ever being again brought to any considerable pitch of improvement amongst any other people, while the first perfect models remain. The excellence of Homer, whatever might be its effects on his own countrymen, did not repress the genius of Virgil or of Lucretius; nor did the reputation of these great poets of antiquity check the ardour of Tasso or of Milton. But the difference of language, the infinite choice of subjects, and the variety of powers which poetry can employ, prevent the eminence of a poet in one country from having much effect in damping the efforts of the poets in another. With regard to Sculpture, however, the case is widely different. No diversity of subjects, no variety of powers to exert, no difference in the mode of expressing his conceptions, fall to the share of a Statuary. A correct representation of the exterior human form, marked perhaps with some of the stronger expressions of the countenance, the chusing a graceful or a striking figure, the throwing it into a pleasing or an interesting attitude, and the finishing the whole production with the most nice and exquisite workmanship, constitute the utmost limits of the Sculptor's art. When the

highest excellence in these, therefore, has been attained, and while those perfect models remain, they must ever after repress emulation in the art, and crush all the efforts of genius.

Together with this general cause, there is another which has very much contributed to the decline of the art of Sculpture in modern times, and that is, the great improvements, and the extraordinary pitch of excellence which Painting attained soon after the revival of arts and letters in Europe. This had naturally the effect of directing the attention of all ingenious artists to cultivate the art of Painting, where glory and praise were sure to be acquired, rather than

The

to Statuary, where no laurels were to be won. models of ancient Statuary held the place of nature to the study and imitation of the great artists of that time but imitative ingenuity and ambition had no room in working on marble, after marbles already perfect. To translate them (if I may be allowed the expression) into painting, was an object that gave emulation scope; and in fact it happened that the chisel of the Greeks was the great guide of the Roman pencil. Not only the novelty of the art of Painting, in consequence of the improvements it had received, but also the greater field which it afforded for the exertions of genius, contributed to render it the great object of attention. The more perfect representation it exhibited of the human form by the aid of colouring, the variety of figures which it admitted of being introduced, and the opportunity it presented of interesting and engaging the passions of the beholder, were all circumstances which naturally concurred to make it be held the more favoured and estimable display of an artist's power.

D

Thirds I manage

N° 74. SATURDAY, JULY 1, 1786.

IT is a well-known consolation to distress, to be told of the like infelicity which others endure. Perhaps, therefore, my late correspondent Mr. Easy may not be displeased to read the following letters, which will shew him, if the relations of my correspondents are to be relied on, that matches of love, as well as

of prudence, may have their disadvantages; that a wife's affection, as well as her economy, may imprison a man's person, may exclude him from his best society, and abridge his most innocent amuse

ments.

SIR,

To the LOUNGER,

It was my misfortune to lose my father in a few months after I came into the world. He was a gentleman of family in the county of

where he possessed a moderate fortune, and had married my mother not much above a year before his death. When she was thus deprived of her husband, she had not finished her twentieth year, and possessed an uncommon share of beauty, heightened and improved by every graceful accomplishment. Warmly attached to my father, she found no relief from her sorrows, as I have often heard her say, but in those cares and in that attention which it was necessary to pay to me in my infancy. As I grew up, I became the sole object of my mother's solicitude, and she transferred to me all the affection which she had borne to my father. I was not ungrateful for all this kindness; and in my mother I found not only a parent whom I respected, but a friend whom I loved; one to whom I was accustomed to unbosom myself with perfect freedom and confidence. Except a few years, which on account of my education we passed in town, we resided chiefly at the family-seat in the country. As we saw but few company, much of ourtime was spent in reading, which indeed came to be our favourite amusement. My mother's taste in books coincided entirely with mine. Though we sometimes read a little history, yet novels were our favorite amusement; and though my mother possessed taste enough to admire the elegance of a Robertson and the simplicity

VOL. XXXVII,

of a Hume, yet we read such authors as a sort of task, from which we returned with pleasure to the delightful page of a Richardson or Riccoboni. In this charming solitude my days glided sweetly along, and I never formed a wish to quit the society of my beloved mother, or to change the condition of my life. Before I had finished my eighteenth year, proposals of marriage had been made to me by several gentlemen of rank and condition. As it had ever been the avowed principle of my mother, that in that important particular a woman ought to be left at perfect freedom, she upon every such occasion declined to give any opinion, telling me, that as the happines of my life was to depend upon the choice I should make, I had only to consult the dictates and feelings of my heart. Thus left by the tenderness of my mother, to the freedom of my own will, I found no difficulty in giving an answer to my suitors. Respectable as they might be, they could not bear a comparison with those characters which I had been accustomed to love and to admire in my favourite authors; and it had long been my fixed opinion, that without a certain hallowed sympathy of soul, a sacred union of hearts, there was a degree not of indelicacy only, but of criminality, in forming the nuptial bond.

One day as my mother and I were upon our way to pay a visit at the house of a lady in the neighbourhood, our road led us along the side of a river, whose high banks, covered with wood, formed a most romantic and delightful scene. While we were admiring the beauties of it, some accident scared our horses on the very brink of a steep precipice; and in all likelihood the consequence would have proved fatal, had not a gentleman at that instant come to our assistance, and rescued us at the hazard of his own life. Charmed with the spirit of our deliverer, I had now time to examine him with a little more attention

In the bloom of youth, he possessed one of the finest forms I ever beheld, with a countenance animated and interesting in the highest degree. Perhaps the little adventure which introduced him to us, disposed me to view him at that moment with a partial eye. Little accustomed as I was to conceal the emotions of my mind, he must have been blind indeed if he did not perceive that I was pleased at finding he was going to the same house where my mother and I intended to pay a visit. If the first appearance of the stranger pleased me, his address and manner, and conversation charmed me still more. In a word, Sir, I found in him all the graces of a Lovelace, all the virtues and accomplishments of a Grandison, all the sentiments and tenderness of a Lord Ossory. Sir W. Denham (for that was his name) appeared to me the most amiable man I had ever seen. I need not trouble you with a recital of the progress of our acquaintance. Suffice it to say, that he made a complete conquest of my heart, and that I consented to give him my hand.

Immediately after our marriage we went to his fa mily-seat in the country. There the tenderness and the attachment of my husband seemed daily to increase. He lived but to gratify my wishes, and I fondly fancied myself the happiest of woman-kind. Alas, Sir! what a cruel thing it is to have known felicity, and then to be plunged in wretchedness; I, Sir, am now as miserable as once I was happy. Not to keep you in suspense, I have lost the affections of my husband. Of this I have hourly the most mortifying and the most unequivocal proofs. The first symptom I discovered of an alteration in his sentiments, was the pleasure I found he took in other society, and amusements of which I could not partake. When his country neighbours come to visit him, he will sit a whole evening over his bottle with them,