be not allowed, we may say the characteristics of materials--poetry,
painting, and sculpture would be subject but to one order of
criticism, under one set of rules. But though each has its agreement
with the others in the same leading principles--the foundation of
general taste, and mostly arising from moral considerations--yet have
they, individually, their own diverging points, from which they seem
freed from the "commune vinculum." It requires a nice discrimination
to ascertain for each art these points of deviation from the general
rules. These rules are, from observation and from books, more easily
comprehended, and the common scope of all the arts understood; but, to
an inquiring mind, difficulties will often present themselves, when
seeming differences and contradictions occur; for undoubtedly all
these arts must be reconciled with each other, and made akin. It
becomes, therefore, an important step in the education of taste, to
learn the necessarily different modes by which they each approach
their ends--the same as far as the general principles are concerned,
but with a variance according to the characteristics of each. Mr
Eastlake has been very successful in pointing to these distinctions,
in showing the rules which guide all, and those which necessitate the
differences. We were particularly struck with this discrimination in
his _Treatise on Sculpture_, than which we have never read any thing
more clear and convincing. We quote a passage with this bearing:--
"The first question, then, in examining the style of a given
art, is, in what does this difference of means, as compared
with nature, consist? The answer may for the present be
confined to sculpture. It is agreed, then, or it is a
_convention_, that a colourless hard substance shall be the
material with which the sculptor shall imitate the
perfection of life. His means are, by the primary condition,
effectually distinguished from those of nature; and it
remains for him to cheat the imagination (not the senses)
into the pleasing impression that an equivalent to nature
can be so produced. He may, therefore, imitate the
characteristics of life closely. His select representation,
however faithful, is in no danger of being literally
confounded with reality, because of the original
conventions, viz., the absence of colour, and the nature of
his material. But it is not the same with the imitation, in
this art, of many other surfaces. As already observed, a
rock in sculpture and a rock in nature can be identical; it
may, therefore, be sometimes necessary to imitate the
reality less closely, or even, in extreme cases, like that
now adduced, to depart from nature. The reason is obvious:
the degree of resemblance to reality which is attainable in
the principal object of imitation--the surface of the living
figure--is, from the established convention, limited; and it
is desirable that the spectator should forget this
restriction. He is, therefore, by no means to be reminded of
it by greater reality in other, and necessarily inferior,
parts of the work. In painting, it is sometimes objected
that inferior objects are more real than the flesh. The
defect is great; but there is this difference between the
two cases--in painting, the inferiority in the imitation of
the flesh may be only from want of power in the artist; in
sculpture, the perfect resemblance of the flesh to nature is
impossible, in consequence of the absence of colour. The
literal imitation of subordinate objects is, for this
reason, more offensive in sculpture than in painting. A
manifest defect in the art seems more hopeless than a defect
in the artist."
"In pursuing the analogies here I considered, it is
necessary to compare mere art with art--the form, as such,
of the one, with the form of the other. Thus, in comparing
sculpture and poetry together, the parallel conditions are
to be sought in the strictly corresponding departments. As
sculpture, in reference to nature, (to repeat an observation
before made,) gives substance for substance, so poetry gives
words for words. Accordingly, the form of poetry is by
agreement or convention (similar in principle to that which
dictates the conditions of sculpture) effectually
distinguished from the form of ordinary language. And it
will now be seen that the limitations of poetry, in such
outward characteristics, are more definite and more
comprehensive than those of sculpture; for whereas the
material of marble may sometimes coincide literally with
that of substances in nature, the form of poetry never can
entirely coincide with that of ordinary language. This
greater liability of sculpture to be confounded with reality
certainly adds to its difficulty, since the doubtful cases,
which may be left to the taste of the sculptor, are often
settled by an immutable rule for the poet."
Whoever would desire a knowledge of the original causes of the
differences of alto, basso, and mezzo relievo, should read the
admirable treatise on the subject. They are not to be confounded as
arising from the same conditions, and subject to the same rules. The
differences of position and light, by their distinct requirements,
separate the three styles of relievo, the alto, basso, and mezzo. It
is not, as many suppose, that the basso, the lower relief, is less
finished than the alto, or high relief; the finish of each is
differently placed. "In the highest relief, however decided the
shadows may, and must of necessity be, on the plane to which the
figure is attached, the light on the figure itself is kept as unbroken
as possible; and this can only be effected by a selection of open
attitudes; that is, such an arrangement of the limbs as shall not cast
shadows on the figure itself. In basso-relievo, the same general
effect of the figure is given, but by very different means: the
attitude is not selected to avoid shadows on the figure, because,
while the extreme outline is strongly marked, the shadows within it
may be in a great measure suppressed; so that the choice of attitudes
is greater. Mezzo-relievo differs from both; it has neither the
limited attitudes of the first, nor the distinct outline and
suppressed internal markings of the second: on the contrary, the
outline is often less distinct than the forms within it, and hence it
requires, and is fitted for, near inspection. Its imitation may thus
be more absolute, and its execution more finished, than those of the
other styles."
In all relievo, as the shadows fall upon the background, the peculiar
adaptation to architecture is manifest. As they are intended for
minute inspection, gems are generally in mezzo-relievo. The workers in
bronze and the goldsmiths--the former from the facility in casting,
the latter for the minuteness and less distinctness of their
works--adopting the flattest kind of mezzo-relievo, fancifully
deviated from the original purity of the style, by introducing
landscape and building backgrounds. An artist of the greatest genius
fell into this error--Lorenzo Ghiberti, in the beautiful bronze doors
of the baptistery of San Giovanni at Florence. In these celebrated
compositions he attempted the union of basso-relievo with the
principles of painting. His excellent workmanship and skill in
composition was such as led the sculptors of the fifteenth century to
consider this innovation upon the old simplicity an improvement. In
inferior hands the failure would have been manifest, for the practice
is in violation of the principle which the character of the material
should determine. That Ghiberti was led into the error is not
surprising, as he learned his art from a goldsmith. In his case it was
a singular instance of ill-constituted judges choosing well. The
judges who selected Ghiberti from his many competitors, were
goldsmiths, painters, and sculptors--the majority were likely to
favour that which approached nearest to their own practice. It is to
the credit of our Flaxman that he revived the purer taste. This whole
essay on relievo should be read attentively: it is so connected in all
its parts that it is impossible to give its true character by either a
few quotations or an at tempt at analysis.
In the essay entitled "Painting," Mr Eastlake keeps in view throughout
the main object of the commission--the decoration of public buildings.
He has to show how certain principles of art adjust themselves to the
conditions imposed by the dimensions, light, and general character of
the buildings for which works are required. At first view it might
appear that, whether a picture be large or small, there should be no
difference in the manner of painting it--that the small magnified, or
the large reduced, could answer every purpose. But not so: a moment's
consideration will show that the spectator's eye must be consulted,
which sees not minutiæ of form or colour at the distance from which
large works are to be seen, and that it seeks for those as the objects
are brought nearer. It becomes necessary, then, in large works, lest
they be indistinct, that masses be strongly preserved, and,
accordingly, that neither forms nor colours be much broken. Hence, the
larger the work, in general, the lighter, for the sake of
distinctness, it should be: and such is the character of the great
fresco works, which are, besides, in this respect, mainly aided by the
materials of fresco, which is non-absorbent of light. We believe this
also to be true to nature; for if we reduce any scene of nature by a
diminishing glass to very small dimensions, the quantity of colour,
which is never lost, becomes concentrated, and therefore more intense.
The Flemish masters were great observers of nature; and we find in
their smallest pictures the greatest depth and intensity of colour.
Colour, in this view, even contends powerfully with perspective
itself, and is often in distance, by being to the eye reduced, of an
intensity that would seem to contradict aërial influence. The
phenomenon of the strength of bright colour in distance is extremely
curious: every one must have noticed that a lighted candle may be seen
miles off, where, according to perspective rules, it would not be
possible to draw its dimensions; nay, it shall appear larger than when
at a moderate distance, and that not from its being a magnified light
reflected from the walls of a room, for the same effect will be
observed if we see the single light in the midst of a dark wood, where
it is reflected not at all, and even seen in a space which, without
the candle, would be too small to be discernible. But the contrary
effect takes place with regard to form, which becomes indistinct at a
very small distance. A bright colour is frequently very distinct,
where the form to which it belongs is lost. But to return to the
essay. Mr Eastlake clearly shows the principles, with regard to
colour, upon which the great Venetian masters worked--how, by what
artificial means, they preserved colour without losing light. To their
practice and modelling in fresco were the Venetians indebted for the
largeness of their system of colouring, and probably to the rich
specimens of painted glass, for which Venice was celebrated, for their
brilliancy and illumination. This little treatise is peculiarly useful
to those who would aspire to undertake public works of large
dimensions, and could not have been offered to their notice by a more
fit person than the Secretary to the Commission of the Fine Arts. The
following is excellent:--"To conclude: the resources, whether abundant
or limited, of the imitative arts, are, in relation to nature,
necessarily incomplete; but it appears that, in the best examples, the
very means employed to compensate for their incompleteness are, in
each case, the source of a characteristic perfection, and the
foundation of a specific style. As it is with the arts, compared with
each other, so it is with the various applications of a given art: the
methods employed to correct the incompleteness or indistinctness,
which may be the result of particular conditions, are, in the works of
the great masters, the cause of excellencies not attainable to the
same extent by any other means. In the instance last mentioned--the
school of the Netherlands--it is apparent that no indirect
contrivances or conventions are necessary to counteract the effects of
indistinctness; on the contrary, all that would be indistinct in other
modes of representation is here admissible, with scarcely any
restriction. The incompleteness to be overcome, which is here the
cause of peculiar attractions, therefore resides solely in conditions
and imperfections of the art itself, which, on near inspection, are in
greater danger of being remembered. These are--a flat surface, and
material pigments; and these are precisely the circumstances which, by
the skill of the artists in the works referred to, are forgotten by
the spectator. The consequences of the difficulty overcome are, as
usual, among the characteristic perfections of the style."
_Passavant's Life of Raphael_[15] is by far the most satisfactory
account of that great and too short-lived painter. It deservedly
engaged the attention of Mr Eastlake, who, in his review, has, in an
able summary, connected the genius of this extraordinary man with the
influence of his times and the place of his birth. Hitherto the school
of Umbria has been too much overlooked. Yet Urbino, at the time of
Raphael's birth, more than rivalled in art Rome and Florence. The
palace built there by Duke Federigo was not only magnificent in
itself, but was adorned with treasures of art. Federigo was to this
"Athens of Umbria" what Cosmo and Lorenzo de Medici were to Florence.
It is not the least interesting fact, that Raphael's father, Giovanni
Santi, was the historian of its greatness, which he celebrates in a
poem, in which the painters of fame are not omitted. It is probable
that the early mind of Raphael grew there under the influence of
classic art, for many were the treasures of Grecian sculpture there
collected. The idea is ably combated by Mr Eastlake, that Italian art
was independent of this classic influence, as attempted to be proved
by the German school, who wrote to establish the entire independence
of early Christian art. The classic influence was felt by Raphael, and
by him promoted. It was indeed Giotto who, a century before, had set
the example of emancipating art from the previous formal
types--animating, as it were, the "_dead bones_" of art.
[15] We here adopt the spelling of the name as we find it in Mr
Eastlake's review of that Life.
The young Raphael, an orphan at twelve years of age, had probably been
an early scholar with his father, Giovanni Santi, and was, soon after
his father's death, placed with Perugino. He must have seen at Urbino
a work of Van Eyck's, which Duke Federigo had procured. Giovanni Santi
calls the inventor of oil-painting "Il gran Johannes." Among the
painters celebrated by Santi is Gentile, of whom Michael-Angelo said,
when he had seen a Madonna and Child painted by him, that "he had a
hand like his name." The young Raphael was then favourably
circumstanced in his earliest years. He remained at Urbino and in
Perugia till twenty-one years of age, 1504; was then at Florence till
1508; and from that time to his death, 1520, with the exception of a
visit to Florence, he was at Rome.[16] A very interesting account of
many of the works of this great man is added. The "Raphael ware," so
commonly believed to be designed by Raphael, was nevertheless not his
work. These designs were executed twenty years after his death.
Raffaello del Colla was one employed in these designs. The name
probably gave rise to the surmise that they were from the hand of
Raphael.
[16] In page 215, it is said Raphael repaired to his native city at
the age of twenty-one. This seems not to agree with the account of his
not having left it till twenty-one years of age. It has been said
also, at page 210, that he revisited Urbino in 1499, having been said
not to have left it till 1504.
Of the nature of the intercourse between Raphael and the Fornarina,
whatever may be the conjectures, not only is no additional information
brought forward, but there is every reason to believe the previous
statements to be fable, manufactured according to the love for romance
so common both to readers and authors. Whether the name La Fornarina
implies that she was a potter's or a baker's daughter, there is still
a doubt. Nor does it much concern the history of art, nor the real
character of the biography, as it should be, of such a man, to sift
the gossip of the idle or curious of any age. Passavant clearly
vindicates the life of Raphael from the general impurities which such
gossip has ever been as busy as desirous to attach to the names of men
of genius. The jealousy said to have existed between M. Angelo and
Raphael, probably had some origin in the impetuous temper of M.
Angelo, who confounded the gentle Raphael with his architectural
rival, Bramante. That Raphael owed something to M. Angelo cannot be
doubted, but no unfair imitation has been proved--nay, we would
venture to assert, that unfair imitation is almost impossible to
genius, for it will make its own, whatever, to an indiscriminating
eye, it seems only to borrow. It was not possible that Raphael should
not be influenced even in his style by that of M. Angelo. No painter
can come to any perfection in his art utterly ignorant or uninfluenced
by the works of others, whether predecessors or contemporaries. Nor
was Raphael slow to express himself as happy in being born in the age
of M. Angelo. "Whatever Raphael knew in the art, he knew from me,"
said M. Angelo. We do not view this as a censure, but a praise; for it
shows an admission on the part of that giant of art, that the genius
of Raphael was worthy the affiliation. We have sufficient evidence, we
think, of the originality, of the greatness, and of the more tender
virtue--gentleness--of Raphael in his works. To those who would seek
more, we would refer to the letter of Raphael himself, and more
especially to the touching pictures of his genius and character as we
find them in Vasari, and in the heartfelt regretting, at his death, of
his friend Castiglione.
The doubts raised a few years since respecting the place of Raphael's
burial have been removed. The tomb has been found, as described by
Vasari, behind the altar of the church of Sta Maria Bella Rotonda,
(the Pantheon,) "in a chapel which he himself had built and endowed,
and near the spot where his betrothed bride had been laid." The tomb
was opened in the presence of the members of the academy of St Luke,
who were not a little interested in the investigation, having been
long in possession of a supposed skull of Raphael, which the
character-casting phrenologists had, in their zeal for their theory,
held up to admiration, and as a test of the accuracy of their science.
It must have been to their no small mortification that their relic was
discovered to have "belonged to an individual of no celebrity." We
reluctantly pass over the interesting notes from Kugler's _Hand-Book_
"on the subjects of the paintings in the Capella Sistina."
To the artist, the "Extracts from the translation of Goethe's _Theory
of Colours_ will be most valuable. The usual diagrams of the
chromatic circle are shown to have one great defect. "The opposite
colours--red and green, yellow and purple, olive and orange--are made
equal in intensity; whereas the complemental colour, pictured on the
retina, is always less vivid, and always darker or lighter than the
original colour. This variety undoubtedly accords more with harmonious
effects in painting." To indirect opposition of colours--the
opposition should not only be of the colours, the hues, but in their
intensity--"the opposition of two pure hues of equal intensity,
differing only in the abstract quality of colour, would immediately be
pronounced crude and inharmonious. It would not, however, be strictly
correct to say that such a contrast is too violent; on the contrary,
it appears that the contrast is not carried far enough, for, though
differing in colour, the two hues may be exactly similar in purity and
intensity. Complete contrast, on the other hand, supposes
dissimilarity in all respects. In addition to the mere difference of
hue, the eye, it seems, requires difference in the lightness or
darkness of the hue." Artists who are so partial to extreme light--a
white light--and, at the same time, of exhibiting vivid, strong, and
crude colours, are far more unnatural in their effects than those who
prefer altogether the lower scale. In fact, it is the lower scale
which can alone truly show colours,--very vivid light and colour
cannot co-exist. Colour is called by Kircher "_lumen opacatum_." That
increase of colour supposes increase of darkness, so often stated by
Goethe, may be granted without difficulty. To what extent, on the
other hand, increase of darkness--or rather diminution of light--is
accompanied by increase of colour, is a question which has been
variously answered by various schools. The reconcilement of Goethe's
theory with the practice of the best of the great Venetian colourists,
is shown with much critical discrimination.
Leonardo da Vinci, the obscurity and want of arrangement of whose
treatises are so much to be regretted, had, as is shown by the
juxtaposition of passages, borrowed largely from Aristotle. It is
agreed by both, that when light is overspread with obscurity, a red
colour appears; the why remains for the more accurate investigation of
philosophers. The blue of the sky arises from the interposition of
white against the black. The following from Leonardo is
curious,--"This (effect of transparent colours on various grounds) is
evident in smoke, which is blue when seen against black, but when it
is opposed to the light, (blue sky), it appears brownish and
reddening."
The letter "On the decoration of a villa" comes very opportunely.
Architecture, with all its accompanying decoration of furniture and
ornament, has been with us for nearly two centuries in abeyance. The
taste is reviving, and with it knowledge. The science is studied, and
with the extension of the science, convenience, which had long been
the sole aim, and inadequately pursued, is in advance. There is much
to be done, not only in villas and mansions, the houses of the rich,
but in those of the moderate citizens. It too often happens that
families are weary of their homes, they know not why--fly off to
watering-places for a little novelty--establish themselves in
inconvenient lodging-houses--all, in reality, because they lack a
little variety at home. We have seen houses, where most of the rooms
are not only of the same dimensions, but are, as near as possible,
coloured, papered, painted and furnished alike: the eye is wearied
with the perpetually obtruding sameness, and the eye faithfully
conveys this disgust to the mind. We may be thought to have whimsical
notions in this respect, yet we venture to the confession of a
somewhat singular taste. Had we wealth at command, we would borrow
something from every country and climate under the sun. We would enter
subterranean palaces with the ancient Egyptians, all artificially
lighted. Arabians, Greeks, and Romans should contribute architectural
designs. Our house should represent, in this sense, a map of the
world: we would inhabit Europe, Asia, Africa, America--(no, scarcely
the latter)--yet without being shocked by too sudden transitions;
though we would retain somewhat of this electrifying source of
revivifying the too slumbering spirits. We would be able to walk "the
great circle, and be still at home." We would create every gradation
of light, and every gradation of darkness, to suit or to make every
humour of the mind. We would have gardens such as few but Aladdin saw;
and who less than a genie, or most consummate of geniuses, should
complete our last unfinished window?--unfinished; for, with all this,
it would still be a blessing to have something to do. And a pleasant
thing to be the lord, master, emperor, in an architectural world of
acres. Who does not love the lordly spirit of Wolsey? but we would go
beyond him--would, as well as the imperial palace, have the poet's
house, the painter's house; and in their works, all their works, (we
are becoming as ambitious as Alnaschar,) be in daily familiarity with
the great and wise of every age. Our libraries--we speak plurally, in
the magnificence of the great idea--our picture-galleries,
statue-galleries, should tax the skill of purveyors and architectural
competitors without end. None that have ever yet been built or
supplied with treasures would suffice, for they are for cramped
positions. We would have no lack of space, and would not mind building
a room for a single work. The idea of magic to construct, only shows
the real want of man. Magic is but a prenomen to genius. Did we learn
all this extravagance from our early story-books of princes and
princesses, and their fairy palaces--from Arabian tales, and, in later
time, from the enchantments of Boyardo and Ariosto? Whatever were the
sources--though it should turn out to have been but an old nurse--we
are heartily thankful for these variable, fanciful treasures; and, had
we the riches, in reality would add a further extravagance of cost and
fancy--a mausoleum to her bewitching bones. We remember thinking
Menelaus, as pictured in the _Agamemnon_ of Æschylus, happy even in
his grief for the loss of Helen, in that he paced his galleries gazing
upon her statues.
"Ma ritorniamo al nostro usato canto."
For more practical views and uses, we refer those who would build and
decorate houses of pretensions and taste to the good sense contained
in Mr Eastlake's _Reply_.
It seems to be scarcely a fable that beauty (as often personified in
romantic poetry) is hid in an enchanted castle that few can reach; and
those fortunate few either see but the skirts of her robe, as she
majestically passes from corridor to corridor, or are so bewildered
with the sight, that, having worshipped with downward eyes, they can
give but a poor account of that "vultus nimium lubricus aspici;" while
many of the adventurers are at once overcome by the monsters of error
that in every shape sentinel the bridge and turret; while others,
scarcely on the verge of the precincts, gather a few flowers, and come
away under the delusion that they have entered the true garden of all
enchantment. Some are fascinated with the "false Duennas" that assume
a shape of beauty, and lead them far away, to their utter
bewilderment; and these never return to the real pursuit.--There are
who meet with fellow adventurers, accompany each other but a short
way, dispute about the route they should take, breathe a combative
atmosphere in the byepaths of error, and had rather slaughter each
other than continue the adventure. Such seems to have been the thought
of Mr Eastlake, in the commencement of his fragment "On the Philosophy
of the Fine Arts," which he has clothed in more sober prose becoming
the combatant for Truth--for Truth and Beauty are one. He has been out
upon the adventure--yet scarcely thinks himself safe from the weapons
of combatants, old or new, the discomfited or the aspirant, and
expects little credit will be given to the discoveries he professes to
have made. "To hint at theories of taste," he asserts, "is to invite
opposition. The reader who gives his attention to them at all is eager
to be an objector; he sets out by fancying that his liberty is in
danger, and instinctively prepares to resist the supposed aggression."
We would by no means break a lance with one so skilful, and of such
proof-armour, as that which this accomplished combatant wears; but we
may venture to gather up the fragments of the broken lances that strew
the field, and patch them up for other hands--nay, offer them, with
the humility of a runner in the field, to Mr Eastlake himself, who
will, on good occasion, show of what wood and metal they are made. To
carry on this idea of enchantment, it is possible that Mr Eastlake may
resemble the happy prince in search of the ninth statue. Eight had
been set up (we are not quite sure of the number): there they stood on
their pedestals of finest marble, but they were cold to the touch. The
prince in the tale found the ninth he was commanded to discover to be
a living beauty. If we mistake not, Mr Eastlake considers beauty but
the type of life. "Life is pre-eminently an element of beauty: the
word itself presents at once to the imagination the ideas of movement,
of energy, and of bloom: the fact itself constitutes the greatest and
most admirable attribute of nature." Again, establishing the curve,
though not the precise curve of Hogarth, as the line of beauty, "a
variously undulating curve may therefore be proposed as the visible
type of life: such a form is constantly found in nature, as the
indication and concomitant of life itself. It was this which Hogarth
detected in various examples, without tracing it to its source. His
illustrations are often excellent, but the type itself he adopted was
singularly unfortunate. His "line of beauty" constantly repeats
itself, and is therefore devoid of variety or elasticity--the
never-failing accompaniments of perfect vitality." Variation, whether
of line or of other elements, has on all hands been admitted as an
ingredient of beauty. Mr Burke's illustration of the dove is good:
"Here we see the head increasing insensibly to the middle, from whence
it lessens gradually until it mixes with the neck; the neck loses
itself in a larger swell, which continues to the middle of the body,
when the whole decreases again to the tail. The tail takes a new
direction, but it soon varies its new course; it blends again with the
other parts, and the line is perpetually changing above, below, upon
every side." Burke adds to this the other element--softness--which, we
suspect, Mr Eastlake will admit only in a minor degree; for Mr Burke
considers not only softness, but a certain degree of weakness--a
delicacy almost amounting to it, at least--as necessary to the idea of
beauty; and they would ill agree with the perfect "vitality" of our
author.
But simply as to lines, we are inclined to believe with Burke, that
though the varied line is that in which beauty is found most complete,
there is no particular line which constitutes it. Mr Eastlake, in
referring that line to its resemblance to life, or to the antagonistic
principles that make and destroy life, if we mistake not, cautiously
abstracts this line of beauty from ideas of association; whereas his
whole argument, in form and matter, appears to be one of association
only. But such an association of life may be, if it existed, often
destructive of that impression which a beautiful object is intended to
make. Lassitude, death itself, may be beautiful in form. When Virgil
compares Euryalus dying to the flower cut down--to the poppies
drooping, weighed down with rain--he has in his eye objects beautiful
in themselves; rather than life, they express Burke's idea of a
certain weakness and faintness.
Inque humeros cervix collapsa recumbit.
Purpureus veluti cum flos succisus aratro,
Languescit moriens; lassove papavera collo,
Demisere caput, pluviâ cùm fortè gravantur.
Perhaps Mr Eastlake may reply, that the simile expresses _privation_
of life, and therefore shows the matter capable of receiving it; but
this appears further to involve the necessity of association, which
denies the beauty of the line _per se_. The idea of privation is a
sentiment; but the question is, if there be _a_ line of beauty
independent of sentiment or association. Let us attempt to answer it
by another--the opposite. Is there _a_ line of ugliness? We think
there is not: if there be, what line? certainly not a straight line,
(we must not here refer any to an object.) Perhaps we may not be very
wrong in saying that _a_ line _per se_ is one of "indifference"--similar
to that state of the mind before, as Burke says, we receive either
pain or pleasure. May we not further say that, very strictly speaking,
there is no one line but the straight--that every figure is made up of
its inclinations, which are other or equivalent to other lines? If
there be any truth in this, the "line of beauty" (here adopting for a
moment the word) is not a single but a complicated thing: the straight
line has no parts, until we make them by divisions: the curved line
has parts by its deviations, which constitute a kind of division,
without the abruptness which the divided straight line would have. The
organ of sight requires a moving instinct: that instinct is curiosity;
but that is of an inquiring, progressive nature. Without some variety,
therefore, in the object, it would die ere it could give birth to
pleasurable sensation. It is too suddenly set to rest by a straight
line _per se_; but when that line is combined with others, the sense
is kept awake, is exercised; and it is from the exercise of a sense
that pleasure arises. Too sudden divisions, by multiplying one object,
distract; but in the curve, in the very variety, the unity of the
object is preserved. A real cause may possibly here exist for what we
will still call a "line of beauty," without referring it at all to so
complicated a machinery of thought as that of life, with its
antagonistic principle, with which it continually contends. This is,
doubtless, physically and philosophically true; but it is altogether a
thought which gives beauty to the idea of the line after we have
contemplated it--not before. The line may rather give rise to and
illustrate the philosophical thought, than be made what it is by that
thought, which it altogether precedes.
Mr Eastlake objects to Hogarth's line that it repeats itself. We are
not quite satisfied of the validity of this objection: for we find a
certain repetition the constant rule of nature--a repetition not of
identity, but similarity--an imitation rather, which constitutes
symmetry--which, again, is a kind of correspondence, or, to clothe it
with a moral term, a sympathy. To this symmetry, when a freedom of
action is given, it but makes a greater variety; for we never lose
sight of the symmetry, the balancing quantity always remaining. Thus,
though a man move one arm up, the other down, the balance of the
symmetry is not destroyed by the motion. We know that the alternation
may take place,--that the arms may shift positions: we never lose
sight of the correspondence, of the similarity. Every exterior swell
in the limb has its corresponding interior swell. The enlargement by a
joint is not one-sided. Every curve has its opposite. The face
exemplifies it, which, as it is the most beautiful part, has the least
flexible power of shifting its symmetry. Mark how the oval is
completed by the height of the forehead and the declination of the
chin. In nature it will be mostly found that, when one line rises,
there is an opposite that falls,--that where a line contracts to a
point, its opposite contracts to meet it. And this is the pervading
principle of the curve carried out, and is most complete when the
circle or oval is formed, for then the symmetrical or sympathetic line
is perfected. Let us see how nature paints herself. Let us suppose the
lake a mirror, as her material answering to our canvass. We see this
repetition varied only by a faintness or law of perspective, which, to
the eye, in some degree changes the line from its perfect exactness.
As we see, we admire. There is no one insensible to this beauty. Nay,
we would go further, and say that the artist cannot at random draw any
continuous set of lines that, as forms, shall be ugly, if he but apply
to them this imitation principle of nature, which, as it is
descriptive of the thing, may be termed the principle of Reflexion,
and which we rather choose, because it seems to include two natural
propensities not very unlike each other--imitation and sympathy. We
say "not very unlike each other," because they strictly resemble each
other only in humanity. The brute may have the one--imitation, as in
the monkey; but he imitates without sympathy, therefore we love him
not: and it is this lack which makes his imitation mostly mischievous,
for evil acts are the more visible,--the good discernible by feeling,
by sympathy. The sympathy of the symmetry of nature is its sentiment,
and may therefore be at least an ingredient in beauty, and thus
exhibited in lines. Lines similar, that approach or recede from each
other, do so by means of their similarity in a kind of relation to
each other; and by this they acquire a purpose, a meaning, as it
were, a sentient feeling, or, as we may say, a sympathy. A line of
itself is nothing--it has no vital being, no form, until it bear
relation to some other, or, by its combination with another, becomes a
figure; and because it is a figure, it pleases, and we in some degree
sympathise with it, as a part, with ourselves, of things created. Thus
the curve, or Hogarth's line of beauty, which we assume to be made up
of straight lines, whose joining is imperceptible, is the first
designated figure of such lines, and in it we first recognise form,
the first essential of organic being and beauty. It is like order
dawning through chaos,--life not out of death, but out of that
unimaginable nothing, before death was or could be. It is the
Aphrodite discarding the unmeaning froth and foam, and rising
altogether admirable. Now again as to Hogarth's line--carried but a
little further, it would be strictly according to this principle of
Reflexion. Divide it by an imaginary line, and you see it as in a
mirror. If the serpentine line, then, as Hogarth called it, be a line
of beauty, let us see in what that line is rendered most beautiful.
Let us take the caduceus of Hermes as the mystic symbol of beauty.
Here we see strictly the principle of reflexion, (for it matters not
whether lateral or perpendicular,) and here, as a separation, how
beautiful is the straight line! Take away either serpent, where is the
beauty? We have a natural love of order as well as of variety,--of
balancing one thing with another. If we remember, Hogarth falls into
the error of making it a principle of art to shun regularity, and
recommends a practice, which painters of architectural subjects have,
as we think, erroneously adopted, of taking their views away from a
central point. The principle of reflexion of nature would imply that
they lose thereby more than they gain, for they lose that complete
order which was in the design of the architect, and which, by not
disturbing, so aids the sense of repose--a source of greatness as well
as beauty. But to return to this Reflexion. It has its resemblance to
Memory, which gives pleasure simply by reflecting the past,--by
imitating through sympathy. We are pleased with similitudes, when
placed in opposition. They are, like the two sides of Apollo's lyre,
divided only by lines that, through them, discourse music,--harmony or
agreement making one out of many things. The painter knows well that
he requires his balancing lines to bring all intermediate parts into
the idea of an embracing whole. If any of Hogarth's lines, as given
examples in his plate, (though he gives the preference to one,) had
its corresponding, as in the caduceus, it would at once become a
beautiful line.
We took occasion some years ago, in a paper in Maga, to notice the
practice, according to this principle of nature, followed by perhaps
as great a master of composition (of lines) as any that art has
produced--Gaspar Poussin; and we exemplified the rule by reference to
some of his pictures; and we remarked that, by this his practice, he
made more available for variety and uniformity the space of his
canvass. We have since, with much attention, noticed the lines of
nature, when most beautiful,--have watched the clouds, how they have
arched valleys, and promoted a correspondence of sentiment,--and how,
in woods, the receding and approaching lines of circles have made the
meetings and the hollows, which both make space, and are agreeable. We
are not setting forth _our_ line of beauty. We would rather suggest
that it is possible the idea of the wave or curve, right in itself,
may be carried to a still greater completeness. It may, in fact, only
be a part of beauty, which must scarcely be limited to a single line,
or rather figure. We should have hesitated, lest we should seem to
have hazarded a crude theory, if it had appeared to be entirely in
opposition to Mr Eastlake. We think, upon the whole view, it rather
advances his, and reconciles it as a part only with that of Burke and
Hogarth. The thing stated may be true, when the reason given for it
may be untrue, or at least insufficient. The notion of life and its
antagonism is true; but its application may be more ingenious, and in
the nature of a similitude, than an absolute foundation; for many
similar referable correspondences of ideas may be given, as the range
of similitude is large. But the objection to them is that they are
mental, and will not, therefore, apply unconditionally in a theory
from which we set out by abstracting association.
Nor can we go so far as to carry this idea of "life" into the theory
of colour.
"Colour," says Mr Eastlake, "viewed under the ordinary
effects of light and atmosphere, may be considered according
to the same general principles. It is first to be observed
that, like forms, they may or may not be characteristic, and
that no object would be improved by means, however
intrinsically agreeable, which are never its own. Next, as
to the idea of life: creatures exhibit the hues with which
nature has clothed them in greatest brilliancy during the
period of consummate life and health. Bright red, which, by
universal consent, represents the idea of life, (perhaps
from its identity with the hue of the blood,) is the colour
which most stimulates the organs of sight."
We doubt if any one colour, as we doubted of any one line, is _the_
colour of beauty; and as to red representing life, possibly by
resemblance to blood, speaking to the eye of Art, we should not say
that redness is the best exponent of the beautiful flesh of human
life. If so, it is most seen in earliest infancy, when it positively
displeases. The young bird and young mouse create even disgust from
this too visible blood-redness.
What is beauty? is quite another question from that of whether there
is _a_ line of beauty. Lines may be pleasing or displeasing, in a
degree independent of the objects in which they happen to be. Lines
that correspond in symmetry, as well as colours which agree in
harmony, may exist in disagreeable objects, leaving yet the question
of beauty to be answered; though beauty, whatever it is, may require
this correspondence of parts, this order, this sympathy in symmetry.
Burke has separated the sublime from the beautiful. Mr Eastlake has,
we suppose intentionally, with a view to his ulterior object, in this
fragment omitted any such distinction. He may be the more judicious in
this, as Burke admits ugliness into his Sublime.
It has been supposed that the ancient artists studied the forms of
inferior animals for the purpose of embellishing the human. The bull
and lion have been recognised in the heads of Jupiter and Hercules. Mr
Eastlake lays stress upon the necessity in avoiding, in representing
the human, every characteristic of the brute; and quotes Sir Charles
Bell, who says, "I hold it to be an inevitable consequence of such a
comparison, that they should discover that the perfection of the human
form was to be attained by avoiding what was characteristic of the
inferior animals, and increasing the proportions of those features
which belong to man."
This is doubtless well put; but there is an extraordinary fact that
seems to remove this characteristic peculiarity from the idea of
beauty, however it may add it to the idea of perfection. Man is the
only risible animal: risibility may be said, therefore, to be his
distinguishing mark. If so, far from attributing any beauty to it,
even when we admit its agreeability, we deny its beauty,--we even see
in it distortion. Painters universally avoid representing it. They
prefer the
"Santo, onesto, e grave ciglio."
Some have thought the smile, so successfully rendered by Correggio,
the letting down of beauty into an inferior grace.
Perhaps the sum of the view taken by Mr Eastlake may be best shown by
a quotation:--
"We have now briefly considered the principal æsthetic
attributes of the organic and inorganic world. We have
traced the influence of two leading principles of
beauty--the visible evidence of character in form, and the
visible evidence of the higher character of life. We have
endeavoured to separate these from other auxiliary sources
of agreeable impressions--such as the effect of colours, and
the influences derived from the memory of the other senses.
Lastly, all these elements have been kept independent of
accidental and remote associations, since a reference to
such sources of interest could only serve to complicate the
question; and render the interpretation of nature less
possible.
A third criterion remains; it is applicable to human beings,
and to them only. Human beauty is then most complete, when
it not only conforms to the archetypal standard of its
species, when it not only exhibits in the greatest
perfection the attributes of life, but when it most bears
the impress of mind, controlling and spiritualising both."
"The conclusion which the foregoing considerations appear to
warrant, may be now briefly stated as follows:--_Character
is relative beauty--Life is the highest character--Mind is
the highest life._"
We confess, in conclusion, that we are not yet disposed to admit, from
any thing we have read, that Burke's "Sublime and Beautiful" is
superseded. We can as readily believe that the sublime and beautiful
may be reunited in one view, as that it is optional to separate them.
The sublime and the beautiful both belong to us as human beings,
making their sensible impressions all sources of pleasure, greatly
differing in kind. It is inseparable from our condition to have a
sense of a being vastly superior to ourselves: sublimity has a
reference to that superior power over us, and to ourselves, as subject
to it: while it renders us inferior, it lifts our minds to the
knowledge of the greater. Beauty, on the contrary, seems to look up to
us for aid, support, or sympathy. It thus flatters while it pleases,
and, in contradiction to the subduing influence of the sublime, it
makes ourselves in some respects the superior, and puts us in good
humour both with the object and ourselves.
We are loath to quit this most interesting subject. We thank Mr
Eastlake for bringing it so charmingly before us. We feel that our
remarks have been very inadequate, both with regard to the nature of
the subject, and as "The Philosophy of the Fine Arts" may seem to
demand. But we are aware that to do both justice would require larger
space than can be here allowed, and an abler pen than we can command.
We almost fear a complete elucidation of beauty is not within the
scope of the human mind. It may be to us not from earth, but from
above; and we are not prepared to receive its whole truth. Burke
somewhere observes that--"The waters must be troubled ere they will
give out their virtues." The allusion is admirable, and justifies
disturbing discussions. On such a subject, where the root of the
matter grows not on earth, it may be added, in further allusion, that
the stirring hand should be that of an angel.
INDEX TO VOL. LXIV.
Acting in China, 89.
Agriculture of France and England, comparison of, 3.
Alain family, the, extracts from, 560.
Algoa bay, settlement of, 159.
American thoughts on European revolutions, 31.
American war, caricatures illustrating the, 552.
Anne, queen, character of, 327.
Antwerp, a legend from, 444.
Arabian nights, the, 472.
Aristocracy, necessity of a, to Britain, 14.
Art its prospects, 145
Eastlake's literature of, 753.
Art-unions, results of, 146.
Ashley, lord, on the juvenile population, 66.
Ateliers Nationaux, sketches of the, 249.
Auersperg, count, 382, 532.
Australia, importance of, 66
demand for emigration to, 67
Mitchell's researches in, 68.
Austria, the revolution in, 519.
Baden, state of, 378.
Baikal, the lake, 88.
Balloons, rage for, 554.
Balzac, M. de, 572.
Banking act, suspension of the, 262, 263
Barbauld's hymns, 404.
Barnard's cruise, &c., review of, 158.
Bashkirs, the, 81.
Basil, letter to, 31.
Baston, Robert, 222, 223.
Bavaria, the revolution in, 518.
Beauty, Eastlake's theory of, 762.
Beaver and Beaver-stone, the, 84.
Beggar's Opera, origin of the, 336.
Belgium, state of, 521.
Bentinck, lord George, death of, 632.
Beresov, town of, 80, 81.
Bernard, Andrew, 225, 226.
Blue Dragoon, the, 207.
Blum, Robert, 532.
Bright, John, 271.
British navy, the, 595.
Buraets, the, 90.
Buried flower, the, 108.
Burke's eulogy on Walpole, 331.
Byron's address to the ocean, on, 499.
Cabrera, movement under, 630.
Caged skylark, to a, 290.
Call, a, by Julia Day, 625.
Canning, rupture of Castlereagh with, 620.
Canterbury tales, the, 466.
Cape, sketches of the, 158.
Caricatures of the 18th century, the, 543.
Caroline, queen, 331, 332, 334, _et seq._
Carpentaria, gulf of, expedition to, 68.
Castlereagh, lord, memoirs of, 610.
Catholic priesthood, proposed endowment of the, 638.
Cavaignac, general, 259.
Caxtons, the, Part IV. chap. ix., 40
chap. x., 41
chap. xi., 43
chap. xii., 44
chap. xiii., 48
chap. xiv., 50
Part V. chap. xv., 171
chap. xv., 179
chap. xvi., 181
chap. xvii., 182
Part VI. chap. xviii., 315
chap. xix., 317
chap. xx., 318
chap. xxi., _ib._
chap. xxii., 320
chap. xxiii., 321
chap. xxiv., 323
chap. xxv. 324
Part VII. chap. xxvi., 388
chap. xxvii., 392
chap. xxviii., 395
chap. xxix., 396
chap. xxx., My father's first love, 397
chap. xxxi., Wherein my father continues his story, 400
chap. xxxii., Wherein my father brings about his denouement, 402
chap. xxxiii., 405
chap. xxxiv., _ib._
Part VIII. chap. xxxv., 672
chap. xxxvi., 674
chap. xxxvii., 677
chap. xxxviii., 680.
Chartism, classes among whom prevalent, 269.
Chartist demonstration, feeling regarding, in America, 35.
Chartists, sympathy between, and the Irish, 261.
Chaucer as laureate, 224.
Cheremisses, the, 87.
Chesterfield, lord, 334.
China, Erman's travels in, 88.
Chuvasses, the, 87.
Cibber, Colley, 230.
Cinque Cento, the, 145.
Cleghorn's ancient and modern art, review of, 145.
Cobden, Mr, reductions proposed by, 265, 266.
Coercion, necessity of, in Ireland, 485.
Coercion bill, the Irish, 281.
Cologne, state of, 378, 521.
Colonial legislation, review of recent, 275.
Colonisation, 66.
Colours, Goethe's theory of, 759.
Compton, Sir Spencer, 329.
Commerce, statistics of, 496.
Commercial classes, rise of, to power, 115.
Commercial crisis, the, 262.
Conciliation, failure of, in Ireland, 485.
Congress of Vienna, errors of the, 516.
Conservative union, 632.
Constitution of the United States, the, 33.
Continental revolutions--Irish rebellion--English distress, 475.
Cossacks, the, 81.
Cottier system, the, 423.
Cotton manufactures, growth of, 409.
Crown security bill for Ireland, the, 283.
Currency, on the, 492.
Da Vinci, Leonardo, 760.
Dante's Beatrice, 220.
Danube and the Euxine, the, 608.
Davenant, William, 227, 228.
Day, Julia, "A Call" by, 625.
De Chatillon, Mrs Hemans', 652.
Deer forests and deer-stalking, 92.
Denmark, state and character of, 286
sonnet to, 292.
Devonshire, the duke of, 329.
Dickens, the novels of, 468.
Dogs of Siberia, the, 86.
Doomster's first-born, the, chap. I., The tavern, 447
chap. II., The lovers, 450
chap. III., Father and son, 453
chap. IV., The execution, 455.
Drama, decline of the, 648.
Dryden as laureate, 228.
Dudevant, madame, and her works, 568.
Dumas, Alexander, 557, 558, 695.
Dunbar, William, 226.
Eastern life, Miss Martineau's, reviewed, 185.
Eastlake's literature of the fine arts, review of, 753.
Economists, rise and doctrines of the, 408.
Egypt, Miss Martineau on, 185.
Eighteen hundred and twelve, a retrospective review, 190
part II., The Moscow retreat, 359.
Electric telegraph in America, the, 31.
Emersonianism in America, 38.
Emigration, importance of, 66
from Ireland, necessity of, 663.
England, necessity of an aristocracy to, 14
under George II., 327
the history of, illustrated by caricatures, 543
the present position of, 477, 492.
English and French agriculture, comparison of, 3
laureates, sketches of, 221.
Entail, the law of, 1
bill, examination of the, 9.
Erman's Siberia, review of, 76.
Ernest, letter from, 31.
European revolutions, American thoughts on, 31.
Eusden, Lawrence, 229.
Eusebius, letter to, on novels, 459.
Eustathius, the romances of, 472.
Excise bill, Walpole's, 336, _et seq._
Exports, diminution of, 274.
Fashions in the 18th century, the, 554.
Female poetesses, on, 641.
Feudal law of succession, the, 5.
Few words about novels, a, 459.
Fielding's novels, on, 460, 466.
Financial measures, recent, 263.
Findhorn river, the, 96.
Fine arts commission, the, 148
Eastlake's literature of the, 753.
Fishing in Russia, 83.
Fitzgerald, lord Edward, 615, 616.
Fleming on the papacy, notice of, 710.
Fleury, cardinal, 332.
Fo, temple of, 89.
Foote, Samuel, 550.
Forty shilling franchise in Ireland, the, 611.
Fox, caricatures of, 553.
France, agriculture of, compared with that of England, 3
her law of real property, succession, &c., 6, 11
feeling in America on the revolution in, 31
State of, June 1848, 51
the present state of, and lessons from it, 476, 477
pictures of, from Jérome Paturot, 687.
François le Champi, notices of, 568.
Frankfort, appearance of the town of, 525
the insurrection in, 541
parliament, the, 375, 380, 515.
Frederick-William, character, policy, &c., of, 518, 519, 523.
Free trade, progress of, 114
its influence on shipping, 125
its failure, 264, 268
examination of its principles, 269, 409.
French actors, riots against, in London, 1755, 549
literature, recent, 557
novels, on, 471.
Fur trade of Siberia, the, 84.
Gagern, Herr von, 381, 531.
Gaming in England, rage for, 554.
George I., accession of, 328.
George II., life and times of, 327
his personal and public character, 329
sketches and anecdotes of him, 334, _et seq._
George III., caricatures of, 552.
German novels, modern, 190.
Germanic confederation, the, 285.
Germany, objects of the revolutionary party in, 373
and its parliament, a glimpse at, 515
errors of the congress of Vienna regarding, 516
democratic character of the smaller states, 517
first outbreak and rapid progress of the movement, 518
objects of the democratic party, 536
state of the country, 538.
Gillray the caricaturist, 544, 553.
Glass, painting on, 156.
Glimpse at Germany and its parliament, a, 515.
Godwin's novels, on, 466.
Goethe's Theory of Colours, 759.
Gothic architecture, rise of, 145.
Gower the poet, 224.
Grattan, close of the career of, 620.
Gravière's sketches of the naval war, review of, 595.
Great Britain, importance of Australia to, 66
present state of 479, 492.
Great Tragedian, the, chap. I., 345
chap. II., 348
chap. III., 349
chap. IV., 352
chap. V., 355
chap. VI, 358.
Greek sculpture, on, 154
romances, 472.
Green Hand, the, 743.
Gulielmus, the first English laureate, 222.
Habeas corpus act, suspension of the, in Ireland, 284.
Harrington, lord, 341.
Harrowby, lord, notices of Castlereagh by, 621
Heidelberg, first revolutionary assembly at, 518
state of, 378.
Hemans, Mrs, 641.
Hervey's life and times of George II., review of, 327.
Heywood the poet, 226.
Highway robbery, prevalence of, in 1720, 546.
Hoadley, bishop, 342.
Hogarth as a painter, 153
his first caricature, 548
career of, 551.
Horse-dealer, the, a tale of Denmark, 232.
Huzzah for the rule of the Whigs, 112.
Imports, increase of manufactured, 273.
Income tax, modifications of, proposed, 421, note.
Intestacy, law of succession in, 5.
Ireland, agriculture and laws of property in, 12
amount of immigration from, 261
legislation of the session regarding, 279
its state, remedies proposed, &c., 421, 423
the rebellion in, 480, _et seq._
proper government for, 489
state of, before the union, 611
the rebellion of 1798, 615
the union, 619
the miseries of, and their remedies, 658.
Irish crime bill, the, 281.
Irkutsk, town of, 88.
Italy, Whig policy toward, 286
present state of, 476.
Jacobitism, prevalence of, under George I., 545.
Jahn, professor, 531.
Jane Eyre, remarks on, 473.
Jérome Paturot, review of, 687.
Jervis, Sir John, 599.
Jewish disabilities bill, the, 279
an American on the, 36.
John, the archduke, 520.
Johnson, Daniel and Ben, 227.
Kaffirland, 158.
Kames, lord, on the law of entail, 3.
Karr, M., and his writings, 560.
King, lord chancellor, 339.
Kock, Paul de, 571.
Kosacks of the Ural, the, 81.
La Famille Alain, the, 560.
Lady tourists, on, 185.
Laffan, archdeacon, 280.
Lamb plant, the, 79.
Lamoricière, general, 259.
Land, the laws of, 1.
Last Constantine, Mrs Hemans', 652.
Laurels and laureates, 220.
Law, John, career of, 546.
Laws of land, the, 1.
Lays of the Deer Forest, review of, 92.
Legend from Antwerp, a. Introduction, 444
The Doomster's first-born; chap. I., The tavern, 447
chap. II., The lovers, 450
chap. III., Father and son, 453
chap. IV., The execution, 455.
Leiningen, prince, 383.
Letter to Eusebius, a, on novels, 459.
Lichnowsky, prince, 532
his murder, 533.
Life and times of George II., the, 327.
Life in the Far West, part II., 17
part III., 130
part IV., 293
part V., 429
part VI., 573
memoir of the author, 591
London, state of, under George I., 545.
Londonderry, lord, memoirs of Lord Castlereagh by, reviewed, 610.
Louis XV., character of, 332.
Louis Philippe, American estimation of, 32.
Lyons, state of, 59.
Macculloch on the succession to property vacant by death, review of, 1.
Madame de Malguet, remarks on, 474.
Maimachen, town of, 88.
Manufactures, state of exports and imports, 273, 274.
Mariage de Paris, notice of the, 565.
Martineau's Eastern life, review of, 185.
Masquerades, prevalence of, during the eighteenth century, 548, 550.
Mayence, state of, 525.
Memoirs of Lord Castlereagh 610.
Menchikoff, a Russian favourite, 81.
Mery, M., the works of, 565.
Mill's political economy, review of, 407.
Mill, Mr, on the waste lands of Ireland and their improvement,
668, _et seq._
Miseries: of Ireland, the, and their remedies, 658.
Mississippi scheme, the, 546.
Mitchell, trial and condemnation of, 283.
Mitchell's Australia, review of, 66.
Modern tourism, 185.
Molesworth, Sir William, 271.
Monceaux, sketches in the park of, 249, 691.
Monsieur Bonardin, review of, 687, 700.
Montemolin, the Count de, and his party in Spain, 627.
More, Hannah, works of, 461.
Mormons, sketches of the, 577.
Mosaic law, the, relative to land, 3.
Moscow, the burning of, 79
the retreat from, 359.
Moses, Miss Martineau's theory of, 188.
Muggite societies in London, the, 545.
Musset, Paul de, 567.
Naples, affairs of, 286.
Napoleon, caricatures of, 555.
National gallery, the, 150.
National workshops of Paris, sketches of the, 249, 691.
Narvaez, the policy of, 627, 629.
Naval war of the French Revolution, the, 595.
Navigation laws, the, 114.
Nelson, career and character of, 597.
Nicholson's The Cape and its colonists, review of, 158.
Nijni Novgorod, fair of, 79.
Novels, a few words about, 459.
O'Connell, John, on Ireland, 281.
Orange, the princess of, 339, 342.
Orval, the prophecy of, 704, 705, _et seq._
Ostyaks, the, 82, 83, _et seq._
Painting, Eastlake on, 757.
Painting on glass, on, 156.
Parcel from Paris, a, 557.
Paris, state of, 51
its supremacy, 53
this beginning to fail, 55, _et seq._
sketches in, 248
a parcel from, 557
pictures of, from Jérome Paturot, 688.
Passavant's Life of Raphael, notice of, 758.
Peel, Sir R., on the sugar act, 276
the adherents of, 633
his banking act, suspension of it, 263.
Pericles, the age of, 155.
Petrarch's Laura, 220.
Philosophy of the fine arts, Eastlake's, 755.
Poetry: The Buried flower, 108
Huzzah for the rule of the Whigs, 112
To a caged skylark, 290
Sonnet to Denmark, 292
Danube and the Euxine, 608
A Call, 625.
Poitiers prophecy, the, 708.
Polar bear, the, 85.
Political economy, 407.
Poor-law, long want of, in Ireland, 661
that lately passed, and supplementary measures required, 662.
Population, redundancy of, in Ireland, and means of restraining it, 660.
Previsions of the solitary of Orval, the, 704, _et seq._
Primogeniture, sketch of the history of, 3
its advantages, 5.
Prisons, &c., expense of, 67, 75.
Prophecies for the present, 703.
Prussia, state of, 476
recent policy of, 517
the revolutionary movement in, 519.
Pye, Henry James, 231.
Pyramids, the, 186.
Queensberry, the duchess of, 335.
Rachel, mademoiselle, 693.
Raffaelle, the Madonnas of, 152
Passavant's Life of, 758.
Ragged schools, statistics of, 67.
Reaction, dread of, in France, 56.
Rebellion, the Irish, of 1798, 615, _et seq._
Records of Woman, Mrs Hemans', 653.
Reichsverweser of Germany, the, 520, 535.
Rellstab, Lewis, 190, 359.
Republican France, June 1848, 51
First-fruits, 687.
Review of the last session, a, 261.
Revolutions of England, the, 327
on the Continent, the, 475
of 1830 and 1848, coincidences between, 712.
Reybaud's Jérome Paturot, review of, 687.
Richardson, the novels of, 460.
Roads of Russia, the, 83.
Roman law of succession, the, 5.
Rowe, Nicholas, 229.
Rowlandson the caricaturist, 544, 554, 556.
Russell, Lord John, review of the policy and measures of, 262, 270.
Russia, Erman's travels in, 78.
Ruxton, the late George Frederick, 591.
St John's Wild Sports of the Highlands, 96.
St Maur, the national workshops at, 253.
St Paul's church, Frankfort, 530.
St Vincent, lord, 599.
Samoyedes, the, 85, 87.
Sand, George, and her works, 568.
Satires and Caricatures of the eighteenth century, 543.
Saxon law of succession, the, 3, 6.
Sayer the caricaturist, 553.
Scarborough, lord, 334.
Scotch agriculture, effects of entail on, 3.
Scotland, the law of entail in, 7.
Scottish Deer Forests, the, 92.
Scrope's deer-stalking, 94.
Sculpture, Eastlake on, 756.
Seal-catching in the North, 85.
Session, review of the, 261.
Shadwell the laureate, 228.
Shipping, influence of the navigation laws on, 116
statistics of, 118.
Siberia, 76
treatment of the exiles in, 80.
Sicily, the revolt of, 286.
Sigismund Fatello, chap. I., The opera, 714
chap. II., The masquerade, 718
chap. III., The accusation, 724
chap. IV., The captain's room, 734
chap. V. The day after the wedding, 739.
Silk, increased importation of, 274.
Simmons, B., To a caged skylark, by, 290.
Skelton, the laureate, 225.
Sketches in Paris, 248.
Smith, Adam, 407
on the navigation laws, 114.
Sonnet to Denmark, 292.
South Sea scheme, the, 547.
Southey as laureate, 231
remarks on his "Doctor," 470.
Spain, Whig policy toward, 289
present state of, 627.
Spenser as laureate, 226.
Stuart's Lays of the deer-forest, review of, 92.
Sturgeon, fishing for the, 83.
Stuttgardt, state of, 379.
Succession, the laws of, 1.
Suffolk, lady, 341, 343.
Sugar duties, the committee on, 276.
Sugar trade, statistics regarding the, 273.
Switzerland, present state of, 538.
Tapestry, on, 157.
Taquinet le Bossu, notice of, 571.
Tasso, 221.
Tatar domination in Russia, the, 79.
Tate, Nahum, 229.
Taxes, abolition of indirect, 268.
Thompson, colonel, 271.
Tobolsk, town of, 82.
Tourists, publications of, 185.
Townshend, lord, 334.
Trollope, Mrs, the novels of, 469.
Tunguzes, the, 91.
Uhland the poet, 531.
Union of Ireland, the, 617, _et seq._
Venetian school of painting, the, 153.
Vespers of Palermo, Mrs Hemans', 648, 649.
Vicar of Wakefield, the, 466.
Vienna, the insurrection in, 537.
Vincennes, the castle and forest of, 253, _et seq._
W. E. A., The Buried flower, by, 108
Danube and the Euxine, by, 608.
Walmoden, Madame, 343.
Walpole, Sir Robert, 329, _et seq._
Ward's Five years in Kaffirland, review of, 158.
Warren's novels, remarks on, 469.
Warton, Thomas, 231.
Waste lands of Ireland, proposed employment of the, 665, _et seq._
Watering-places of Germany, state of the, 538.
Wealth, the duties of, 414.
Wellington, a Frenchman's estimate of, 601
sketch of his career in answer to it, 603.
West Indies, legislation toward the, 276.
What is Spain about?, 627.
What would revolutionising Germany be at?, 373.
Whig ministry, review of the conduct of the, 262.
Whitehead, William, 230.
Winther, Christian, the Horse-dealer, by, 232.
Wood, Sir Charles, 264.
Woodward, caricature by, 556.
Wright's England under the house of Hanover, review of, 543.
Wurtemberg, state of, 379.
Yakutsk, town of, 91.
Yekaterinburg, town of, 81.
Yenisei, the Ostyaks of the, 85.
Yellow Goat, the, 567.
Zitz, a member of the Frankfort parliament, 533.
Zollverein, real object of the, 517.
_Printed by William Blackwood and Sons, Edinburgh._