absolute model of perfection,' and could we hope in being as fortunate as the count, in finding three or four,' we are so much admirers of any thing approaching to absolute perfection, that we would, as soon as we have finished this review, take the safety to Brighton and steam it to Dieppe. And yet Count de Soligny is neither an inattentive observer nor deficient in discernment, if we may judge by the general correctness of his opinions respecting England and English individuals.

in

seem to me to be an illustration of this re

as the only objects worthy of its special attention and contemplation;-permitting itself to dwell on man, and his actions and affairs, only when they happen to have been some way or other connected with her mighty workings. All his finest pictures mark. On the contrary, those in which he has introduced too much of man, and his actions and creations-making them predominant over nature-have been comparative failures. He has painted the passage of Hannibal over the Alps-not for the purpose of adding to our conceptions of the The work of Count de Soligny conwonders of that achievement, but to display the sublinities of that nature with tains sixty-nine letters, written in a fa- which Hannibal was contending. Ile shews miliar but elegant style, and treating on the mighty army of the conqueror, not when subjects of infinite variety. The first it is preparing to descend on the plains nineteen of these letters, with one or two which it was to ravage and subjugate, but towards the end of the second volume, when it was itself half subjugated and dedescriptive of Oxford, have appeared in stroyed by a snow-shower-by a few flakes that excellent miscellany, the New of feathery sleet thrown in its face, as if in Monthly Magazine. The author, whose scorn, by the hand of omnipotent nature! He has painted the Universal Deluge-not work forms a sort of promenade, as M. for the purpose of exhibiting the human horNodier would call it, from Normandy to rors attendant on that event, but to agLondon via Dieppe, notices the objects grandize that power which caused it. It is that appear to him of interest, as he the scene itself that creates those feelings of proceeds. Arrived in London, he visits terror and dismay which attend the sight of every thing worth visiting-the Elgin this work, not the sympathy arising from the Marbles, St. Paul's, the theatres, where sight of that terror and dismay which the he makes all our favourite comedians event itself is represented as having actually caused. These observations may be exand tragedians pass in review before tended to many others of his finest works. him. The painters come next, and On the other hand, his picture of Rome, as Haydon, Sir T. Lawrence, Martin, seen from a balcony of the Vatican, though Turner, and Wilkie, have each a dis- dazzling and splendid in its general effect, tinct chapter, while Fuseli, Stothard, is far from being characteristic of the scene Westall, Northcote, Jackson, Beechey, it represents. Man and his works were too and some half-dozen more of our emi- predominant here for the genius of the nent painters, are treated of en masse. painter to be at ease among them. Not Sculpture and music are not neglected, into a contemplation of the power which being able to prevent itself from wandering and they are followed by some general had produced the "Eternal City," it could reflections on the state of the fine arts, not brook the comparison, and almost the science, and literature in England, in rivalship, which seemed to suggest themwhich the author not only shows an ac-selves between man and nature. The same quaintance with these subjects, but also their progress in this country. In speaking of Turner, the first landscape painter of the age, our author says,—

remark is in some degree applicable to his
extraordinary picture of Richmond, Hill.
The scene, with all the ineffable light of its
beauty, is too artificial for Turner's purely
natural genius to feel itself at home there.'

and richness of expression, in truth and depth of character, in subtlety of thought, and felicity of invention, I have seen none in the same class that at all equal these few. In the above particulars, and in a marvellous truth and simplicity of pencil in delineating

what he sees or remembers, Wilkie as far surpasses Teniers himself, as Teniers surpasses him in freedom and facility of touch, and freshness, transparency, and beauty of colouring. And important as these latter qualities are in a picture, those which spring from, and appeal to, the intellect chiefly, must be atlowed to be still more so. The subject of Wilkie's pictures are confined to what may be called the higher classes of low life, where the habits and institutions of modern society have hitherto, in a great measure, failed to diffuse that artificial and conventional form of character, which, if it does not altogether preclude the action of the feelings, at least forbids all outward maIf this artist had unnifestation of them.

fortunately devoted his peculiar and unrivalled power of depicting what is, to scenes in high, or even in middle life, he would have produced works altogether feeble and worthless; because he can only represent what actually exists; and in these classes of life, this, as far as regards its outward attributes, is smoothed and polished down to a plain and colourless surface, which will not admit the passage of any thing from within, and from which every thing without, slides off like water-drops from the feathers of a bird. Only think of making a picture of a party of ladies and gentlemen assensbled to. hear a piece of political news read; or of the same persons listening to a solo on the violin by an eminent professor! It would doubtless be the most fade affair in the world. And yet these are the subjects of Wilkie's Village Politicians, and his Blind Fiddler; two of the most interesting and perfect works that ever proceeded from the pencil; and which at once evince in the artist, and excite in the spectator, more activity of thought, and play of sentiment, than are called forth at all the fashionable parties of Paris and London for a whole season.

'Wilkie's power is confined, as I have said, to the representation of what he sees; but he selects and combines this with such "The chief ornament of the English school admirable judgment, and represents it with. of art, and perhaps the greatest of living pictures impress themselves on the memory such unrivalled truth and precision, that his painters, is Turner. His chief pictures may be ranked generally under the head of hiswith all the force and reality of facts. We torical landscapes; and they display an oriremember, and recur to, the scenes be ginality of style, and a power of producing places before us, just as we should to the grand and striking effects from apparently real scenes if we had been present at them; inadequate causes, which are the sure marks and can hardly think of, and refer to them of genius, and which have rarely been equalas any thing but real scenes. They seem led, and never surpassed, in the same line to become part of our experience to inof the art. Though Turner usually gives an historical character to his landscapes, by life and hunian nature; and the actors in the stores of our actual knowledge of introducing into them the actors in some estimate of the talents of Wilkie, we per- them take their places among the persons.

traditional event, yet he always keeps this part of his work subservient to the display of some of the striking effects of natural objects, either in the beautiful, the sublime, the grand, or the terrific. His genius seems to luxuriate amidst the forms and attributes of external nature alone; to repose on them

Count de Soligny expresses his surprise at the natural effects produced by Turner's pictures, when viewed at a proper distance, and the apparent coarseness of their execution when near them, and he considers this as a characteristic fault of his style, though to us it appears only the natural result of very rapid execution, a talent which Turner is In the following

known to possess.

fectly agree with our author:

'I have now to speak of one of the most distinguished artists, in his particular line, that this or any other country ever possess ed. For my own part, I think him, without exception, the most so. He has to be sure, produced but few pictures; but in force

crease

we have seen and known in our intercourse with the living world. His pictures are, in one sense of the term, the most national that were ever painted; and will carry down to posterity the face, character, habits, cos tume, &c. of the period and class which they represent, in a way that nothing else

ever did or could: for they are literally the It is a great mistake to consider Wilkie
things themselves the truth, and nothing as a comic painter, in which light he is ge-
but the truth. The painter allows himself nerally regarded by the public here. When
no liberty or licence in the minutest parti- they are standing before his pictures, they
culars. He seems to have a superstitious seem to feel themselves bound to be moved
reverence for the truth; and would no to laughter by them, as they would by a
more paint a lie than he would tell one. I comedy or a farce; and without this, they
suppose he has never introduced an article think they do not shew their taste: whereas
of dress or furniture into any one of his pic- laughter seems to me to be the very last
tures, that he had not actually seen worn sensation these works are adapted to call
or used under the circumstances he was re- forth. Speaking of the best and most cha-
presenting. If he had occasion to paint a racteristic of them, I would say, that scarce-
peasant who had just entered his cottage only any compositions of the art, in whatever
a rainy day, he would, as a matter of con- class, are calculated to excite a greater va-
science, leave the marks of his dirty foot- riety of deep and serious feelings; feelings,
steps on the threshhold of the door! This it is true, so uniformly tempered and modi-
scrupulous minuteness of detail, which fied by a calm and delightful satisfaction,
would be the bane of some classes of art, is that they can scarcely be entertained with
the beauty of his, coupled, and made sub- out calling up a smile to the countenance.
servient, as it is, to the most curious, natu- But the smile arising from inward delight,
ral, and interesting developement of charac-is as different from the laughter excited by
ter, sentiment, and thought.
strangeness and drollery, as any one thing
can be from another. It is, in fact, the very
essence of Wilkie's pictures, that there is
literally nothing strange, and consequently
nothing droli and laughter-moving, about
them. I confess, that from the works of no
one English artist have I received so much
pure and unmixed pleasure and instruction,
as I have from those of David Wilkie.'

But the most extraordinary examples of this artist's professional skill, are those in which he has depicted some peculiar expression in the face and action of some one of his characters. The quantity and degree of expression that he has, in several of these instances, thrown into the compass of a face and figure of less than the common miniature size, is not to be conceived without-being seen, and has certainly never before been equalled in the art. His most extraordinary efforts of this kind are two, in which the expressions are not very agreeable, but which become highly interesting, on account of the extreme difficulty that is felt to have been overcome in the production of them. One of these is an old man, in the act of coughing violently; and the other is a child, who has cut its finger.

(To be concluded in our next.)

The Orlando Innamarato. Translated
into Prose, from the Italian of Fran-
cesco Berni, and interspersed with Ex-
tracts, in the same Stanza as the Ori-
ginal. By WILLIAM STEWART ROSE.
8vo. pp. 279. Edinburgh and Lon-
don, 1823.

MR. ROSE, who is already favourably
known to the public, by his Letters
from the North of Italy,' and by a
translation of Casti's Animali Parlanti,'
had long been engaged on a translation
of Ariosto's Orlando Furioso,' when
Lord Holland suggested an English ver-
sion or analysis of the Innamarato, as
happy suggestion, as the
the best prologue to the Furioso, a rather
poem is scarce-

ly known to the English reader.

But if this is the most extraordinary part of Wilkie's pictures, and the part most likely to attract vulgar attention and curiosity, it is far from being the most valuable and characteristic. If it were, I should not regard him as the really great artist which I now do. The mere overcoming of difficulty, for the sake of overcoming it, and without producing any other ulterior effect, would be a mere idle waste of time and skill, and quite unworthy either praise or attention. It is, in these particular instances which I have noticed above, as in numerous others in dif- The Orlando Innamarato' was writferent lines of art, a mere sleight of hand, ten by Matteo Mariia Boiardo, an Italian exceedingly curious, as exhibiting the possi-poet of the 16th century. It was afterble extent of human skill, but no more. In wards altered, and completed by FranWilkie's pictures, this exhibition of mere cesco Berni, from whose version of it manual skill is used very sparingly, and is Mr. Rose's translation has been comalmost always kept in subjection to, or Innamarato' brought in aid of, other and infinitely more posed. Feeling that the valuable ends. With the single exception was a humourous work, of which a false of the "Cut Finger," which is a mere gratu- version might be given, by infusing into itous effort of this manual dexterity, all his it a different species of wit from that pictures are moral tales, more or less inter- which distinguishes it, Mr. Rose, deesting, from their perfectly true delineation termined, as he tells us in an introducof habits and manners, or impressive, from tion, elegantly written, to give a mere their developement of character, passion, aud sentiment. The "Opening of the ground plan of the Gothic edifice of Will" is as fine, in this way, as one of the Boiardo upon a small scale, accompaScotch novels; and the Rent Day" in-nied with some elevations and sections cludes a whole series of national tales on Eng-of the chambers which I have sought lish pastoral life in the nineteenth century. I to colour after my original; or (to speak

more plainly) the reader is to look for the mere story in my prose abridgment, while he may form some notion of its tone and style from the stanzas with which it is interspersed.'

In the course of an ingenious comparison between Boiardo and Ariosto, Mr. Rose shows, that, however much the latter may excel as to poetry, to Boiardo belongs the praise of superiority in invention, and a more consummate art in exercising it. He says,

'The tales, indeed, of Ariosto, (and the want of connexion among these is, in my eyes, his most essential defect) are so many loose episodes, which may be compared to parallel streams, flowing towards one reservoir, but through separate and independent channels. Those of Boiardo, on the contrary, are like waters, that, however they may diverge, preserve their relation to the parent river, to which their accession always seems necessary, and with which they reunite, previous to its discharging its contents into their common resting-place.'

Berni's poetical talents are estimated with equal discrimination and justice, and even in the introduction, Mr. Rose, by numerous stanzas, shows how well qualified he is to transfuse the spirit and genius of the most difficult Italian poems. into English.

The story of the Orlando Innamarato' has undergone considerable abridgments in the three hundred pages, to which Mr. Rose has confined it; and we should really despair of giving any idea of the story of a poem, the great excellence of which lays in the story, in the narrow limits to which we are confined. It is, indeed, so intimately connected and dove-tailed together, in the prose narrative and poetic version of Mr. Rose, that we find considerable difficulty in detaching a passage that can give a sufficient idea of the merits of his translation. We will, however, a passage. Orlando is urged to various daring adventures by a damsel, whom he encounters, and who presents him with a book and a horn, and instructs him in their use:— whose rules he was to proceed, that he was 'Orlando learned from the book, by to bind these beasts; and this done, was to enter the opening, from which they sallied, and plow with them the space within. Such was to be his first labour.

venture on

'The bulls, long maintained a severe fight with the champion, and often tossed, though they could not gore him at length he so fatigued them by repeated blows from Durindana, (for their skin was as impenetrable as his own,) that he was enabled to master. them, seized them by their horns, and bound them separately, with Bayardo's bridle, to an adjoining column, which was the monument of the King Bayardo. He then made

crouching slaves at the feet of Napoleou, that it was even a question with them whether Hanover should be restored to its lawful sovereign. Even this work, which professes a horror of the encroachments and tyranny of Austria, and insists on the necessity of a Germanic confederation as an equipoise to Austria, would wish to ravish Hanover from, England, to give it to some insignificant petty German prince.

Let the conduct of our noble allies, at the close of the last war, be a lesson to us how we fight their battles in future; fight dog, fight devil, let us keep out of it; a wholesome bleeding would do good to more than one continental state; and should the apothecary divide an artery instead of opening a vein, there will not be much harm done.

Original.

THE PERIPATETIC.--No. IV.

London Streets-Judges-Peers-The Lord
Mayor-Sunday in London-Mackarel,
Scotch and Irish.

crippled tar has ever caused me to itself on a week-day and Sunday. On
breathe, in silent pride, the names of the former, every thing seems to be
Nelson and Howe, the sight of a maim-lost in the torrent of business or in the
ed soldier has never failed to warm me vortex of pleasure. All is hurry, noise,
with a recollection of the brilliant tri- and bustle: every rank of life, every
umphs of Spain or of Waterloo. variety of hunian occupation, is uncea-
singly in motion before our eyes: and in
each we recognize its peculiar and dis-
tinguishing characteristic.
How con-
trasted the scene on Sunday! All is
order, uniformity, and tranquillity; not
a vestige of the cares or business of the
week marks the face of a single indivi-
dual; and scarcely a shade remains to
denote the diversities of rank and con-
dition, at other times so conspicuous.
The cheerful countenances and decent
attire of the immense crowd serve to
prove the satisfaction that reigns within;
and the foreigner, who visits London
for the first time on a Sunday, cannot
fail to conclude that we are at once the
most prosperous and most decorous in
our behaviour, of all people in the
world.

In the same philosophical spirit, and I often thank my stars that I thus enjoy a source of entertainment from which most of my fellow-ambulators seem to be excluded,—do I contemplate the busy thousands, by whom the streets are continually crowded. Their various occupations, the strange diversity of their figures,-the grave demeanour of some and the trifling deportment of others,-in a word, their ever-varying appearance, manners, and eccentricities, always afford me the charm of novelty, and tend to excite emotions I had not experienced before. Add to this, that the train of carriages and vehicles of every description, incessantly rolling along, keep my thoughts perpetually alive to the wealth, commerce, industry, and gigantic resources of this great city, serving, at the same time, to remind me of the superiority it maintains, in this respect, over every other capital in the world. And who will be hardy enough to assert, that the meditations, which have thus for their object the encouragement of a patriotic pride, are indulged in vain ?

And, perhaps, such a conclusion It is recorded of the ancient Romans would not be very far from the truth. that they placed statues of their warlike Yet, what is more common than the heroes and other illustrious men in vahackneyed declamation against the vice rious parts of the city, to excite the peoand profligacy of London? That ple to an emulation of their eminent acLondon, with so immense a populations, and, at the same time, to keep tion, must contain a vast portion of their country's greatness continually in iniquity, cannot be denied; yet I will their view. It has often occurred to me, venture to assert, that it also comprises during my Peripatetic rambles, that we But, of all my Peripatetic excursions, a greater share of sound moral principle might easily turn to a similar account, none give me more genuine pleasure than any other capital in the universe. and from still stronger motives, the nu- than those which I make on a fine Sun- And I think I may assume it as a posimerous objects, both living and inani- day, when the scene, which London and tion, not very open to contradiction, that mate, that are perpetually presenting its environs exhibit, presents to a mind we owe this enviable distinction, in a themselves to our notice in this great capable of enjoying it such an union of great measure, to the decent, or at least metropolis. If a mere figure of stone gaiety and decorum, as is not, perhaps, innocent manner, in which Sunday is could rouse an old Roman to noble sen- any where else to be found. Although spent by the bulk of its inhabitants,timents, why should not a Briton of the by no means a friend to those habits of by those, I mean, who are alike represent day be awakened to a sense of giddy dissipation, which serve to distin-moved from the dangerous extremes his country's renown by the matchless guish the sabbath in some foreign coun- both of poverty and of affluence. To proofs, which our streets never fail to tries, I am far from being so fastidious either of these, however, I am ready to exhibit of its independence, its affluence, as to think any cheerful recreation in- admit, Sunday, as it brings no relaxaand its glory? For my part (and my consistent with its proper observance; tion, can afford no enjoyment; for, to readers will be pleased to keep in mind and, for this reason, I never could ad- the habitual indulgence of luxurious my philosophic character), I encounter mire the puritanical spirit which, on dissipation, a temporary pause must be but very few objects, that, however in- that day, distinguishes our northern me- but a painful vacuity; and what change different to the ordinary spectator, do tropolis. On the contrary, I have al- can there be to dissolute idleness, but not give birth to some sensations of this ways been of opinion, that Sunday was that which results from the active perkind. For instance, if I meet the car-set apart, not only as a day of rest and petration of crime? riage of one of our judges, it instantly worship, but also as one on which such brings to my mind the admirable impar- innocent enjoyments as help to relax tiality of our laws and their wise and the mind from the laborious cares of the equitable administration. The equipage week, might, unoffendingly, be pursued. of a peer or a member of Parliament I can, therefore, never refrain from recals to my contemplation the excel-looking with an eye of regret on a wet lence of our incomparable constitution; sabbath, reflecting how many plans of and the lord mayor's state coach, as in- harmless pleasure and healthful recreafallibly reminds me of our commercial tion it must necessarily defeat. greatness, as evinced in the splendour of our civic establishments. And, while a

No two cities can be more different from one another than London is from

But, whatever may be the general propriety of the observance of the sabbath in London, there are certainly some exceptions which have occasionally obtruded themselves on my ambulatory meditations. Among these I would mention the custom of crying mackarel on Sundays, which our legislators, when they sanctioned it, could never have intended to convert into so great a nuisance as it often becomes; for, during

the mackarel season, not a Sunday
passes, on which one is not annoyed
during the hours of divine service, and
that too at the very church door, by all
the varieties of this melodious cry, from
the Scotch Mackreel' to the Irish
Mackkarel.' I know not how this may
affect the devotion of others; but I must
acknowledge that it never communicated
any additional fervour to that of
April 19, 1823. THE PERIPATETIC.

ON SUBJECTS FOR ANATOMY.

To the Editor of the Literary Chronicle. SIR-Much discussion has lately taken place respecting the providing of subjects for anatomical purposes: and the public mind has been continually agitated by the enormities of the grave-robbers, vulgarly, but irreligiously, denominated resurrection-men. These violations of the sanctity of sepulture were formerly hushed up as much as possible, and even denied; but a different policy now

actuates the anatomists.

When the number of persons engaged in the actual practice of anatomy was small, a few subjects sufficed for their purpose, and these were husbanded with the utmost care. They were of course valuable, and were principally the bodies of criminals, which had been sold by themselves, for the purpose of procuring the means of intoxication when in prison; and the surgeons who bought them hired a number of chairmen or sailors to carry off the body and place it in a hackney-coach, while the friends of the criminal, if known in London, assembled in force, to prevent the surgeons from getting possession of their purchase; and desperate engagements frequently took place on this account.

mass of rubbish placed in their room. place in the hospitals, many of whom
In some few instances, the bodies of the are from the country, with no friends in
higher classes came under the dissectors' Paris to care for the corpse, so that sub-
knife: when the bodies being to be con-jects may be had there for a few pence,
veyed into the country, the undertaker, in fact, merely for porterage.
or some of his men, contrived to steal
the bodies at some of the inns, where
they stopped to take their night's rest,
and forward it to London; or when the
friends deserting the house immediately
on the decease, the undertakers' men
were enabled to steal the body, by
means of bribing one of the servants.
As the London school became more ce-
lebrated, and still more since the go-
vernment boards, having the supply of
surgeons to the army and navy, has
been composed either of London lec-
turers or their friends, and who, of
course, restricted their patronage to their
own pupils, or at least to those who had
attended the London school, the num-
ber of subjects required for the exercise
of the students in dissection is so great,
that the agency of the resurrection-men
and the increase of their numbers have
become a matter of necessity. The
robbery of graves has been frequently
discovered, and the robbers imprisoned;
hence the price of subjects rose from
one guinea to three, and since that to
four, and even six.

The London surgeons not succeeding in opening this trade in dead bodies, have given a great publicity to the robbery of graves, with a view to find some other source of supply, and have ventured to hint, that the bodies of those who die in hospitals and workhouses should be placed at their disposal, on the ground that those who have received charitable aid in life, should, in recompense, allow their lifeless bodies to be made use of in favour of the rich, to whom they are indebted for that charitable aid. The surgeons appear to have forgotten that the dissection of a human body is not only opposed by popular prejudice, but also by the positive legal institu tions of the country, inasmuch as dismemberment is awarded as a superior punishment than mere loss of life to traitors of the higher class, and that dissection itself is allotted as the highest of all punishments to murderers. The proposition of the surgeons, that the anatomical schools should be furnished with the bodies of the poor, and that the misfortune of poverty, in itself an The claims of the resurrection-men, evil hard to be borne, should thus be for the increased hazard, in consequence punished equally with a crime of the of the stricter watch now kept in and deepest dye, more revolting to the feelround the metropolis, or for reimburs-ings of all than any other political or ing their travelling charges, if they went moral offence, does indeed appear moninto the by-parts of the country, where strous. they were not liable to be disturbed in Subjects are required for two distinct the commitment of the robbery, becom- purposes, which ought not to be coning so considerable as to be a great founded. The first purpose is for the draw-back upon the profits of the Lon-investigation of the cause of the death don lecturers, they first endeavoured to of the party; this is technically denomiOn the first attempt to render Lon- procure subjects from France, where nated morbid anatomy, or examination. don a school of medicine (or rather sur-they may be had at about fifteen shil- of the body after death in this, only gery), in opposition to the universities, lings each, delivered in England; but so much of the corpse is opened as is by the establishment of the anatomical the Custom House opposed itself to this necessary for the fulfilment of the obtheatre in Windmill Street, by Dr. Wil- branch of trade, fearing that the internal ject in view, and the parts may be reliam Hunter, the number of subjects part of the bodies might be made a re-placed, so as to render the corpse as fit required became more considerable, be- ceptacle for lace and other valuable ar- for interment, as those from which any cause the pupils were required to exer- ticles subject to high duties, or even part might have been cut off during life: cise themselves in dissection under his contraband. This cheapness of foreign the interest of society would be beneinspection. This increased number was, subjects arises from the poor in French fited, if all corpses were subjected to however, supplied by the new trade of and Italian cities not being buried in this examination. The second purpose resurrection-men, then few in number, separate graves, but, a large pit being for which subjects are required, is techand either themselves, sextons or grave- dug, the corpses are deposited in a nically called surgical anatomy, diggers, having the charge of some of naked state at the bottom, with a thin section, properly so called. In this, the retired burying-grounds in and round plank between each, until a layer of the whole body being generally divided the metropolis, or undertakers' men con- them is completed, when about a foot into halves or quarters, the head is disnected with them; or by the masters, deep of mould is strewed over them, sected amongst so many pupils, who, matrons, &c, of workhouses and hospi- and a fresh layer of corpses began: for the purpose of examining the structals, who took the bodies of those dead hence the bodies are easily subtracted ture of the human frame, or determinunder their care out of their coffins in from the burying-ground, and it is also ing the parts to be cut through in the the night, and thus caused the solemn known that of one-third of the deaths in various operations, completely mangle rites of sepulture to be prostituted over Paris, no less than eight thousand take it, saving only the bones. The number

a