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THE TRUE MISTRESS.

Wild friend, a mistress ought to be
One who out-chatters even thee,
Light, handsome, petulant and young,
Nor sparing or of hand or tongue,
One who may carry off the laurel,
Victorious, when you chance to quarrel,
Or, if she happen to be routed,
Will kiss and think no more about it;
For if you take a prudent dame,
Chaste, mild, accessible to shame,-
Say what you please-upon my life,
She is no mistress, but-your wife.

VENUS ANADYOMENE.

This is Apelles' work. See Venus rise
Sprung from the sea, to captivate the skies,
See, with her taper fingers how she presses
The briny dew drops from her humid tresses;
This let her two celestial rivals see,

And they shall say-" Venus, we yield to thee.”

'TO GALLA.

Galla-midst other moving things,
Remember I have often said,

That Time, though aged, had his wings,
And thou would'st find how fast he fled.

Yet vainly, to persuade I strove;

In youths short summer thou wast cold, Although the girl that will not love, However youthful-still is old.

But Time, though beauty he hath taʼen,
Will recollection leave behind,

And now thou wishest back again

The days in which thou wast so blind.

Oh! well I read that sadness, when

I see it settle on thy brow;

Thou wouldst that thou wert young as then,
Or that thou hadst been kind as now.

Though 'tis a vain, unreal fire,

Compar'd with that those hours inspir'd, Though 'tis not that I now desire,

So much, as that I once desir'd,

Grieve not ;-and if we speak of this,
Let us but bring each former scene,

To try to sweeten that which is

By thoughts of that which might have been.

DEAR CHRISTOPHER,

REPLY TO MR BARKER.

I AM not a facetious gentleman, but a very plain man, who was so struck by the critical sagacity of Cæcilius Metellus, that I could not refrain from expressing it in print. Nor can I even conjecture the meaning of Mr Barker, when he accuses me of having pronounced an Harveian oration against him. However, as he assures me that I have mistaken my man, I am ready to retract my guess, for you may remember it was nothing more; and I am sorry that Mr Barker feels annoyed at so trifling a circumstance. I never made any attack on him, but merely conjectured that it was he who wrote in the disguise of Cæcilius, from the dexterity and freedom displayed by that writer in the use of the scissors, for which we all know Mr B. is so famous; and a very excellent accomplishment for a lexicographer it is. This then should satisfy Mr Barker; so let him no longer be one of those who laso doluere Metello. It were unfair if I did not add, that in spite of my facetiousness, the said Cæcilius is a respectable scholar, and somewhat of a wag in his way, as his Greek squib on Jeffrey, a very neat little mock-heroic (which, ut obiter dicam, some of your contributors ought to translate for you) can testify; but I think all will agree that he was peculiarly deserving of my panegyric, for his authentication of your Horæ Scandicæ.

Mr Barker calls my attention to the second part of his Aristarchus AntiBlomfieldianus, and recommends it as a proper butt for the exercise of my wit. It very probably is a fit subject for such a purpose; and I shall certainly read it, as I have read the first part; but whether I shall be droll on the occasion or not, is known only to the fates. Of this he may be sure, that there is no one who more sincerely desires that the great work in which he

is engaged may be executed in a manner worthy of our national literature; and also that I think he brings with him many requisite qualifications to his task, although I agree with the Quarterly Reviewer in nearly all his objections. His answer is rather a censure on Dr Blomfield (for which purpose he has even gone so far out of his way, as to translate some dull and forgotten German criticisms on that accomplished scholar's works) than a defence of his manner of editing Thes.-Valpy, in my opinion, has acquitted himself much better in the little pamphlet, which he has served up with the last number. Still, however, the main charge, unnecessary rambling and prolixity, is unanswered. Indeed I do not recollect any objection which has received a full reply; but the book will be a great depot of Greek after all.

I now make my bow to Mr Barker, and shall not trouble him again, unless I have strong cause. In case he wishes to call on me, I am ready, at a moment's notice, to march, caligatus in agros, and scatter Harveian orations as he calls them, upon him in Ouλáng; but if not, I shall remain under my own vine and fig-tree, at quiet and secure, like the men of Laish. But let him not be a blood-thirsty Danite, to come and disturb me, or perhaps I shall not give my throat to the edge of the sword as easily as these children of the Gentile. I remain, Dear Sir, Your's sincerely,

A CONSTANT READER. LONDON, March 3, 1821.

P.S.-In my former letter, for "the most doctriniacal Seidlerus," read, meo periculo, "the most dochmiacal Seidferus." That most facete scholar being particularly sublime upon the doch

mius.

THE BRITISH GALLERY..

MR EDITOR, KNOWING that you take an interest in every thing relating to the arts, that is passing in this metropolis, it may not, perhaps, prove unacceptable to you to receive, for insertion in your excellent Magazine, a few casual observations, which I have been induced to throw together, on the re-opening of the above annual and national exhibition. I shall premise my remarks by stating, that, in speaking of its various performances, I shall constantly bear in mind the real views of the Governors in founding the Institution, and shall consider the British Gallery as established for the professed purpose of encouraging the higher departments of painting. It may perhaps appear, at first sight, very difficult to assign any adequate reason for its having so completely failed of producing the effects which were so fondly anticipated by its liberal and enlightened projectors, and by the public at large; but on taking a retrospective view of its annual exhibitions of modern art, and of the species of encouragement that has been afforded, the difficulty is solved, as it will be found that the latter, probably from the taste of the day, has been chiefly bestowed upon works that ought never to have found admission into an institution, originally intended to promote the highest branches of the profession. There are other exhibitions, in which ingenious productions, in the inferior departments of the art, may be seen to advantage; but in the one in question, the line of exclusion should have been as strictly drawn as it ought to have been rigidly adhered to. True it is, that a good deal of money is annually expended at the British Gallery, but it is wrongly directed; and when we look at the pictures which are generally purchased, they will be found to consist of subjects almost exclusively belonging to the lowest description of art, which, however excellent in their kind, may be bought, throughout all eternity, without promoting one jot the higher departments of design. The old-established maxim, in domestic economy, that, "if the pence be taken care of, the pounds will take care of themselves," should be completely reversed in matters of art; for, as Sir Joshua Reynolds has well remarked in

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London, March 6, 1821.

his first lecture, "If the higher arts of
design flourish, the inferior ends will
be answered of course.
I am aware,
that, in a public exhibition, it is impos-
sible to inform the public as to what
it ought to direct its encouragement,
nor is it becoming, in an individual, to
censure any plans for the promotion of
the fine arts, which a body of noble-
men and gentlemen have deemed most
conducive to their advancement. I
merely wish to suggest it to the can-
dour and discernment of these distin-
guished personages, whether the mode
in which the British Gallery is at pre-
sent filled, may not have a positive
tendency to lead the public taste to the
fostering of trifles, rather than to fix
its attention on the nobler
purposes of
art. It is not encouragement that is
wanted chiefly in this country, but
that its encouragement should be di-
rected into proper channels; and I will
venture to assert, that if one picture
only of real excellence, or even of pro-
mise, in the higher walks of painting,
were yearly purchased by the Direc-
tors, with a view of gradually forming
a National Gallery, it would do more
for the perfection of arts in general,
than all the sums that are annually ex-
pended on inferior productions, which,
as they are now applied, only tend to
promote the most lamentable of all
consummations in art-mediocrity and
common-place!
I am fearful, may

These charges,

be applied with more than usual jus-
tice to the collection of pictures now
exhibiting at the Gallery. The at-
tempts at historical, or poetical com-
position, are far from numerous, and
are extremely feeble; and even the
fire and talents of Mr Hilton appear
to have been completely paralyzed in
his picture of " Penelope recognising
Ulysses." Mr Hayter's "Venus com-
plaining to Mars," is yet more un-
successful; and the only picture in
the Gallery that possesses any claim to
attention, in the historical style, is the
original sketch of Chevy Chace, by the
late Mr Bird, which is preferable even
to his celebrated finished picture of the
same subject. The rest of the exhibi-
tion is chiefly filled by such subjects
"Ducks from
Dead Game,
Nature,"—" Fruit,"-" Vegetables,"
and "Still Life," &c. &c. with a due

as

sprinkling of Hebes, Cupids, and Venuses. It is, however, but fair to add, that many of the above humble subjects are painted with great ingenuity and nature: One of the best, and belonging possibly to a somewhat superior order, is Mr Sharp's "Broken Window," the story of which is admirably told, and the picture extremely well painted. The two slight Sketches, by Mr Wilkie, certainly add nothing to his well-acquired fame, and it is to be regretted that this very eminent artist appears insensibly depart ing from that simplicity and truth, which so highly distinguished his early compositions. In the inferior de partments of art, the most prominent exhibitor in the Gallery is unquestionably Mr Landseer, whose admirable compositions of animals can scarcely be spoken of too highly, for their spirit, fidelity, or painting. If any fault is to be found, it arises from their possessing too great a similarity to the animals of Snyders and Reubens, which, however excellent in their kind, cannot be followed as guides, with such confidence as the productions of nature herself. Mr Landseer has quite strength enough to draw from the fountain-head at once, without condescending to follow any one, in a style in which it is evident he is formed to go before. In the same walk of art, there is an extremely good picture by Mr M. T. Ward, not very felicitously termed the Painful Bite;" but the thought is a happy one, and the subject is represented with great truth and humour. Many other pictures, of the same class, might be added, which reflect considerable credit on their respective painters, but all are unfortunately misplaced in an Institution purposely established for the encouragement of the higher walks of art. The landscapes, for the most part, are confined to the mere representation of individual places; but there is one splendid exception in the " Wood-scene at Evening," by Mr George Barrett, (the son of the celebrated painter of that name) which unites, with great truth and beauty of colour, many of the highest excellencies of this delightful department of painting. This artist has been, for the last few years, gradually rising into public notice, and there is little doubt that, by a VOL. VIII.

strict perseverance in the course he has hitherto pursued, his industry, knowledge, and unassuming worth, will be finally crowned with success, and general estimation.

Before I conclude, Mr Editor, I have to speak of an uncommon production, that adorns the Gallery, which has burst upon us with all the splendour of a meteor-I allude to the picture of Belshazzar's Feast, painted by Mr J. Martin, a gentleman who has, for some years, been known to artists and to the publie for the originality and force of his conceptions, as well as for many other excellencies in his art.-It is difficult to criticise a production which in itself must be considered as almost unique; still more difficult is it to assign the precise style of art to which it can be said to belong-It is neither strictly architectural, nor historical, nor poetical, but partakes somewhat, and in almost equal degrees, of all-The whole forms one grand scenic representation, where nothing is seen in detail, but every thing in masses admirably managed, and adapted to express the general gradations of surprise, confusion, and consternation, with which the different portions of the multitude are supposed to be impressed, according to their proximity, or remoteness, from the warning and terrible vision on the wall: No single figure, however, will bear the test of examination either with respect to drawing, character, or expression,-nor was it probably the artist's intention that they should; his object seems to have been to give the grand general features merely, of a mighty assemblage of people placed under unusual circumstances of terror, without entering into individual distinctions-In short, the figures can only be looked on as accompaniments to the scene, and ought not to be regarded as historical, any more than those introduced in the landscapes of Wilson or Claude Lorraine.-It is perfectly ridiculous, therefore, to consider the picture as an attempt at the highest styles of art-The class to which it more properly belongs is the ornamental; and, considering it in this point of view, it may probably be fairly looked upon as one of the greatest and most original efforts that has been made in this country for years. The conception of the architectural part of the

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design, and its masterly execution, form unquestionably the great excellence of the picture, notwithstanding the monotonous and heavy effect produced, from the whole of the build ings being apparently composed of red granite; a defect that might easily have been remedied by a judicious mixture of black and white marble, particularly about the throne and the grand flight of steps that ascends to it; whether this would have been correct, in point of historical fact, is of little importance, as such liberties as these are perfectly allowable where a great advantage is to be obtained at so small an expence of truth-Perhaps the most striking errors of the picture arise from its colour, the omission of the hand writing the characters on the wall, and the mode of representing the characters themselves, which at present bear too great a resemblance to small windows, through which the rays of the sun are darting, and which, at first sight, greatly tend to obscure the subject; but these are trifling errors,

when compared to the various difficul-
ties that have been so successfully
overcome, and they are suggested to
Mr Martin's consideration by no un-
friendly voice, more in the shape of
hints than as direct censures. In his
peculiar walk of the profession, he will
probably derive great benefit from a
deep study of the larger works of Tin-
toret and Paul Veronese, his great
defect having hitherto arisen from his
deficiency in colour, and in some other
excellencies for which these eminent
men are so justly distinguished. It is
pleasing to learn that Mr Martin's
meritorious labours have not past un-
noticed, or unrewarded; the picture,
I have been informed, has been dispo-
sed of for eight hundred guineas, and
it is also said that the Directors of the
British Gallery have bestowed upon
him a donation of two hundred guineas,
in testimony of their approbation and
respect.-I am, Sir,

Your obedient humble Servant,
A CONNOISseur.

REMEMBERED BEAUTY.

A holy image,

Shrined in the soul-for ever beautiful,

Undimmed with earth its tears its weaknesses.

And changeless.

ANSTER

LONG years have pass'd; but yet, in silent mood,
When pleasure to the heart is but a dream,
And life with cheerless gloom is canopied,
Amidst my musings, when I stray alone
Through moorland wastes, or woodland solitudes;
Or when, at twilight, by the hearth I sit
In loneliness and silence, bursting through
The shadows of my reverie appears,
In undecay'd perfection, the same smile,
The same bewitching and seraphic form.
It cannot pass away-it haunts me still-
From slumber waking on my midnight couch,
Methinks I see it floating beautiful
Before me-still before me, like a star
O'er the dark outline of a mountain steep;
And, when the glory of the crimson moon,
Tinging the honeysuckle flowers, breaks in,
There still it passes o'er the pulseless mind,
Revolving silently the bye-past times,
Quiet and lovely, like a rainbow gleam

O'er tempests that have shower'd and pass'd away.

Long years have pass'd-we cannot soon forget
The lightning gleams that flash upon the heart;
Nor pass, amid the solitudes of life,

Its bright green spots unnoticed, or its flowers.

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