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fine style of his friend. The subject of the picture is Horatius Cocles at the bridge, and long passed in Paris for the work of Poussin.

Shortly after this, Poussin devoted himself to the "Ecstacy of St Paul," which was intended as a companion to Raffaelle's Vision of Ezekiel, and which the French think equal to the work of the great Italian master. The Cavaliere del Pozzo pronounces it the "masterpiece of Poussin," and asserts that France has her Raffaelle as well as Italy. It is undoubtedly a glorious composition, in which all is majesty, sublimity, and divine and rapt enthusiasm and glorification; while there is a chasteness and purity in the colouring which prevents it from standing out and fixing the eye when the soul ought to kindle with the loftiest and most hallowed emotions, and to hold communion and sympathy with the expression alone of the figures. In 1645, the Extreme Unction, which we have already noticed, was finished and sent to Paris, and speedily followed by the others, which he had agreed to paint for his friends in that capital. The Marriage of the Virgin is feeble and not equal to either of the marriages in the Seven Sacraments, though even these have been called failures. This gave occasion to the Parisians to say, that it was difficult to patch up a good marriage, even in painting. The Finding of Moses was, of all his works, that which attracted most applause in Paris, and seems to have alarmed M. de Chantelou for the previous pictures which Poussin had done for him: his fears were, however, tranquillized by a letter from the painter, which displays a more intimate acquaintance with the principles of his art than any thing (the Lectures of Reynolds only excepted) which ever dropt from the pen of a professional artist. In the course of the next year, 1648, the beautiful picture of Rebecca with Eliezer at the Well, in which he has compressed all that elegance and

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antique decorum" of which he was so great a master, was sent to enrich the collection of M. Pointel; and in the same year was painted the fine landscape in which is introduced the incident of Diogenes seeing a young man drink water from the hollow of his hand. It is difficult to mark the succession of Poussin's numerous

paintings, nearly five hundred in number; and his friends who, as his end approached, appeared anxious to fix the dates, have not been successful. Nothing would certainly be more interesting or instructive than to trace the progress of such a mind and mark its advances-retrogressions-oscillations: but of that benefit we are deprived, and conjectural criticism must now, in a great degree, step into the place of more substantial knowledge. Like Titian, who died of the plague at the age of ninety-nine," he improved to the last," without feeling any abatement of his love and enthusiasm for his art, or suffering his industry in any degree to relax. In 1653 he painted for the landscape gardener, Le Notre, "The Woman taken in Adultery;" and, in the same year, "The Adoration of the Wise Men," for the Minister of Finance. In 1655 appeared his Exposure of Moses, containing one of the "finest landscapes he ever composed;" and much about the same time he painted Moses striking the Rock, a subject of which he appears to have been reasonably fond, for he repeated it thrice. Stella, who had succeeded him as painter to the King of France, and for whom this picture had been executed, having communicated to him some criticisms on his performance, particularly relative to the depth of the basin into which the water falls, he sent back the following answer, which, for its soundness and force of remark, is too important to be omitted, and is as follows:

"There is no difficulty here: I am not sorry it should be known that I do nothing BY CHANCE, and that I understand perfectly what a painter is permitted to do with the subjects he has to represent, which may be taken and understood either as they have been, as they are, or as they will be. The local disposition of the miracle must have been such as I have represented; because, otherwise, the water could neither have been collected, nor used to supply the wants of so great a multitude of people, but would have been dispersed on all sides. If, at the creation of the world, the earth had received one uniform figure, and the water had found neither channels nor hollows, the surface would have been covered with it, and useless to animals; but from the beginning God disposed all things in order, and with relation to the

end for which he formed his work. Therefore, at such a remarkable event as that of

Striking the Rock, we may well believe that a corresponding miracle in the disposition of the ground took place. However, as it is not easy for every one to judge of works of art, one should be careful not to decide hastily."

For our own parts, we know nothing more pertinent and conclusive than these remarks, or so well calculated to call a blush into the cheeks of connoisseurs, (if connoisseurs ever blush,) who, in speaking of works of art, have acquired a sort of half abstract, half metaphorical slang, which they discharge upon every occasion, to the utter confusion and dismay of sense, meaning, and reason. Good taste is like good feeling, and good morals nothing but a result of a fine process of reasoning; and in a work of art, where that process cannot be apprehended and made palpable, as in the admirable letter of vindication above quoted, we may conclude trés hardiment that it is radically defective in design, however beautiful the colouring, and however perfect the drawing and expression of individual figures, or even groupes. The true painter must do nothing "BY CHANCE."

Time, that enfeebles the genius of others, seemed to impart fresh vigour to that of Poussin, who, at the age of 66, began his four allegorical pictures of the Seasons, which he completed and sent to the Duke of Richelieu in his 70th year. The Garden of Eden he chose to represent Spring; the story of Boaz and Ruth formed the subject of Summer; Autumn was aptly shadowed out by the two Israelites bearing the bunch of grapes ; and in the Deluge he found a fit, awful, and impressive emblem of Win

ter.

Of all Poussin's works this last has been lauded the most; and were we to hazard an opinion on so difficult a subject, we should, with a little hesitation, pronounce it not merely the masterpiece of Nicholas Poussin, but, with the single exception of the Transfiguration, and perhaps one of the Scripture-pieces of Caravaggio, the noblest work of art which any age or country has had the honour to produce. We shall allow our authoress to describe the furniture of the

canvas.

"The sun's disk is darkened with clouds; the lightning shoots in forked flashes through the air; nothing but the roofs of the highest houses are visible above the

distant water on which the ark floats, on a level with the highest mountains. Nearer, where the waters, pent up by rocks, form a cataract, a boat is forced down the fall, and the wretches who had sought safety in it are perishing. But the most pathetic incident is brought close to the spectator. A mother in a boat is holding up her inrock, is evidently not out of reach of the fant to its father, who, though upon a high water, and is only protracting life a little. One or two figures are seen above the surface of the water endeavouring to escape; the domestic animals are mingled with their owners; and an enormous serpent, which seems to seek shelter on the highest mountains, has been considered emblema

tical of the wickedness which drew down

the fierce chastisement on man.”

In addition to the impression which this description is calculated to produce on the mind of the reader, we shall take the liberty to subjoin Mr Opie's remarks on the colouring, and which are so admirably appropriate.

"The whole mass is, with little variation, of a sombre grey, the true resemblance of a dark and humid atmosphere, by which every object is rendered indistinct and almost colourless. This is both a faithful and a poetical conception of the subject. Nature seems faint, half dissolved, and verging on annihilation; and the pathetic solemnity, grandeur, and simplicity of the effect, which can never be exceeded, is entirely derived from the painter's having judiciously departed from and gone in direct opposition to general practice."

But the glass of Poussin was now nearly run. Early in 1665 he was slightly affected by palsy, and the only work which he afterwards performed was the Samaritan Woman at the Well, which he transmitted to his constant friend M. de Chantelou, with a note, where he says, "THIS IS MY LAST WORK; I have already one foot in the grave." And shortly after, in a letter written to M. Felibien, he concludes with the following pathetic declaration: "It is all over with me.” These gloomy anticipations were thickened and darkened by the loss of his wife, which happened this year, and which undoubtedly accelerated his own end. So powerfully had he been affected by the shock, that he took ten days to write the letter which apprised his friend M. de Chantelou of that melancholy event. He was sensible that his end was approaching, and prepared himself to meet death with the dignity of a Christian philo

sopher. A painful abscess and an inflammation of the bowels were added to his other maladies:" yet his fortitude continued unshaken and his understanding unimpaired till the 19th day of November, when he expired without a struggle, in the seventy-second year of his age. He left, in disposable property, about 50,000 livres, (L. 2187 Sterling nearly.) Poussin in his person was tall and well proportioned, his complexion olive, and his hair, till towards the end of his life, black; his continued and systematic temperance, added to a good constitution, prolonged a life which intense labour and study would otherwise have abridged. In a word, his general appearance was at once modest and dignified, and expressive of the perfect freedom and sincerity of his mind.

To say that Poussin was deeply regretted, is to say what every newspaper hireling says of every puddingheaded alderman when he has slipped cable and cast off. Never private man, perhaps, in a foreign country was so deeply and sincerely lamented. He was formed by nature to secure the esteem and to knit together the hearts of those around them. His learning had no tinge of pedantry, and his vivacity was so calm, temperate, and tranquil, as to admit no approximation to heedless levity or boisterous mirth. His manners were simple, easy, and natural; his conversation modest and unobtrusive; his general deportment dignified, manly, and regular; his whole life spotless and innocent; and his death that of a devout and believing Christian. His genius gained him no friend whom he afterwards lost by misconduct; and he recollected the injustice and the paltry persecutions of Fouquières, Le Mercier, and Vouet, only to laugh at their abortive malice, or as a spur to increased and more intense application. His death caused a general sensation in Rome, as if it had been a public loss; and his friends vied with each other in testimonies of respect to his memory. In stances of such perfect virtue, united to such commanding genius, are so rarely to be encountered" in the corrupted currents of this world," that our readers will, we trust, excuse us the gratification we ourselves have felt (though we should not be able to

VOL. IX.

communicate it) in dwelling upon the pure life and splendid performances of this most accomplished, venerable, and illustrious painter.

When we recollect that the genius of Poussin has been appreciated by the kindred and comprehensive spirit of Reynolds, we are deterred from venturing any general criticism on his works. We may, however, be permitted to call the attention of our readers to the singular fact, that, with smaller canvas and fewer figures than other painters generally employ, none, perhaps, has ever succeeded so perfectly in expression, and in conveying a deep, powerful, and lasting impression. Of this his picture of the Deluge, the most admirable, or, at least, the most admired, of all his works, is a splendid instance. It is always when he adventures in the highest and most difficult departments of his art that he is most successful, and that he contrives, like that Nature which he so unweariedly studied, to produce the most splendid and magnificent effects, and that by means apparently too simple and inadequate. His taste is austere, but just; there is nothing superfluous, and nothing deficient. His women want the voluptuous air with which other painters seek to invest their Venuses and Graces, their Madonnas and Saints; but they have a beauty of their own, not the languishing beauty of the ha-. ram or seraglio, but the austere dignity of the ancient statues. man was ever more fortunate in the choice of his subjects, or knew better when to seize upon the propitious moment for telling the story, and throwing over his canvas the vivid lustre of the most marked and unerring intelligence. Hence, in an age fond of allegory, he is never obscure, and his works furnish an inexhaustible fund of refreshing delight to_all classes of men who have any relish for the perfect models and the imperishable forms of Greek and Roman antiquity. Much has been said of his negligence of colouring; but we have already seen that this ought to be taken with many grains of allowance, as we have the opinion of the excellent Opie, that nothing can be more "faithful and poetical" than the colouring in the Deluge, representative of winter; and the same

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thing might be said of many others of his works. The fact is, that colouring is but an inferior part of the painter's art, and ought invariably to be subordinate to expression and design. Many painters, however, contrive to hide under opposing masses of light and shade the deficiencies of a faulty outline, and the want of a minute and intimate knowledge of detail. " I have NEGLECTED NOTHING," said Poussin, with the bundle of stones and moss in his hand, to copy exactly after Nature. Poussin's forte was expression, design, and the most perfect knowledge of forms; hence there was nothing to conceal, nothing courted display, and yet every thing might bear the closest inspection; and the spectator, in surrendering himself to the overmastering emotions generated by the piece before him, was first rendered sensible of the magical power of the painter's pencil by the resistless current of his own feelings hurrying him into that train of thought which had previously passed through the mind of the Great Sorcerer himself.

GENERAL OBSERVATIONS ON THE LATE SESSION OF PARLIAMENT.

IN considering the late session of Parliament, and, indeed, in looking generally to our Parliamentary discussions, no one can fail to remark to what a length they are spun out, and yet with how little of practical effect they are attended. It has been estimated that in the late session, Parliament sat, on an average, eight hours and a-half each night. The question then comes to be, to what effect? Where is the result of their labours? -what new and wise laws have been enacted?-and what faulty institutions have been amended? It is really singular to consider, after all the noise and outcry which are made in it, how little Parliament effects in the amendment of either our policy or laws. It will be said, indeed, that they require no amendment; that they are already perfect. This, in the nature of things, is impossible. Human affairs are always changing, and they require new laws adapted to the new emergencies which are constantly arising. New lights on legislation and government are also continually breaking in upon society,

of which we ought to take advantage. Many maxims of policy which were much approved by our ancestors, are now justly exploded, insomuch that the great business of legislation is in many cases to reverse what they have established. How comes it, then, that so much is said in our Parliament, and that so little is done? For this many causes may be suggested. Among others it may be mentioned, that our Parliament has long been the constitutional arena for party contests; and a systematical opposition to, and a systematical support of ministers, seem to have grown, by long practice, into a necessary part of the complicated machinery of the constitution. What one party asserts the other denies; and by habitual altercations a perverse spirit is thus generated, by which all attempts at improvement are baffled, except they come from the Ministerial side. Now it so happens that ministers are, and must be, from the very nature of things, less disposed to innovate on the established course of things. They have less time to consider what is wanted, and they have a natural aversion to improve or alter, because it involves them in trouble and in increased responsibility; and seeing the nation prosperous and improving, they naturally argue that things are as well as they are, that there is a risk attending all alterations; and this coming in aid of their natural propensity to rest, seems to them quite conclusive. On the other hand, the Opposition, as they are called, are full of alacrity to detect all abuses, as reflecting on the management of those in power; they are keen-scented, snuffing up the sinell of corruption as their proper aliment-and thus they are well qualified for putting it down, because it is their natural prey. the misfortune is, that whatever arises from this quarter is regarded in the light of an attack upon the Ministry, who immediately stand on the defence, and thus the sparring begins, which generally ends in the discomfiture of the Opposition, and in the loss of all the measures which they propose, however wise and laudable. And sometimes we may admit them to be wise and laudable, for it is the interest of the Opposition to chuse the best grounds of attack, and by proposing wise measures which they

But

know, to a certainty, the Ministers will oppose, they thus procure a good topic for their general crimination. The Opposition, therefore, are without power, and the Ministers, from their situation, are rather indisposed to make improvements, so that we move on rather sluggishly in our course; and there is little doubt that if neutral men could be procured, who would interest themselves in the business of the country, many valuable improvements might be effected, without any prejudice to the Ministerial cause. The danger is, that through the agency of these conflicting interests, Parliament becomes a mere scene of party discussion, effecting nothing beyond voting the supplies and doing other business, which is absolutely necessary, whereas it ought to extend its superintendence over every department of our affairs, cautious, no doubt, of innovating, yet proceeding steadily in the reform of evils notorious and admitted. We have been led into these observations by a review of the discussions which have taken place in the session of Parliament now closed, and we purpose to enforce and illustrate them by a reference to some of the important matters which have been under the deliberation of the Legislature, but in which nothing has been done further than wise resolutions and long reports.

1. With respect to our commerce, it is admitted by all, that, for several years past, it has been in a most depressed state, and numerous applications by the merchants have been made to Parliament for relief. Not that the merchants imagine Parliament has the power suddenly to revive commerce, or to open new markets for their superfluous goods. They are now much too enlightened to entertain any such unreasonable expectations. But it is well known that our laws, so far as they respect foreign trade, are founded on principles the most narrow and invidious. In many cases national animosity is at the bottom of those hurtful regulations, which obstruct the importation of foreigr. produce into this country, and even when this feeling does not prevail, the restrictive duties which are imposed indicate a selfish and grasp ing spirit, which is at variance with every sound principle of policy, and

which is always met in other nations by a spirit of retaliation as effectual against our own commerce as the restrictions which we impose are against those of other countries: and thus that pernicious system grows up, by which the commerce of the world is fettered by an endless complication of artificial restraints, and the necessary interchange of produce between different nations obstructed, and, in some cases, altogether prevented. In the different wars in which France and Britain have been involved, it has always happened that a cessation of hostilities has been followed, not by peace in the spirit of peace, but rather by a short and doubtful truce, in which the two parties did all the ill they could to each other, by the vexatious restraints which they imposed on each other's trade. The war of the sword was invariably followed by this petty warfare of restrictions on trade; and hence the policy of this country, partly from false views of the nature of commerce, and partly from national animosity, became distorted from the true line of its in

terest. Our ancestors never seem to

have considered that the importation of French wines and silks necessarily gave rise to an exportation of our own commodities to repay the debt incurred, and that, while they were discouraging the consumption of French produce in this country, they were in a like degree discouraging the consumption of British manufactures in France. All these regulations are at variance with the very nature of trade, which, between nations, as between individuals, consists in the exchange of what is useless for what is useful. It is by means of commerce that nations are freed from the incumbrance of their superfluous produce. Every country, from its peculiar soil and climate, necessarily abounds in some sorts of produce, while it is in the same proportion deficient in others; and it is only by a free exchange with other nations that this inequality can be corrected. The foundation of commerce, therefore, is laid in the very economy of nature; in that diversity of soil and climate which belongs to different countries, and which enables each to excel both in the quantity and quality of its own peculiar productions. In place of discouraging the free exchange of this

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