Lom OJUiSi [ ^ 9m 1 ■r m ^VlA^ r Digitized by the internet Archive in 2017 with funding from Getty Research institute https://archive.org/details/lettersonfineartOOmilt # LETTERS THE FINE ARTS, WRITTEN FROM PARIS, IN THE YEAE 1815 . By henry MILTON, Es«. Quid dein de loqu^re? Quirites, Hoc, puto, non justum est; illud male; rectius UlutJL Scis etenim justum geniina suspendere lance Ancipitis librse : rectum discernis, ubi inter Curva subit, vel cum fallit pede regula varo. PERf. LONDON : PRINTED FOR LONGMAN, HURST, REES, ORME,, AND BROWN. 1816. iv;' • ^\. / > V '?> c 5 ' '.’ i ., ia ;'''« "'''^^ ‘‘.t -■ . yJR ,?. ’.•• 11 , II A ^.1 ^ 'f'l '<".11 ' ■ '. y' '"'\ -y^. -' r ^ ' ' - G t ■> .1 Wr -'. >- • . m ^/.lO'l'Jiin ni / l.Ui / y ,» j .'.’ w »'/ f > > 2 ' Vi jj;.*f ■'■-' j/’i ' ' ■';! ; ',vi ; . .■ . . t *; -.. yv^wl Jviti'J '‘3 "Ji. '^'^C^ '■ . 'jyf.'tt t xi'’ >■'■•' Jj' ‘"’J -' < ■ -lv"‘i-- ' » o * ti '.,-' '■'■*'^>• 1 Kj ; <■' •' > ■■ I ’ riu ^ '■ n - ■ . ■' . -V I '--'' : T ^<. Hl >- a : •- ' - ,■ .4 / ; avT . ' " - :;V ^ . '• •" ■ ’ .-'vV .*j. PREFACE. Amongst the events recorded in the history of the Arts, few will be found more extraordinary, or more important, than the formation and the destruction of the Museurii of the Louvre. Bands of practised ruffians, their own land no longer furnishing them with the employment in which they delighted, were sent into other countries to continue their crimes under a less ignominious name. That the progress of Armies thus com- posed, should be marked by robbery and devastation was to be expected ; but the usual and more general objects of plunder were not sufficient to satisfy the rapacity of the French. Troops of scientific rob- IV PREFACE. bers followed their armies ; and either by forced treaties, or open violence, obtained possession of whatever they deemed ex- cellent and valuable. The ability which conducted these en- terprises was equal to their atrocity : all the Continent yielded to the genius and the fortune of the aspiring ruler of France : and the system of learned and scienlific plundering, basely commenced and iiu- blusliingly pursued, kept pace A\ith his victories, and was not abandoned until there were assembled in the Libraries and Museums of Paris, all the most interesting monuments of literature and the arts. Nearly twenty years of undisturbed pos- session appeared to have secured these treasures to France: but the power by which they were obtained has ceased to exist ; a better order of things has suc- ceeded ; and the ill-acquired pictures, sta- PREFACE. V tues, and manuscripts, are at length re- stored to their owners. In the following pages the author has endeavoured to give a more complete account of the magnificent and astonish- ing collection of the Louvre, than has yet been offered to the public. The in- terest which such an account must excite is, he conceives, greater now that the col- lection is destroyed, than when it re- mained entire, and accessible. The chief part of these Letters are de- voted to remarks on the principal statues and pictures. In submitting them to the Public, some explanation of the writer's intention should perhaps be given. Works of art may be viewed either with reference to the means by which they are produced, or to the effect resulting from those means. It is the exclusive pri- vilege of the artist to speak on the former VI PREFACE. subject ; but on the latter, those who do not possess practical skill may be compe- tent to judge. The labours of the sculp- tor, the painter, and the architect, would fail of success if they were only addressed to the artist. They are given to the world ; and hence all will assume to themselves a right to judge and discuss their merits : nor can any production be considered as successful, which gains only the applause of those who view it with reference to the difficulty of its execution, and the ac- curacy of its parts. The argument has indeed been carried still further ; and it has been employed to shew, that practical skill is detrimental to general criticism ; that the artist loses sight of the end in the means ; and that his own peculiar style, the turn of his own study, influences his opinion, or at least occupies too great a portion of his attention. But PREFACE. Vll splendid instances might be adduced, in the literature of our own country, dis- proving these assertions. — In the criticisms contained in this volume, the author has endeavoured not to encroach on the pro- vince of the artist. To the remarks on painting, sculpture, and architecture, are subjoined some ob- servations on the dramatic exhibitions of the French. London, May, 1816. ;.w , jfif ,f) ):jir'jf)!TM £)'J feibao!^.; , |*^?b tW^ioo iw6 itfo 'hr o’lnjmSiif ’mij . . t ‘ Oil} Hl.-^.8ftojJrJa3B 3a3(f} g /uu^fnn aif) ,9uinlby auft at bonlatiibu ; “Oiq, o(fj tio rfo;iO‘}'}(i J aJ.Joii bamo/iisbaii ■'‘.Jaiitfj .'jvni'/ ■ no aTt'KifasT orff oT ' ' -tfb ; Oiiioa, baiuojtrua a'w. .oniJoaliila'iS' fnifi 7^ '% 8iloi]Klttf.<'> ;>i>Bai!nb 9*jt> aaoiliivrba ■ 3fft '■ . ■ '., . ■ ! . ...', .. ■.-.i/':.. J'V •rtW’Mc Ky' .0|8l r. ,\l€ ■ ■# '■^r' *■ ■ r; - ;f;4 ‘ ' Printed by W. Clowes, "* , . Northumberland-court, Strand, ^ LETTERS, Si'c, 8)C. LETTER 1. Sculpture. ~ 7y/e Halls of the Antique, — The Venus de Medicis, Dear Sir, Scarcely am I arrived in Paris, — scarcely has my eye glanced rapidly over the treasures of the Louvre, before assuming the importance of an authorized and practised critic, I sit down to pronounce judgment on the masterpieces of art. But you have sanctioned my writing to you on these subjects ; and therefore, without pre- 2 SCULPTURE. tending to feel the necessity for any apology, which in such cases, if it means any thing, is only a polite confession of a determination to offend, I shall avail myself of your permission, and from time to time submit to you such ob- servations as may arise from the objects around me. The English lover of painting and sculp- ture has long been tantalized by knowing how near to him were placed all the most admirable works of art, yet so placed as to render all access to them impossible ; and I believe that in the speculations of many people, the ideas of peace and the Louvre were somewhat ridicul- ously blended. For my own part, I much doubt whether I should have taken the trouble to vi- sit France had it not been for this collection : certain it is, that the interest I felt at ap- proaching Paris would have been much less vivid. Even the pleasure of hearing in every direction English drums and bugles sounding triumphant on the boulevards of the capital of the Great Nation^ was secondary to the delight SCULPTURE. 3 of accomplishing the most ardent wish of many years ; — a delight not nnmixed with anxiety, lest overwrought expectation should lead to dis- appointment. We entered Paris yesterday ; and you will easily believe that very soon after our arrival we found ourselves at the door of the Louvre. I ought perhaps to be ashamed of the trem- bling veneration with which I entered, but it was not a moment for a zealous lover of the arts to be exactly in his senses ; nor w ill 1 be- lieve that any person who approaches the Louvre without emotion can fully enjoy the treasures it contains. The first impression, on entering the Halls of Sculpture, is astonishment that so many works of antiquity should have escaped de- struction amidst the perpetual tumult of events - which have passed around them ; and, after the lapse of so many ages, should thus be brought together in one rich assemblage. — Whilst this sensation lasts it is impossible to think of the crimes and rapine which procured B 2 4 SCULPTURE. them, or to refrain from regretting that they should ever again be separated. May we not wish that England with clear and perfect ho- nour could buy the whole ? The potentates, who now lay claim to them, have if I mistake not a warmer attachment to English gold than to sculpture. Nor would the purchase only be- nefit the arts. Politically the money would be well applied : the grandeur and dignity of the nation would be increased by the possession of these matchless statues. But as in reality they are national property, and do not belong to the individual rulers, I fear we could not obtain them without risking what is infinitely beyond even their worth, our public integrity and good faith. We may at least assert, that Europe could not offer them a more secure, a nobler resting-place. — The land of Shakespeare should be the abode of the Apollo. As the eye glances round the rooms, the in- juries, which almost all the statues have sus- tained, are not perceived ; and we are surprised at the apparently perfect state of their preserva- SCULPTURE. 5 tion. With very few exceptions all the figures are in attitudes of repose; and this I think it is, which gives a solemn tranquillity to the rooms which not even the bustling crowd of spectators can destroy. The halls containing the statues are placed irregularly ; and 1 hastened on from one to another in search of the Apollo: but my pro- gress, frequently checked by some impassable figure, was at last stopped by the Venus. In the middle of a large room, round the walls of which are ranged statues and busts, stand five pre-eminent figures, of which this statue is one. 1 walked round it leisur-ely several times; and at length seating myself before it, ac- knowledged that all my expectations were real- ized, and that it deserved its fame. I pursued my search for the Apollo ; but just as I caught a glimpse of it at a distance, my atten- tion was arrested by another Venus. From its mutilated state I at once knew that this was “ the statCre which enchants the world;'" and with the sensation of a man who has mistaken 6 SCULPTURE. my lord’s gentleman for my lord, I sat down to examine it. Carried away by the impulse of the moment, 1 had not, in contemplating the former statue, noticed its uninjured state or the whiteness of the marble, either of which cir- cumstances would have told me that it was not the Medicean. On the first view of the real statue I pro- nounced it inferior to the other. — Its broken slate, and the ill joining of the different pieces, — the discordant colour of the marble with which parts of the body have been re- stored, and perhaps my wounded vanity, all tended to my disappointment. Still, however, there was something about it which I was un- able not to admire ; and as the only Avay to de- cide the question of their respective merits, I went back to the other statue. Then tlie Venus triumphed. I could hardly believe that I saw the same figure which had ten minutes before so enchanted me. This, the Venus of the Ca- pitol, and considered the finest of ^fll the hun- dred antique copies which Rome possessed, is SCULPTURE, a statue of prodigious beauty and grace ; but when compared with the other appears heavy, clumsy, motionless, and marbly. The Venus lives. We wonder she does not step off her pedestal, for we are unable to doubt her power of doing so. In fine pictures, Titian’s especially, the flesh often appears as if it would yield to the touch ; but till I saw this statue I did not conceive it possible for a similar effect to be produced by marble : it is produced here in a marvellous degree, and constitutes one of the principal charms of the statue. I had intended to devote most of my attention to the Apollo, but the Venus held me in spite of myself. The French cannot have stripped Rome of all her treasures, as several of the most cele- brated pieces of sculpture are not in the collec- tion. I found my familiarity with the casts and engravings from the antique added greatly to the pleasure I received in viewing the originals: it rendered them in a manner old acquaint- 8 SCULPTURE. ances; — friends long known, though seen for the first time. You will probably ask, whether this collection is equal to the idea w hich I had formed of it ? — 1 answer, yes.— High as were my expectations they have been more than realized. We know that things even of sterling merit, when they are first seen, generally disappoint those who have heard them greatly extolled ; but in these sublime marbles there is an approach to per- fection which baffles praise, and is not to be .imagined by those who have not beheld them. Such at least is the impression which, upon a first view, they have produced on myself ; nor do I conceive it probable that more attentive, minute, and calm examination will induce me to change it. I am, >&;c. 0 SCULPTURIl. 9 LETTER II. Sculpture. — General Description of the Col- lection of Statues. The trivial sights of this gaudy city have, almost ill spite of myself, occupied part of my time. — It is difficult to escape the contagion of running after shows; yet I foresee that at a future day, when the contents of the Louvre are scattered over Europe, never again to he seen except by the rich and idle few, 1 shall recol- lect my having been thus seduced, with astonish- ment and regret. That the collection will be broken up is no longer a matter of doubt. At present very few pictures and scarcely any of the statues have been removed ; but the arrangements for the restoration to the different states are concluded ; and the troop of connoisseurs enter the doors 10 SCULPTURE. every morning in fearful expectation that some of their favourites may have disappeared. This restitution is unquestionably just and expedient, but England will have cause to re- gret it. ' Every man can command the time and means requisite to visit Paris ; not one in a thousand can accomplish a journey to Italy. — That Rome is a better schoolroom for the artist than Paris I admit ; but how man}^ men of genius have in vain sighed to approach it ; — quorum virtutibus obstat Res angusta domi. An elegant and accomplished writer,* who visited Italy before it was plundered by the French, speaks in strong terms of the difference in the effect produced by the masterpieces of sculpture, as viewed each in its separate and splendid shrine ; and now when they are crowded together in one collection. — This I can easily conceive ; but is effect of ^so much consequence ? The Apollo, standing in dig- * The Rev. J. C. Eustace.— Letter from Paris, 1814. SCULPTURE. 11 nitied solitude, may perhaps appear, the first time it is viewed, more awful than when sur- rounded by other figures. This effect cannot, I think, be permanent ; the real awfulness of the figure is in itself ; and very soon we look at it without any attention to the place where it stands, or to the objects which surround it. It may even be argued, that on the contrary an advantageous effect is produced by the pre- sence of other statues ; and that the merit of the most excellent is brought out by comparison with the excellent. We contemplate the glo- rious statue of the Belvidere Antinous, and de- clare it to be perfection : we turn to the Apollo, feel its infinite superiority, and have no re- source but to pronounce it, divine ! But this effect also is in my opinion transitory, the me- rit of the statue is intrinsic ; — it is positive, and not by comparison w ith any other. As far as the student is concerned, great, though perhaps not unmixed advantages are offered by the chief objects of study and imitation being thus assembled together. A 12 SCULPTURE. year spent in such a collection will render ' him much better acquainted with the principal statues, than he would be if they were divided amongst many cities, and each separately em- ployed a short portion of his time, and was afterwards no more within his reach. Now, he ma}^ resume his examination day after day : he can amend tije dangerous errors of first impressions ; and he is enabled by direct com- parison to assign to each production its just rank in the scale of excellence. — The various styles of sculpture, their defects, their merits, ^ — the gradual progress and decline of the art, are in their fullest extent exhibited at once to his view. The veneration which I know^ you feel for this assemblage of the noblest works of art, will make you consider a detailed description of their present abode not uninteresting. The twelve rooms containing the statues are thus arranged. — The grand entrance is from the north into a vestibule of an octagon shaj>e, of which the alternate sides are formed SCULPTURE. 13 by open arches. The one on the right hand leads to a very tine staircase, by which we ascend to the collection of paintings. Opposite to the door of entrance, in a straight line, and in the following order, are five of the halls ; — - La salle des Empereurs^ — des Saisons^ — des Hommes Illustres^ — des Romains^ — diiLaocoon, I'hey are divided from each other merely by pillars. From the right of the furthest of these halls, — that of the Laocoon, — branches off the salle de V Apollon, Returning to the vestibule, on the left of the entrance is the salle de Diane^ leading to that of the Silenus, In a straight line with the latter are the halls of the Gla~ diator and of the Muses. This suite terminates in a semi-circular room, at present only used as a workshop for the men employed in this part of the Museum. Near the entrance of the salle de Sllene^ a door on the left leads into the salle des F leaves. The grand entrance by the vestibule is seldom open. In general the public are admitted ^through a mean-looking door situated in a 14 SCULPTURE. corner of the mass of buildings which connects the new Louvre with the old. From this door, a narrow passage leads into a small paved court, ill the middle of which are placed orange-trees and floM^ers. The agreeable perfume of these, and the coolness and stillness of the place, are a delightful contrast to the dusty, burning, and noisy scene without : and we at once find our- selves in the region of the arts. — Antique pillars, broken statues and busts, and fragments of inscribed marble, are scattered round the walls. A short passage on the left conducts directly from this court to the salle des Hommes Ulus- ires; and from the same passage, a staircase on the right hand leads to the collection of pictures. The halls of the Apollo^ of the Gladiator. and of the Muses^ are of ample dimensions ; La salle des F leaves is an extremely spacious and well-proportioned room ; the remainder are of moderate size. With very few exceptions the statues and SCULPTURE. 15 busts * are placed close to the walls ; conse- quently they can only be viewed in front. This is the most important objection to the manner in which the collection is arranged ; in other respects the distribution has been made with judgment and taste. The Apollo stands in a niche at the upper end of the room which bears its name. It is supported on its base by a bar of iron placed in the wall, and fastened between the shoulders of the statue. This is rendered more firm by a second bar connected with it, and fixed in the pedestal. The fractures in both the legs of the statue have rendered these supports necessary ; but they do not in the slightest degree injure the elfect of the figure. The floor on which the * The following were the numbers of the pieces of an- tique sculpture mentioned in the catalogues of the museum ; 184 statues — 140 busts — 43 bas-reliefs — 34 altars sarco- phagi, vases, &c. In addition to these there were a few statues, busts, and bas-reliefs, which had not any numbers affixed to them. 16 SCULPTURE. pedestal stands is somewhat elevated ; it is sur- rounded by ornamented rails ; and two antique sphinxes in red oriental granite are placed one on each side. 7 here is just space enough be- tween the pedestal and the wall to permit a per- son to walk round. In the same room with the Apollo, and on the left of the entrance, is the Antinous of the Belvidere. The group of the Laocoon stands in the place of dignity at the extremity of the suite of rooms which fronts the vestibule. It is placed against the wall, and is enclosed with iron rails. Near the Laocoon, to the left, stands the Venus de Medicis, in front of a square recess about eight feet in width. She is protected by a circular rail. Seats are placed in the re- cess; and in it is a window which the statue faces. The situation shews the figure to great advantage, but its high fame demanded a sta- tion of greater dignity. SCULPTURE. 17 In the salle des Romains^ is the dying Gladia- tor: opposite to it the Torso, encircled with rails. The Gladiator of the Borghese stands in the centre of its hall : near it is the group of the Meleager. T he Hermaphrodite of the Borghese is placed in a recess, on the left hand, near the en- trance of the salle des Fleuves, With great deference to the jndgment of Mr. Eustace, I am inclined to dissent from the opinion which he has given Avith regard to the proper mode in which statues should be exhibited. — That gentleman complains, that the halls of the Antique in the Louvre ‘‘ are not embellished in such a style of magnificence as becomes the combination of ivonders which they contain F ^ This 1 cannot acquiesce in. — The rooms, I admit, are not appropriate to their contents, but the fault is, that they are too much ornamented, too splendid in their de- * Letter from Paris, page 41 . C 18 SCULPTURE. corations. — Painted ceilings, gilded figures in relievo, and all the tawdry richness of a state drawing-room, are discordant with the severity and dignified simplicity of sculpture. The walls of several of the rooms are lined entirely with marble of a dark colour. This is not only magnificent, but forms an excellent contrast to the white figures which stand against them. Many of the halls are paved with marble. They are lofty, and well lighted ; and it is chiefly in the profusion of architectural decoration, and the frivolous paintings and gilding which disfigure the ceilings, that they appear to me liable to censure.* * The pedestals, on which most of the first-rate statues were placed in Italy, were cf splendid materials, and orna- mented with works in relievo. The bad taste of this cannot be doubted. A statue should be placed on a square pedestal of plain, unpolished stone, harmonizing in its proportions with the figure it sustains, but perfectly unornamented, hav- ing nothing about it to retain the eye. In some of the halls of the antique in the Louvre the pedestals were of this de- scription : in others they were of coloured marble : and in SCULPTURE. 19 But with all its merits, and all its imper- fections, the collection is doomed no longer to exist.— They who have seen it are fortunate. You will ask, what are become of the pic- tures ? and has my veneration for sculpture totally destroyed all my regard for the sister art ? — This is not the case ; but exquisite paint- ings are no new sight the glories of sculp- ture are. We enter the Halls of the Antique, and are almost oppressed by the sensation, that we stand surrounded by treasures which the world can- not equal, — that there is but one Belvidere Apollo, one Medicean Venus, one Laocoon, — - and they are before us. On entering the gal- lery of pictures we breathe more freely. The collection is noble, is magnificent ; yet an Englishman need not be envious. He feels some few instances the F rench love of finery was visible.-— The pedestal of the Apollo, for example, was an ornamented octagon ; that of the Venus was circular, and formed of dif- ferent kinds of highly-polished marble, r 2 20 SCULPTURE. with pride that here his country may contend, nay, may claim the superiority. — I speak not figuratively in saying, that if we deem the .chief worth and the perfection of painting to consist, not in the mere imitation of nature, but in the power of imbodying sublime and noble ideas, we cannot hesitate to assert, that all the pictures in this collection are not equal in value to the awful gallery at Hampton Court. The Louvre is filled with masterpieces by nearly all the famous painters ; yet none of them, except the Transfiguration, approach to the elevation of genius which, reigns in the Cartoons. In my next letters I shall confine myself solely to the pictures. PAINTING. 21 LETTER HI. Painting. — General Description of the Col- lect mi of Pictures. As in my last letter I gave you a de- scription of that part of the Museum in which the statues are placed, so in this I shall explain the general arrangement of the collection of paintings. The noble staircase from the vestibule of the Halls of the Antique terminates in an open saloon supported by marble pillars and leading to the door of the first room ; which is. filled with the works of the earliest masters. Pass- ing through it we enter a very large, noble, and lofty apartment, which is styled the grand saloon. It is lighted from above, and contains 22 PAINTING. many pictures anterior to the time of Raphael : the rest are miscellaneous, and are I believe such as from their size or from having been recently obtained, could not be placed with those of the schools to which they belong. — Many are by Spanish masters. At the corner of the saloon, diagonally op- posite to the entrance, is the door of the far- famed gallery of the Louvre. The descriptions which have so frequently been given of the astonishing splendor of this room, are I think greatly exaggerated : at least my expect- ations were completely disappointed. — A gal- lery of so great a length cannot of course be graceful in its proportions ; but this room is too narrow for a vaulted apartment, and would be so, were it but eighty feet in extent.* — * The length of the gallery of the Louvre is 448 metreSy 1471 English feet; this breadtli is only 10 mkres, about 33 English feet. Towards the middle it is considerably wider than in the other parts ; but this wider division forms a very inconsiderable proportion of the entire length. PAINTING. 23 Long and narrow as it is, and the arch of the roof being nearly a semicircle, it looks, if you will pardon the comparison, like a great inter- minable pipe : and the numerous large pictures sloping forward from the walls add to the bad effect ; as they give, when seen in perspective, a still more contracted appearance to the ceil' ing. At intervals, are handsome marble pillars advanced some feet from the wall : these in a slight degree break the length of the gallery, but not sufficiently to render it graceful to the eye. After the first fifty or sixty yards, these pillars, and the sloping edges of the picture- frames, are all that the spectator sees : and I am totally at a loss to understand on what principle of beauty the general coup d' ceil of this room can be admired. The walls at the upper end are covered with silk of a light brown colour : the remainder is stucco painted of the same tint. Through- out the whole extent of the gallery, the sides to the height of about four feet are lined with vrhite marble. The ceiling is richly gilded, 24 PAINTING. but its ornaments are heavy and in bad taste. To protect the pictures a rail is placed at the distance of a yard from the wall, ayd a few do- mestics in the livery of the court are sta- tioned in the different rooms : but in this, as in every public establishment in France, there appears the most perfect reliance on the good conduct of those who frequent it ; nor have I ever seen the slightest abuse of this liberal con- fidence. A great many of the pictures are in very bad lights. — Such as are placed high, and the upper part of those, of a larger size, can scarcely be seen. This is only the case with the lower and middle divisions of the gallery. Towards the upper end of the room, where the finest Italian pictures are placed, windows in the roof have been introduced, and the light is excellent. The schools are disposed very properly. — The French occupies the lowest place, the Ita- lian tlie highest : but the distribution is not perfect. — The works of the Italian artists of the different schools are very much blended PAINTING. 25 together, as are those of the Flemish, Dutch, and German painters ; and in a great many in- / stances pictures have strayed to a great distance from the other productions of the same master. But the arrangement originally intended is still clearly marked, and is as follows : — The French school, — the Dutch, — the German,— the Fle- mish, — the Bolognese, — the Venetian, and the Florentine and Roman. This collection is I believe by far the most numerous that ever existed yet there are many first-rate artists in whose works it is by no means rich. The merits of Salvator Rosa, Claude Lorraine, Gaspar Poussin, Rembrandt, and Teniers, and of Vandyck, particularly as a portrait-painter, must not be estimated by * The number of pictures mentioned in the catalogues were 1321. Of these 112 were of the French school ; in- cluding 26 by Nicolo Poussin, and 6 by Claude Lorraine, both of whom the F rench very improperly rank amongst their own artists: 638 were Flemish, German, and Dutch. The remainder, 561, were Italian, except a very few pictures by Spanish masters, which were classed with them. 26 PAINTING. their productions in the Louvre. — Carlo Dolci, Giuseppe Cesari, Velasquez, Bloemart, and Both, contribute but one picture each. — By Borgognone, Hobbima, and the Hemskirks, there are none. But in the works of most of the other masters, particularly of the more ce- lebrated Italians, and of Rubens, the gallery is rich indeed.* In all the collections of fine pictures, the sub- jects of a great part of them are taken from sa- * The following list will give some idea of the extent and richness of the collection. There were 20 pictures by Albano, — 10 byBassan, — 42 by the Caracci, — ^^9 by Correggio,^ — 17 by Domenichino, — 17 by Guercino, — 5 by Giorgione, — 25 by Guido, — 3 by Mantegna, — 5 by Parmigiano, — 4 by Sebastian del Pioinbo, — 26 by Ni- colo Poussin, — 26 by Raphael, — 10 by Julio Romano, — 7 by Andrea del Sarto, — 24 by Titian, — 18 by Paul Veronese, and 7 by Leonardo da Vinci. There were 4 pictures by Albert Durer, — 17 by Gerhard Douw, — 17 by Holbein, — 14 bj’^ Adrian Ostade, — 10 by Paul Potter, — 33 by Rembrandt, — 57 by Rubens, — 17 by Teniers the younger, — 34 by Vandyck,— 6 by John Van Eyck, and 33 by Philip Wouwermans. PAINTING. 27 cred history ; but in the Louvre the proportion is much larger than usual. Buonaparte plundered the mansions of individuals with little repug- nance, but churches and monasteries with still less. Of the fifty-seven pictures by Rubens no less than thirty-seven are scriptural, and amongst them are many of his finest and most cele- brated works. You will ask me, what pictures by English masters are admitted to a place in this assem- blage } — Not one . — The walls dignified by the productions of Jouvenet, Mignard, Le Nain, and Bourdon, would be profaned by the works of Sir Joshua Reynolds, Hogarth, Gainsborough, or Wilson. — This exclusion, be it founded on hostility, envy, or bad taste, is alike con- temptible. From half past two o’clock till four the gal- lery is crowded. It is the general rendezvous of the English, and appears to supply ex- tremely well the absence of Bond-street. The ladies sit on the benches, which are placed op- posite the chief pictures, and look sideways at 28 PAINTING. the gentlemen : the gentlemen walk np and down in long uncivil rows, and look full at the ladies: — and of the immense crowds of visitors from England who throng the Louvre, and doubtless would all assert that they came for the express purpose of stud}ing its contents, it is laughable to observe how very few are really attentive to the treasures which surround them. With the effect of the gallery as a splendid and magnificent spectacle 1 have declared that I am disappointed : but the walk from its en- trance to the other extremity produces a most pleasing and interesting sensation ; and which far from decreasing by repetition is strength- ened every day as we become more familiar with its contents. — The whole extent of this noble art is displayed before us. — The power of imitation in the Dutch school, the force and boldness of the Flemish, the grace of the Bo- lognese, and the realizing splendour of the Ve- netian, form, as the observer rapidly passes on, a progressive ascent to the sublimity and per- fection of Raphael . — Examined attentively, the PAINTIIVG. 29 links of this chain will be found unequal and disjointed ; but the whole together cannot I think fail of producing on the mind, the effect of a gradual expansion from the lower and more material provinces of the art, to those in which it becomes the vehicle of intellectual energy. When next I address you I shall venture to criticise some of the paintings in this noble col- lection. 30 LETTER IV. Painting. — Pictures in the first Room . — Cimabue. — Giotto. — Holbein. — Pictures in the Grand Saloon. — Albe7't JDurer. — Rubens. — Vasari. — Sacchi di Pama. — Murillo. — Le Brun. — Michel Angelo Buonarroti. In my last letter I described the general arrangement of the pictures : I will now par- ticularize such as have appeared to me most worthy of notice, in the two first rooms. The collection of paintings by the earlier masters, although by no means complete, ex- hibits, in a very interesting manner, the gradual advancement of the art. First in time and first in interest, is a pic- ture by Cimabue, the father of modern paint- PAINTING. 31 ing , It is of a large size, painted in distemper on wood. The Virgin is seated on a throne, and supports in her lap the Infant Saviour. At each side are three angels ranged on steps in perfect regularity. Of these attendants, one half are adorned with red glories, the other half with blue, counterc hanged most heraldically. The figures are not inelegant in their attitudes, but are ill drawn, particularly the extremities ; and the features are so large, and hard, as to be grotesque. There is an attempt at something like perspective, but it is lamentably unsuccessful. The carna- tions are turned quite blue ; in other respects the picture is well preserved, and the gild- ing of the back ground and of the border, which is ornamented with medallions repre- senting the Apostles and Saints, is astonish- ingly fresh. Gilding in those days was done with a lavishness of expense which defied time. This part of the picture has certainly not been restored, but the bright colouring of the dra- 32 PAINTING. pery of some of the figures, looks very suspi* cious. This description will not give you a very fa- vourable opinion of Cimabue ; yet there is in the picture something which approaches to an air of grandeur, both in the composition and colouring. The artist thought well, but could not work out his idea. — It is the commence- ment of the reviving splendor of Italy. Near this picture of Cimabue’s, is placed an excellent painting by his disciple Giotto. Les stigmates de Saint Francois, This work proves the rapid strides with which the art ad- vanced.* A thorough Catholic is doubtless bound to regard the subject of the picture with reverence. The legend tells us, that Saint Francis, two years before his death, retired for the purposes of contemplation, to the solitude of the Apennines. One pleasant morning the * Cimabue was born in the year 1240 and died in 1300. Giotto was born in 127d and died in 1336. PAINTING. 33 saint, whilst occupied in his devotions, was visited by a seraph adorned with six wings of flame ; between which there appeared a cross, and, nailed to the cross, the figure of a man. The saint was marvellously surprised ; but his astonishment increased, when, as the vision gradually disappeared, he discovered on his hands and feet marks as of nails, and on his left side a wound flowing with blood. The absurdity of this story has piously been enforced by Giotto. Three rays of light shoot from each extremity of the cross: the four centre rays are successful, and strike the hands and feet of the saint ; but the other eight are quite thrown away. The accommodating at- titude in which Saint Francis places himself to receive these honourable marks is inimi- tably ludicrous. The cross-firing necessary for a wound on the left side, was above the scope of Giotto’s invention, and is therefore omitted. There are pictures by Taddeo Gaddi, Memmi, and Giovanni Angelico, rival of the famous D 34 PAINTING. Masaccio : but of the works of Masaccio him- self the museum possesses no specimen. Here are also two pictures by Hubert \ an Eyck ; and rather out of its place as to time, a noble work by Holbein. It consists of three pictures in one frame, all excellent. That which is placed the highest exhibits the mates of Saint Francis, but the story is told with much more discretion than by Giotto. The picture in the centre represents our Saviour taken down from the cross, and the subject of the lowest is the Last Supper. In this, which is by far the finest of the three, the heads, ex- cept that of our Saviour, are admirably, nay grandly, painted ; but the historic dignity of the faces of the apostles is sadly disturbed by the coarse-featured portrait of the artist, in the character of a servant. The ill effect of intro- ducing portraits into historical compositions, particularly where the subject is sacred, cannot be denied, in German and Flemish paintings bad taste need not excite our surprise, but we find the same practice in the severest masters PAINTING. 35 of the Italian schools. Vanity, and the wish to flatter, are more powerful than good taste. The second room contains many extremely fine pictures . — The adoration of the Kings, by Albert Durer. The figure of the Moor on one of the volets is admirable for force and expres- sion. The finishing and style of colouring of the entire picture are excellent. Hunting the Wolf by Rubens — An astonish- ingly fine picture : the best of the class I ever saw, and as brilliant as if painted yesterday. The Annunciation, by Vasari — The colour- ing of this picture is weak and tawdry ; but the composition has great merit. Nothing can ex- ceed the propriety of expression in the two figures. Each is filled with respect for the other, but the different nature of this respect, is conceived with great delicacy of discrimina- tion. The Virgin appears conscious of her high destiny, yet abashed by the presence of her heavenly visitor. The submission, with which the angel approaches the mother of the Messiah, is blended with the benevolence of a D 2 e36 PAINTING. superior being. The style of painting is what I expected from Vasari, but I had no idea that he thought so well. The Doctors of the Churchy by Pietro Fran- cesco Sdcchi di Pavia — This picture, for depth, splendor, and force of colouring, is perhaps not exceeded by any in the Louvre. There is a hardness of manner, and much of the bad taste of the age ; — each of the personages has his symbol, and the head of an unlucky bull is terribly prominent ; but the life and expres- sion of character in the faces are quite wonder- ful. It is a picture on which the eye dwells with pleasure. But there is one production in this room which eclipses all the rest ; and yields in powerful effect to very few in the collection. It is the first, in the order of the events repre- sented, of two pictures by Murillo. On the night of the fifth of August, — but in what year the history does not mention, — the Virgin with the Infant Jesus appeared to a certain Roman nobleman and his spouse during their PAINTING. 37 sleep, declaring her acceptance of their for- tune, — for, it seems, that being childless, they had made a will in her favour, — and directing them to build a church to her honour on a spot which, when they awoke, would be pointed out to them, by its being covered with snow. In the morning, when they came to compare notes, with the pope, they found that his holiness had dreamed to the same effect. Whereupon the pope and clergy and laity, all set out on the sixth of August to look for snow. They found it of course ; and the church of Santa Maria Maggiore was built. The first picture represents the descent of the Virgin ; — the second, the interview with the pope, and in the back ground, by rather a strong licence, the artist has shewn the pro- cession. This picture is exceedingly well painted, in his freest and most pleasing man- ner, with great breadth and harmony of co- louring, but bears no comparison to the for- mer ; which I will endeavour to describe. 38 PAINTING. though with little hope of conveying to you any just idea of its merits. The shape of the picture, indeed of both the pictures, is the segment of a circle, considera- bly less than a semicircle : the subject is very skilfully adapted to this form. On the left are the husband and wife sleeping. It did not suit the painter to let them be com- fortably in bed, and therefore the man is re- clining in a chair ; the w oman near him on the ground. The appearance of profound sleep is admirably given to both : and the figure of the man is dignified, and painted with great force. Above, rather to the right, and borne on the air, are the Virgin and Child. Farther to the right is a door, through w hich^the country is seen . illuminated by the moon. — You will ask me, what is there so very pre-eminent in all this : —The pre-eminence is in the remainder of the picture ; — the night. I should fear that 1 was carried away by some wild fancy, did I not find many persons wlio admire this production PAINTING. 39 equally with myself. Do not smile and tell me, that a large extent of black paint is no miracle. — The effect it produces is miraculous. The spectator feels almost as if he himself were in the chamber, and in darkness. The Virgin is surrounded by an atmosphere of light, but its effect gradually lessens, and does not extend far from her. The painter has boldly, and I think properly, sacrificed ti’oth to effect in the two sleeping figures: they are not obscured by the darkness, although there is no light which should render them visible ; as the Virgin is more in the back ground, nor indeed does the splendor which encircles her radiate so far. Such is the best description which I can give you of this picture: I feel that it will make you acquainted with the improprieties in the composition, rather than explain the singular merits which convert them into beauties. If as- sertion might be substituted for proof, I would assure you, that I have hardly ever seen a paint- ing more powerful in effect ; or one which more strongly seizes and detains the attention. 40 PAINTING, This painting and its companion are placed one on each side of the picture of Hunting the Wolf: all the three are of large dimen- sions, occupying together nearly the whole length of the room. The animation, the flash and burning day-light of Rubens, form an admirable contrast to the tranquillity and grave tone of Murillo. There are in this saloon the celebrated battles by Le Brun. — They have nothing to recommend them but the composition : and this artist is I think seen to much greater advantage in the prints engraved from his works than in the originals. Here is also a picture dignified by the name of Michel Angelo Buonarroti ; but its authenticity is denied. It has very little merit, and is not even characteristic of the master. The want of a genuine production from the pencil of this transcendent genius is the great hiatus in the collection.* * Mr. Duppa, in his Life of Michel Angelo Buonarroti, states that the only easel-picture by this artist, which exists PAINTING. 41 Having brought you to the door of the Gallery I shall conclude my letter. and can be authenticated, is the Holy Family in the Floren- tine Gallery. The picture in the Louvre was denominated The Dream of Michel Angelo, or the Spectacle of Human Life. It was supposed to be, in reality, a painting by Daniele di Volterra. 42 PAINTING. LETTER V. Painting. — Raphael, — Perugino, — Julio Ro- mano, — Leonardo da Vinci, It would almost amount to a proof of bad taste not to commence my observations on the gallery by mentioning the productions of Raphael. We see assembled before us twenty-six of his pictures,* some his earliest, some his * The following list of the pictures by Raphael is extracted from the catalogue of the Museum : 1. — Portraits de Raphael et de son maitre d’armes ; ou, selon quelques personnes, portraits de Raphael et du Pon- torme, peints par ce dernier.* 2. — Portrait de Balthasar Castiglione. * 3. — Portrait du Cardinal Fedro Inghirami. 4. — Portrait du Pape Jules II. PAINTING. 43 latest and most celebrated works : they dis- play consequently the immense progress which in a few short years this inimitable 5. — Portrait du Pape Leon X. d. — Portrait du Cardinal de Bibbiena. 7* * — Portrait d’un jeune homme dont la tete est ap- pii 3 "ee sur la main.* 8. — Portrait d’un jeune homme dont le bras est appuye sur une table, et dont la main pose sur le poignet de I’autre bras. * 9. — Portrait de Jeanne d’Arragon, dont Raphael a peint la tete, et Jules Remain le reste du tableau.* 10. — Le Pere eternel apparait au prophete Ezechiel.* *que. La presentation au temple. Ces trois sujets ne sent separes entr’eux que par des arabesques peints sur le fond. 12. — La Sainte Famille. Raphael fit ce tableau pour le roi Franqois I, en 1518, deux ans avant sa mort.* 13. — La Sainte Famille; connue sous le nom de la Belle Jardiniere.* 14. — La Vierge, I’enfant Jesus et Saint Jean-Baptiste. Tableau connu sous le nom de la Madonna della Sedia. 15. — L’enfant Jesus, appuye sur la Vierge et les pieds 44 PAINTING. genius made in his art. — His career ended at a period of life when others but begin ! poses sur son berceau, caresse Saint Jean que Sainte Elisa- beth lui presente.* 16. — Le sommeil de Jesus; la Vierge souleve le voile dont il est couvert, pour le montrer a Saint Jean.* 17 . — La Transfiguration. 18 . — Jesus dans sa gloire, accornpagne de la Vierge et de Saint Jean-Baptiste; au-dessous, Saint Paul et Sainte Catherine. Tableau connu sous le nom des cinq Saints^ 19. — L’Assomption de la Vierge. 20. — La Vierge couronnee par son fils, dans le ciel. 21. — Saint Michel victorieux du demon,* 22. — Allegoric. Saint Michel combat les monstres. * 23 . — Saint George, monte sur un cheval blanc, com- bat un enorrae dragon.* 24 . — Saint Cecile, I’apotre Saint Paul, la Madeleine, Saint Jean Tevangeliste et Saint Augustin, econtent un concert d’anges. 25 . — La Vierge et I’enfant Jesus paraissent dans les airs, environnes d’une cour celeste. Ils sont invoques par Saint Jerome, Saint Jean-Baptiste et Saint Francois d’ Assise, Sur le devant, un ange tient une tablette. 26. — Panneau divise en trois compartimens, representant la Foi, la Charite, et I’Esperance. * The thirteen pictures thus marked were in the old royal collection- PAINTING. 45 to obtain celebrity;* and it is evident that Raphael was never more rapidly improving than jnst before his death : yet is he not only the first painter the world has ever seen, but his excess of superiority is greater than was ever obtained by any other man in any species of excellence. — He stands se- parated by a greater interval. — To the truth of this assertion there is one and one only exception. — If Shakespeare be compared with Raphael, where are we to find the dramatic Michel Angelos, Titians, and Cor- reggios ? The Transfiguration^ the pride of Italy, and the picture of the first fame in the world, can, alas ! scarcely he said to exist as a paint- ing by Raphael. We know that nearly an hundred years ago it had become extremely dark ; it is now by far the brightest of all his works in the collection: and not only * Raffaello Saiizio da Urbliio died in 1520, aged 37 years. 46 PAINTING. from my own very minute examination, but from the remarks which I have heard from several English artists, I am convinced that it has throughout been newly painted. Anxious to obtain certain information of the fact, I addressed myself the other day to a French artist who was making an iron copy of La Belle Jardiniere. He answered my inquiries politely, but did not appear to feel the slight- est interest on the subject. — “ Yes^'' he said, “ it had been restored ; he did not know by “ whom ; — some of the people employed about “ the Museum had done it . — Fes, it was very dark before; — he believed that all of it had been painted over.^ most of “ it at least ; that is, all the parts that re- “ quired it . ending, by very coolly observ- ing, ‘‘ that when parts of a picture become imperfect, of course they must be restored.'' —This is indeed profanation. The French might have been forgiven for stealing the picture, or even for making it the subject of chemical experiment ; but thus to destroy PAINTING. 47 it is without excuse. The merest wreck of this noble work, genuine from the hand of Raphael, would have been a thousand times more valuable than such a forgery. The people employed have however done their sacrilegious task better than could have been expected. The expressions of the coun- tenances are admirable, the contours they could scarcely injure ; and we may I sup- pose presume, that in the colouring, they followed the original as closely as possible : but the interest of the picture is gone. The faults in the composition of this divine production, — for I am decidedly of that fac- tion, — are more striking in the original than in the prints. — Raphael has painted two distinct pictures on the same ground. Each of them separately is faultless. Either of them would have admitted the other as an episode, without any impropriety as to time or action. The impropriety is, that the artist has made the two subjects equally important ; neither can be considered as subservient to the other. 48 PAINTING. If the presentation of the demoniac for cure to the apostles be considered as the chief event, the more noble assemblage of figures in the upper part of the picture is liable to objection, as dividing the attention, and less- ening the dignity, of the principal actors ; and the superior nature of the personages composing this secondary group, vras an ad- ditional reason why they should have been less strikingly brought forward. If, as was undoubtedly the case, Raphael considered the transfiguration of our Saviour as the subject of his picture, the numerous and animated group below, occupied by the suf- ferings' of the youth, must be censured as seizing upon the attention, and destroying the effect of the principal figures : and it is certain, that as often as we approach the picture, the eye is first directed to this sub- ordinate crowd.* * Mr. Fuseli, in his Lectures on Painting, defends the composition of this picture against the criticism of Rich- PAINTINO. 49 From the manner in which the two sub- jects are combined, Raphael has been driven into improprieties, which would never have . ardson ; but his defence goes only to the unity of time in the two actions. This Richardson never denied ; indeed, in his Theory of Paintings he states expressly, that the unity of time is preserved. In the same passage he also, in a few words, explains the subject of the picture, in the same manner as Mr, Fuseli has done in a long descrip- tion, which evidently claims the merit of discovering the master’s ideas, and which ends with a sneer at the “ pur- blind criticism of Richardson,^^ This is scarcely fair; but the well-earned fame of Richardson, as an animated and profound critic on the arts, cannot so easily be thrown down. There are very few remarks on painting, in the English language, more instructive than those made by him on the Cartoons. In all his writings we find him filled with enthusiasm, but perfectly free from affectation ; expressing himself in powerful, but simple language ; and not in metaphysical approaches to nonsense, where the intended elevation of the idea is ludicrously contrasted with the bald inaccuracy of the expression. The objection which Richardson does make to the Transfiguration is as follows. There must he one principal action in a picture, F 50 PAINTING. been pardoned in an artist of less exalted fame. — The eminence from which he re- presents our Saviour to have ascended, is “ Whatever under-actions may he going on at the same “ instant with that, and which it may he proper to in- sert, to illustrate or amplify the composition, they must not divide the picture, and the attention of the “ spectator, O divine Rafaelle, forgive me, if I take the “ liberty to say, 1 cannot approve, in this particular, of “ that amazing picture of the Transfiguration, where the ‘‘ incidental action of the man's bringing his sen possessed “ with the dumb devil to the disciples, and their not being “ able to cast him out, is made at. least as conspicuous, ‘‘ and as much a principal action, as that of the trans- “ figuration. The unity of time is indeed preserved, and “ this under-story would have made a fine episode to the “ other f though the other would not properly to this, as “ being of more dignity than the principal story in this “ case,J but both together mutually hurt one another.'" * This objection Mr. Fuseli does not attempt to meet; unless what he says, is to be understood as asserting, that the two actions are equally important, and the artist justified in making them equally prominent. Richardson’s Theory of Painting.— p. 28—29. PAINTING. 51 limited in height and extent to a few feet> and is placed not many yards distant from the group in the foreground. Yet we are told, that Jesus took Peter and James and John, and led them ‘‘ up into an high moun- tain apart hy themselves!^ The mere de- parture from historical truth is pardonable, but let us observe the consequences which result from it. — The miraculous splendor, which overwhelms with its brightness the three attendant disciples, produces no effect on the group in the fore ground, is not even noticed by them, although represented as close before their eyes. — That the Transfiguration was not made visible to the three disciples only, Raphael himself declares by the two figures in the back ground on the right of the picture, who are seen contemplating the Saviour. Nor can it be urged, that the sufferings of the demoniac would have occupied the attention of the other apostles to the exclusion of every thing else. 1 heir ministry would have rendered such objects familiar to them, whilst E 2 52 PAINTING the other event was of surpassing wonder and importance. — The picture, therefore, requires us to believe, that what must have been visible, was not noticed nor even seen : and / the ill effect, which results from this unlimited appeal to our credulity, may be illustrated by comparing it to a scene on the stage ; where, by the author’s mismanagement, some of the personages of the drama are obliged to stand pertinaciously determined not to see or hear an actor who is placed close before their eyes, and who is speaking in no sub- dued tone of voice. Faults of a different kind may be charged against the two figures in the back ground which I have just mentioned. — They are portraits,— they are awkwardly introduced, — and they are most improperly represented as enabled to gaze fixedly at that splendor which overpowered the selected companions of our Lord. — It may perhaps be answered, that Raphael introduced these portraits of the nephews of Julius de Medicis in com- PAINTING. . 53 pliment to him, or probably by his com- mand. — This may be an apology for the artist, but it is no defence of the picture. Thus much in dispraise.— In commenda- tion of the picture let me say, that sepa- rately considered both the parts must have been as fine as any thing Raphael ever pro- duced.— It is impossible to conceive a more sublime or a more daring effort of genius than that division of the picture which re- gards the Transfiguration. The figure and countenance of our Saviour, even as they now exist, have more of elevation and di- vinity than were ever produced by any other painter. Many of the figures in the lower divi- sion have transcendent merit, particularly the woman in front, whose attitude is unrivalled in elegance and grace ; — the young man op- posite the boy, and leaning forward to ex- amine his countenance, with a mixed ex- pression of compassion and curiosity ; — the man who is seated, and holds a book in his 54 PAINTING. right hand ; and the one immediately above him who is pointing towards the mountain. — The figure of the boy is powerfully hor- rid ; and the father appears listening with an eager and ignorant attention to the disciple, who tells him that Christ alone can restore his child. The story of the demoniac is indeed admirably told ; and there perhaps never was a composition in which greater skill was displayed in the arrangement of the figures. The picture next in excellence to the Transfiguration is I think that in which Saint Cecilia, Saint Paul, Mary Magdalene, Saint John the Evangelist, and Saint Au- gustin, are listening to the music of angels in the air. — The colouring is peculiarly ex- cellent, the faces beautiful, and the expressions varied with admirable propriety and taste. The figures are graceful and impressive ; Saint Paul does not appear with greater dig-r nity even in the Cartoons. The Vision of Ezekiel. I'his production PAINTING. 55 merits its high fame. The personification of the Supreme Being was perhaps never successfully attempted in any other instance. Gray tells us that the description of the Bard was taken from this picture ; but the image in the poem, although admirable, bears no comparison in sublimity and gran- deur to this embodied conception of the Divinity. The Assumption of the Virgin ; a work which he left unfinished, and which was completed after his death by Julio Romano and II Fattore. The upper part is by Ra- phael, and is astonishingly beautiful. La Belle Jardinihre, — Nothing can be more elegant and pleasing than the composition of this picture ; but there is a weakness in the colouring, which in spite of the expres- sion and grace of the figures, made me view it almost with disappointment, my expecta- tion having been very highly raised by the prints. The Virgin crowned by her Son. This is 56 PAINTING. one of his early pictures, yet it has great merit. Some of the faces of the Apostles are painted with wonderful force and expression. — And here let me remark, how much I have been surprised by the pictures in this col- lection by Perugino. His name is never men.- tinned but as the master of Raphael : and to his ill instructions are attributed all the early imperfections of his pupil. That the manner of Raphael when he quitted him was dry, cold, and meagre, is as certain as that it was afterwards the reverse ; yet, in examining the pictures of Perugino, I cannot but believe, that some part of Raphael’s excellence might originate in his master’s precepts. In the elegance of tranquil attitudes, one of the greatest beauties of his pupil, Perugino was highly skilled, though their merit is disguised by his incorrect and stiff drawing, and by his ignorance of grouping. His colouring is grand and impressive, his faces highly finished and beautiful. Looking at their productions PAINTING. 57 together, it is impossible to deny, that al- though Raphael might have had much to unlearn, yet that he received some instruc- tions which he did well never to forget. Of all the paintings in oil by Raphael, the one next in celebrity to the Transfiguration is the Holy Family^ which he sent to Francis the First, when he excused himself from visiting that monarch. It was one of his latest works; and on such an occasion he doubt- less exerted his talents to the utmost : yet it is very far from being one of his most suc- cessful efforts. The faces considered sepa- rately, are beautiful and expressive, and are painted with great truth and force : but the composition is strangely defective. The figures are crowded disadvantageously one above the other, and the attitudes have little of his accustomed grace. The idea of the Virgin taking the Child out of his cradle is ele- gantly conceived, but certainly not executed with success. Her attitude is more than in- elegant, it is unsightly ; and the action of PAINTING. the Child, though happily and boldly ima- gined, fails to produce the intended effect. Both the figures are natural, but they are the only two instances in the works of this master, where nature is not combined with grace. The picture was either extremely dark from the first, or is become so by time. in a former Letter I ventured an opinion that nothing in this gallery equalled the Car- toons at Hampton-court. I have now leisurely examined its contents, and have devoted many hours solely to the study of the paintings by Raphael. My opinion remains unchanged, nay is strengthened, and may, I think, be sup- ported by strong arguments. The style in which the Cartoons are painted is, as sir Joshua Reynolds observes, precisely similar to that of fresco ; and it is undeniable that Raphael was a better painter in fresco than in oil. In the former branch of the art no one is supposed to have so nearly ap- proached perfection : in the practical details PAINTING. 59 of oil painting he has been surpassed by many. His creative powers were rapid, un- limited, and correct ; and the bold and open manner of fresco, enabled him to execute with facility, all that he conceived without effort, and, as it were, by intuition. The ideas came warm from his mind, with all their first freedom and vigor ; whilst the more elaborate process of oil painting checked his genius, and the very labour which he bestowed upon it, tended to lessen the energy and graceful- ness of his conceptions. 1 would appeal in confirmation of this, to any one of the Car- toons. In spirit, in animation, and grace, nay in force, many of the countenances are superior to any which can be found in his finished paintings. Near the pictures of this immortal artist, are placed several fine works by his favourite pupil Julio Romano. They have great merit, but possess scarcely any of those qualities which characterize the productions of his master. — The mind of Julio was not kindred to that of 60 PAINTING. Raphael : he should rather have been the scho- lar of Michel Angelo. — To* a perfect know- ledge in every branch of his art, and to great “ academic prowess^^^ he joined a high degree of intrepidity and energy in composition ; but I do not think that Nature ever placed in his hands her “ golden keys!' Even his masterpiece, the Martyrdom of Saint Stephen^ which is in this collection, fails to awaken our sympathy : we applaud the skill of the artist, but we contemplate the picture un- moved. A single figure by Raphael or Mi- chel Angelo, has more power over the mind than all the combinations of Julio Romano, The paintings by Leonardo da Vinci are singularly interesting, though perhaps not of greater merit than some of his works which we possess in England. The picture of Saint John the Baptist is admirable, and that in which the Virgin and Child are seated amidst rocks, although the style of composition is somewhat antiquated, is impressive and beau- tiful. The Portrait of La Gioconda^ I have no PAINTING. 61 doubt, merited its high fame. The face has suffered greatly from time, but the eyes retain their peculiar and piercing expression. The right hand is perfectly preserved. It is, with- out any exception, the most beautifully-painted hand I have ever seen. The softness and roundness of the flesh are miraculous. The finishing of the entire picture is the most exquisite imaginable ; nevertheless I doubt the truth of the anecdote, that this single portrait occupied the artist for four years, and was at last, in his own opinion, left uncompleted. The works of Leonardo deserve more de- tailed commendation, but my letter has already exceeded all reasonable limit. 62 PAINTING. LETTER VI. Painting. — Correggio. — Titian. — Giorgione . — ’ The Bolognese School. — Domenichino. The works of Correggio are the great no- velty in the gallery of the Louvre. — England, rich as she is in paintings, did not until very lately possess a single authentic picture, of any note, by tliis great master,* Here are nine, and amongst them some of his most * One of the finest pictures by Correggio — Christ in the Garden — has been brought to this country by the Duke of Wellington. It belonged to the Royal Collection in Spain, and was found in Joseph Buonaparte’s carriage when taken after the battle of Vittoria. PAINTING. 63 famous productions — the Marriage of Saint Catherine,— the Saint Jerome, — and the Ju- piter and Antiope. The two first of these have wonderful beauties, but not unaccom- panied by faults. The Marriage of Saint Catherine is an ex- quisite piece of colouring, equal in force and effect to Titian, and with much greater soft- ness and harmony ; the manner in which the light is distributed is quite unequalled ; but * The following list of the pictures by Correggio is ex- tracted' from the catalogue of the Museum : 1. — Le Repos en Egypte. — Ce tableau est connu sous le nom de la Madonna della Scudella. 2. — Le Christ couronne d’epines. 3. — Le corps de Jesus mort, sur les genoux de sa mere evanouie. 4. — Le Manage de Sainte Catherine, * 5. — Tete de Saint Jean-Baptiste, enfant. 6. -— Le Saint Jerome. 7. — Le Martyre de Saint Placide. 8. — Jupiter et Antiope. * 9. — Jupiter et Leda. ^ The two pictures thus marked were in the old Royal Collection. 64 PAINTING. the expressions of the countenances are far from appropriate : the Virgin is handsome, but not dignified ; the child bears no mark of divinity ; nor is there any religious fervour in the countenances of Saint Catherine and Saint Sebastian. With the Saint Jerome you are acquainted, by the fine copy from the pencil of Lodo- vico Caracci in the Marquis of Stafford’s collection ; — at least with the composition ; but there never lived an artist who could fol- low Correggio in the astonishing beauty and truth which exist in parts of this picture. The faces of the Virgin, and of the angel near her, have a bewitching reality and grace of which no description, nor any copy, can convey a just idea. A living smile plays round their features. The Child is the love- liest representation of infancy I ever saw. Yet in this as in the former picture there is a want of elevation in the expressions: the faces are more beautiful than humanity, but not more dignified. We turn to the paint- PAINTING. e5 ings by Raphael on the opposite wall, and in the mild sublimity of his Madonnas, see all that is wanting to the perfection of Cor- reggio. No part of the arrangement of this picture has much title to praise, and the folds of the draperies are broken and ill dis- posed ; but the chief fault, and that to which nothing can reconcile me, is the gaunt un- accordant figure of Saint Jerome. Con- sidered by itself it has merit, but it would be difficult to find any composition in which there is so great a disunion as between this figure and the rest of the group. I have hurried over my praise and censure of these two fine productions to bring you to the thirdj — a work which in its kind is in my opinion perfectly unrivalled. — The first quality of painting is the power of delineating character and passion, in such a manner as to seize and domineer over the mind. This quality, which is vaguely expressed, or rather included, in the general term — composition, F PAINTING. 66 I shall venture to denominate mental po- tency. — Si forte necesse est Indiciis nionstrare recentibus abdita rerum, Fingere cinctutis non exaudita Cethegis Continget : dabiturque licentia sumta pudenter. By the term mental potency I would express, the effect which the subject produces on the spectator, the ideas which it communicates, the emotions it excites. By composition, I would understand merely the arrangement by which this is effected ; — the means, and not the result. If you will permit me to use this phrase I would observe, that if mental potency be the first quality in painting, it follows that the Cartoons and the Transfiguration are su- perior to any production of which the chief merit is in the execution ; and, consequently, that when I assert that Correggio’s picture of the Antiope is unrivalled, I am far from ranking it with the works of Raphael, PAINTING. The Jupiter and Antiope exhibits all those excellences which we are taught to consider as possessed by Correggio alone, and without a rival.— The union of colour, the blending of light and shade by invisible gradations, the absence of all sudden transitions, the ma- gic of harmony, the perfection of beauty and of grace, or if Sterne had not imprisoned the w^ords, the “ correggiescity of Correggio/^ I well remember my surprise, the first time I entered the painting room of your acquaintance Mr. , at the machinery it contained for producing defined shadows, — and I remember too, the smile with which he replied when I asked the reason for giving to the face whilst painting an appearance such as it could never have in reality. A pic- ture he told me, required more defined and stronger shades than those in nature ; with- out them it would be weak, flat, and insipid. I did not then, nor will I now, dispute the correctness of this assertion, but Correggio had the power, perhaps peculiar to himself, of F 2 68 PAINTING. giving effect and relief without such as- sistance. There is not in any part of this pic- ture, a single shade stronger or more de- fined than would actually be seen on figures in the open air ; yet is the effect perfect and most powerful. Antiope is reclining on a sloping bank close to the foot of a tree, her right arm thrown back over her head. She is sleeping. At her feet is Cupid, also asleep. Leaning forward round the tree, Jupiter, under the form of a Satyr, lifts up the drapery which covers the Nymph. In spite of the subject the pic- ture is perfectly free from indelicacy ; there is nothing which can offend the most fasti- dious modesty. In the brown hue of the Satyr, and the bluish tint of the Cupid, Correggio has, per- haps, sacrificed a little to contrast, but the colouring of the Antiope is the exact hue of nature, — a perfection which I never saw in any other picture. We extol, and not be- yond its merits, the colouring of Titian ; PAINTINO. 69 but in how many of his best pictures are the carnations rather picturesque and harmonious than the true resemblance of nature. In looking at his lovely roseate tints, or at those perhaps still more lovely which approach to brown ; althougii the figures are painted so as almost to produce delusion, it is less the exact representation of the flesh which we admire, than the power and force with which the object is portrayed. The figure of the Antiope is precisely the real colour of a most fair-complexioned woman. The general tone of the figure being thus subdued, has enabled the master to give to the cheeks a glow of heat, without in the least destroying the delicacy of the countenance. The drawing of the figure has been taxed with incorrectness ; but the face, although from the foreshortening I should suppose it of very diflScult execution, is of the most correct and perfect beauty. The forehead, the nose, and the closed eyes, are inimitable : the lips seem parted by the breath. 70 PAINTING. Antiope and Cupid are both in profound sleep ; but with wonderful felicity has Cor- reggio expressed the difference of their slum- bers. — Cupid, contented with his success, and certain of his prey, sleeps void of care ; — his very mind is sleeping. The Nymph is op- pressed with heat, there is a slight expression of anxiety in her countenance which shews her mind not to be at ease. The body sleeps, but fancy is awake. We are certain that she is dreaming, and that her dreams anticipate her love. Artists I believe consider the marriage of Saint Catherine as a picture in which more elaborate skill is shewn ; but in pleasing effect it is certainly inferior to the Antiope. The Martyrdom of Saint Placido is a sin- gular production. The figures, not to say the worst of them, are ungraceful, and the composition is vile, but the picture possesses in a high degree that breadth and harmon}^ which characterizes the master. The collection is rich in the works of PAINTING. 71 Titian ; they are all fine pictures, but not equal in merit to many which I have seen in England. Christ carried to the Tomh is an excellent painting, and there is more sub- limity in the composition, than this great Ve- netian was accustomed to display in his re- ligious pictures. The Pilgrims of Emmaus is also an excellent painting ; and,— had the figure of the Saviour equalled in merit that of the Apostle, who rises up from the table as by a sudden impulse of surprise, and leans forward with intent yet respectful cu- riosity, — it would have been indeed a noble painting. But scriptural' subjects were not Titian's fort ; the regions of heathen mytho- logy were those best suited to his genius, and in those he best succeeded. The gallery does not contain one of his pictures of this class. There are eleven portraits by him, all admirable. Of the famous Martyrdom of Saint Peter the Dominican you will expect a more par- ticular account. It is one of the most mag^ 72 PAINTING. nificent productions in the Louvre ; and I feel and acknowledge its great excellence : yet let me confess, that in my opinion the powers of Titian were not calculated to give such a subject its full effect. The prince of co- lourists should not have abandoned the realms of beauty for those of horror ; — for horror of such depth and sublimity as Michel Angelo could perhaps alone have successfully de- picted. In colouring and execution this picture leaves nothing to be desired ; but these per- fections do not fully strike the eye until the painting is minutely examined, the operation of transferring it from wood to canvass having destroyed the transparency of the colouring, and rendered it much darker than it was before. The position of the picture is such, whether by design or accident I know not, that towards the middle of the day the sun shines full upon it. It then glows with all its original splendor, and the effect is won- derful. PAINTING. 73 The figures have great merits, and great faults. The merits are in a considerable degree distinct from the subject, the faults radically affect it. By far the best figure, and that for which the picture is chiefly famed, is the wounded friar, the companion of Saint Peter. The emotions of fear and anxiety for himself, and sorrow for the destruction of his friend, are strongly and finely blended in his countenance : nay, his attitude declares the double workings of his mind. Self-preserva- tion hurries on his steps, but the uplifted arms speak the grief with which he forsakes the dying man. The attitude of Saint Peter shews clearly that he has fallen after a vain resistance to superior strength. His face is admirably painted. The features are con- tracted in death, but his eye is fixed with penetrating keenness on the assassin. Had somewhat less fear, and more resignation, been expressed in the countenance, it would have been perfect. Although both these figures must be con- 74 PAINTING. sidered as successful, they are still liable to censure. We feel that without lessening its propriety, much greater dignity might have been thrown into the attitude of the saint ; and, in that of his companion, the fine ex- pression I have noticed, has not been ob- tained without giving somewhat of a thea- trical air to the figure. But the most grievous charges against this composition remain yet untold. The dying saint, unable to pronounce — “ Credo , — traces the word with his finger on the sand. To comment on the utter de- pravity of taste in this would be superfluous. He should have “ died and made no sign** The assassin commits a double murder ; the picture as well as the inquisitor are his vic- tims. The drawing of this figure, the most prominent of any in the piece, is allowed to be extremely incorrect ; and nothing can be imagined worse than his attitude, or more detrimental to the picture. He is striding over the body of the fallen Dominican, awk- wardly, and with constraint The position is PAINTING. 75 that of strong effort, but of effort ill applied ; it is totally devoid of grandeur or picturesque grace, which, in painting, should be bestowed even upon murderers. This is so mean-look- ing a fellow, that the Saint must have blushed to have been murdered by him. The great masters of the terrible and sublime were not thus illiberal to their agents. There is one part of the picture which demands unbounded, unqualified praise ; — the back ground, or rather the landscape. In exe- cution, effect, and accordance with the busi- ness of the picture, it is not approached by any thing 1 have ever beheld. Simple and true to nature, it gives a reality to the scene, which the ideal horror of Salvator's deserts would have failed to produce. One of the finest pictures by Titian which the French possess, is the Danae^ at the Lux- embourg. It is in his best manner ; and in brilliancy of colouring far exceeds the Mar- quis of Stafford's lovely Venus d la Coquille ; but were I to choose between the two, I should 76 PAINTING. not for a moment hesitate in rejecting this. The Venus is, in beauty and* expression, the most astonishing picture I have ever seen. The first time I visited the Luxembourg, three English artists were copying the Danae ; the same number of French artists were con- ferring a like honour on the more exalted productions of the Baron David. With the pictures by Giorgione I have been delighted. The Lesson on Music ^ and the Concert in the open air^ for depth and brib liancy of colouring, and powerful expression, cannot be exceeded. The Caracci, and the other chief masters of the Bolognese school, have contributed many very noble pictures ; but, encircled by the works of Raphael, Correggio, Titian, and Rubens, they fail to produce their full effect. Domenichino shines beyond all the rest: I have never seen any pictures by him at all to be compared in excellence with five or six which are in the Louvre. His masterpiece, the Communion of Saint Jerome^ is one of the PAINTING, 77 number. Every part of this performance, with the exception of the principal figure, deserves the highest praise: but never was there an instance, in which the want of ele- vated conception in a single point, was so injurious to the entire composition. The figure of the Saint is finely painted, and his attitude is natural, but it is unsightly, disagree- able, and low, and spoils the picture con- sidered as a whole. In his Lectures on Paintings Mr. Fuseli places the Academy of Bologna far below the elder schools of Italy ; and, in so doing, he has unquestionably assigned to it the just degree of rank to which it is entitled. 78 PAINTING. LETTER VII. Painting. — Rubens, — Modern School of French Painting, — David, The pictures by Rubens which are in the Louvre would by themselves form a noble collection. No inconsiderable portion of the immense extent of the Gallery is filled with the altar-pieces by his pencil, taken from the principal churches of Antwerp, Ghent, and the other cities in the Netherlands. These pictures, which rank among his most cele- brated works, are of very large dimensions, and in the most perfect state of preserv- ation . The Elevation of the Cross, the famous Crucifixion, and the still more famous De- scent from the Cross, may be considered as PAINTING. 99 formhig one series ; and to these I shall con- fine my observations. The first of the three, the Elevation of the Cross^ is far inferior to the other two. The subject has been a favourite with many of the best artists ; yet, in my opinion, it is little adapted to the purposes of painting. The activity of the scene destroys its solemnity ; and horror and repugnance are rather ex- cited, than sorrow, love, and veneration. In the instance of the picture before us, it is impossible that the contemplation of it should produce in any mind, those sensations with which the representation of our Lord^s death should be always viewed. The com- position is good, and in parts, the design excellent, barring his usual defect of making the figures too short, which is more observ- able in this than in any of his other pictures. The colouring is far below his general bril- liancy of tone. It is yellow and disagreeable. The Crucifixion^ as to the general distri- bution of the figures, the freedom and truth 80 PAINTING. of . their attitudes, the execution, the co- louring, and all the practical parts of the art, cannot be too highly praised. It is, however, liable in some respects, as a com- position, to the same censure as the pre- ceding. It fails to produce the proper effect on the mind of the beholder. By the mode in which the subject is treated, the figures of the two thieves are rendered equally promi- nent with that of the Saviour ; our commi- seration for whose sufferings is destroyed by disgust at the lively representation of their’s. We turn away from the picture with sensa- tions bordering on those with which we should shun the real view of culprits suffering death. This, I am well aware, is a proof of the powerful effect of the piece ; but it is not the effect which should be produced by any picture in which our Lord is introduced. The Descent from the Cross is not only the masterpiece of Rubens, but is considered as one of the most celebrated paintings in the world. — In grandeur, harmony, and force of PAINTING. 81 colouring-, in masterly and judicious manage- ment of the chiaroscuro, in design, and in composition, it is beyond all comparison the finest of his religious pictures. The figure of the Saviour is, I should imagine, the finest representation of death that exists. Art cannot approach nature more closely, than in the cold and drawn-down features, the heavy hanging of the head, and the lifeless weight of the body. The counte- nance of the Virgin is beautiful and pathetic : her altitude full of dignity. She stretches forth her hand, as if to guard from vio- lence the descending body of her son ; yet is this action so felicitously expressed as not to disturb the deep tranquillity of her grief. Great as are the merits of the picture, they are not unaccompanied *by defects. Rubens did not possess that solemn dignity of mind which such a composition demanded, to make it perfect. The attitude of Saint John is natural, and G 82 PAINTING. suits the office in which he is employed ; but it is undignified and awkward, or at least ungraceful ; and his countenance is too little expressive of grief and solicitude. He appears scarcely attentive to what is passing. The man on the arm of the cross, poising his body by the extension of his leg, is an admirable figure, but is more suited to ordinary occupations than to the event represented ; there is too much in it of activity and actual labour. The assistant on the opposite side, his hands being employed, holds between his teeth the white sheet which is spread under the body of Christ. This idea may be natural, but it is unpardonably low. Amongst the historic faces portraits are intro- duced, greatly injuring the effect of the pic- ture. That which the artist has bestowed on Saint Joseph of Arimathea, borders on the comic, from the smooth fatness of the features. The two female figures in the front of the pic- ture are portraits not only in countenance, but in dress : and nothing can be more discoixl- PAINTING. 83 ant than the contrast between their modern and inelegant attire, and the simple drapery of the Virgin. I'hat figure of the two which is in- tended for the Magdalene, is looking out of the picture. Almost always this is injurious to effect ; but here it is doubly improper, as her hands are employed in assisting her companion. The expression of her countenance, though in tears, is not suited to the occasion. It is an ordinary, worldly sorrow. All this detracts from the solemnity of the picture. We view it with admiration as a painting, but the subject does not seize upon the mind. We approach it, and we depart from it, without any alteration in our feelings. The unrivalled brilliancy of the execution has, I think, dazzled the world ; and prevented the merits of the composition from being justly weighed. — It may appear paradoxical to as- sert, that Rubens never painted a finer pic- ture than this, and yet that he was not quali- fied to paint it. Such, however, must be the case, if his scriptural pieces are deficient in G 2 84 PAINTING. the most important attribute, — dignified grand- eur of conception.^ The astonishing mind and genius of Rubens ranged with facility over the whole extent of the art, but are seen in perfection only in works of fancy, splendor, activity, and bustle. — His huntings, his battles, his bacchanalian scenes, his allegories, his fiery soldiers, his animated statesmen, — these are subjects in which he merits our unqualified admiration, and in which he stands almost without a rival. * Sir Joshua Reynolds, mentioning the Descent from the Cross, says, that it had suffered greatly from cleaning and repainting ; and that in parts it was chipping off, and ready to fall from the canvass.* I examined the picture minutely, after it was taken down from its sta- tion in the Louvre, both whilst it stood leaning against the wall, and, subsequently, when it was lying on the floor. The picture appeared to me extremely perfect, nor did I see any marks of its having been retouched. It is painted not on canvass, but on wood. * Sir Joshua Reynolds’s Works, Vol. II. page 2??, PAINTING. 85 Such being my opinion, you will not be surprised, that I prefer the series of paintings at the Luxembourg, to his works in the Louvre. I have visited the former several times, and always with increaseil admiration. The critics, who coldly blame the luxu- riance of ornament, and the mixture of al- legor}^ and real life, which distinguish these pictures, are blind to the real intention of the master. He knew how much he gained by thus boldly and systematically sacrificing propriety to splendor. Had he done other- wise, the pictures, instead of their present interest and animation, would have been con- verted into a tame recital of dull historical facts. The fame of Rubens might safely rest on this single work ; which displays not only the powers of his imagination, and his fa- cility in composition, but in their fullest ex- tent ; his brilliancy and harmony of colour- ing, his strong expression of character, and his grand taste in landscape. Rubens can 86 PAINTING. never be seen more completely like him- self, or more unlike every other painter. The pictures are in the highest state of preservation, and in the gallery for \^hi. h they were originally painted. Like all the rooms of this description in France, it is unsightly from its extreme narrowness, not being more than twenty feet in width. The paintings have been placed close toge- ther, to make room for four other pictures, two of which are by Rubens ; — the Triumph of the Catholic Religion^ and Elias in the desert receiving food from the hands of an angel. The latter is a very fine perform- ance : the figure of Elias is powerful and dignified. These two pictures are at the entrance of the gallery, one on each side, and are di- vided from the series of the Marie de Medicis pictures, by two very large productions from the pencil of the “ great"" Baron David. — One represents Brutus just having entered his dwelling, after the condemnation of his sons ; PAINTING. 87 — ^the other, the Horatii, swearing to their father that they will return victorious, or perish on the field. They are both, as you may imagine from their subjects, pictures of the very highest pretensions. In composition, colouring, and expression ^ I think it is hardly possible for any thing to be more contemptible. They are carica- tures of all the faults of Poussin ; but un- redeemed by the smallest portion of the energy, pathos, and sublimity, of that im- pressive artist. Amongst Rubenses rich free- dom, the stiff unmeaning stone-work of David looks like the cut yew-trees of a Brentford villa, transplanted into a region of luxuriant oaks. When we parted in London, you requested me to give you some account of the present state of the art in France. I am little qua- lified to do so ; as it is difficult, whilst sur- rounded by a profusion of noble works, to examine with attention what are so decidedly inferior. Added to this, many of the paint- 88 PAINTING. ings on which the French most pride them- selves are at present not visible. The sub- jects they represent being the victories of Buonaparte, the government has deemed it expedient to cover them with green cloth. If their merits correspond with their size, they must be the finest pictures in the world. In addition to the works by David which I have just mentioned, I have seen two or three of his portraits. They are splendid paintings ; and he is highly skilled in all the mechanical part of his profession. His faces have that strong appearance of indi- vidual expression, which inclines you, with- out knowing the original, to pronounce them to be likenesses. But his portraits are no more to be compared to those by Lawrence, than the well-looking ladies and gentlemen of Sir Peter Lely to the breathing and- in- telligent forms of Vandyck. Indeed I could mention several other English artists greatly his superiors in portrait; and as for history. PAINTING. 89 1 may save myself the trouble of comparison, by asserting*, that to me they appear abso- lutely devoid of any merit, except correctness of design. In the lofty style of historic painting, of which he and his school arrogate to them- selves the exclusive possession, the dramatic management of the subject is the essential attribute. In none of their compositions, with which the prints have made us fami- liar, can a single instance be shewn, in which the subject is treated with grace and dignity ; or in which nature is followed judiciously, and without affectation. — Not a single instance can be adduced, in which a fine idea is simply and felicitously expressed. The largest collection of modern French paintings which I have yet seen, are the portraits of the Marshals, in the hall of the Tuileries. I particularly examined these pic- tures ; thinking from the consequence of the persons painted, — at least at the time when they were painted, — and from the de- 90 PAINTING. stination of the pictures, that they would be the careful productions of the best artists. None of them can be considered as good pic- tures : — none of them deserve a higher cha- racter than I have given of those by David. You have sometimes taxed me with the com- mon fault of underrating the works by English artists of the present day. However unjust I may be towards them, I am at least convinced, that the merit of our school greatly exceeds that of France. You will laugh at the gravity with which I, an Englishman, claim the superiority for' Eng- land : but the self-complacency of the French will keep me in countenance. Yesterday we visited the Palais du Corps Legislatif. In one of the saloons, — I believe that in which the nobles wait to receive the King, in order to conduct him into the Chamber of Representa- tives,— were several gallic daubings of vast di- mensions, — gods, goddesses, and so forth. One of these appeared to me somewhat English in the colouring, and though inferior not totally PAINTING. 91 unlike some of those unhappy productions which annually adorn the subordinate rooms of the Royal Exhibition. Our guide was a remarkably civil and intelligent personage ; and I, — wishing to make a complimentary speech, and really half-inclined to fear that some of my countrymen were guilty, — ex- claimed in a questioning tone — Ah ! an Eng- lish picture ? — The guide answered not a word, but turned round and looked at me, with such a smile of contemptuous surprise and pity, as no features but those of a Frenchman could express, and which I shall not attempt to describe. 92 PAINTING. LETTER VIIL Painting. — Removal of the Pictures fr'om the Louvre, — Vandyck , — Lair esse, — The Dutch School. — The French School. — Poussin. The glories of the Louvre are drawing to their close.— During the last two days^ a great number of the pictures have been re- moved ; and that part of the gallery, which was filled with the productions of the Fle- mish masters, is become little else than a wilderness of empty frames. We expect that the richer treasures of Italy will shortly dis- appear ; as it is understood that Canova, who has been some time in Paris, will be- * The removal of the Flemish pictures from the Louvre took place on the 18th, 19th, and 20th of September, 1815. PAINTING. 93 gin his operations, as soon as the agents of the King of the Netherlands have completed their’s. Till now the Museum might have been considered as remaining undisturbed ; the statues and pictures that belonged to Prussia, being the only things which had been moved. These Prince Blucher took away without ceremony, the first leisure day after his arrival at Paris. They were few in number, and comparatively of little in- terest ; nor did their removal injure even the uniformity of the collection. But the gal- lery has now lost its splendor, its regularity, and its tranquil appearance. Instead of the servants of the household, numerous files of Prussian and Austrian soldiers are posted from one extremity to the other. The day before yesterday we found the Louvre closed; and a written order from the King was af- fixed to the door, stating that the public were not to be admitted. — Yesterday the Mu- seum was open. The King's domestics, and the usual sentries of the National guard, had 94 PAINTING. disappeared : and in their places were sta- tioned Prussian soldiers. We have since learnt, that in the early part of the morn- ing* the directions of the Court were en- forced ; but that subsequently a Prussian of- ficer with a few men came to the door, and on being refused admittance by the Na- tional guards, who pointed to the King’s written injunction, he very deliberately took the Frenchmen hy the shoulders, and sent them about their business. fie then tore down the plac ard ; saying that be cared no more for the orders of Louis, than he did for his Guard . — 1 he fragments of the paper which remained hanging to the door, at- tested the truth of this story. Such conduct on the part of allies and sworn friends is not exactly courteous. — There is no doubt that it was merely in- tended to close the gallery during the re- moval of the Flemish pictures; the court being naturally anxious, that the public should not witness so humiliating a transaction. PAINTING. 95 The French, always vain and deraisonnes^ confidently asserted that the King had shut up the gallery, to prevent the Allies from stealing its contents: and on the day when crowds of English were in vain besieging the entrance of the Museum ; the French rabble formed a circle round them, grinning and delighted at the evident misery of the foreign connoisseurs, Jlentes in limine primo. But the scene was soon changed. — This morning, the same rabble has been assembled to witness with astonishment and rage, the removal of the immense number of pictures which have been taken down during the last two days. — It has long been certain that the col- lection would be broken up, but the Pa- risians, particularly the lower classes, could never bring themselves to believe that sucK an event was possible.* * The loss of the stolen treasures of the Louvre, was a circumstance which the French had never been taught to consider as within the verge of possibility. In the m PAINTING. By the permission of the Dutch officer, who had the command of the gallery, we remained in it yesterday until a late hour ; anxious to see the removal of Rubens’s fine pictures. The persons employed were French work- men of the lowest class. We conjectured that they were well paid, as they all seemed in high spirits; and many of them, — a thing extremely rare in France, — were evidently intoxicated. They were left very much to their own guidance ; the only persons to superintend them being two or three Dutch commissioners, who did little else than direct catalogues of the Museum, which were published by au- thority, the description of the Transfiguration terminates by informing us; — “ C^est d la Victoire que la France doit ce chef-d'oeuvre, qui lui elait destine.’^ And after men- tioning that the Belvidere Apollo had remained in the Vatican for three centuries, the admiration of the world, the writer adds ; — Lorsqu'un Mr os, guide par la Vic- toire, est venu I'en tirer pour la conduire et la fixer a Jamais sur les rives de la Seine.”— The Seine ! PAINTING. 9 ^ the order in which the pictures should be taken. One of these Dutchmen, a strange-looking animal, was affected with so lively a gaiety as almost to dance round the pictures as they lay on the door. He assured us, that it was the happiest day of his existence : that he lived at Antwerp, and that now he could go to church in comfort: but that he did not care how soon he died when the pic- tures were once safe at home ; as their re- turn was the only wish of his heart. — The Frenchmen, on the other side, were vehe- ment in their declarations, that more per- sons were requisite to the safe removal of the paintings. — We thought, that amongst the strange chances which these pictures have experienced, not the least singular, was the danger they were then exposed to from French drunkenness and Dutch vivacity. — 1 believe however that none of them sustained any in- jury. Amidst this scene we took our leave of H m PAINTING. the Flemish division of the gallery. It& chief riches were the pictures by Rubens. The works of Vandyck were many of them extremely fine ; but, with one exception, his portraits the least so. The picture to which I allude was an Ex-Voto, in which history and portrait were unequivocally blended. This open disregard of rule is much less repug- nant to good taste, than the introduction of even a single portrait in a regular historical painting. On the right of the picture, Vandyck has represented the Virgin in all the dignity of flowing drapery, holding on her knee the infant Christ. They are excellent figures. On the left are the giver of the picture and his wife, of course in their proper costume, kneeling and imploring the divine protec- tion. — These two portraits are as admirable as any which the artist ever painted. Vandyck, in his historical pieces, although he did not reach the Italian purity of taste, certainly approached nearer to it than Rubens. painting. 99 But in powers of conception, in invention, and in the strength of natural genius, he is not to be compared to his master. As a portrait painter, he was the finest artist that ever lived ; — for if his portraits yield to those of Titian in the exact imitation of nature, they are superior in the powerful expression of character ; certainly the most important attribute of the two. In examining the paintings by Lairesse, I was surprised and vexed to find, that Sir Joshua Reynolds’s beautiful idea, in his picture of Gar- rick between Tragedy and Comedy, was not entirely his own. I was the more vexed at this, as I had always ranked it amongst his best compositions, possessing great elegance of thought, and out of the common track. The picture by Lairesse represents Her- cules placed between Virtue and Vice, The subjects are so allied, that a slight similarity might have been casual ; but in these two productions, the attitudes of all the three H 2 100 PAINTING. figures are exactly similar ; and there is the" same beautiful expression of internal decision in the countenance of Hercules, as in that of the comedy-loving tragedian. The figures in this piece, as in Sir Joshua^s, are some- what more than half lengths. I regret that our countryman was a borrower ; but I am certain that it was contrary to his ingenuous nature to borrow, and be unwilling to ac- knowledge the obligation. The pictures by the masters of the Dutch school stand little chance of obtaining that degree of attention which they really deserve. — They are overwhelmed by the profusion of nobler things. RembVandt, if indeed he can properly be classed with this school, must always constrain our attention and admira- tion^ whatever artists may surround him ; but his works in the Louvre, although numerous, are not to be compared with many which are in England. The portion of the gallery, allotted to the PAINTING. 101 French painters, contains much finer pictures than 1 expected to have seen. Of course the French have not omitted to place here, the two fine artists of the Italian School, — Pous- sin and Claude Lorraine ; the former only of whom was born in France ; and both alike purely Italians in all that relates to their art. But my commendation is without reference to their works : the paintings really French, are those of which 1 speak. Some of the performances of Le Sueur, Le Brun, Coypel, and Vernet, are excellent. — Le Brun’s small pictures are much more pleasing than his battles ; and Vernet’s landscapes, although not composed with so much genius as Wilson^s, are better paintings : their only fault is a want of softness. — None of the productions by living French artists are permitted to have a place in the gallery. Amongst the landscapes by Claude Lor- raine, there is not one which can be con- sidered as a first-rate picture ; and not more 102 PAINTING. than two which deserve even to be called good. But of the works of Nicolo Pouss n there is a noble assemblage. Four or five of them are equal to any of his which I have ever seen. — In sublimity they are inferior to his Sacraments ; but are, perhaps, more admir- able in the execution. Colouring was unquestionably Poussin’s least excellence, yet in this collection there is one of his pictures, — the Deluge ^ — in which the effect produced by the mere colouring is most singular and powerful. It conveys to the mind such an image of the destro}^- ing element, as no exposition of its actual effects could have produced. The air is burdened and heavy with water : the earth, where it is not as yet overwhelmed, seems torn to pieces by its violence ; the very light of heaven is absorbed and lost. Never w as there a performance in which the execution was more in accordance with the subject. With this picture I shall take my leave of the gallery. My letters have been unreason- PAINTING, 10§ ably voluminous, yet have I passed unnoticed a vast number of productions which deserve high commendation. I'he future letters which I shall hav^ the pleasure of addressing to you will be devoted, if the operations of Canova permit me, to the Halls of the Antique. 104 SCULPTURE, LETTER IX. Sculpture. — Comparison of Sculpture and Painting. — Ayitiquc Sculpture in England , — ^ The BeMdere Apollo, Few questions relating to the fine arts have been more frequently, or more warmly de- bated, than the respective claims to pre-emi- nence of sculpture and painting. Every painter demands the first place for his own peculiar art ; he urges the advantages which are de- rived from colours ; the animation and va- riety which result from them ; and the power they afford of exactly representing nature. But the main argument, and that on which he deems the victory secure, is the extent of combination, almost unlimited in painting. This, the skilful employment of which he SCULPTURE. 105 justly ranks as the highest perfection of his art, he considers as belonging almost exclu- sively to the pencil; as few works of sculp- ture consist of more than a single tigure ; and, where it is otherwise, the powers of composition are of necessity confined within limits too narrow to be brought into com- petition. The less numerous, but no less zealous band of sculptors, challenge, in a still bolder tone, their right to precedence. Grandeur, dignity, and sublimity, are the character- istic excellences on which they rely : the superiority of their art in these they con- sider as undeniable. They admit the variety, and the approach to the appearance of nature, which painting derives from colour; but urge, that sculpture possesses variety of which paint- ing is incapable. A picture presents but one image ; a statue may be contemplated from many different points of view’, and from each assumes a different appearance ; an almost endless variety of beautiful contours are of- 106 SCULPTURIE. fered to the spectator. A painter imitates nature in form and colour ; but his imitation is merely delusive : a sculptor only imitates form ; but his imitation is not delusive, it is actual. In other words, a picture is but the appearance of form ; a statue is the reality of form. They admit, that painting is more generally attractive than sculpture; but they account for this, in such a manner as to exalt their art. Painting, they say, is calculated to excite pleasure, sculpture admiration; the world would rather be pleased than astonished ; hence the popularity of painting ; they are careful however to add, that what is admirable, is nobler than what is pleasing. The very nature of their material, they com ceive, gives dignity and importance to their art. Colours fade, and the forms which they embellished are lost ; but marble may almost be considered imperishable. Zeuxis, Apelles, and Timanthes, are names ; — the sculptors of Greece still live and are admired in their works. SCULPTURE. 107 I will not attempt a formal decision of the question ; but certain it is, that th6 Louvre has wrought a change in my opinions. I left England preferring painting to sculpture: I shall return with very different ideas. This, I think, must be the case with many of our countrymen : we possess a large proportion of the finest works of the pencil, but are com- paratively poor in sculpture. In the collections at the British Museum, at the Earl of Pembroke’s, and at Mr. Hope’s, are many beautiful specimens of ancient art ; but ^^hat are they, when compared to those which surround us here } The Elgin marbles are, probably, some of the finest works which the chisel ever produced ; but, alas ! they are only the wrecks of sublimity and grace. Thoogh of the highest interest to the man of taste, and invaluable to the student and artist, it would be affectation to deem them, because they are the work of Phidias, equal iii value, as they now exist, to the undiminished splen- 108 SCULPTURE. dor of the Apollo. Do not think me inclined to underrate the worth of these marbles ; or that I am amongst those, who blame the measures which were taken to rescue them from destruction. — I consider the Elgin Collec- tion as an acquisition of the highest value and importance ; and that England will rejoice in its possession, long after every vestige which Athens now retains of the art shall have been destroyed by its barbarous Inhabitants. I foresee that you will be indignant at my thus ceasing to give the preference to your favourite art ; but it is certain that I am a convert to sculpture. The effect which it produces on the mind is deeper, and more intense, and more permanent, than that caused by pictures. Passages in poetry have given me much higher delight than I ever received from painting ; poetry never affected me so strongly as the contemplation of the Apollo. I wish, and yet I am almost afraid, to speak of this statue ; I dread your considering my SCULPTURE. 109 praise as bombastic, although I am convinced that my expressions will not convey all the admiration which I feel. The Apollo is, in my opinion, not only the finest statue in the Louvre, but totally of a different order from all the others : it must be classed by itself— alone. The Torso and the Laocoon certainly, and perhaps several others, exceed this figure in the execution : in grace, in beauty, and even in dignity, it is not unrivalled. But that which separates it from every other work of art, that which exalts it so high above every thing which surrounds it as to defy comparison, is the divinity which pervades the whole ; the remoteness from the appearance of mere humanity. .1 know that this expres^ sion of divinity could not exist unaccompanied by grace, dignity, and beauty ; yet it appears not to be caused by them : it is a separate and distinct attribute of the figure ; intrinsic, independent, and superior to every other. Equal grace, dignity, and beauty, might exist 110 SCULPTURE. conjointly, and yet this divinity, this exalta- tion above what is human, not be the result. In several other statues tnese perfections are blended in very high degrees: 1 will instance the Venus de Medicis, and the Belvidere Mer- cury. The V^enus is replete with dignity, and and in beauty and grace far superior to the Apollo ; 3et is there nothing which constrains us to deem it the representation of a goddess ; nothing which elevates it above human nature. The Mercury, to great dignity and grace, joins beauty of form and countenance, at least equal to the Apollo ; yet is it still a question whe- ther it represents a god, or a mortal ; Mer- cury, or Antinous. The present deity of the Apollo defies all such doubt. — Tliis expression of divinity is so powerful, that I cannot con- ceive it possible for an illiterate person, or even a child, seeing the statue, to ask — What A/an, the figure is meant to represent. The moment which the sculptor has chosen, is the happiest which it is possible to imagine : SCULPTURE. Ill — the termination of action, and the com- mencement of rest ; combining energy and tranquillity. 1 recollect no other instance of this happy union. By far the greater number of antique statues are represented in repose ; and unquestionably this is the state best fitted for the purposes of sculpture. In the repre- sentation of action, even when most successful, the additional energy scarcely compensates for the want of that pleasing effect which only results from tranquillity. The combination of the two must be considered as one of the pre- eminent and peculiar merits of the Apollo.* * The point of time which is represented, is that just subsequent to the dismissal of the arrow ; the course of which the. god follows with his eye. The left arm still re- tains its position ; the fall of the other is not completed, and appears as if suspended by attention. The same im- pulse has advanced the right leg, obliquely, one step from tlie position in which the act of drawing the bow would have required it to have been placed. Some critics have objected to this attitude; conceiving, that in disobedience 112 SCULPTURI^. The attitude is the most majestic and im- posing, and yet the most gracious imaginable : and the contours whicli it produces exceed, in abstract elegance and beauty, any lines I have ever beheld in painting or in sculpture. It has been remarked by Sir Joshua Rey- nolds,* * whose opinions in all that relates to the fine arts are entitled to the highest deference, that sculpture yields to painting in the power of giving expression to the countenance. If we admit this to be true generally, at least the statue before us is an undeniable exception. It is impossible to point out any face in paint- ing, in which the energies of the mind are so strongly, and so completely expressed, as in the features of the Apollo. All the blended to the received rule, the opposite arm and leg are not an- tagonized : others have quarrelled with it, as not being the proper attitude of an archer. Had they rightly understood the position, they would have perceived that the censure was unfounded. * Sir Joshua Reynolds’s Works, Vol. II. page 21 — 25 . SCULPTURE. 113 feelings of the god are written in characters impossible to be mistaken ; — lofty indignation and displeasure, the tranquillity of assured suc- cess, the smile of conquest, the contempt of the conquered. The figure and countenance indicate no anxiety for victory, no exertion to obtain it ; the god is displeased, and pun- ishes ; too disdainful for anger, too powerful for contention : he is not one of Homer’s gods, overmatched by an earthly adversary, wounded, fearful, and flying. This masterpiece of art has been most nobly, most correctly described, by a poet of the pre- sent day. In settled majesty of fierce disdain, " Proud of his might, yet scornful of the slain, The hea^’nly archer stands — no human birth, No perishable denizen of earth ; Youth blooms immortal in his beardless face,’^ All, all divine— no struggling muscle glows. Through heaving vein no mantling life-blood flows, But animate with deity alone. In matchless glory lives the breathing stone. 1 114 SCULPTURE. Bright kindling with a conqueror’s stern delight, His keen eye tracks the arrow’s fateful flight ; Burns his indignant cheek with vengeful fire, And his life quivers with insulting ire : Firm fix’d his tread, yet light, as when on high He walks th’ impalpable and pathless sky.’’ * * ^ ^^ * * Contagious awe through breathless myriads ran. And nations bow’d before the work of man For mild he seem’d, as in Elysian bowers. Wasting in careless ease the joyous hours; Haughty, as bards have sung, with princely sway Curbing the fierce flame-breathing steeds of day; Beauteous as vision seen in dreamy sleep By holy maid on Delphi’s haunted steep. Mid the dim twilight of the laurel grove, “ Too fair to worship, too divine to love.” * This most sublime statue has descended to * The Belvidere Apollo. — A prize poem by the Rev. Henry Hart Milman, of Brazeno&e College. — Recited in the year 1812 . SCULPTURE. 115 us in a state of admirable preservation : ^ the marble is of a beautiful and dazzling white- ness ; and the figure, though not really so, is in appearance the least injured of any in the collection. It is very generally reported, both by the French and English, that it is destined by the Pope as a present to the Prince Regent ; but I do not flatter myself with any hopes that this is true. So trans- cendent do I consider the merit of the Apollo, that were I to decide, for my country, be- tween the possession of this single figure, and all the other statues in the Louvre, I hardly doubt my giving the preference to the former. I have been frequently asked by French * This statue was discovered at Nettuno, formerly An- tium, towards the close of the fifteenth century. The name of the artist is entirely unknown. Antium was the birth-place of the Emperor Nero ; and in the palace, which was his summer residence, were assembled a great number of the finest works of sculpture, selected in Greece by his freed-man Acratus. I 2 116 SCULPTURE. people in the Louvre ; — ‘‘ When will the Duke of Wellington begin to take away pictures and statues — That France was never able to take any thing from England, and that con- sequently our General can have nothing to remove ; — is so obvious an answer for an Eng- lishman to make, that it requires the exer- tion of all his good-breeding to resist the temptation . SCULPTURE. 117 LETTER X. Sculpture. — The Group of the Laocoon.--^ The Venus de Medecis. In my remarks on the productions of the pencil I have ventured, with more rashness I fear than judgment, to impute faults to works which have long been esteemed by the world as entitled to unqualified praise : but I am now come to “ the very head and front of my of- fending and must risk your indignation by the still more rash act of censuring one of the most admired productions of antiquity ; — one, which the critics of all ages have ranked high amongst the masterpieces of sculpture ; — the group of the Laocoon. High celebrity is never permanently be- stowed where great excellence does not exist. 118 SCULPTURE. The production in question deserves its high celebrity, for it lias transcendent beauties. But I think, that dazzled by these beauties, its ad- mirers have praised it for merits which it does not possess, and have overlooked imperfections the existence of which cannot be denied. The Louvre contains no production of a more masterly execution, than that of the prin- cipal figure in this group. The attitude is bold, correct, and of great effect, the anatomy un- rivalled in truth, and the proportions and con- tours are of the most perfect elegance. Higher still are the merits of the figure when consi- dered with reference to the event. The gran- deur and elei>'ance of the attitude are obtained without the slightest sacrifice to propriety ; it is that attitude which would be most natural to a man similarly exerting himself, and w hose strength was rapidly decreasing. One effort pervades the w hole frame : the strong action of the arms extends to the other limbs, and is vi- sible in every muscle ; the inflated neck, the drawn-up sinews of the leg and foot, all are SCULPTURE. 119 ill accordance. The position of the head is grand, and si ngulariy affecting : pain, horror, and despair, are marked in the countenance ; and Avith eyes raised to heaven, the victim appears at once to supplicate and accuse the gods. Such if I estimate them rightly are the me- rits of this transcendent tigure ; or rather such would be its merits did it exist separately. But it appears to me, that the other two figures which compose the group, possess little merit in themselves, and are greatly injurious to the principal tigure. They destroy its propriety, its interest ; and lessen in a greater or less degree almost every merit which it possesses. To them I object a total and most offensive discordance between their size, as compared with that of Laocoon, and their age, as shewn by their countenances, and by tlie formation of their limbs. The youngest of the two youths, judged by this standard of size, is quite a child ; whilst his countenance and figure indi- cate a nearer approach by several years to pu- 120 SCULPTURE. berty. Against the figure of the elder Son the same objection exists still more strongly. His features, and the formation of his limbs, speak him of that age when youths are arrived at their full height ; and differ only from men in the greater lightness of their proportions ; yet his comparative size is that of a mere boy* — This discordance is the first thing which strikes the eye ; and the more the group is con- templated the more strongly it is perceived. The attitudes and countenances of both the sons are graceful, and indicate pain and em- barrassment ; but of a far lighter nature than belongs to the event. The expression of misery might be censured as deficient in strength, were the youths represented as about to be separated from their father, and led bound into captivity. How ill calculated then must the ' figures be to express the horror, the agonizing pangs, the convulsive efforts, of children gasp- ing in the tightened folds of fierce and deadly serpents. The effort of the youngest son to remove from his side the fangs of the snake is SCULPTURE. 121 finely conceived, and finely executed : but in his attitude, and in that of the other youth, there is a freedom of action totally incon- sistent with the supposed restraint. The approach of death is visible only in Laocoon ; yet we cannot but imagine that the weakness of youth would render the sons more rapidly victims to the poison than the father, who is represented in the full strength of man- hood. Such, in my opinion, are the improprieties in the figures of the two youths, glaring when separately considered, more glaring when con- trasted with the perfections in that of Laocoon, — In him, the attitude and expression of coun- tenance are suited to the event, and conse- quently discordant with those of his children, rendering them tame and unnatural ; and at the same time a contrary effect is in some de- gree produced, and their comparative tran- quillity gives to the father an air of over- wrought vehemence and suffering. The com- position, considered as a whole, is as discord- 122 SCULPTURE. ant as the effect would be, if the tragic event were brought upon the stage, and Laocoon were to speak with the vchenience and truth of Shakespeare, and his children with the cold unnatural elegance of llacine. But there is still a more important fault in the composition. — The father in his attitude, his exertions, his look, has nothing which unites him to his children. They implore his aid, but his efforts are for himself alone. ^ Fine and noble were he represented singl}', thus connected his energy becomes unnatural, selfish, and displeasing. Children on the verge of destruction are in the presence of their fa- ther, yet is no paternal feeling expressed. All the affections of the parent, which we are taught to believe powerful even in death, ap- pear lost and absorbed in the sense of his own calamity, in his efforts to prevent it. * Laocoon is represented endeavouring with his right arm to extricate himself from the folds of one of the ser- pents ; and with the left, to remove from his side the fangs of the other. SCULPTURE. 123 This is the great the fimdamental fault in the composition ; this it is which deprives it of its effect on the mind ; deprives it of all the pathos with which the representation of such an event might have abounded. The figure of Laocoon now affects us merely as the image of a man severely suffering, — not as the repre- sentation of a father, whose woes are rendered tenfold by his inability to protect his children. It has been ascertained that the group is formed out of five distinct blocks of marble. I have not been able to trace the divisions ; but I should rejoice were it to be discovered that the principal figure might have been ex- ecuted separately from the other two. I would then assert that they were spurious additions made by some later and inferior artist. But I fear that the fact is otherwise ; certainly it is otherwise, if as it is generally believed, this is the group mentioned by Pliny.* * Deinde multonim obscurior fama est, quoruiidam cia- ritati in operibus eximiis obstante numero artificum, quoniam 124 SCULPTURE, Virgil, it has frequently been said, was in- debted to this work of the chisel for his noble description of Laocoon’s death. This surely nec unus oecupat gloriam, nec plures pariter nuncupari pos- sunt ; sicut in Laocoonte, qui est in Titi Imperatoris domo, opus omnibus et picturae et statuariae artis praeferendum. Ex uno lapide euni et liberos draconumque mirabiles nexus de consilii sententia fecere summi artifices Agesander et Poly- dorus et Athenodorus Rbodii. Plin, Nat, Hist, lib. xxxvi. cap. 5. The supposition that the existing group of the Laocoon is not the one so highly extolled by Pliny, is founded on the circumstance of its not having been discovered exactly in the place which that writer mentions : and it is asserted, that in the exact place which he does mention, fragments of serpents were found, very finely executed^ and clearly belonging to a similar group. By the manner in which Pliny speaks of Agesander, Poly- dorus, and Athenodorus, in other passages of his history, it is supposed that they flourished during the age of Pericles or shortly afterwards ; but the back part of the group not being finished in the same manner as the front is considered as evi- dence that it was not executed during the period when the art was in its perfection. The Athenian statues brought to England by Lord Elgin, from their position on the pedr- SCULPTURE. 125 was not the case : the story is very differently told by the poet. In the ^neid, the serpents first destroy the children, their father being merits of the Parthenon, could only be viewed at a dis- tance, and in front ; yet they are as minutely and as highly wrought at the back as in any other part. Pliny’s describing the three figures as formed ex uno lapide, cannot be deemed conclusive evidence against the authenticity of the production ; as even at present it is difficult to trace the join- ing of the different pieces of marble. The French connoisseurs believe that the existing group is the one mentioned by him ; but from the style of the sculpture they consider it to have been executed during the first century of the Christian era, consequently nearly five hundred years after the time of Phidias. Lessing is of the same opinion.— Few questions in antiquity are involved in greater doubt than the origin of this noble production. Of its recovery to the world the particulars are correctly known. It was found in the year 1508 by Felice de.Fredis, in a recess in the ruins of the baths of Titus, at a little distance from the spot on which the palace of the Emperor is supposed to have stood. Julius the Second rewarded with his usual princely munificence the fortunate discoverer and his sons. 126 SCULPTURE. absent ; he, hastening to their assistance, is af- terwards overpowered and slain. Illi agmine certo Laocoonta petunt : et primum parva duoruni Corpora iiatorum serpens amplexus uterque Implicat, et miseros morsu depascitur artus. Posty ipsum auxilio subeuntem ac tela ferentem Corripiunt, spirisque ligant ingentibus : et jam Bis medium amplexi, bis collo squamea circum Terga dati, superant capite et cervicibus altis. ^ Ille simul manibus tendit divellere nodos, Perfusus sanie vittas atroque veneno ; Clamores simul horrendos ad sidera tollit.’^ The whole passage is finely imagined. — The approach of the serpents, their movement over the sea, their terrifying aspect, are described with wonderful power. The words “ Diffu- gimus visu exsangues,"" are artfully introduced to raise our conception of Laocoon's paternal tenderness and courage : but the termination of the story 1 have always considered as one of the happiest expedients in the whole range of poetry. SCULPTURE. 127 At gemini lapsu delubra ad summa dracones Effiigiiint, saevaeqiie petunt Tritonidis arcem : Sub pedihusqiie decs, clypeique sub orbe teguntur” Opposite to the entrance of the Hall of the Apollo, and close, and as it Avere in contrast, to the group of the Laocoon, stands the Venus de Medicis. A spectator therefore may com- mand at one glance the three most celebrated Avorks of imitative art. Of tAAO of these I have spoken at considerable length ; and if I am about to pass more rapidly over the third, it is not because it is less deserving of attention, but from my feeling the impossibility of justly describing it. To say that the merits of a thing are beyond the powers of description, is an accustomed form of high-flown eulogy ; the phrase may with the most perfect truth be applied to the statue of the Venus de Medicis. A good copy of the Apollo, or even a cor- rect engraving, although it might not lead us to imagine the transcendent degree in which the merits of the statue exist, would clearly 128 SCULPTURE. enable us to understand in what those merits consisted : I do not think it possible for any copy of the Venus to convey the slightest idea of the effect which the original produces. The statue is sadly mutilated ; the fragments are not well put together ; and in one or two places in which parts have been chipped off, they have been restored with marble much whiter than the rest of the figure. All these imperfections at first sight offend the observer, and prevent the merit of the statue from being perceived : but when it is contemplated with attention and for some time, these defects fade from the eye ; — they are lost in the magic beauty of the form. There is no phrase which can adequately describe this charm, it is en- tirely sui generis. Harmony of proportion, grace, elegance, aerial lightness, buoyancy, soft- ness, delicacy, are all applicable to the figure, but none of them give any idea of its powers of fascination. Bellhzza leggiddra, the term which the Italians use in speaking of it, per- haps comes nearest to the truth. SCULPTURE. 129 I have said that it is impossible for those who have not seen the Venus de Medicis to form any conception of its beauty ; but if there were degrees of impossibility, I would assert, that it is still more impossible for any person who sees it frequently and with attention not to feel its bewitching attractiveness.^ — It is one of the miracles of art. 130 SCULPTURE. i/ETTER XI. Obsermtions on the essential Attributes of Sculp- ture. — The Laocoon. — The dying Gladiator . — The Gladiator of the Borghese. — The Disco- bolus after Myron. — The Diana. — The Mele- ager. — The Hermaphrodite. The added study of each day strengthens niy opinion, that the master charm of sculpture is tranquillity. — How well the ancients were convinced of this, is obvious from the very large proportion of statues which are completely in repose. The representation of strong passion, or any kind of violent mental or bodily ex- ertion, is objectionable ; but still more to be objected to is the representation of rapid mo- tion. I am well aware that there appear to be many splendid exceptions to the truth of this. SCULPTURE. 131 You will at once oppose me with some of the finest statues in this collection ; — the Laocoon, the Gladiators, the copy of the Discobolus after Myron, and the Diana. Let us examine how far these statues do, in reality, make against the proposition which I would enfo/ce. In speaking of the Laocoon^ you must un- derstand me as referring to the principal figure of the group only. Laocoon is represented in strong exertion, and agonized both in body and in mind ; yet such is the admirable skill of the artist, that we contemplate the figure without horror or disgust ; it excites no sensation which is painful to the mind ; admiration and pity are the feelings which it produces, and we dwell upon the work with pleasure. The artist therefore has succeeded eminently, and the figure of Laocoon must be admitted as a com- plete exception to my rule ; but I consider it the only one. The dying Gladiator^^ in beauty and truth * The French connoisseurs have altered the denomination K 2 132 SCULPTURE. of form, and in execution, is among the finest productions in the Louvre. In mental potency it may be ranked as third in the collection. To what are we to ascribe the effect of this statue on the mind, and the interest, and the commiseration which it excites ? Solely, as I conceive, to the tranquillity which reigns in the attitude and countenance. The Gladiator is wounded mortally. Aware of his approach- ing death, he is solely occupied by the desire of meeting it with calmness, and as may be- come a man of fortitude and courage. He is reclining on the ground, and with the right arm sustains his body, which leans somewhat forward with great appearance of weight and feebleness ; the other arm rests heavily on the of this statue ; and I think on sufficient grounds. — The short and bristling hair, the beard on the upper lip, and the collar which hangs round the neck, lead them to consider it as the representation of a barbarian warrior, — a German or a Gaul. They termed it , — Le Guerrier BlessL The sword is of the Roman shape ; but it, as well as that part of the plinth on which it rests, is modern. SCULPTURE. 133 right thigh. The countenance indicates strong pain tranquilly and silently endured : he exerts himself to bear^up manfully to the last ; but the rapid decline of strength is visible through- out the whole frame, and the bending down of the neck shews the lassitude of approaching death. Nothing can exceed the expression of determined composure both in the countenance and figure. It is this expression which exalts the Gladiator into a hero with whom we sym- pathize, and whose fate we deplore. Were this tranquillity, were this resignation, absent ; were he represented in rage, or in despair ; or did his fortitude, in any degree, sink beneath his calamity ; he would be a mere swordsman, for whom we should feel no interest ; and our admiration of the statue would extend only to the correctness of its execution. The other Gladiator is reckoned one of the seven wonders of sculpture and I think * The following are accounted, by the critics, the seven principal statues — the Apollo of the Belvidere ; the Laocoon ; 134 SCULPTURE. justly. The figure is. represented in all the energy of contention ; but the moment which the artist has chosen is one, I must not say of rest, but at least of pause from motion. The left arm is advanced to receive the blow of his antagonist ; the right is drawn back ready to strike, but the blow has not commenced, — may not commence for some mo- ments. This is all that sculpture requires ; you may contemplate the statue for hours with- out being offended that this pause still con- tinues. Were the blow commenced, were the arm represented as in the act of descending, the truth of the attitude would be falsified though viewed but for an instant. The coun- the Venus de Medicis ; the Farnese Hercules; the Gladi- ator of the Borghese ; the Antinous, now denominated the Belvidere Mercury ; and the Meleager. Six of these were in the collection of the Louvre ; and by what chance the Hercules escaped the rapacity of the French I know not : its size could scarcely have been its protection, as they transported from Italy, colossal figures of nearly equal di- mensions. SCULPTURE. 135 tenance adds dignity and interest to the figure ; nothing can be more admirable than the air of stern tranquillity and perfect self-possession with which he scans his adversary. This ex- pression, admirably suited to a combatant about to strike, would be inconsistent were the blow represented as commenced. The change of feature, which would have been necessary to suit the latter circumstance, would have de- prived the statue of one of its most powerful attractions. The beauty of form in this pro- duction, and the union of strength and activity, cannot be surpassed : there is an elasticity and lightness which one could hardly conceive it possible for marble to express.^ * This statue is no longer considered as the representation of a Gladiator. The letters which compose the inscription, by the high antiquity of their form, prove it to have been executed at a period when Gladiatorial sports were unknown in Greece. It is supposed to have formed one of the figures in a group of combatants. The statue was discovered at Nettuno, in the same place, and at the same time, as the Belvidere Apollo. — It is the work of Agasias of Ephesus. 136 SCULPTURE. The Discobolus is represented in strong and rapid action, the moment which the sculptor has chosen being that when the sweep of the arm is half completed. I would appeal to this figure as a full confirmation of my assertion, that the representation of rapid movement is incompatible with the perfection of sculpture. The statue has great beauty of form, great anatomical correctness, and the attitude, which I should imagine to be one of extremely dif- ficult execution, is given with perfect truth. Yet with all these merits, there are very few statues in the Louvre on which the eye is less inclined to dwell. In contemplating it, no other sensation is excited than surprise at the skill of the artist. The praise of Myron which has descended to us, — that he was peculiarly famous in the representation of nature, — seems to imply a want, at least a comparative want, of the higher attributes of genius and taste. This idea is confirmed by the production before us ; it displays the power of imitation in the highest degree, but is not ennobled by any sublimer quality. SCULPTURE. 137 A still stronger argument in my favour is afforded by the Diana. The goddess, in her rapid course, suddenly perceives some object of her indignation, towards which she turns her head with a look of stern and eager dis- pleasure. The bow is ready in her hand, and she is about to draw the fatal arrow from the # quiver. The grandeur of countenance and form denote a being of a superior order : the action of the arms is finely conceived, and executed with success : yet from all this there results a figure which neither interests nor de- lights. Whence does this failure in effect arise? To me it is obvious, that it is solely to be attri- buted to the impropriety of seizing, and mak- ing permanent, an attitude which in reality must vary too rapidly for the eye to follow. The figure contradicts itself. ^ It will not I think be argued, that this objection applies to * This statue may be considered as the best specimen of a class which has become very numerous in modern times ; all the Dianas, Daphnes, and Atalantas, being constantly re- presented, standing still at full speed. 138 SCULPTURE. all action ; and that the arm of the Diana, which is raised to take the arrow, or even the attitude of the Apollo, are censurable on the same principles. The slightest pause, the slightest possibility of pause, is sufficient to satisfy the eye, and to remove the impropriety to which I object. It may however be re- marked, that the few instances in the antique, in which any action is going on, prove that the masters of the art either deemed it not essential, or that they mistrusted their powers of successfully representing it. The perfection of sculpture I consider to be the union of bodily tranquillity and mental animation. If either of these is wanting, the effect which is produced on the mind is imper- fect. One of the most celebrated statues in the world is perhaps somewhat to be censured for the want of this combination. Nothing can exceed the beauty, manliness, and graceful ease, of the Meleager ; but had greater mental energy been thrown into the countenance, the figure would have more powerfully attracted us. SCULPTURE. 139 The He-^maphrodite, in beanty, softness, and grace, ranks unquestionably next to the Venus de Medicis ; and there is somewhat of simi- larity in the style of the two productions ; but, independently of the unpleasantness of the sub- ject, the face is totally without animation, the figure being represented as in undisturbed sleep ; and indeed the attitude is such as only to permit a partial view of the features. The conclusion which I would draw from the preceding observations is this ; — That as gran- deur and dignity are the peculiar characteristics of sculpture, all that is foreign to them is to be avoided, all that is conducive to them is to be sought ; — that the representation of violent ex- ertion, and rapid motion, are therefore incon- sistent with the perfection of the art ; and that subjects of tranquillity and ease, animated by the milder energies of the mind, are those in which alone this perfection can exist. The essential attributes of grandeur and dig- nity, which in the Grecian models approach even to severity, appear to have been too much 140 SCULPTURE. abandoned by modern sculptors ; motion, ac- tion, passion, have been resorted to as means of giving effect and interest to their produc- tions. This, and the not less censurable in- troduction of meretricious ornament, may be reckoned among the causes which render the works, in this branch of art, so immeasurably inferior to the antique. SCULPTURE. 141 LETTER Xn. Sculpture. — The Antinous of the Belvidere . — The Torso of the Behldere . — The Faun in Repose, — ^c, 8^c, I HAVE already had occasion incidentally to mention the Antinous of the Belvidere ; but this production, from its high celebrity, de- mands to be noticed more in detail. The statue of the Antinous is of most ex- quisite workmanship, and may perhaps be con- sidered as unrivalled in the beauty and cor- rectness of its proportions. Its pre-eminence in these points can scarcely rest on stronger grounds, than our knowledge that Poussin, who of all painters was the most attentive to the proportions of the human figure, — attentive indeed to a fault, — considered it as the best guide which the antique afforded. This beauty 142 SCULPTURE. of form is accompanied by dignity, grace, and the most perfect ease ; and the combination renders the statue one of the most pleasing objects art has ever produced. Beauty may indeed be considered as its chief characteristic ; and, if it be in any point liable to censure, it is, from the deficieny of that sublimity of ex- pression which sculpture demands, and which, existing in its highest perfection in the age of Phidias, appears gradually to have declined under succeeding artists. The contents of the Louvre abundantly prove that the Grecian sculptors, who flourished at Rome under the Emperors, were as skilful workmen as the earlier masters of the art. The inferiority of Roman sculpture, when com- pared with that of Greece, is not in the execu- tion, but in the conception ; and I think that the various periods of the art are by nothing marked so strongly, as by the gradual change from severity and grandeur to mere elegance and grace. The chronology of antique statues, notwith- SCULPTURE. 143 standing all the theories which have been laid down to determine the different epochs by the different styles, is still involved in obscur- ity. The artists and connoisseurs are not yet able to determine, whether the Laocoon is a production of the age of Pericles, or of Vespa- sian ; periods distant from each other by an interval of five hundred years : and an exami- nation of the marble of which the Belvidere Apollo is formed has given rise to a conjec- ture, that this statue, the noblest and most sublime in the world, is only a Roman copy of the oracular statue at Delphos. The Belvidere Antiiious is one of the many statues of which the French have altered the denomination. The Savans have determined, that the figure represents the Messenger of the Gods, and not the favourite of Adrian. The countenance unquestionably bears no resem- blance to that which we see on all the statues, busts, and medals of Antitious ; but yet 1 much doubt its having been designed for Mer- 144 SCULPTURE. cury, or indeed for any of the gods. There is no attempt at superhuman elevation in the style of the features ; and the attitude is not simply one of repose, but conveys an idea of fatigue, or at least of lassitude, inconsistent with divinity. It has by some persons been considered as a figure of Theseus. To me, this appears the most probable conjecture. The effect of this beautiful production is greatly diminished by its mutilated state. The right arm is wanting from the shoulder, and the left hand is broken off at the w rist. It is to be regretted that the deficient parts of this statue, and of the Meleager, have not been restored. From the identity of form, which sculpture possesses, any mutilation in a statue gives to the whole an appearance of deformity. This is not the case in painting : parts of a fine picture may be defaced, and yet the ge- neral effect be little injured : and the chief argument against all attempts to restore paint- ings does not exist with regard to sculpture. SCULPTURE. 145 In painting, the original traces of the master^s hand are destroyed by the operation : in sculps ture the restorations are merely additions, leav- ing what is original unaltered and untouched. Had the 1 ransfiguration been ten times more injured by time, and French chemistry, than in reality it was ; had it been the merest ruin^ it would have been of infinitely more worth than the splendid mass of Parisian colouring which has destroyed it : but can any one, who contemplates the perfect form of the Apollo, wish that the statue had remained in the de- fective state in which it was discovered.* When Lord Elgin applied to Canova, on the subject of restoring the Athenian sculpture, that admirable artist gave it as his opinion, that any such attempt would be improper and un- successful. The good taste and judgment of this decision cannot be doubted ; the injuries of time and barbarism having unhappily been * The right arm of the Apollo, from the elbow, and the left hand, are modern : they were the work of Giovanni Angelo da Montorsoli, one of the pupils of Michel Angelo. L 140 SCULPTURE. too extensive, and too indelible, to admit of reparation. But the case is far different w hen parts of a statue, which retains in other respects its original splendor, are broken or lost. — It would be profanation to repair the beautiful ruins of Tintern-abbey ; but w^ere a pillar of Salisbury cathedral to fall, we should deem it an extraordinary refinement of taste, not to replace it. The Torso of the Belvidere must be classed amongst those relics of antiquity, of which to attempt the restoration would be alike pre- sumptuous and absurd. I cannot but consider this fragment as one of the proudest triumphs of art. The body, from the lower part of the shoulders, and the thighs, are all that remains of the figure ; and the attitude is such as to render the mutilation particularly detrimental to the effect. That elegance, dignity, and ease, should exist in such a fragment, and should so exist as forcibly to strike even the most unin- formed observer, must be considered little short of miraculous. SCULPTURE. 147 All artists I believe concur in opinion, that the grandeur of style, in the execution of this statue, is not surpassed by any piece of sculp- ture, not even by the Laocoon. The body leans somewhat forward, with a little depres- sion of the right shoulder : the corresponding elevation and depression of the muscles are given with astonishing boldness and freedom ; yet the truth of nature is not in the slightest degree exceeded. A s}mmetry the most per- fect reigns in every part. That the figure re- presented Hercules, is rendered certain by the lion’s skin covering the rock on which it is seated, and by the vigorous conformation of the body. It is also clear that it formed part of a group ; and from the circumstance of the veins not being expressed, which in antique sculpture is one of the characteristics of divi- nity, Winckelmann conjectures that it repre- sented the hero after his deification, and that the accompanying figure was that of Hebe. - Although I have now" spoken of all the sta« tues which are considered as holding the first L 2 148 SCULPTURE. rank, I cannot quit the Halls of the Antique without declaring niy admiration of some few of the other masterpieces contained in them. The statue of the Faun in Repose is one of the most pleasing in the whole collection : the figure and countenance are of extreme beauty, and the attitude is the most gracel’ul imaginable. That union of animation and tranquillity which I consider so essential as the perfection of Sculpture, is perhaps displayed in a greater de- gree in this statue than in any other. The Roman Orator^ formerly considered as a statue of Germanicus. — The symmetry of the figure is perfect ; the attitude simple and imposing : but the grand and peculiar merit of the production is the astonishing expression of mind in the countenance : the right hand pointed backwards over the shoulder finely assists this expression. e are never wearied with contemplating the statue. — “ Qu il raisonne hien I'' I heard a French lady, who was look- ing at it, exclaim, not conscious that she spoke aloud o SCULPTURE. 149 Antinous^ under the figure of Aristceiis . — The execution of this statue may almost be called rude ; but there is an approach to hu- man nature and to life in the countenance and attitude, and an expression of serious contem- plation, which give it a peculiar charm. The Centaur and Infant Bacchus. — The artist has shewn wonderful skill in so com- bining the two forms in the Centaur as to pro- duce a figure not displeasing to the eye. The Bacchus is a perfect and lovely representation of infancy : the graceful attitude of the child, and his air of playful domineering, cannot be surpassed. The statue of the Silenus, with the Infant Bacchus in his arms, although it has suffered very much from time, from accidents, and ap- parently from exposure to the open air, is still one of the finest works in the Louvre. In grandeur of conception and in execution, it yields to very few. The Boy taking a Thorn from his Foot. — The beauty and ease of this figure cannot be sur- 150 SCULPTURE. passed, and the appearance of adolescence is given with surprising truth. It is about half the natural size, in bronze, and very little injured by time. . There are not less than twelve statues of Venus, many of them extremely fine ; but un- til the Venus de Medicis was taken from the Louvre, it was almost impossible to admire them. We lost the Venus some days ago nothing else has yet been removed from the Halls of the Antique. Amongst the great number of other female statues, the most admirable are 1 think the Amazon, the colossal figure of Melpomene, and the Leucothoe with the Infant Bacchus. The Museum boasts one fragment of the frize of the Parthenon. It is of exquisite beauty, but sadly mutilated. Excepting this, and the celebrated group of the Faun with the hare and panther, none of the works in relievo * The Venus de Medicis was taken from the Louvre on the 25th of September, 1815.. SCULPTURE. 151 are at all comparable to those in Lord Elgin^s collection. The busts are very numerous, and of sin- gular interest, as a great part of them are be- lieved to be original representations of the most celebrated personages of Greece and Rome. Many of these are finely carved : but as pieces of sculpture, the busts which appear to me the most admirable are the two following. The Faune d la tache , — It is impossible for any work in marble to be of a more finished execution. Laughter and animation are very finely expressed in the countenance ; but its chief value is the wonderful perfection of the workmanship : it is quite miraculous. The other bust is of a very different descrip- tion, and in my opinion of infinitely greater value. — It is a colossal head of Antinous^ in remarkably fine marble, and grandly executed. The features are of the most exquisite beauty ; and there is an air of melancholy seriousness, a little tinged with severity, which renders it the most attractive countenance I ever beheld. The 152 SCULPTURE. ejes, having been originally of some rich mate- rial, have been taken out ; and the hollows left are of consi^lerable size, but happily do not in the least injure the effect. T he hair, which flows in loose profusion round the face, is the lightest, and the most natural, I have ever seen in sculpture : yet this is not the result of minute or high finishing ; on the contrary it is very little laboured : it is the gracefulness and ease of the contours w hich constitute its beauty. Thus much on the subject of antique sculp- ture : in my next letter I shall speak of the pre- sent state of the art in France. SCULPTURE. 153 LETTER XIII. Sculpture. ^ — Modern School of French Sculpture, I SIT down to fulfil my promise of giving you some account of the modern sculpture of France, — On this subject I cannot speak in more favourable terms than those I have used in describing their present school of painting. France appears to me decidedly inferior to England in this branch of art: national prejudice may perhaps bias my judgment ; and some al- lowance should be made for the disadvantage arising from an immediate contrast with the antique. All the palaces and public buildings are crowded with siatues and busts, in marble, in bronze, and in plaster. The best collection of 154 SCULPTURE. these works which we have seen, are the four- teen marble statues which ornaiiieut the hue staircase leading to the Chamhre des Pairs, at the Luxembourg.* They are well executed, and some of them have great animation ; there is perhaps too much sameness in the attitudes, but the whole together produce a very striking effect. The four immense colossal statues, which are in front of the fagade of the palace of the Corps Le^islatif, are in very good taste, and shew great boldness and freedom in the execu- tion. They represent the four greatest Legis- lators of France ; Sully, Colbert, L’llopital, and D’Aguesseau : they are in their proper costume, and are seated. There is unquestionably something peculiarly imposing in the effect of colossal statues : but * The personages represented are Kleber, Hoche, Desaix, Dugommier, Joubert, CaflParelli, and Marceau, as generals; and Beauharnais, Mirabeau, Thouret, Barnave, Chapelier, Vergniaux, and Condorcet, as statesmen. SCULPTURE. 155 this effect is destroyed when they are placed in rooms, or in contrast with figures of a smaller size.* By far the most interesting production of modern art, which I have seen at Paris, I could almost say which I have ever seen, is at the Bibliotheque Nationale, now the Bibliotheque du Roi. It is a statue of Voltaire, by Monsieur Houdon. He is represented in his arm-chair, and in his ordinary negligent dress of a cap and fur gown : both his hands are resting on the elbow s of the chair ; and he is leaning for- ward, not in the act of speaking, but appears rather to be eagerly waiting to utter some bril- liant idea which has struck him whilst listen- ing to the person by w horn he is addressed. The vivid rapidity of mind is more strongly * The ill effect of such contrast is strikingly shewn in the bronze group erected in Russel-square to the memory of the late Duke of Bedford. The secondary figures which encircle the base of the statue convert it, from the colossal figure of a man of the natuml size, into the representation of a giant. 156 SCULPTURE. expressed in this countenance than in any pic- ture or statue I ever saw. Nay, it has a still greater merit ; it is not abstract animation, but precisely that sort of vivacity which charac- terized the man : it is a portrait of his malicious, subtle facetiousness. It is much to be regretted that this fine production should be of so pe- rishable a material as plaster of Paris. It is coloured to resemble bronze ; and the eyes are of a darker hue than the other parts of the face : this perhaps may not be in good taste, but it certainly adds to the expression of the countenance.* Houdon is still alive ; and has a room al- lotted to him in the building ; but I have not been so fortunate as to meet him. In the library is another specimen of sculp- ture ; infinitely more in the French taste, and which I am inclined to believe they value much more highly. We applied to one of the attendants * In the Hall of the Theatre Frangais there is a copy of this statue, in marble ; but the spirit of the original is lost. SCULPTURE. 157 for information respecting the statue of Vol- taire : after he had very intelligently answered our questions, he added with great animation ; “ But have you seen the French Parnassus Not to have seen it was almost impossible, as it stands in the most conspicuous situation which the library affords ; the centre of the largest room. Le Parnasse Fran^ais is a little brass mountain, stuck over with little brass figures. Louis the Fourteenth, reclining on his lyre, personates Apollo, his features and wig admirably qualifying him for the office : the Graces are equally well represented by the three learned ladies, Mesdames de la Suze, and des Houlieres, and Mademoiselle de Scu- deri : Moliere, La Fontaine, Boileau, Corneilles Racine, and some other of the chief writers, in full costume, are identified with the nine Muses. That nothing may be w^anting to com- plete the effect, the intervals between these figures are filled up with medallions of the minor wits, musicians, and artists of the 158 SCULPTURE. time.* It is to be regretted that one of the noblest institutions in Paris should be disfigured by so paltry a toy. Such absurdities soon cease to be noticed by persons accustomed to the place ; but they are the first objects which strike the eye of a stranger ; and if it were for this reason alone they should not be suffered to exist, -f* * Le Parnasse Fran^ais was the donation of Titon du Tillet. He conceived the idea of his mountain in 17O8; it was completed in I7I8 ; in 1727 he printed a description of it ; and for nearly forty years more, he occupied himself in making additions to his choir, and publishing little explana- tory supplements to his book. — “ C^etoit un homme d'un grand mcrlte C ' — adds his French biographer. •f- In the library is another curiosity, of much less preten- sion, but far more interesting. It is a model of the pyra- mids, or rather of that part of the plains of Egypt in which they are situated. It is about ten feet square, and is accu- rately made to a scale. Not the pyramids only, but the' trees, buildings, and every object, are shewn, and in their natural colours. A caravan, which is represented as passing over the sands, gives the comparative grandeur of the py- ramids. No description in words or in painting can convey SCULPTURE. 159 Another instance of the French taste in sculpture is afforded us at the Institut ; but of a very different nature from the one I have just mentioned : that can be censured only as ridiculous and trifling ; this is horrid and dis- gusting. It is a statue, in marble, of Voltaire ; and is placed at the upper end of the library . The figure is perfectly naked ; and the artist has with laborious accuracy represented the shrivelled, withered state of his emaciated body. He is seated in his chair ; and the approach to common life which this attitude gives, adds to the horrible eftect. The impropriety of such a figure is obvious ; but the degree of disgust which it excites cannot be conceived by those who have not beheld it. You will tell me perhaps that these are the errors of former days ; and that the possession during twenty years of the treasures of Italy so strong an idea of their effect, or of the horrid region in which they stand. 160 SCULPTURE. must have so purified and elevated the French taste, as to render Paris the Athens of modern times. In painting, let the pictures of Monsieur David and his school determine how far this is the case. — In sculpture, the facilities given us to decide the point were greater than I ex- pected, and at first astonished me not a little. In more than one of the halls, round the walls of whic h are ranged the works of Greece and Rome, the central space is occupied by large pieces of French sculpture ; some executed in marble, some in plaster; the figures the size of life, and generally in groups ; — Heroes in fierce contention, — Gods carrying off damsels, — Furies punishing the wicked. To each is affixed a paper, explaining the subject, and giving the name of the artist. “ To be sold'^ is added to some of these notices, for the spe- cial information I presume of our rich coun- trymen. Relying on their known good taste, I think you may hope to contemplate in Eng- SCULPTURE. 161 ' land a fair proportion of these 'masterpieces of modern genius. In thus boldly placing them in immediate contrast with all that is most excellent in the art, we may perhaps a little doubt the wisdom and modesty of the artists ; as well as the good taste of those persons who have the manage- ment of the museum. 1 have endeavoured to examine these pro- ductions without prejudice, and without any comparison with their neighbours of the elder time. Those which are in marble, have the merit of being highly finished: in no other respect do they appear to deserve commenda- tion. — Bad taste, forced ideas, inelegant and constrained attitudes, and either impropriety or an absence of expression, may be charged against them all. The knowledge of anatomy is ostentatiously shewn ; and the minuteness with which the antique is copied in the style of the features, the disposition of the hair, the folds of the drapery, only produce a ludicrous M 162 SCULPTURE. discordance in the general character of the work. Of all these productions the most absurdly ridiculous is I think a group representing Orestes pursued by one of the Furies. * Ores- tes is running for his life ; the Fury, in a stately walk, keeps pace with him. In each of her hands she holds a snake ; and her arms are advanced with such equality and precision, that the snakes are enabled to seize upon Orestes, one on each side, and between the corresponding ribs. This accuracy is the more to be praised, as Alecto is looking the other way. I must confess myself unable to dis- cover, why there should be this apparent want of attention on the part of the Fury ; unless indeed it be finely intended to indicate the tenderness of her nature. This, is one of the productions which ushers * This group is in marble ; from the chisel of a Monsieur Dupati, SCULPTURE. 163 you into the presence of the Apollo ;~^this, is one of the happy results of the spoliation of Italy. Such works, as the one I have described and its companions, are too degraded for se- rious criticism ; yet from the attention which is paid to them by the French visiters at the Louvre, I am led to doubt whether they are not better suited to the national taste, than the dignified severity of the productions by which they are surrounded. ' In comparing dhe sculpture of the present day, not merely the works I have just men- tioned, .but the much finer specimens which have been produced in England, with the antique ; the result is I think very differ- ent from that which arises on a comparison of modern paintings with those by the cele- brated masters of Italy. In painting, the art appears the same, and conducted on the same principles; but by inferior artists: in sculp- ture, the art appears lost. The difference be- tween a modern picture, and one of the no- M 2 164 SCULPTURE. blest productions of the fifteenth or sixteenth centuries, may be defined ; and in a degree traced to its causes. It is not so with sculp- ture ; the difference is immense, and ad- mits of no explanation. I will not, in support of this, appeal to any of the chief master- pieces ; but instance the Faun in Repose, Is there any modern statue which appears a work of the same class ; any, which though inferior, appears the result of similar principles, simi- lar skill } In a word, can a single production of modern sculpture be shewn, which would lead us to suppose it possible for the artist so to improve, as to approach the beauty, the elegance, and the sublime simplicity of the antique ? ARCHITECTURE. 165 LETTER XIV. Architecture. — Tht Facade of the Louvre . — • The Palace of the Tuileries. — The Palace of Versailles. — The Fagade of the Palace of the Corps Legislatif — The Column of the Place Vendome. — The Fountain of the Elephant . — The Triumphal Arch in the Place du Car- rousel. — Removal of the Venetian Horses. The architecture of Paris and its environs will form the subject of this letter ; do not however suppose that I am about to measure all the palaces and churches, and that you are to be overwhelmed with the results. — The edi- fices are not worth it, nor have I either the science or the leisure requisite for the task. Very full and I think correct descriptions of the principal buildings have been repeatedly 166 ARCHITECTUIRE. given ; 1 shall therefore avoid as much as pos- sible entering into any details and restrict my- self to general observations. There is nothing on which the French more pride themselves than the splendor of their capital. In this respect they consider their superiority over other nations clear and un- deniable. — In a chance conversation which I held a few evenings ago, in the garden of the Tuileries, Mith a French officer who had vi- sited England ; “ You have,^^ said he, “ no- “ thing like these gardens in London, There “ is very little to see in your capital , — You “ have Saint Paul's^ and Westminster-ahhey ^ et voila toutP I came to Paris with very moderate hopes of being delighted by the splendor of its edifices ; and therefore I cannot assert that I have been disappointed. This city is highly ornamented : it is filled with buildings of show and pretence. At every corner we run against palaces, bridges, triumphal arches, pillars, fountains, churches, and theatres. Paris, in short, is full of finery ; ARCHITECTURE. 167 but the lover of pure architecture will meet with little to gratify his taste. The noblest specimen of the art in Paris is, beyond all comparison, that which they term La belle Fagade of the Louvre. Many faults have been attributed to it, and no doubt justly, but they are lost in the elegance and magni- ficence of the whole. It is indeed a building of which any capital might be proud. The other front, which is towards the river, is also simple and imposing. But the far-famed pa- lace of the Tuileries is as paltry and as ugly as it is possible for any building to be, which is of great extent, and constructed of fine materials. This palace is broken into small and ill-pro- portioned masses ; various styles of architec- ture are introduced, discordant with each other, and overloaded with trivial ornaments. This want of union and of simplicity in the parts, takes from it all that grandeur and majesty which might have resulted from its great ex- tent. But its chief and most offensive de- formity, and which, though it were faultless 168 ARCHITECTURE. in every other respect, would exclude it from the rank of beautiful edifices, arises from the construction of its roof, which towers above the face of the building in all possible varieties of ugly and irregular shapes ; and is still fur- ther disfigured by numberless high chimneys and fantastical windows. The roofs of the end pavilions, and of the two masses next to each of them, might be instanced as models of ar- chitectural deformity. Versailles^ the still more famous residence of the kings of France, is unquestionably a noble structure. It is not only more extensive than the Tuileries, but is more uniform, more splendid, and in better taste. Yet even here we should in vain endeavour to find any ap- proach to exquisite architecture. The front towards the garden is the part most vaunted ; but its shape detracts ' greatly from its effect. The centre, which is about one half of the whole extent, is advanced so as to form three exterior sides of a quadrangle. From no spot therefore is the whole of the building visible. — ARCHITECTURE. 169 For instance, from a point midway, — to which point indeed your guide leads you, and is in- dignant if, before you reach it, you turn round to look at the palace — the central part, not only hides the receding sides, but a consider- able portion of the wings ; whereas, had the centre been thrown back, as is most fre- quently the case in extensive buildings, all the parts would have been seen ; and the perspec- tive of the receding sides would have given variety and grace to the whole. Of the interior of these two palaces little need be said. The apartments are as splendid as gilding, marble, velvet, and tapestry, can make them ; but they are not very spacious, or, generally speaking, sufficiently lofty. There are, however, two rooms which I greatly ad- mire, — the opera-house at Versailles and the grand-gallery at the Tuileries. The former is of very large dimensions, extremely elegant in its form, and decorated with singular magni- ficence ; the whole of the interior, except those spaces which are ornamented with pictures. 170 ARCHITECTURE. being gilded. The part designed for the stage is less than the body of the theatre, but similar in shape and embellishment, and the two can be thrown into one room, which, when lighted up, must be one of the most superb in Europe. Buonaparte, who never inhabited Versailles, permitted this theatre, and all the other parts of the palace, to fall into decay ; but its splen- dors are now to revive. The grand gallery at the Tuileries, is a most richly - ornamented apartment. Its ceiling is painted chiefly, if not entirely, after the pic- tures of Annibal Carracci in the Farnese. The entrance is at the side of the room. At each end are two pillars ; the whole of the space between which is from top to bottom lined with looking-glass. The effect is very striking. — The gallery is multiplied into al- most endless perspective ; and you look round with a sort of bewildered astonishment, scarcely knowing where you are standing, or how far you have advanced. I am surprised that none of our wealthy lovers of fine things have ARCHITECTURE. 171 copied this ; which certainly is not less sen- sible, or more costly, than many decorations which they have industriously borrowed from the French. The gardens of these two palaces, especi- ally that of the Tuileries, are curious and en- tertaining from the complete specimens they afford of the perfection of ugliness and bad taste. I will not detain you by any mention of the other numberless palaces, built during the reigns of Louis the Fourteenth, and Louis the Fifteenth. Of the buildings by the former prince, none have any higher merit than that of splendor, except the Louvre, and the church of the Invalids ; nor is either of these at all comparable to the faultless elegance of the Chapel at Whitehall. The Edifices, constructed during the reign of Louis the Fifteenth, are less magnificent, but in better taste than those of his prede- cessor. Several of Buonaparte's exhibit a still .purer style. They are however but sickly imi- 172 ARCHITECTURE. tations of the severe and majestic simplicity of Greece. The facade 'of the Palace of the Corps Le- gislatif is unquestionably the finest of the buildings executed during his government. Twelve very large and fine Corinthian pillars sustain a triangular pediment of bold and ele- gant proportions. A noble flight of steps ex- tends the whole length of the building' ; and advanced in front are the four colossal statues which I mentioned in a former letter. They are placed, two on each $ide, on massive square pedestals. This colonnade is in all its parts simple and grand ; and its position to- wards the river, and exactly opposite the Pont Louis Seize, adds greatly to the effect. The much-talked-of Column of the Place Vendome is admirable for the richness of its material, and the beauty of its workmanship ; being covered from its summit to the very ground with bronze, and ornamented through- out the entire length of the shaft with figures in alto relievo very finely cast. But it is low ARCHITECTURE. 173 and ill shaped when compared to the height and the elegant lightness of the monument in London. Unless viewed from elevated situa- tions, it is but just seen above the buildings which surround it. With all due deference to the taste of Trajan, and of the commemorators of Marcus Aure- lius, I am much inclined to doubt the pro- priety of adorning the entire shaft of a pillar Mith sculpture. The eye cannot distinguish the figures beyond the three or four first revo- lutions ; and the spiral, winding round the co- lumn, takes from the elegance and simplicity of its form, and hides the graceful swell which constitutes the most beautiful feature of a pillar. The Fountain of the Elephant, the other work in bronze which Buonaparte was about to execute, would have been by far the more noble object of the two. In the model,* which is the full size of the intended figure, the form The height of the model, which is formed of timber and 174 ARCHITECTURE. and peculiar character of the species are ad- mirably caught. The sagacious composure of the countenance, and the massive heaviness of figure, seem in accordance with the immense size. I do not think that a colossal statue equally large of any other animal would pro- duce so fine an effect. As the model stands at present, there is a plain square castle on the back of the animal, but no ornament whatever. This executed in bronze, placed on elevated but solid ground, and throwing from its proboscis volumes of water into the air, would have been a grand and impressive sight. But we were informed iron covered with plaster, is seventy-two feet. It stands un^- der a temporary wooden building, the mechanical construc- tion of which appeared admirable. Mathematical and me- chanical science is more active, and more frequently brought into common use in France than in England; and conse- quently is more apparent. Tlie F rench artisans are less bi- goted to practical rules, and more attentive to the opinions of the man of science, than workmen of the same description with u%. ARCHITECTURE. 175 by the person who superintends the work, that when finished it was to .have been covered with trappings, and gilding, and all manner of French absurdities, and placed on marble arches in the centre of a canal ; surrounded by an hundred bronze figures of men, and by jets of water playing in all directions.^ — The French have a happy facility in spoiling a fine idea. The Triumphal Arch, in the Place du Car- rousel, has not been ridiculed more than it de- serves. It is contemptible in itself, and absurd in its position.* To build a puny arch of fine marble is no great offence ; but to crowd together on its summit the matchless Venetian horses, to * The arch stands in the centre of the Place du Carrousel. The four horses were placed on its summit abreast, and close to each other, harnessed to a triumphal car, and led by two figures, representing Victory and Peace. The horses are of the natural size, these figures were colossal : and with a want of judgment, and a depravity of taste, astonishing even in Paris, the car, the figures, the harness, and all the other ridiculous appendages of the bronze horses, were sumptu- ously gilded. 176 ARCHITECTURE. hide them from observation by disproportioned figures, a cumbrous car, and gaudy discordant trappings, is a transgression not easily to be pardoned. It was a perpetually recurring an- noyance, in our way to and from the Louvre, to look up, and from the indistinct view of their finely-arched necks and spirited heads, to calculate their concealed merit. But their im- prisonment is over. Some days ago the Em- peror of Austria, in right of his Venetian pos- sessions, removed them from their ill-judged station.* Of all the long train of humiliations, to which Paris has been forced to submit, this was by far the most severe. The French would not be persuaded that such an event could take place. They asserted, that the mere attempt would cause a universal insurrection ; and that the Allies might yet have to mourn the vengeance of an enraged and insulted popu- * The Venetian Horses were taken down from the arch on the 30th of September, 1815. ARCHITECTURE. 177 lace. A few hundred Austrian soldiers, foot and horse, kept the good citizens of Paris in order ; and the predicted vengeance has been confined to scowls of deeper hatred than those which their features formerly wore. The removal of the horses, as viewed from the Museum of the Louvre, was a singularly interesting spectacle. The Gallery was thronged with French, it being the only place from which they were permitted to witness the scene ; but foreigners of all nations were al- lowed by the Austrians to enter into the hollow square which they formed round the arch. We descended into the Place du Carrousel for a short time, but did not deem it wise to sacrifice our morning by remaining there. Yet wdien in the Gallery, it was difficult to abstract our- selves from the event which was going on ; and to confine our attention wholly to the pictures. From the windows towards the Seine, we saw parties of inquiring and indignant French, assembled on the Quai du Louvre : the Austrian cavalry were employed to disperse them, and 178 ARCHITECTURL. shewed no backwardness in executing the task; riding amongst them, and aiding the efforts of their horses by strokes, not sparingly given, with the flat of their swords. The Frenchmen stalked away unwillingly, grinning with rage, and muttering curses. The other side of the Gallery looked di- rectly on the arch, which was covered with officers, workmen, and spectators. The in- terval between it and the ring of soldiers was occupied by numerous parties of ladies and gentlemen, chiefly English. On the outside of the guard, the Austrian soldiers who were not employed were carelessly sauntering about, or lying at their ease. At a distance, in the opening of the different streets, large bodies of the people were observed pressing forwards, and driven back by the cavalry. A striking contrast to this bustling scene w^as afforded by that part of the Place du Carrousel w hich lies between the arch and the palace of the Tui- leries, and which is separated by iron railing. It was silent and desolate, being only occu- ARCHITECTURE. 179 pied by a few persons belonging to the palace, evidently melancholy spectators of what was passing. All the windows which commanded this view were crowded by mingled groups of French and English, whose contrasted expression of countenance was not the least interesting part of the spectacle ; — these all eager curiosity, — \ those sullenly and ferociously attentive. Eng- lish ladies were seen contesting • places with French officers, whose undisguised animosity appeared rather to amuse than frighten them. Indeed, our fair countrywomen display great heroism, in the perfect unconcern with which they ramble amongst crowds of indignant ene- mies, no small part of whom would rejoice in their destruction. But in fact all foreigners know and feel the impossibility of the French, whilst a hundred thousand bayonets are at their throats, attempting the slightest outrage. Our sensations are not unlike those of a person looking at a tiger in a cage. He knows his own security, and feels a kind of gratification \ 2 180 ARCHITECTURE. in contemplating the innoxious ferocity of the animal. During the previous night, workmen had been busied in removing the Parisian trappings, and loosening the horses. I’he English en- gineers, — whose assistance^ as expert mecha- nics, was requested by the Emperor Francis, — - had not therefore been long employed, before one of the horses was seen suspended in air. The French could no longer bear the sight ; most of them drew back from the windows, and quitted the gallery, unable to suppress or disguise their feelings. Justice, policy, and good taste, all imperiously demanded that this ill-devised trophy should not be suffered to ex- ist ; but it was impossible at the moment not to feel some pity for the humiliation and misery of the French. In a short time the other three horses were removed, and the dismantled arch has ever since been surrounded by the populace, in sor- rowful and astonished groups. ARCHITECTURE. 181 LETTER XV. Architecture. — Notre-Dame. — La Sainte Chapelle. — Saint Oiien, at Rouen. — Internal Arrangement and Decorations of the Churches in France. — Saint Eustache. — Saint Sulpice . — Church of the Hdtel des Invalides. — The Pan- theon. — The Catacombs. — The Museum of French Monuments. In speaking of the churches of Paris we should divide them into two classes ; those of Gothic, and those of Grecian or modern archi- tecture. None of the Gothic buildings, which I have yet seen in France, approach in grandeur or extent those of England ; but they are interest- ing to the antiquary, as exhibiting many pecu- liarities both in their structure and embellish- ments. 182 ARCHITECTURE. Notre-Dame is a fine building, and could we forget five or six of our own cathedrals we should term it noble. It is very much smaller than Westminster-abbey, but the appearance of the exterior is more venerable and more uni- form as to age ; and the west front, although censurable for want of continuity of design in the parts, is grand and impressive. Within it is heavy and low, and its general effect is spoiled by the dirty yellow colour of the walls. La Sainte-Chapelle^ which is now converted into a depository for the papers and registers of the Palais de Justice^ is a Gothic edifice of very small dimensions, but of singular beauty. The windows, which are of painted glass, go all round the building, and are only divided from each other by slender pillars : this pro- duces an extremely elegant appearance, and the stonework of the roof is highly wrought, light, aud gr?iceful. The Sacristie is modern ; the one immortalized by Boileau having been de- stroyed by fire about fifty years ago. The fate of the Lutrin I in vain endeavoured to ascer- ARCHITECTURE. 183 tain : our guide said that Boileau was a hel es- prit, but that all the old reading desks had been destroyed when the chapel was converted into a library. Beyond all comparison the finest specimen of Gothic architecture which we have met with in France is Saint Ouen^ the secondary church at Rouen, Contrasted with Salisbury cathedral, it is small ; but does not I think yield to that, or any other structure I have ever seen, in elegance, lightness, and graceful uniformity. In the internal arrangement of their churches, the French set us an examaple which I wish we had the good taste to follow : none of their Gothic edifices are deformed by Grecian screens separating the choir from the nave ; a rail is the only division between the two parts, and the organ is placed over the western door. The improvement, from the whole extent of the in- terior being thus thrown open, may easily be imagined ; but the absence of Grecian columns, pilasters, and entablatures, placed in immediate and offensive contrast to the general style of 184 ARCHITECTURE, the building, is I think a still more important advantage. It would be difficult to instance a more palpable blunder than this misunion ; and yet most of our finest Gothic edifices are dis- figured by it.* The position of the organ over the western door was praised by a gentleman of great mu- sical talents, whom we chanced to meet at Notre-Dame^ as calculated to improve the ef- fect of the music. He remarked, that a greater number of voices would be recpiired, as the singers must be placed near the organ ; but that its tones would be mellowed by the dis- tance ; and that the singing would be heard to more advantage, than when as with us the choristers are mixed with the congregation. My expectations of the magnificence of ca- * In the French Gothic churches the altars are of Grecian arcliitecture : this is unquestionably as repugnant to good taste as the admission of Grecian screens : but the altars, although of large dimensions, appear rather as ornaments than as constituent parts of the building ; and hence the ill effect which they produce is less. ARCHITECTURE, J85 tholic churches have been disappointed. The high altar, and the altar in the Lady chapel, are richly but inelegantly ornamented with gilding, and with marble of various colours. The altar itself is generally in the shape of a sarcophagus ; and is decked out with immensely high waxen tapers in splendid candlesticks, and with all the other appendages of catholic wor- ship. Thus far the churches, if not magnifi- cent, are at least respectable in their decora- tion : but the lateral chapels, on the number and splendor of which the catholics so highly pride themselves, are the very reverse of what their description would lead us to expect. They are filled with pictures, the vilest daubs that can be imagined, representing the suffer- ings of our Saviour, and the most solemn events in sacred history. On the altars, be- tween ill carved crucifixes and figures of the Virgin and Child, so absurd as to be impious, are jars of dirty artificial flowers, half-burnt tapers, and little glass cases filled with labeled relics. The chapel of each Saint is lighted up 186 ARCHITECTURE. on the day which is assigned to him in the ca- lendar. This lighting up consists in sticking against the walls, by bits of tin, a few tallow candles : these are seen some burnt out, others flaring with the wind, and their grease stream- ing on the pavement. The general effect of these chapels is tawdry, poor, and contempt- ible : the absurdities which they contain w ould in a less sacred place excite our mirth, here they can only be viewed with disgust.* Of the modern churches in Paris the four finest are SainUEustache^ Saint-Sulpice, the church of the Hdtel des Invalides, and Sainte- Genevieve : the two last are, after the colon- nade of the Louvre^ the noblest pieces of ar- chitecture in Paris. Saint-Eustache displays a most fantastical * In the provincial churches these absurdities are carried still further : at Abbeville we remarked triumphal crowns of painted paper on the statues of the Virgin and Child ; and in the body of the church were suspended ex voto ships of pasteboard. — It is not unusual to see the images in the lateral chapels clothed in garments of silk, dirty and ragged. ARCHITECTURE. 187 roinbinution of Gothic aad Grecian archi- tecture ; the effect of the whole is bad, but parts are not without a sort of grotesque beauty. Sainl-Sulpice is a spacious and handsome edifice: the portal, though of larger dimen- sions than that of our church of Saint Martin, is much less noble and elegant. In SaintSul- pice the steps are placed between the pillars, instead of extending uninterruptedly in front : this gives an embarrassed and narrow appear- ance. The chapel of the Virgin exhibits an architectural trick not uncommon in French churches. At the eastern extremity is a circular recess ; in the centre of this stands a group, in marble, of the Virgin and Child. The ceiling, which is in the form of a dome, is painted a light blue colour, and is studded with golden stars : this dome is open in the centre to about half its extent, and above it is a second or false ceiling similarly decorated. The whole is so arranged that the spectator, without knowing whence the light enters, perceives the white 188 ARCHITECTURE. figures standing in a pale mellowed radiance : the effect is extremely good. The traces of revolutionary devastation are more evident in this building than in any of the other existing churches in Paris. The interior of the dome at the Hotel des Invalides is small when compared with Saint Paul’s, and less exquisitely beautiful in its proportions and embellishments than Saint Stephen’s, Walbrook but in its general effect it is superior to either. The arrangement of the building is singularly pleasing to the eye ; and there is throughout a union of solidity and * This church, the masterpiece of Sir Christopher Wren, is much better known and more frequently visited by foreign- ers, than by the English. Standing in an obscure situation behind the towering deformity of the Mansion-house, and completely incased with buildings, it has nothing in its exte- rior to attract the eye. The situation precluded external de- coration ; and the whole of the sum granted by the crown, was employed in giving to the interior that perfect elegance and beauty, which ranks it second among the modern build- ings of London. ARCHITECTURE. 189 lightness which is quite unrivalled : this results I think from the elegance of the proportions, and the boldness and breadth of the orna- ments. The ceilings of the central dome, and of the four small cupolas which surround it, are sumptuously adorned with gilding, and Mith paintings of very brilliant colouring. Examined attentively, the pictures will be discovered to have little intrinsic merit ; but their faults in composition and design detract little from their effect as splendid ornaments giving richness and dignity to the building. For my own part I confess, that I cannot but consider ceilings, and still more domes elevated to a great height, as improper situations for paintings of excel- lence : and this for a twofold reason ; — from their position a great part of their merits are lost, — and the history of the art furnishes but too many instances how rapidly such works decay. No species of painting is I am well aware of greater difficulty ; but surmounting difficulties is not the legitimate pride of art. 190 ARCHITECTURE. Exquisite and wonderful as are the works of this kind produced by the pencils of Michel Angelo, Correggio, and Rubens, may it not be regretted that their talents were so frequently thus employed. In the most dignified situations which the building affords, are two monuments of large dimensions, but not happily designed ; the one in memory of Turenne, * the other of the less illustrious Vauban. To this noble edifice is * In 1793 , when the Abbey ot Saint Denis was defaced by the populace, and its tombs ransacked, destroyed, and pil- laged, par ordre du comite de saint public, the corpse of this illustrious warrior, as well as that of Henry the Fourth, was found entire, and little injured by time. The remains of the darling monarch of the French shared the same late as those of the other royal personages : they were profaned, muti- lated, and thrown into a ditch, amid shouts of triumph and derision. The corpse of Turenne, with more refined im- piety, was moved from place to place, and made a common show to gratify the vile curiosity of the populace. It was not until 1799 that the Director^ ordered his remains to be deposited in the Museum of French Monuments : at length in 1800 , by the commands of Buhnaparte, they were trans-, ARCHITECTURE. 191 injudiciously attached a diminulive building which they denominate the new church. The outside of the central dome is gilded : this was not a new idea of Buonaparte’s, as it had originally been thus ornamented. The good taste of this expensive embellishment has been called into question ; yet even the critics do not deny that it forms, from whatever part of the city it is viewed, a splendid and elegant object. The Church of Samte-Genevihve^ * * or, as it still continues to be called, the Pantheon^ is art extremely noble edifice : its dimensions are considerably larger than those of the Church of the Invalids ; but the interior, although more pure in its architecture, is less pleasin®' in its general effect. There is one grand error in the building: the pillars, which immediately support the dome, are in appearance more massive and heavy than those on which they ported to the church of the Invalids; and placed in the original tomb which they occupied at Saint Denis. * This church was commenced by Louis the Fifteenth in 1764. 192 ARCHITECTURE. rest : this destroys the symmetry of the whole. The exterior of the dome is grand and im- posing : much more so than Saint Paul's, although the latter is nearly twice as large. Magnitude is indeed the only point in which our Cathedral is superior to the two buildings 1 have just mentioned. Sainte-Genevieve still wears the appearance of a republican temple : there is a chilling want of all the usual attributes of religion : but this is no longer to be the case ; workmen are at present employed in completing the interior, and in adapting it to the purposes for which it was originally constructed. The inscription over the portico is un- changed ; — Aux Grands- Hommes La Pat7ie Reconnaissante. and it is believed that the church will con- tinue to receive the remains of the learned and the brave. The vaults designed for their re- ception extend under the whole of the building. These vaults consist chiefly of narrow rooms branching off from both sides of long pasr ARCHITECTURE. 193 sages ; they are so constructed as to admit the light ; and from the nature of the stone em- ployed are free from damp : each room is ar- ranged to hold twelve bodies. Towards the central part of the buildings are vaults of more ample dimensions : these are designed for men of pre-eminent fame, and at present only con- tain the tombs of Voltaire and Rousseau. This arrangement is 1 think ill judged in many respects. There is something disgust- ing and repugnant in the idea of mouldering bodies ranged against the sides of a room, and only separated from us by a thin stone. The earth is surely a more natural resting-place for the dead ; or if vaults are used, those vaults should not be public. But here the same sarcophagus is the burying-place, and the mo- nument : it is equally ill adapted to both pur- poses ; too open and accessible for the former, too confined and secluded for the latter. The monument of an illustrious man is a religious and public tribute to his merit : all conceal- ment is inconsistent with its purpose ; con- 194 ARCHITECTURE. spicuous and prominent situations should be chosen for that which it js designed all the world should contemplate. The same want of judgment and of proper feeling is shewn b} the French in a somewhat analogous instance. The church-} ards of Paris became unw holesome from the prodigious num- ber of bodies which they contained : it was here fore resolved to clear them, and to re- move the bones. The immense caverns, formed in procuring stone for building the capital, were deemed the most proper place in which to deposit them. Thus far the rheasure was ex- pedient and sensible ; but who except French- men ever would have thought of arranging the bones in regular masses and fantastical shapes; and opening the exhibition to the public ? Millions of sculls in deformed rows resting on arm-bones ; arm-bones resting on thigh- bones ; all the remaining fragments, as not ornamental, thrown out of sight; altars built with bones arranged in various modes, and ornamented with sculls ; tablets fringed with ARCHITECTURE. 195 the same materials, and inscribed with precepts, varying, according to their dates, from atheism to Christianity. — Such are the contents of the Catacombs, which we give our half franc to see. I had heard much of the horror, the solemnity, and religious awfulness of the scene ; my only sensations were indignation and disgust. The Musee des Monumens Francais^^' though not liable to the same censure, can hardly be viewed with feelings totally dissimilar. * This collection is placed in the suppressed convent and church of the Petits Augustins. The building is divided into different halls : that part which was formerly the body of the church, is filled with monuments and works of art of various periods, arranged promiscuously : in the other halls the order of time is attended to ; and each contains the productions of a century. There are very few specimens anterior to the fourteenth century ; but from that period the series is unbroken and ample. In the gardens of the convent, amidst a miscellaneous assemblage of fragments of sculpture and architecture, are placed the tombs, and the remains, of Moliere, La Fontaine, Boileau, Mabillon, Descartes, Moiitfaucoii, Rohault, and of Abelard and Heloise. 196 ARCHITECTURE. Monsieur Lenoir, by whose sole industry the Museum was formed, has certainly deserved well of his country. With unremitting’ perse- verance, and at some personal risk, he suc- ceeded in rescuing from destruction a very large number of valuable and interesting works of art : these he has arranged in chrono- logical order, and they furnish an ample field of research to the antiquary ; and to the artist a complete view of the progress of Sculpture ill France, from its commencement to the pre- sent time. But can this collection be contemplated with- out reflecting that it is the result of a nation’s sacrilege and impiety ; that the monuments thus brought together are the wrecks of a thou- sand religious edifices, plundered and de- stroyed ; and that the very building in which they stand is an instance of this general ruin ; that its inhabitants were driven from its dis- mantled walls to be massacred by an insane populace ; or, a still harder destiny, to be thrown upon the world, infirm, aged, and poor. ARCHITECTURE. 197 The heterogeneous nature of the collection adds to the unpleasing effect. These tombs, torn from the dead bodies they protected, and converted from records of piety into mere objects of critical research, are blended with statues and bas-reliefs of heathen deities and heathen conquerors, and the still more repug- nant exhibitions of revolutionary philosophy. * Next to the marble tomb of a moralist, is a plaster allegory complimentary to the genius of a fiddler ; and windows, painted with the loves of Cupid and Psyche, glare upon the monu- ments of the monarchs, the warriors, and the statesmen of France. These absurdities, to give them no harsher * As instances of what is here spoken of, the following extracts are given from the catalogue of the Museum. No. 483. Bas-relief representant Voltaire dans les Champs-Elysees, re<;u par le Roi Henri IV, No. 4S6. Bas-relief en terre cuite, reprhentant Jean- Jacques Rousseau dans les Champs-Elysees, rcqu par So- crate. 198 ARCHITECTURE. name, are not considered as such by the French: variety, glitter, and contrast, are what they seek ; and the better feelings, which would have separated religious things from trifling and profane, are either wanting, or not suf- ficiently powerful to contend with other mo- tives. ARCHITECTURE. 109 LETTER XVL Architecture. — Grand Scale of Public Insti- tutions in Paris, — Halle au BIL — Pont des Arts. — Pont de Neuilly. — Pont Ilena. — Mal- maison, — Vincennes. — General State of Archi- tecture in France. Whatever differences of opinion may exist as to the architectural mag-nificence of this ca- pital, there are some points in which it is truly regal. I allude to the noble and immense scale of its public institutions, and may mention as instances the Hotel des Invalides^ the Biblio- thhque Royale., the Conservatoire des Arts et Metiers., and the Jar din des Plantes. — The ex- tensive munificence visible in these, and indeed in many other of. the numerous public insti- tutions, impresses the spectator with higher 200 ARCHITECTURE. ideas of the national grandeur and importance than all the ornamental splendor which sur- rounds them. Every thing that with us is done by public bodies is in France the immediate act of the government : and hence many of their establish- ments assume an appearance of splendor and importance far beyond that which we are ac- customed to see in England in similar situa- tions, and where the real consequence and wealth are beyond all comparison greater. The government controls all the principal branches of trade, and in her control she is liberal and magnificent. To this cause may be traced many of the finest structures in Paris : yet we have found that the Parisians are much less proud of the buildings which are designed for useful purposes, than of those which are purely ornamental ; and it has been said, with more truth than good nature, that the French value themselves on their public edifices in the inverse ratio of their utility. The Halle au Ble is one of the most elegantly constructed build- ARCHITECTURE. 201 itigs in Paris, yet a Parisian would smile at your preferring it to the silly column, a la Vic- toire^ with its gilded finery in the Place du Chatelet. The Halle au Ble, which serves the double purpose of a market and a magazine for corn, is a circular building of very large dimensions, and is covered with a dome nearly equal in size to that of Saint Paul’s. Originally this was of wood, and from the nature of the windows, which extended from its centre to the bottom in alternate divisions, the market was oppress- ively hot. The roof having been destroyed by fire about twelve years ago, Buonaparte, who called this establishment Le Mush du Peuple^ directed the present superb and elegant dome to be constructed. It is a hemisphere entirely of metal, and all its parts, from the most important to the most minute, appear arranged with perfect science. Not an ounce of material is uselessly employed; and from hence results a union of strength and lightness which is at once astonishing and beau- 202 ARCHITECTURE. tiful. The vertical ribs which support the dome may be described as formed each by two bars of iron, the one advanced in front of the other, and both gradually decreasing in size as they ascend. In the largest part they are not above two inches and a half thick by three inches deep. At the bottom they are about a foot apart from each other, and at top they approach to within three inches. These two bars are connected at intervals of two feet and a half by light pieces of iron. The ribs are thus rendered inflexible; and from their greater lightness are perhaps stronger than if solid and of the same size. Horizontal circles of iron retain them in their position ; and on these circles are placed sheets of copper, tinned on the inside to obstruct the transmission of heat. Light and air are admitted by a circular win- dow at the top. We visited the Halle au Ble on one of those extremely hot days which oc- curred near the end of last month : on the out- side, the copper was much too warm to be en- dured by the hand ; but the inside of the build- ARCHITECTURE. 203 ing was perfectly temperate. I have been in- duced more minutely to describe this admirable specimen of scientific architecture from the cir- cumstance of never having seen it mentioned in any of the accounts of Paris ; and I believe that it is very rarely visited by strangers. 1 he modern bridges of Paris are constructed with admirable science, but have little claim to attention as far as relates to the beauty of their appearance. They are too much crowded to- gether ; and the narrowness of the river, the depth of its banks, and the scantiness of water, all contribute to lessen their eflect. Most of them consist of five arches, and have the im- portant advantage of being level throughout their whole extent. Le Pont des Arts, con- structed solely for foot passengers, is of iron. The curves which form the arches are grace- fully arranged ; and as the piers are only the thickness of a pillar, the whole has a singu- larly light appearance. But the finest bridges across the Seine are two a little removed 204 ARCHITECTURE. from Paris, Le Pont d'lena, and Le Pont de Neuilly. The latter is splendid and of great length, being built at a place where the river is particularly wide, and the arches extending on both sides very far beyond the water. Le Pont d* lena is a still nobler structure. The arches are large, and boldly formed ; and in the spaces above each pier are ornaments in basso relievo, representing an eagle placed within a wreath of laurel ; their size is suited to their position, and they produce a very good effect : but here also the bridge is a great deal too hig for the river. It is laughable to observe the unwillingness with which the French admit that the Thames is somewhat a finer river than the Seine ; and the numberless mats with which they qualify the confession. Malmaison and Vincennes, two of the build- ings in the vicinity of Paris, are interesting from peculiar circumstances. Malmaison^ formerly the favourite residence of Buonaparte, we visited on our road from ARCHITECTURE. 205 Saint Germain-en-Laye to Paris. We found it occupied by an English general,* and the sen- tinels at the gates were men of the Life-Guards. They were the first English soldiers we had met with in France, and the sight of them, thus stationed, could not but delight us. The plantation in front of the house has an ill effect, being rendered formal by straight walks which cross it in various directions. The building is small ; and except a painted imita- tion of a tent which disfigures the entrance, is not unlike an English villa. There is a very large and handsome gallery ornamented with marble statues, some of which are by Canova, and the walls are covered with copies, chiefly by French artists, of the most celebrated pictures: the whole extent of the floor is 'in- laid with various kinds of rare wood. The bed-chamber of the late Empress Josephine is a small oval room overwhelmed with velvet. * Lord Combermere had his quarters at Malmaison. 206 ARCHITECTURE. porphyry, and gold. In none of the palaces in France is there a room decorated in a style of such lavish expense, and it forms a ridiculous contrast to the other apartments, which, ex- cepting the gallery, are very far from sumptu- ous. The necessity of an accordance and union of parts to form a whole is little attended to by the French. Not in their buildings only, but in every thing, finery and dirt, poverty and extravagance, are permitted to approach each other in a manner such as Avould never be tolerate J in England. From the windows at the back of the house, there is a delightful view : the prospect over a rich and variegated country is bounded by hills covered ith wood, and much resembles some of the beautiful scenery in Kent. Still more perfectly English are the gardens, which extend from the house to a considerable distance. They are not only exactly after our model, but yield in beauty to few which we possess. But that which gives the chief interest to Malmai- ARCHITECTURE. 207 son, is the reflections which it excites, and the sensation of walking over its rooms as coiKjuerors. The Castle of Vincennes merits attention from its antiquity and extent, and from its connexion with the history of our own coun- try ;* but I question whether we should have taken the trouble to visit it, had it not been to witness the silly show of defence which is still kept up there by the French. In the capitulation by which the armies en- tered Paris, Vincennes was not included ; and the Allies, their character of enemies having by degrees softened into that of friends, were subsequently unwilling to renew hostilities by attacking it. — The garrison, consisting of about a thousand men, and its governor, declared their determination to keep possession of the place. They hoisted the white flag, but refused to re- * The building, which is of very remote antiquity, was enlarged and strengthened by Henry the Second of England : and Henry the Fifth died within its walls. 20S ARCHITECTURE. ceive any orders, either from the Bourbon so- vernment, or from the Allies. Nothing can be more absurd than this resistance, as the place is totally defenceless, and half a dozen Prussian cannon would knock it to pieces in a few hours. The contempt of the con- querors has proved the castle's best protection : yet I suspect, tiiat before long, the French will make this a loop-hole by which to creep out of their military degradation ; and that we shall hear them boldly assert, that although Paris was occupied by the allied sovereigns, they were unable to subdue the strong places ; and that \ incennes braved them to their teeth. The road from Paris through the Barriere du Trone was guarded by Prussian patrols. These reached to within half a mile of the castle : there was then a space unoccupied, and the French sentinels commenced close under the walls of the building. They were the first regular soldiers of the French army which we had seen ; and the uniform is so similar to that of the Prussians, that had it not been for the ARCHITECTURE. 209 contrast between good-humoured salutations and frowning looks, we might not have remarked the change. All the soldiers whom we saw were little men, and extremely out of condition as to their appointments, but looked somewhat fierce and very consequential. When we at- tempted to enter the gates they stopped us ; and the universal passport — “ Nous sommes Anglais' was rejected with ‘‘ Feste des Ang- lais !” nor would they permit our w alking com- pletely round the castle : beyond this they shewed no inclination to annoy us. The three sides of the building which we could approach, although in some degree disfigured by tem- porary defences of brick, are stately and hand- some, affording specimens of the architecture of various ages, mingled together in not in- elegant confusion. There are several lofty quadrangular towers, but the donjon lifts its gloomy and unsightly mass fixr above them all. The Chapel is of Gothic architecture, and its exterior appearance is stately and elegant. These buildings stand upon a larger space of ground p 210 ARCHITECTURE. than any similar edifices I am acquainted with in .England, except Windsor, and deserve a more minute inspection than we were per- mitted to give them. Before I close my letter, and quit the subject of French architecture, which has indeed de- tained me much longer than I at first intended, let me prevent your misconstruing my opinion as to the magnificence of Paris. I do not mean to assert that London is superior to this capital in its buildings. This undoubtedly is not the case : there are in Paris an infinitely greater number of splendid structures than with us. I would be understood to mean, that in the Banqueting-house at Whitehall, and in West- minster-abbey, w e have more perfect and more noble buildings than any which the French possess : and, all comparison out of the question, although the lover of show and finery will meet with endless sources of gratification, every street having its palace, and every court its pillar, yet that there is in Paris little to delight or satisfy those who will not accept of splendor ARCHITECTURE. 211 and expense as an equivalent for the genuine beauties of the art. I have claimed for England the superiority in the existing schools of painting and sculp- ture : in the architecture of the present day we are unquestionably behind the French. * Se- veral of their recent buildings, some slight * In the facility with which stone is procured, Paris has a great local advantage over London ; as it is not possible for a building to be really magnificent which is constructed of any other material. In London the expense of stone is enormous, and it therefore behoves us never to employ it unless with ability and judgment. The costliness of an inelegant edifice renders it doubly ridiculous. Of all the modern expedients to obtain Show at a cheap rate, that of cement in imitation of stone is the worst. A tradesman who hopes to make his fortune in a few years does wisely perhaps to attract customers by plastering the walls above his shop, but for public buildings to be thus dressed out is in the highest degree contemptible and ill judged. An unornamented brick building, with no pre- tence to architecture, except in the correctness of its pro- portions, is beyond all comparison more handsome than the most laboured stuccoed edifice, which let it be ever so well 212 ARCHITECTURE. allowance being made for the indigenous love of ornament, evince great ability and judg- ment: and I do not think that any of the Parisian architects would have disgraced their country, by such structures as the ridicu- lous and disproportioned front of the College of Surgeons in LincolnVinn Fields, or the expensive and absurd hideousness of the new buildings at the Bank. — Still less do I think that any of them, had this capital possessed a building of such purity, correctness, and ele- gance as Whitehall, would have sacrificed their reputation by defacing it. executed, can not be like what it is intended to resemble. If this fashion continues to gain ground, London will gradu- ally be converted into a mass of forgeries, of which the poverty and meanness will each day become more evident. THE STAGE. 213 LETTER XVII. The Stage. — Description of the French The- atres. — Tragic Acting at the Thidtre Frangais, — Talma, To a stranger who visits Paris, the object next in interest to the Louvre is unquestionably the drama, as exhibited at the Theatre Fran- gais : a zealous admirer of comedy would be repaid for all the fatigue of a journey to this capital were he to find no other source of gra- tification. The Parisians boast a long list of theatres ; but this, which they by pre-eminence term the national theatre, is the only one ap- propriated to the legitimate drama, and the only one at which actors of eminence per- form. At some of the minor theatres we see farces, 214 THE STAGE. and pleasantries of the day, acted with consi- derable comic effect; at others, an endless succession of lively and well-contrived melo- dramas, in which the vocal parts are not ill sustained. The general class of these perform- ances approaches very nearly to the entertain- ments of a benefit-night at the Lyceum, Mr. Dowton and Miss Kelly being of course out of the question. The Opera, par excellence — the Opera^ as to fashion and company, holds much the same rank as our own. The music, the acting, and the singing, are bad ; the machinery in all its departments admirable ; and although the prin- cipal dancers do not excel those whom large salaries entice to England, the general effect of the dancing is much better, from the supe- riority of the Corps de Ballet, The Operas performed are about as rational as with us ; yet, as in London, here and here only do the fashionable world resort. In their interior construction, the French theatres are more massive and architectural THE STAGE. 215 than the English.^ They are much less orna- mented, and less brilliantly lighted ; the French intentionally avoiding splendor in the body of the house in order to add effect to the stage. The good taste of this must be admitted ; but from it results an air of dulness and poverty, strikingly different from the appearance of a London playhouse. This sombre effect is less- ened, but not entirely removed, by the rising of the curtain. On the stage every thing is splendid : the dresses, when the rigid attention which is paid to costume permits it, at least as rich as with us ; the furniture much more mag- * Instead of the light metal columns which support the boxes at Covent-garden and Drury-lane, a range of large pillars goes round the house; between these are the first and second circles of boxes. At the Opera-house, the ceiling is sustained by eight pil- lars, placed in the form of an oblong octagon. These pillars are hollow, and contain seats which are furnished with small lattices adapted to the fluting of the column. In the French theatres the only light in the body of the house is from a large chandelier suspended from the centre. 216 THE STAGE. nificent, and more abundant ; the scenery not so well painted, but in those performances in which change of place is admitted, it is far more adroitly managed. In one point of pri- mary importance the Parisian theatres have the advantage over ours ; they are of much smaller dimensions: in all of them, the necessity for the audience to hear and see appears to have been taken into consideration. By the assistance of a fiacre^ and guided by a valet de place^ all of whom are profoundly skilled in the science of public amusements, a sufficient knowledge of the minor theatres may be obtained in two or three evenings ; it is only the Theatre Fran^ais which the lover of the drama will repeatedly visit. A very few evenings fixed my opinion of the tragic and comic acting of the French. I am aware how liable we all are to the influence of national prejudice ; but I have now attended so many of their performances as to feel myself in some degree justified in giving a decided opinion.— Their tragedy is bad in itself, and TOE STAGE. 217 to an English taste intolerable ; their comedy is very little short of perfection. My admiration of the tragedies of Corneille, Racine, and Voltaire, remains iindiminished : I consider them as highly beautiful dramatic poems ; and not merely calculated to please in the closet but to produce in the representation a powerful effect, even upon the admirers of Shakespeare. That they fail to do so is to be attributed solely to the manner in which they are performed. To speak of the present style of tragic acting in France is to speak of Talma: his authority, and his example guide every thing. Talma may I think be described as a good actor, act- ing badly. Hie action and manner are grace- ful ; his voice powerful, although occasionally indistinct. In passages of strong passion he is certainly great, and almost natural ; but his action though elegant is too rapid, bustling, and Frenchified,, to accord with tragic feeling. In pathetic passages he quits his natural voice, and whines most disagreeably. His declama- 218 THE STAGE. tion is disfigured by tricks which to me appear unpardonable, but which certainly are not con- sidered as defects by the French, since the other actors obviously copy them. Indeed the minute and servile imitation of Talma, in action, in manner, and in voice, which, with scarcely an exception, all the tragic performers seem anxious to render visible, rather than to conceal ; although to us it produces a most ri- diculous effect, proves how perfectly the ori- ginal is suited to the taste of the audience. Of these tricks the worst is the running one sen- tence into another: this may sometimes pro- duce a fine effect, but Talma appears to do it when it produces no other effect than totally to destroy the sense. This practice seldom oc- curs except where the sentence ends the line ; and if the object be to hide the rhyme the advantage is much too dearly bought. An- other very frequent impropriety is, that in order to preserve the flow of the verse, he slurs over words on which the spirit of the passage requires a strong emphasis. Propriety and THE STAGE. 219 even elegance are sacrificed to effect : thus in despite of the sense, a dozen lines before a burst of passion, he sinks his voice, and hur- ries on with undue rapidity ; or if the contrast which he wishes to produce requires it, he will utter as many lines with unmeaning slowness. The mode of singing out the words, though considered by the French as indispensable to tragic speaking, is in a high degree offensive and wearying to an English ear. This tragedian's chief excellence is unques- tionably in sudden bursts of passion, particu- larly of horror, indignation, or grief; but he has the common fault of actors, the too great fondness of doing that which he knows he does well : a passage of moderate energy he often swells into vehemence, which however well executed, must be ridiculous because unsuited to the occasion. He has the merit of being uniformly occupied and active in his part; there are no blanks in his acting ; no pauses of inattention, either in the tamer parts of his own character, or in his by-play : his attention is 220 THE STAGE. never for a moment directed to the audience; no glances round the house to recognise friends; to borrow a painter’s term, he never looks out of the picture. Yet he may I think be accused of a total want of that talent, the highest of which an actor can boast, and which is possessed by Mr. Kemble in a pre-eminent degree ; — the power of identifying himself with the character he personates : Talma, whether a Roman, a Mahometan, or a Christian, a warrior or a man of peace, is still the same in manner and in action ; the distinction is in the dress, and in the speeches, not in the man. His style of acting, French peculiarities out of the question, approaches nearer to that of Mr. Young than of any other performer on the English stage: he has less judgment, but evinces more genius and originality. In a word, had Talma been bred on the English stage he would have been a first-rate actor ; but those who compare him to Kemble, or to Kean, prove themselves insensible to the transcendent the unrivalled excellences of the former, and THE STAGE. 221 to the peculiar and powerful genius of the latter. One of his most admired characters, but in which I have not yet seen him, is Hamlet. A gentleman by whom I sat in the theatre the other evening told me, convulsing his fingers in illustration as he spoke, that in the scenes in which he imagines the ghost to appear — “ II joue d faire fremir.^* ** Talma is a plain man of about the middle size ; he is much too corpulent to be elegant * Hamlet, Tragedie imitee de T Anglais par Monsieur Jean-Fran9ois Ducis, representee pour la premiere fois en 1769. This play is by no means the worst among the modern dramas of the F rench, but the plot and characters are very different from the original, and in very few passages is there even an attempt at translation. Our bard’s conception of the principal character appears never to have been suspected by his imitator. The Hamlet of Shakespeare is not mad ; but cloakes in wildness of speech and manner the vengeance which he meditates ; and the tumult and energy of his feelings tinge this assumed mad- ness with reality. The Hamlet of Monsieur Ducis is actu- 222 THE STAGE. in figure, or for his features to have their full expression : his eyes are very fine, and he per- fectly understands the management of them. The salary and other emoluments which tually mad, but talks rationally, and conducts himself with perfect decorum. In Monsieur Ducis’ emendations of the plot, Gertrude is represented as enamoured of Claudius before her marriage with the king. In the commencement of the second act, she narrates to her confidant, that the king, being ill, — ‘ dans ces momens, 4 mes soins seuls remis, Empruntait le secours de ce» puissants breuvages Dont un art bienfaisant montra les avantages.’ By the advice of Claudius she prepares poison instead of physic, and carries it to the king ; but on beholding him for the last time, is struck with remorse and rushes out of the chamber, leaving the cup behind her. She goes back to fetch it ; and, to her surprise, finds that the king has taken his physic, as he supposed, and is dead. She is not without compunction ‘ Ce qui me plait, Elvire, en mon trouble funeste, C’est de sentir au moins combien je me deteste.’ Hamlet twice dreams that the ghost of his father appears to him, and tells the foul unnatural murder. Just at this time he receives letters from Norceste, the Horatio, Rosen- THE STAGE. 223 he obtains from the theatre exceed three thousand pounds per annum ; and he is said to be as absolute a monarch on the stage as his late friend and master was on the throne : crantz, and Guildenstern of the play, informing him that the King of England has perished by the dagger of an as- sassin. This confirms his belief in his dreams ; and the im- pression is so strong as to derange his intellects : waking, as well as sleeping, he fancies that he beholds his father’s form. The play opens with Claudius instigating the nobles to elect him king ; and at the same time he endeavours to obtain the hand of the queen. She is penitent ; rejects his offer, and declares that her son shall be placed on the throne. Norceste arrives, and is deputed by the queen to obtain from Hamlet an explanation of ‘ ses mortelles alarmes.’ The prince tells him, and the speech is one of the best in the Play, ‘ Deux fois dans mon sommeil, ami, j’ai vu mon pere, Non point le bras leve, respirant la colere ; Mais desole, mais pale, et devorant des pleurs Qu’arrachait de ses yeux I’exces de ses douleurs. J’ai voulu lui parler : plein de I’horreur profonde Qu’inspirait k mon cceur I’effroi d’un autre monde. Quel est son sort ? lui dis-je ; apprends-moi quel tableau S’offre k I’homme etonne dans ce monde nouveau. 224 THE STAGE. authors as well as actors he treats as his vassals : this information however came to us from a prejudiced person, a dramatist whose plays the manager had refused. Croirai-je de ces dieux que la maiu protectrice Par d’eternels tourraens sur nous s’appesantisse ? “ O mon fils,” m’a-t-il dit, “ ne m’interroge pas ; “ Ces le 9 ons du cercueil, ces secrets du trepas, “ Aux profanes mortels doivent etre invisibles. “ Que du ciel sur les rois les arrets sont terribles ! “ Ah ! s’il me permettait cet horrible entretien, ** La paleur de mon front passerait sur le tien. “ Nos mains se secheraient en touchant la couronnc. Si nous savions, mon fils, k quel titre il la donne. “ Vivant, du rang supreme on sent mal le fardeau : “ Mais qu’un sceptre est pesant quand on entre an “ tombeau !” Norceste. Grands dieux 1* Hamlet, in obedience to the commands of the ghost, re- solves to take the urn from his father’s tomb. ‘ Osons tirer sa cendre De la tombe ou le crime, helas ! I’a fait descend re. Je veux qu’a chaque instant cette cendre en ces lieux De ces empoisonneurs fatigue au raoins les yeux.’ THE STAGE. 225 Saint-Prix, whose acting partakes somewhat of the style of the old school, is I think the next best performer. He is an elderly man ; extremely plain in his countenance, but his He then arranges with Norceste, that the latter shall give to Claudius and the queen an account of the murder of the English king, changing the circumstances to those which have happened in Denmark. This stratagem answers the purposes of the play introduced in the original ; and the dia- logue is thus managed. Hamlet. ‘ Vous avez vu Norceste ? Claudius. II a d’abord porte Ses premiers pas vers nous. Hamlet. II vous eut raconte La triste mort du roi que pleure I’Angleterre. Claudius. Oui, le bruit s’en repand ; ce n’est plus iin mystere, Hamlet. Dit-on par quelle main ^ — Q 226 THE STAGE. figure one of the finest I have ever seen. All the other actors are dull copiers of Talma, hav-. ing all his faults and none of his genius. Not one of the tragic actresses deserves notice. The rhyme offended me much less than I Norceste. Vous savez quels di scours Souvent la mort des rois fait iiaitre dans les cours. Parmi tous ces faux bruits, mal-aises a comprendre, Qu’au trepas de ce roi Ton se plut a repandre. On dit que le poison — mais je ne le crois pas, Claudius. Eh ! comment supposer de pareils attentats ? Hamlet. . Mais qui soup^onne-t-on de cet enorme crime ? Norceste. Un mortel honore de la publique estime. Hamlet. Enfin qui nomme-t-on? Norceste. Un prince de son sang, Qu’apres lui la naissance appelait k son rang. THE STAGE. 227 expected ; indeed they use every endeavour to hide it: this we did also I believe in our Gertrude, Vous a-t-on informe qu’il eut quelque complice ? Norceste. Oui — Hamlet. La reine peut-etre ? Gertrude. O ciel ! — par quel indice A-t-on pu decouvrir ? Norceste. Je I’ignore. Gertrude. En secret Quel motif donne-t-on d’un aussi grand forfait } Norceste. L’amour du diademe, une flamme adultere. has d Hamlet. II n’est point trouble, Hamlet, has d JSorceste. Non; mais regarde ma mere.’ Q 2 228 THE STAGE. lamentable days of heroic tragedy. To the rhythm of the verse they pay the most scrupu- lous attention ; every thing is sacrificed to it, and a failure in this point is considered as un- Ophelie, the daughter of Claudius, informs the queen that Hamlet’s hopeless love for herself is the cause of his madness ; the decree of the late king having forbidden her nuptials with the prince. The queen is delighted at re- ceiving this intelligence, and declares that they shall be married instantly. ^ Hamlet’s soliloquy, which is by far the best passage in the play, commences the fourth act, ‘ Eh ! qu’olfre done la mort k mon ame abattue ? Un asile assure, le plus doux des chemins Qui conduit au repos les malheureux humains. Mourons. Que craindre encor quand on a cesse d’etre ? La mort — e’est le sommeil — e’est un reveil peut-etre. Peut-etre — Ah ! e’est ce mot qui glace, epouvante, L’homme au bord du cercueil par le doute arrete. Devant ce vaste abyme il se jette en arriere, Rassaisit I’existence, et s’attache a la terre. Dans nos troubles pressans qui peut nous avertir Des secrets de ce monde ou tout va s’engloutir ? Sans I’effroi qu’il inspire, et la terreur sacree Qui defend son passage et siege a son entree. THE STAGE. 229 pardonable. We were present when a provincial actor made his debut ; the chief censure which he met with was on this ground ; — “ Quelle oreille!” We were ignorant enough to think Combien de malheureux iraient dans le tombeau De leurs longues douleurs deposer le fardeau ! Ah ! que ce port sou vent est vu d’un ceil d’envie Par le faible agite sur les flots de la vie ! Mais il craint dans ses maux, au-deli du trepas, Des maux plus grands encore, et qu’il ne connait pas,’ Ophelie offers her love to Hamlet. It is refused, but not rudely. The queen enters and seconds her endeavours ; but in vain. A delirium seizes Hamlet, and he fancies that he beholds his father’s ghost. Hamlet, d Gertrude, ‘ Le trouble ou je me plonge De mes sens prevenus vous parait un mensonge. Gertrude. En pourrais-tu douter ! ne vois-tu point, helas ! Que c’est ta seule erreur— Hamlet. Ne vous y trompez pas, Tout est reel, madame !’ 230 THE STAGE. that the debutant might not be quite wrong in attending to the sense rather than the sound. The monotonous cadence of the verse, though at first unpleasant to the ear, soon ceases to be Cladius’s plot with Polonius and the nobles goes on ; and Norcestc contrives a counterplot in favour of the prince. . The fifth act opens by Norceste presenting the urn to Hamlet. ‘ La voila done, Seigneur, cette urne redoutable. Qui contient d’un heros la cendre deplorable.’ Ophelie enters ; and Hamlet informs her of the guilt of Claudius. She pleads for her father ; and the whole of the scene is much more closely borrowed from Otway’s Venice Preserved than from Shakespeare. Next enters the queen; and we have the picture scene, the urn supplying the place of the portraits. Hamlet, lui presentant Vurne, ‘Prenez cette urne, et jurez-moi sur elle: “ Non, ta mere, mon fils, ne fut point criminelle.” L’osez-vous ? je vous crois. Gertrude. Donne. Hamlet. Vous hesitez. THE STAGE. 231 perceived ; and the long speeches go off much less heavily on the stage than in reading. The actors are obviously afraid of them, and hurry Gertrude. Ah ! pardonne k mes sens encor trop agites— Hamlet. Attestez maintenant — ll lui met Vurne entre les mains, Gertrude. Eh bien ! — oui — moi — j’atteste — Je ne puis plus soufFrir un objet si funeste.’ She faints, and Hamlet moved by her grief forgives her ; — ‘ Chere ombre, enfintes vceux n’ont plus rien a pretendre ; L’exces de ses douleurs doit apaiser ta cendre.’ Claudius and his party attack the palace gates. Hamlet again sees his father’s shade, and he once again resolves to obey its command and take the life of his mother; but he is unable to execute his purpose, and flies from her pre- sence. At the gates he meets and kills Claudius.— The queen stabs herself ; and without the slightest notice of poor Ophelie, the play ends by Hamlet’s declaring ; — ‘ Mais je suis homme et roi : reserve pour soufliir, Je saurai vivre encor ; je fais plus que mourir.^ 232 THE STAGE. on at a great rate, frequently in open defiance of the sense. We heard from several quarters that Talma, the Lycurgus of the French stage, had intro- duced great alteration in the style of acting, all borrowed from the English. The information was requisite, as certainly Ve never should have suspected the honour done to our country. These alterations were explained to us, as con- sisting in the substitution of nature, ease, and propriety, for the formality and stateliness of their former manner. With how little success this has been attempted the preceding remarks will in some measure enable you to judge ; and it may perhaps be doubted whether it be pos- sible for their stage to be much benefited by any imitation of ours. The French and Eng- lish dramas differ too essentially for the style of acting which suits the one to be applicable to the other. For my own part, I am convinced that in spite of all the improprieties in what they term the old school of acting, the per- formance of Racine’s tragedies would have THE STAGE. 233 more delighted me, had I seen them before this anglicized manner had been attempted : among the French themselves the elder critics appear to regret the innovation. The Theatre Frangais is generally filled ; when Talma performs it is crowded. He is well received by the whole of the audience ; but his most zealous admirers are in the Par- terre : this may be accounted for by his known attachment to Buonaparte.* The play begins at seven o'clock, and ends a little after nine ; the second piece lasts about an hour : there is hardly any interval between the acts, the over- * Talma was highly favoured by Buonaparte, to whom he frequently read dramatic and other poetry ; and if the caricaturists of Paris may be credited, the First Consul condescended to receive instructions from him in elocution, and the management of his imperial robes. Talma is reported to have said, — “ Buonaparte me boude quelquefois de ce quejejoue mieux que lui le role de tyran'^ This actor visited the ex-emperor at Elba ; and was un- questionably an important agent in the bold conspiracy which replaced him for a few weeks on the throne. 234 THE STAGE. ture to the play being the only music, and even this is frequently omitted. The dignity and gravity of the drama are rigidly preserved ; no adventitious ornaments are resorted to ; and an Englishman, filled with ideas of the levity of the French, and their love of gaiety, is asto- nished when first he witnesses the deep im- pression which tragic acting produces on the audience, and the profound attention and de- corum which are preserved. My remarks on the comedy of the French I shall defer to another letter, THE STAGE. 235 LETTER XVIIl. The Stage. — Comic Acting at the ThMtre Frangais, — Fleury, — Baptiste aine, — Mademoi- selle Mars, — Peculiarities in the Comic Drama of the French.— Moliere, The first time that we attended the ThMtre Frangais, the entertainments of the evening were Philocthte^ La Harpe’s much-vaunted translation from Sophocles, and Moliere’s Ecole des Femmes. Having anticipated great delight from the serious drama of the French, and particularly from the acting of Talma, you may judge from my last letter how complete the disappointment must have been. All those pe- culiarities, which to me appear so much at va- riance with good taste, were from their novelty 236 THE STAGE. doubly offensive ; and the character of Philoc- tete is by no means favourable to Talma^s pe- culiar powers. The pause which separated the two pieces was occupied in foreboding a second disappointment. In a few minutes the curtain rose, and I shall long remember the surprise and pleasure which took place of our fears. It might almost have been imagined that an enchanter's wand had been employed during the interval. Every fault seemed transformed, as if by magic, into its contrary excellence : it was difficult to be- lieve that we were in the same theatre, listening to the same language, and beholding actors of the same nation. — Graceful and polite in their action and manner ; natural in their mode of speaking, the words not being sung out, or any attempt made either to disguise the rhyme or improve the verse ; lively, animated, and ele- gant, perfectly at home, and at their ease, each character was so accurately conceived, and ex- ecuted with such facility and truth, as to lose all appearance of acting: the personages of THE STAGE. 237 the drama themselves, Arnolphe, Agnes, Ho- race, Georgette, stood before us. There can be no doubt that comic acting is an effort of less difficulty to the French than to the English ; they have therefore less merit in succeeding : but most important is the advan- tage which results to their stage from this fa- cility. With us, the one or two chief charac- ters are well performed, the remainder vilely ; on the French stage we never see a bad come- dian. Their degrees of merit vary of course from very high, to very moderate ; but all of them have certain natural, or rather national, capabilites for comic acting, which render it impossible for them to offend, or injure the general effect of the play, as the inferior per- formers do with us. The French hardly seem acting when they perform in comedy , — Natio comceda est : — the charm which this produces cannot be understood by those who have not felt it. We have I think one actor, and only one, who has this perfect appearance of not being on the stage : but Mr. Dowton deserves 238 THE STAGE. more credit than the French ; with him it is the result of exquisite skill, exquisitely con- cealed ; with the French I really believe that it comes without their seeking it. The tragic actors at the Theatre Frangais appear to be few in number ; but they have a long list of excellent comedians. Fleury, the chief favourite, is a most admirable actor : he is about fifty years of age, of low stature, but with a countenance of extreme intelligence : his fort is in portraying finesse and subtlety ; in Tcirtuffe he cannot be surpassed. Baptiste aine may perhaps be ranked as next in merit : he is an old man, peculiarly gentlemanlike in his per- son and manner ; and the comic expression of his features is more powerful than in any countenance I ever beheld, and yet without the slightest admixture of farce or buffoonery. His most famous character is Lord Ogleby, in a play translated from our Clandestine Mar- riage : never was a man more suited by na- ture for any part. There are two or three actors who perform Les Amants with a degree THE STAGE. 239 of spirit, feeling, and elegance, quite unknown on the English stage. Mademoiselle Mars is an inimitable, a per- fect actress : she is extremely handsome, and joins to the most unconstrained vivacity, an appearance of easy dignity and good-breeding which is singularly attractive. I have hardly ever seen upon the stage any thing more masterly than the manner in which she acted the part of Celiante in Le Philosophe Marie, a bad play by Destouches. The character is ill drawn, coarse, and stupid ; its faults were redeemed and hid by the skill of the actress in a degree hardly to be conceived. — Mademoi- selle Leverd is equal in talent to Mrs. Jordan ; with the great additional merit of never being induced, by the love of applause, to lay aside even for a moment her gentility of manner. The strong difference between French and English character causes necessarily an essen- tial difference between the comedy of the two countries ; the main object of each, as indeed of all comedy, being the portraying of national 240 THE STAGE. character and manner : this difference is de- cidedly in favour of the French ; their vivacity and lightness are better adapted to the pur- poses of genteel comedy, the only species * ad- mitted on their stage, than the gravity and formal manner of the English. A further dissimilarity may, I think, be re- marked. In English comedies of this class, sorrows and misfortunes converted into joy are the ground-work of the plot; in the French, the personages are thrown into perplexities, and the dexterously surmounting these, their unexpected renewal, and the artfully over- coming them a second time, constitute the chief business of the play : hence, although English comedy is the more' interesting, the French is the more amusing. In giving the preference to the comic drama of the French, it is almost needless to observe, that I speak solely with reference to English plays of a similar class. The works of the French dramatists admit of no comparison either in powerful delineation of human na- THE STAGE. 241 ture, or in poetical merit, with the genuine English comedies of Shakespeare and his fol- lowers. In all the legitimate dramas of the French, the unities are strictly attended to : the neces- sity for so doing is insisted upon in express terms by Boileau. Mais nous, que la Raison ^ ses regjes engage, Nous voulons qu’avec art Taction se menage : Qu’en un Lieu, qu^en un Jour, un seul Fait ac- compli Tienne jusqiTd la fin le th6^tre rempli. UArt Poetique, An English taste is naturally predisposed to deem this submission to rule inconsistent with genius, and destructive of scenic effect. Yet singleness of action, and some approach to correctness in the time of its duration, may I think be obtained by a skilful writer with little detriment to the interest or animation of his play ; or at least the advantages obtained are commensurate with the sacrifice. But in rigidly attending to the unity of place, little K 242 THE STAGE. if any thing is gained, and most important ad- vantages are given up : the author is fettered in the management of his plot ; a thousand modes of improving it, and rendering the story natural and interesting, are withheld from him ; and he is obliged to have recourse to awkward and lame contrivances, and to a perpetual re- currence of the same forced expedients and worn-out tricks. The change of place, it is urged, destroys the illusion which it is the chief business of the drama to produce. The theory of dramatic delusion may perhaps be doubted altogether ; but admitting that such delusion can be produced, surely the absurdi- ties and the improbabilities, which are the in- evitable consequence of an obedience to the rule, must more fatally disturb it than the most arbitrary change of place. The ill effects which arise from the inventive powers being thus shackled may be traced in all the dramatic writings of the French : there results from it a want of interest, a poverty, and a sameness, in the plot of their comedies which, THE STAGE. 243 although concealed in a great measure by the vivacitj of character, is still an important de- fect. The skill which Moliere has shewn in sur- mounting this difficulty, is admirable. To many of his plays it has been objected, and justly^ that the plots are improbable, and carelessly managed ; but the merit of which I speak re- lates, not to the general groundwork or de- velopment of the plot, but to the artful manner in which he preserves the unity of place, and yet makes the entrances and exits of the cha- racters appear natural and unconstrained. Of Moliere’s merits as a comic writer it is difficult to speak in terms of adequate praise. The whole circle of French literature affords nothing more delightful than the perusal of his works ; yet let no one consider himself as enabled to appreciate their full worth, before he has seen them on the stage. I had always placed this author in the very first rank of French writers ; but certainly, until 1 had been present at the representation of his plays, I R 2 244 THE STAGE. had no idea of his pre-eminent excellence. — His profound knowledge of human nature, his nice distinction of the lighter shades of variation in character, his good sense, the cor- rectness of his ideas, and the forcible and clear manner in which he expresses them, his wit, his vivacity, and the elegance and purity of his style, class him amongst the finest dramatic writers of any age. No severer trammels were ever imposed on genius than those arising from the structure of French verse. — The alternation of their mas- culine and feminine rhymes, the hemistic, and 1 know not how many other arbitrary laws, appear incompatible with propriety and ease of diction ; especially when we remember how ill adapted the French tongue is, from its na- ture, to the purposes of poetry. Spite of these restraints Moliere, less I think by skill than by a talent peculiar to himself, is perfectly unconstrained and natural in his language ; his characters speak with all the facility and freedom of real conversation ; the words are THE STAGE. 245 exactly those which we should expect such personages to use ; the verse and the rhyme appear unsought for and accidental ; * without any of the transpositions, any of the useless, closing epithets, which disfigure and weaken the poetry of the French. To an English taste the rhyme is one objec- tion to the tragedy of the French ; it is not so with the comedies of Moliere : on the con- trary, at the representation of UAvare^ and some of his other prose dramas, we felt the * “ Rare et fameux Esprit, dont la fertile veine Ignore en ecrivaut le travail et la peine ; Pour qui tient Apollon tons ses tresors ou verts, Et qui sais k quel eoin se marquent les bons vers ; Dans les combats d’esprit savant maltre d’escrime, Enseigne-moi, Moliere, ou tu trouves la rime. On diroit, quand tu veux, qu’elle te vient chercher. Jamais au bout du vers on ne te voit broncher ; Et, sans qu’un long detour t’arrete, ou t’embarrasse, A-peine as-tu parle, qu’elle-meme s’y place.” Boileau, Satire IL 246 THE STAGE. want of the verse ; the speeches appeared less animated, and produced a less pleasing ef- fect. I am not surprised that the French should admire their own style of tragic acting ; but it is matter of surprise to me, that the same per- sons who do admire it should be pleased with the mode of acting in comedy ; for no two things can be more perfectly different, or con- ducted on more opposite principles. It was an axiom with Garrick, that no one could be a perfect tragedian who was not a good comic actor: — this rule cannot be applicable to the Parisian stage ; and indeed Talma disproves it, as when he changes the buskin for the sock his failure is most lamentable. The French tragedy disdains ever to descend into comedy ; but occasionally, though less frequently than with us, there are in their co- medies serious and pathetic passages : the tra- gedy tone and manner never appear in these ; they are spoken with pathos, propriety, and THE STAGE. 247 perfect nature : how so spoken they can please the taste of the audience is to me a pa- radox. But to conclude this long disquisition. — Be it prejudice or want of taste I know not, but I am firmly convinced that the French face, French manner, the French language, and French verse, are inconsistent with the per- fection of tragic gravity and passion : they are exactly and eminently suited to comedy ; and a play of Moliere's, acted at the Theatre Frangais, is an intellectual treat of the highest order. This is the last letter which I shall have the pleasure of addressing to you from Paris, as our departure is fixed for to-morrow. — Delighted with having so well-timed our visit, and highly gratified with much that we have seen, even independently of the Louvre, we shall return to England, as I think all Eng- 248 THE STAGE. lishmen must do, more proud of our country than when we left it, and more firmly at- tached to its customs and its manners. THE END. / INDEX. Pa^e Antinous of the Belvidere — Statue l6; 110; 141 Antinous as Aristaeus — Statue 149 Antinous — Bust 151 Apollo of the Belvidere — Statue 15; 108; 143; note 145 Architecture of Paris 165 j General state of the Art in France 211 Bolognese School of Painting 7d Boy , taking a thorn from his foot — Statue 149 Bridges in Paris 203 Busts, Collection of in the Louvre 151 Catacombs I94 Centaur and Infant Bacchus — Group 149 Churches of Paris. Their Architecture 181 , Their internal arrangement J 83 , The style of their decorations 184 Cimabue 30 Claude Lorraine 101 Column in the Place Vendome 172 Comic Acting in France, Style of. 236 Correggio 62 — — , List of his Pictures in the Louvre, , . . ,note 63 250 INDEX. Page David 86 Diana — Statue 137 Discobolus after Myron — Statue 136 Domenichino 76 Dupati 162 Durer, Albert 35 Elgin Marbles 107; wo/e 124; 145; 150 England compared with France as to Painting ... .88 ; QO as to Sculpture 153 as to Architecture .... 211 English and French Comedy, their characteristic dif- ferences 239 English style of Tragic Acting copied by the French . . 232 Facade of the Louvre I67 of the Palace of the Corps Legislatif 172 Faun in Repose — Statue 148; I64 Faune a la Tache — Bust 151 Flemish Paintings, their removal from the Louvre .... 92 Fountain of the Elephant 173 France, Grand Scale of its Public Institutions 199 French, Modern School of Painting 87 , Old School of Painting 100 , Modern School of Sculpture 153 Monuments, Museum of 195 Gallery of the Louvre, Description of the, 22 INDEX. 251 Page Giorgione 76' Giotto 32 Gladiator, The Dying — Statue 17; 131 — — of the Borghese — Statue 17; 133 Gothic Architecture in Paris 181 Grand Gallery of the Tuileries 170 Halle au Ble 201 Halls of the Antique, Description of the 12 Hamlet, French Translation of, by M. Ducis . . . ,note 221 Hermaphrodite of the Borghese — Statue 17; 139 Holbein.^ 34 Houdon 155 Invalides, Church at the Hospital of the, 188 Lairesse 99 Laocoon — Group I6; 117; 131; 143 Lateral Chapels in the French Churches 185 Le Brun 40 ; 101 Luxemburgh, Pictures at the, 75 ; 85 ; 86 , Statues at the, 153 Malmaison 204 Meleager — Statue 17; 138 Mercury of the Belvidere, see Antinous, Michel Angelo Buonarroti , . 40 Moliere — Remarks on bis Dramas 243 Murillo 36 252 INDEX. Page Museum of French Monuments 195 Notre Dame ' 182 Opera House at Versailles 169 Orestes and Alecto — Group ‘ 162 Painting compared with Sculpture 104 Pantheon 19I Parnasse Fran^ais 156 Parthenon, Fragment of the Prize of the 150 Pedestals note 18 Perugino 56 Pictures, General Description of the Collection at the Louvre 21 Number in the Louvre note 25 Number, by some of the chief masters . . . ,note 26 at the Luxemburgh 75 ; 85 ; 86 Pictures Described. Cimahue — Virgin and Child 30 Correggio — Marriage of Saint Catherine 63 The Saint Jerome 64 Jupiter and Antiope * 66 Martyrdom of Saint Placido 70 Albert Durer — Adoration of the Kings 35 Domenichino — Communion of Saint Jerome 76 Giotto — Stigmates of Saint Francis 32 INDEX, 253 Page Holbein — The Last Supper 34 Lairesse — Hercules between Virtue and Vice 99 Murillo — Vision of the Virgin 36 Interview with the Pope 37 Nicolo Poussin — The Deluge 102 Raphael — The Transfiguration 45 Saint Cecilia 54 Vision of Ezekiel ib, Assumption of the Virgin 55 ■ — ^ La Belle Jardiniere ib. The Virgin crowned by her Son ib. Holy Family 57 Julio Romano — Martyrdom of Saint Stephen 60 Rubens — Hunting the Wolf 35 Elevation of the Cross 79 Crucifixion .....' ib, Descent from the Cross 80 Luxemburgh Pictures 85 Sacchi di Pavia — Doctors of the Church 36 Titian — Christ carried to the Tomb 71 Pilgrims of Emmaus ib. Martyrdom of Saint Peter the Dominican. ... ib. Danae 75 Vasari — A nnunciation 35 Vandyck — Ex Voto 98 Pont des Arts 203 234 INDEX. Page Pont de Neuilly * 204 d’lena ib. Povssin, Nicolo 10-2 ; 141 Pjramids, Model of the note 158 Raphael 42 List of his works in the Louvre note ib. Rembrandt 100 Relievo, Works in, at the Louvre 150 Roman Orator — Statue ... 148 Romano, Julio 59 Rubens 35 ; 78 Sacchi di Pavia 36 Sainte-Chapelle 182 Saint-0 uen at Rouen 183 Saint-Eustache 166 Saint-Sulpice 187 Sainte- Genevieve I 91 Schools of Painting, arrangement of them in the Gallery of the Louvre 24 Sculpture, — Number of Pieces of Antique, in the Louvre note 15 compared with Painting 104 _ its essential attributes 130 of the modem French school 153 Silenus and the Infant Bacchus — Group 149 INDEX. 255 Page Statues, General Description of the Colleetion 12 Theatres in Paris, general description of the 214 Titian 70 Torso of the Belvidere — Statue 17 ; 146 Tragic acting in France, style of 216 Triumphal Arch in the Place du Carrousel 174 Tuileries, Palace of the 167 Vandyck 98 Vasari 35 Venetian Horses, their removal from the Triumphal Arch 175 Venus de Medicis — Statue . . . .5 ; 16 ; 110 ; 127 ; note 150 of the Capitol Statue 6 — other Antique Statues of 150 Vernet 101 Vincennes, Castle of 207 Vinciy Leonardo da 60 Voltaire^ Statues of 155; 159 Versailles, Palace of ,l68 .y uiifi * . *yy '. 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