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challenger; he being the individual, whom the loss of the standard ha most injured. In order to give one of the most splendid scene ever described by the poet or painter, we must be very brief in our "summing up." The eventful morning arrives, and Sir Kenneth the brave, though, the indigent and dishonoured knight, feels once again elate with hope. Edith, "the lady of his love," is to be a witness of the scene. Richard

the king is to look on; and by the event of the day, he either redeems his honour, or sinks deeper into disgrace. An hour after sunrise, the lists are opened, and the combatants appear. The Marquis, trembling with conscious guilt, is encouraged and menaced by his confederate in vice, the Grand Master. Thus opposed

The priests, after a solemn prayer, that God would show the rightful quarrel, departed from the lists. The trumpets of the challenger then rung a flourish, and a herald-at-arms proclaimed at the eastern end of the lists," Here stands a good knight, Sir Kenneth of Scotland, champion for the royal King Richard of England, who accuseth Conrade, Marquis of Montserrat, of foul treason and dishonour done to the said King." When the words Kenneth of Scotland announced the name and character of the champion, hitherto scarce generally known, a loud and cheerful acclaim burst from the followers of King Richard, and hardly, notwithstanding repeated commands of silence, suffered the reply of the defendant to be heard. He, of course, avouched his innocence, and offered his body for battle. The esquires of the combatants now approached, and delivered to each his shield and lance, assisting to hang the former around his neck, that his two hands might remain free,-one for the management of the bridle, the other to direct the lance.

The shield of the Scot displayed his old bearing, the leopard, but with the addition of a collar and broken chain, in allusion to his late captivity. The shield of the Marquis bore, in reference to his title, a serrated and rocky mountain. Each shook his lance aloft, as if to ascertain the weight and toughness of the unwieldy weapon, and then laid it in the rest. The sponsors, heralds, and squires now retired to the barriers, and the barriers, and the combatants sat opposite to each other, face to face, with couched lance and closed vizor, the human form so completely inclosed, that they looked more like statues of molten iron, than beings of flesh and blood. The silence of suspense was now general-men breathed thicker, and their very souls seemed seated in their eyes, while not a sound was to be heard save the snorting and pawing of the good steeds, who, sensible of what was about to happen, were impatient to dash into career. They stood thus for perhaps three minutes, when, at a signal given by the Soldan, an hundred instruments rent the air with their brazen clamours, and each champion striking his horse with his spurs, and slacking the rein, the horses started into full gallop, and the knights met in mid space with a shock like a thunderbolt. The victory was not in doubt-no, not one moment. Conrade, indeed, showed himself a practised warrior; for he struck his antagonist knightly in the midst of his shield, bearing his lance so straight and true, that it shivered into splinters up to the very gauntlet. The horse of Sir Kenneth recoiled two or three yards and fell on his haunches, but the rider easily raised him with hand and rein. But for Conrade there was no recovery. Sir Kenneth's lance had pierced through the shield, through a plated corslet of Milan steel, through a secret, or coat of linked mail, worn beneath the corslet, had wounded him deep in the bosom, and borne him from his saddle, leaving the truncheon of the lance fixed in his wound. The sponsors, heralds, and Saladin himself, descending from his throne, crowded around the wounded man; while Sir Kenneth, who had drawn his sword ere yet he discovered his antagonist was totally helpless, now commanded him to avow his guilt. The helmet was hastily unclosed, and the wounded man, gazing wildly on the skies, replied," What would you more?-God hath decided justly-I am guilty--but there are worse traitors in the camp than I.-In pity to my soul, let me have a confessor!" He revived as he uttered these words.

Drum, clarion, trumpet, and cymbal, rung forth at once, and the deep and regular shout, which for ages has been the English acclamation, sounded amidst the shrill and irregular yells of the Arabs, like the diapason of the organ amid the howling of a storm. There was silence at length.

"Brave Knight of the Leopard," resumed Cœur de Lion, "thou hast shown that the Ethiopian may change his skin, and the leopard his spots, though clerks quote Scripture for the impossibility. Yet I have more to say to you when I have conducted you to the presence of the ladies, the best judges, and best rewarders, of deeds of chivalry." The Knight of the leopard bowed assent.

"And thou, princely Saladin, wilt also attend them. I promise thee our Queen will not think herself welcome, if she lacks the opportunity to thank her royal host for her most princely reception."

Saladin bent his head gracefully, but declined the invitation. "I must attend the wounded man," he said. "6 The leech leaves not his patient more than the champion the lists, even if he be summoned to a bower like those of Paradise. And farther, Royal Richard, know that the blood of the East flows not so temperately in the presence of beauty as that of your land. What saith the book itself -Her eye is as the edge of the sword of the Prophet, who shall look upon it? He that would not be burnt avoideth to tread on hot embers-wise men spread not the flax before a bickering torch-He, saith the sage, who hath forfeited the treasure, doth not wisely to turn back his head to gaze at it.”

Richard, it may be believed, respected the motive of delicacy which flowed from manners so different from his own, and urged his request no farther. "At noon," said the Soldan, as he departed,

I trust ye will all accept a collation

under the black camel-skin tent of a chief of Curdistan."

The same invitation was circulated among the Christians, comprehending all those of sufficient importance to be admitted to sit at a feast made for princes.

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Hark," said Richard, "the timbrels announce that our Queen and her attendants are leaving their gallery—and see, the turbans sink on the ground, as if struck down by a destroying angel. All lie prostrate, as if the glance of an Arab's eye could sully the lustre of a lady's cheek! Come, we will to the pavilion, and lead our conqueror thither in triumph.-How I pity that noble Soldan, who knows but of love as it is known to those of inferior nature !"

Blondel tuned his harp to its boldest measure, to welcome the introduction of the victor into the pavilion of Queen Berengaria. He entered, supported on either side by his sponsors, Richard and Thomas Longsword, and knelt gracefully_down before the Queen, where more than half the homage was silently rendered to Edith, who sat on her right hand.

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Unarm him, my mistresses," said the King, whose delight was in the execution of such Chivalrous usages-"Let Beauty honour Chivalry! Undo his spurs, Berengaria; Queen though thou be, thou owest him what marks of favour thou canst give.-Unlace his helmet, Edith-by this hand thou shalt, wert thou the proudest Plantagenet of the line, and he the poorest knight on the earth!"

Both ladies obeyed the royal commands, Berengaria with bustling assiduity, as anxious to gratify her husband's humour, and Edith blushing and growing pale alternately, as slowly and awkwardly she undid, with Longsword's assistance, the fastenings, which secured the helmet to the gorget.

"And what expect you from beneath this iron shell?" said Richard, as the removal of the casque gave to view the noble countenance of Sir Kenneth, his face glowing with recent exertion, and not less so with the present emotion. "What think ye of him, gallants and beauties?" said Richard. "Doth he resemble an Ethiopian slave, or doth he present the face of an obscure and nameless adventurer? No, by my good sword! Here terminate his various disguises. He hath knelt down before you, unknown save by his worth-he arises, equally distinguished by birth and by fortune. The adventurous knight, Kenneth, arises David Earl of Huntingdon, Prince Royal of Scotland!"

There was a general exclamation of surprise, and Edith dropped from her hand the helmet, which she had just received.

The conclusion may be anticipated. The Grand Master is detected in his treachery, and receives condign punishment from the hands of the Moorish Emperor. Kenneth on the following morning weds the fair daughter of Plantagenet, Saladin bestowing the TALISMAN as the bridal portion: a dowry which if we may judge of the effect it has produced on ourselves, is the most likely to dispel the clouds, and add brilliancy to the sunshine of existence.

MAGNET, VOL. IV. PART XXII.

G

FINE ARTS.

EXHIBITION AT SOMERSET HOUSE.

THERE are few things that England takes greater pleasure in boasting of than her patronage of the Fine Arts. That John Bull is proud of supporting the reputation of his country, be the object cattle, timber, or pictures, we believe to be the case; but as long as he spends his money freely he is satisfied with his liberality, and feels no inclination to inquire after its use or abuse. Among objects that are pointed out to foreigners as trophies of our nation's munificence, that of the "Royal Academy" stands foremost. On this subject we have heard some CICESBEO, who, talking high of his country, seems to consider himself as a sleeping partner in the concern, and therefore conferring a sly adulation on himself, exclaim, "Here is an institution founded by the voluntary subscription of the nation, by which it is regularly supported. This is the nursery of the arts, where the seeds of genius are cherished and encouraged to expand; where emulation is excited, and talent meets with its reward," &c. All this sounds exceedingly fine, and at first sight exceedingly true. But let us look into the matter a little more closely, and we shall find that generosity is not the only qualification necessary to constitute a patron. A mere amateur, enjoying his lounge in the Academy, is surprised to find how nicely the pictures are dovetailed within each other, as neatly as the parallelograms of a mosaic pavement. He perhaps hears of the vast number of pictures that are rejected, and seeing so many wretched productions disgracing the walls of the room, he very naturally inquires whether the works are refused exhibition on account of their size, or quality; as the primary object of the hangmen appear to be, that every inch of the walls should be covered. What feeling the censors may be influenced by, we neither know nor care; we would not give them credit for an unworthy one, and yet, when we are aware of one well established fact, we hardly know how to act otherwise. From artists of our own connexion, we know of more than one instance where pictures of real and undoubted talent, have been returned on the artist's hands as INADMISSIBLE. What explanation can the worthy council favour us for this exclusion? Is it because that you have experienced such an overflow of good pictures that you have been unable to find room for them all? No, your very walls rise in judgment against you, for they bear such evidence as the meanest mechanic would be able to detect, in the form of works which one would think that the owners would never have parted with, had they not been ashamed of keeping such “damning proofs" too near their own persons. Bad as this is,

"Yet worse remains behind."

We know of instances of young men who have been brought up to the profession of artists, who have been educated in the Royal Academywho have made the fine arts their only pursuit, and their only expectation of gaining a livelihood, whose early specimens of talent have been admired, and even praised, by the professors of that Institution themselves, but who, when they offered their works, have been REFUSED EXIBITION,

without any reason being assigned further than the implied insinuation, that they are unworthy of that distinction. Within this last twelvemonth we know of a young man, the specimens of whose abilities are of considerable promise, (a student of the Academy) who, year after year, endeavoured to obtain exhibition there, but without success; till sickened with his fruitless attempts in his own country, he has been forced to leave it for one in which he may hope to gain a livelihood, leaving behind him works which, while they are satisfactory proofs of his own talents, are unequivocal demonstrations of the encouragement and support a young man, of indubitable genius and application, is likely to meet with in a country accustomed to be extolled for the munificence of its patronage.

We will not stem the current of our remarks to comment on the conduct of those who have been guilty of this act of cruelty, which has driven a young man from his family, his prospects, and his country—and which we believe not to be a solitary instance. We merely point out the disease, the public know how to apply the remedy. Our strictures have merely gone to this extent, that those whose office is to decide on the merits of the pictures offered for public patronage, are either totally UNFIT for that office, or guided by something which is WORSE THAN

PARTIALITY.

Censure is not our forte, and we therefore proceed to a subject more consonant to our feelings. The present Exhibition is by far the best we have witnessed for some years; if it does not possess any remarkable specimen of the art in its highest degree, it has many which approach very nearly to perfection. We are happy to perceive that that superabundance of portraits which has of late years been the prevailing feature of these exhibitions, does not characterize the present. We are glad to see that the public taste on this head is improving. It is indeed a discredit to an enlightened and refined nation to want the disposition of supporting historical painters, and we were beginning to fear that our own was hastening with rapid strides to gain that imputation, in consequence of many of our first artists having abandoned that noble pursuit, and confined their talents exclusively to portraiture. That these individuals have never attained the highest celebrity in the pursuit they have abandoned, is no excuse for their want of patronage; as were all poets and painters to throw down their lyres and pencils in despair of becoming Homers and Raphaels, the world would be poor in its proudest wealth. Among those who have come forward to redeem the sinking character of the art, we rank HILTON as the first. Had we wanted any evidence of his abilities to place him at the head of our historical painters, his Christ crowned with Thorns (105) would have been sufficient. It is undoubtedly a triumph of the art; and a convincing proof that the march of human intellect has not retrograded, for it may be placed by the side of the finest specimens of the ancients. To enter into a detail on the merit of this single picture, would require more space than we dedicate to the whole of the subject, of which it forms part. The figure of our Saviour, had we seen it accompanied by any other objects, we should have decided to have come from the pencil of Guido; it has all the majesty, the infinite sweetness and grace, all the awe-inspiring pathos of that immortal man. The subordinate figures identify Ĥilton as an avowed disciple of the Raphaelic school. The Combat by ETTY,

(1) is another proof that historical painting in this country, so far from being on the decline, is rapidly advancing towards, and requires but the impetus of well directed patronage to bring it, to the zenith of its glory. The anatomical knowledge displayed in the three figures; their bold and nervous drawing; and the harmonious grouping and colouring of the whole, place Mr. Etty very high in the roll of our first rate painters. Within a few yards of the picture is an extremely clever performance of ALLAN'S; The Regent Murray, shot by Hamilton, of Bothwellhaugh (8). The principal objects are disposed with that judgment for which the artist is so eminently distinguished; while the diversified character they display is very remarkable; though, we think, had a little more power been thrown into the centre groupe, the effect would have been considerably heightened. The Trial of Lord William Russell at the Old Bailey, 1683, (127) may be ranked as one of HayTER's best pictures. Exceedingly happy in his choice of subject, he has rendered it still more attractive. The figures are extremely numerous, and executed with the most elaborate finish. The dignified composure of the noble prisoner, the mild, but suffering countenance of his wife, who, looking up to her husband, seems quivering with hope and fear, and yet, as if under the influence of a most powerful impulse, is by far the most interesting groupe in the piece. The appearance of the sky through the window, is a most agreeable relief to the sober sadness, and somewhat heavy effect, of the predominate colouring. Of all the pictures we have yet noticed, none are superior in point of grandeur of conception, or vividness of imagination, to DANBY'S Delivery out of Egypt (287). It is an extraordinary effort of genius; which had the author been assisted by a few more years of experience in developing, it would we have no doubt formed a splendid era in the annals of the Fine Arts. There is an evident falling off between the conception and the execution. The first is terribly grand, but the other is indicative of a want of power at which the author evidently grasps. The colouring is somewhat monotonous, and had the supernatural light shed its rays over the surrounding objects, and not confined itself, the effect would have been considerably relieved. Bosworth Field (70), by COOPER, will considerably advance that artist's reputation.

In landscape TURNER has given two fine specimens; the first, Harbour of Dieppe (152), has all the magnificence of imagery, and gorgeousness of effect of this master. On the whole the effect is to dazzle rather than to enchant: we wonder, yet cannot help feeling fatigued. The sky reminds us of the soft brilliancy of Claude Lorrain, but wants his classic repose. In portraits the PRESIDENT, in his Portrait of Mrs. Peel (28), has given us a delightful specimen of his power of portraying feminine loveliness. His head of Mr. Canning (83) we think one of the first evidences of the remarkable height to which portraiture is arrived. The countenance is an exquisite picture in itself, and highly comprehensive and expressive of the intellectual qualities of the original. The placing of the head is graceful and imposing, and the flesh has all the ripeness of tint that peculiarizes the pencil of the artist. The Duke of Wellington (71) is another exceedingly fine portrait; the attitude of the figure is dignified without the

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