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what they were sixty years ago. No just opinions were at that time entertained on the merits of ingenious productions of this kind. The state of the public mind, incapable of discriminating excellence from inferiority, proved incontrovertibly, that a right sense of art in the spectator, can only be acquired by long and frequent observation, and that without proper opportunities to improve the mind and the eye, a nation would continue insensible of the true value of the fine arts." -Page 50.

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To the truth and intelligence of the above remarks, we should have supposed no one, at all qualified to judge, could have raised the slightest objec tion. It is notoriously the fact that art, at the period Mr Farrington is describing, was, with few exceptions, at a very low ebb; and, no less so, that the taste and admiration of the public at large, were devoted to the "grossest" and most "puerile objects.' Few among the most enlightened of the higher classes, even possessed any knowledge on the subject, or appeared to imagine it a necessary accomplishment, in the education of a gentleman. Deception, not Imitation, was "the Idol of the Day ;" and the admiration of our countrymen was confined chiefly to such specimens of art, as the butcher's shop, at Bagnigge Wells, or the uncouth representation, that startled us formerly at every turning of our old fashioned pleasure gardens. Indeed, so deficient was the nation in taste, and so absolutely ignorant of the common principles of art, that the rare genius of Hogarth even passed comparatively unnoticed, till the attention of the country became aroused from its lethargy by the public exhibitions, which have subsequently produced that general taste for painting, which distinguishes the higher and middling ranks of the present day, beyond that of any former period in our history.

Whether this newly acquired taste has been judiciously directed towards attaining the higher purposes of art, is quite another question; perhaps we do not believe that it has-but we must learn to creep before we can fly,"and since, as has been well observed, we are on no account to expect, that fine things should descend to us-our taste, if possible, must be made to ascend to them."-In a country circumstanced like Britain, we know but

of two modes, by which a taste for the higher excellencies of painting can be created. The first and most easy course, though far the most dilatory, is to place before the public eye, well executed representations of subjects adapted to the prevailing taste; and thence to lead it gradually to works of an higher order; or secondly, it must be brought about by some great original genius appearing among us, who, unshackled by pecuniary or other difficulties, and with an eye undeviatingly fixed on the accomplishment of great things, could calmly await the slow progress of public opinion, till an opportunity was afforded, through the example of his own productions, of eventually directing the attention of his countrymen to the noblest walks of the profession. The only artist, whose situation could have enabled him to give a high direction to the feeling for painting somewhat tardily excited in this country, was Sir Joshua himself; but unfortunately, as he has confessed, he did not feel his own power adequate to the undertaking; what he did attempt, however, he eminently succeeded in accomplishing. He rescued portrait-painting from the formal and insipid trammels in which it had hitherto moved, and following his own admirable precepts, infused into the most common place subject a portion of that sublime and general principle, which forms the leading characteristic of the great style of art. Farther nature had not formed him to go

He fixed the standard of portrait, in this country, on the loftiest eminence -succeeding artists have followed in his footsteps, but no one has reached the summit he attained; perhaps because it is found easier to see through his eyes than to adopt the principles of his study. In saying this, we are far from wishing to undervalue the distinguished and varied talent, which is annually displayed within the walls of Somerset House; on the contrary, considering the disadvantages under which a majority of the pictures are painted, and that the whole is generally the production of a single year, we think that if there be any cause for surprise, it arises from so much being achieved under circumstances of no very encouraging a description. Whether the establishment of an Academy be, upon the whole, beneficial to the higher departments of painting, is a ques

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That a very wide difference does exist in the comparative excellence of our poets and painters, we are by no means disposed to deny; but, surely, a very slight degree of reflection would furnish many adequate causes for the inferiority of the latter, without having recourse to the flippant and self-sufficient dicta of a rival nation.

We do not exactly comprehend the distinction which has been drawn between "high art" and "true art," since to us it appears, that any style grounded on the violation of truth, cannot be considered as art at all; but we suppose the sneer, if it mean any thing, is directed at those artists, who, like "Barry," it seems, mistake their "ardent aspirations after excellence for the power to achieve it," and assume the capacity to execute the greatest works, instead of acquiring it." We thought it had been settled only a few pages before, that capacity could not be acquired!!! After all, however, we do not see any thing very censurable in an artist attempting to rival excellence in the highest works of art, which he has taste and enthusiasm enough to feel and to admire; indeed, were a man to remain undecided, in the choice of his style, till he felt quite persuaded he was gifted with the powers of Raphael, or Michael Angelo, we are fearful that his ultimate progress would prove very inconsiderable. No one can be fully aware of his own force till he has first tried it, and, in the pursuit of excellence, we cannot perhaps place our standard too high. This seems, at least, to have been the opinion of Sir Joshua Reynolds, who, in one of his early and admirable discourses, thus addresses the students of the Academy-" My advice, in a word, is this: keep your principal attention fixed upon the higher excellencies; if you compass them, and compass nothing more, you are still in the first class. We may regret the innumerable beauties you may want; you may be very imperfect, but still you are an imperfect artist of the higher order. If, when you have got thus far, you can add any, or all of the subordinate qualifications, it is my wish and advice that you should not neglect them, but this is as much a matter of circumspection and caution, at least, as of eagerness and pursuit." It was our intention to have dwelt upon some doctrines of a novel and rather curious description, which have recently been

broached, with respect to the higher departments of painting; but, as à more favourable opportunity for discussing these points is soon likely to be afforded us, we shall at present abstain from farther remark, particularly as our limits warn us that it is time to return to our author, and bring our observations to a conclusion.

Mr Farrington's account of the establishment of the Society of Painters in Spring-Gardens, and of the intestine divisions among its members, which terminated eventually in the institution of the Royal Academy in 1768, is written with great fidelity, and with strict impartiality. Perhaps the dispute be tween Mr Strange and Sir Joshua was scarcely worth noticing, as the whole business evidently originated in a pique conceived by the former gentleman, at engravers being excluded, through the influence of the latter, from holding the rank of Academicians. "The fact was," says our author," that Sir Joshua Reynolds held the ingenuity of able engravers in high consideration; but he could not admit, that works purely imitative should be classed with original productions, or that the professors of the former were entitled to the distinction granted to the latter, which requires more profound study, and greater powers of mind." P. 62.

We have read, with particular pleasure and interest, that part of the volume which describes the situation and dignified conduct of Sir Joshua, when he had reached the splendid zenith of his reputation. It would indeed be difficult to conceive a more enviable lot than the one enjoyed by that great man at the period to which we allude, when he was honoured by the admiration of his countrymen, from the Sovereign to the humblest subject, and numbered, in the large circle of his private friendship, a constellation of illustrious characters, which has rarely been rivalled in the annals of the brightest periods of British history. These times are flown, and,

"Flown with these,

The wine of life is on the lees." But we will not increase our own regret, and that of our readers, by dwelling on the melancholy causes which, through the last twenty-five years, seem to have been gradually leading us to so sad a consummation. We are glad to find that Mr Farrington has borne his testimony to the well direct

39

ed efforts of an "English tradesman,' who, by one bold and hazardous speculation, did more for the higher departments of painting in this country, than has since been accomplished by the united endeavours of its most illustrious encouragers and protectors; not, we believe, because his zeal in the cause of art was greater, but because his plan was better adapted than any one that has hitherto been devised, to call into immediate effect the full powers of the most accomplished painters of the day, many of whom would probably have past their lives in comparative obscurity, if the establishment of the Shakspeare Gallery had not af forded them a favourable opportunity of bringing a large body of their works into public notice, without incurring the risks and mortifying results which generally attend the speculating efforts of individual and unemployed artists. The undertaking of Alderman Boydell, in the first instance, met with considerable encouragement, and only fail ed of complete success, from "the stop page of foreign trade during a dozen years of war.' The Alderman appears to have been a man of a most amiable and respectable character; he died at the advanced age of 86, but his memory will long live in the remembrance of every true lover and encourager of

art.

The remainder of the work is chiefly dedicated to the origin, progress, and final adjustment of the dispute between Sir Joshua and the Royal Academy,to an account of the public funeral of that great man, and to the literary effusions elicited from various quarters on the occasion of his lamented death, forming altogether an amusing and interesting supplement to Mr Malone's account of the distinguished President, which reflects considerable crediton Mr Farrington, not only as an able and judicious biographer, but as a sensible, accurate, and highly impartial writer. As an artist, our author has never risen to great eminence, but his information, amusing conversation, and gentleman-like deportment, have always rendered him a welcome guest in polished and literary society. It is said, that at one period of his life, he took a very active share in the private politics of the Royal Academy, and, like most other men placed in similar circumstances, has received his full share of approbation and of obloquy; but after all due allowance for the prejudices and infirmities of human nature, it is but fair to add, and we say it with the strictest impartiality, that Mr Farrington is a sincere lover of his art, and has generally, through life, been anxious to place its professors on an independent and respectable footing.

POEMS TO IDA.
NO. I

Heu! quantum minus est reliquis versari, quam tui meminisse !

Oh! sweetly o'er th' Atlantic sea,

The moon, with melancholy smile,
Looks down, as I, belov'd, on thee
Am fondly musing all the while:
And as, along the silver tide,

Its silent course the vessel steers,
I dream of days, when, side by side,
We roam'd on eves of other years!

Though many a land, and many a wave,
Between us rise, between us roll,
Still, like a beacon, bright to save,
Thou sheddest light upon my soul.
And though the mist of years hath pass'd,
Since first I bless'd its glorious shine,
Yet thoughts and woes-and days amass'd,

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Have only made it doubly thine!
REMOTE MODA

How sweetly to the pensive mind bas, Inbl is 1
The dreams of other days awake,m, Hold O&
And all the joys we left behind, on sa & dype L
No more on earth to overtake!

Our wanderings by the sandy shore

Our walks along the twilight plain—
The raptures that we felt of yore-
- ́And neʼer on earth shall feel again!

Unclouded Moon! o'er rippling seas
Thou lookest down in placid grace;
19 up zol With sails, expanded by the breeze,
Alert, our onward path we trace;
To foreign isles, and lands unknown,
We steer, where every sigh shall tell,
'Mid thousands as I walk alone,

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My thoughts, with those far distant dwell.

Unclouded Moon! 'tis sweet to mark

Thine aspect, so serene and calm,
Dispersing, vanquishing the dark,
And o'er our sorrows shedding balm.
Departed years like visions pass

Across the hot and fever'd brow,
Blest years, and vanish'd eves, alas!

When thou did'st shine as thou dost now!

Oh! brightly as of yesterday

The dreams of vanish'd years awake,

The hopes that flatter'd to betray,

And left the joyless heart to break.

I see thee, as I saw thee then,

Endow'd by youth with magic charm;
I hear thee, as I heard thee, when
We roam'd together, arm in arm.

It were a soothing thought, that thou
Mayhap, now pondering, takest delight
To raise thy white, angelic brow,
And gaze upon this lovely night;
And that the very scenes might rise
Upon thy mind's reverted eye,
That draw from me a thousand sighs,
In starting up-and passing by.

'Twere nothing did we die 'twere nought
From life at once to pass away,

But thus to wither thought by thought,
And inch by inch, and day by day;
To mark the lingering tints of light,
As twilight o'er the sky expands,-
To mark the wave's receding flight,
That leaves the bleak and barren sands.

To see the stars that gem the sky
Fade one by one, to note the leaves
Drop from the boughs all witheringly,

Through which the wintry tempest grieves
'Tis this that chills the drooping heart,
That still we breathe, and feel, and live,

When all the flowers of earth depart,

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And life hath not a joy to give!ale me17",
341 dooods brA

Not parted yet-not parted yet

Though oceans roll, and roar between Y

A star that glitters ne'er to set,

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Thou smilest bright, and shinest serene;

Fair Ida! and the waste of life,

All bleak and barren though it be,ork adl
Although a scene of care and strife,
sur le bak
Has still a charm in having thee?

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