it me, if you please; and let me pofed after it; infomuch, that he apknow the price of the book.
peared to have lost his speech. Elis To M. Trublet.
friends got round him, and thewed him Sır. You can palle paper over the of every mark of respect and attention ; fen! ir paffages in the Poor Devil. I but ilxy were not able to induce him to hat domuhed reading your last work: open bis mouth. It was in vain that you are to blame to say so inuch against they represented the neceflity of his de poets; for, have a care, Sir, it is 'not livering something memorable in his lati paying a proper respect to the alhes of moments, by way of dying words, after M je la Motte.
the example of other great philosophers: To M1. La Beaumelle.
he ftill continued obftinately filept. Sir, It was with great difficulty that I At length oue of the company hewas able to life my resentmeot nyainst thought himself of the following capo