William Godwin then rose, and thought the opportunity a good one to impress parliament with his notion, that the time is not passed by for removing the veil from the majesty of intellectual or moral truth; and that, therefore, upon the strength of his Inquiry concerning Political Justice, the World might yet be induced to read his Thoughts on Man and Lives of the Necromancers. Mr. Judkin next said--" The wisest of men has declared that there is a time for all things;' and, as I consider that discussions on religious subjects are much more likely to unsettle than to fix the faith of the disputants, I feel • the very little inclination to enter battle-field' on these, or, indeed, on any other matters: my business is to lay before my congregation what I believe to be Christian doctrine, unmixed and pure, and not to enrol myself as a controversialist or dogmatist. It has pleased the Great Creator of the Universe to place us his creatures on a most beautiful world, the features of which are of various arrangement, and present themselves to our eyes under thousands of pleasing forms. To be fully sensible of all these variations of hill and dale, of forest, river, tree, and to portray them, let my pleasure be. Mr. Chairman, it has been, I hear, brought forward as a charge against me, that I ought not to allow myself so much time from my profession in my painting-room, and in my rambles about the country to explore scenery, If it can be and take sketches.' proved against me that I am less zealous in the Divine cause and the good of souls than any one of my professional brethren, I will chop up my easel, mix up all my colours together in a lump, and burn my brushes; but, on the contrary, if, by early rising, and unceasing vigour of mind and body, I can do both, nay, even spare many hours for poetry also, why should I not indulge myself both in viewing and 'the summer's endeavouring to copy bloom, the autumn's reddening glow?' "I could tell you, Mr. Chairman, if time would permit, a hundred pleasant stories of my adventures during the autumnal months, when I have ventured to roam, for a parson's week or so, in 'search of the picturesque.' Neither park-paling nor quickset-hedge could arrest my progress, when in pursuit of Some imagined beauty, 'Some knoll or height that overlook'd a Where cattle browsed and purple heather Then, what delight to catch the glories 'Or to behold him from his couch arise, Bursting the lazy bonds of sleep that With all his fires and travelling glories or, to behold the sober tints of evening 'Sometimes the moon, on soft white Like Beauty nestling on her lover's Whilst all the winking stars, her hand- Admiring silence, whilst the lovers But, really, Mr. Chairman, I ought to apologise for these quotations: warmed by two such subjects as painting and poetry (Siamese twins as they are), I, perhaps, indulge too freely." (Loud cries of Go on! go on! on all sides.) Mr. Judkin, in continuation. —“ I see many gentlemen around me who are more adequate to the task than myself of describing the exquisite pleasure that is derived from witnessing a lovely miniature-landscape, growing, as it were, beneath the creative hand of the artist. I have felt this pleasure; and, although I perceive a smile on the face of the veteran in the art of painting, Mr. John Burnet, who has favoured the world with his most excellent work, Burnet on Painting, still, I repeat that my delight has been excessive at the creation (if I may so call it) of a mimic scene of nature. Supreme is the pleasure to grapple with the subject, and stamp it on the willing canvass,' as poor Hazlitt said in one of his rhapsodies on painting, where every object before us seems palpable to feeling as to sight,' and the eye is made the fool of the other senses, or else worth all the rest.' On a few feet of naked canvass we see arise a rich and fertile landscape; a soft mist lies around it, over it, like a thin veil over the face of a beautiful woman! then the purple light of the distant mountains, like the bloom on a ripe nectarine! the glancing of the living waters! the tender green of the 6 valleys! the rich foliage of the trees! I wish to have Mr. Burnet's opinion on my large landscape, The View near Hastings." Mr. John Burnet, across the table."I am not so fortunate as to have seen that production." Mr. Judkin."It was exhibited some few years back at Somerset House! You must have seen it then. The only living thing I suffered to be visible in that green solitude was one robin redbreast, which I conceived gave a singular effect to the perfect stillness around. Mr. Burnet has seen that other piece of mine, 'A ForestScene,' in which I have followed up the same idea? one solitary stag is all the living life I have permitted to appear amidst the still life of the forest. I should like to have an opinion, sir, on the justness of this taste, and also on my colouring, which I rather pique myself on." Mr. John Burnet.—“ A public opportunity has been taken by the reverend gentleman to speer me what I think of his paintings. Of course he expects me to be sincere, and is prepared to endure my remarks, whether they savour most of praise or censure. With regard to his first question, as to the good taste of introducing one figure into a landscape, in order to produce an idea of profound solitude,' I answer, that I conceive that purpose would be best brought about by putting in no figure at all; and as professed landscape painters very seldom are great adepts in painting figures, it would certainly be the safest way. Now, as to the colouring of the reverend gent., I will, as in the former instance, be most candid, and use as few words as possible. I have seen several of his paintings at the great house in the Strand; and it is pretty evident to me what old master he had in his mind when he stood at his easle. Rembrandt is somewhat inimitable. His fat style of colouring was most judicious, and produced, as he intended it should, the most astonishing effects; but as to those who do not so perfectly understand the business of his art as he did, I apprehend that the heaping on of colour as if it were laid on the canvass with a trowel, instead of a brush, savours more of what we call daubing than painting: not that, as Mr. Fuseli observes, a painting ought to have the appearance of flatness or insipidity,' but there is a proper medium to be observed. I consider that Mr. Judkin has a very pretty taste with regard to design; and if he would keep his pallet more dry he would get on a great deal better; and if he could contrive to keep Rembrandt altogether out of his head, and think of Claude and Cuyp more, as he handles the brush, it would be of essential service. And now I have answered as a man, and an honest one, should; and I hope no offence." Mr. Judkin.-"Very far from it; I will endeavour to profit by the hints. But what does the gentleman think of my clouds? I have made these beautiful phantoms so much my study, that some of my friends are prone to ask me, whether I do not live in the clouds." Mr. J. Burnet.--"The clouds of my gifted friend are tolerable things of their kind; but I think they could be mended, that is, that they are not always placed on the right part of the painting, or, rather, that they are too freely sprinkled all over his sky, as if they were things made with little pains and cost. Cuyp generally places the focus of his light (which is most times either a sunset or sunrise) at the bottom of the sky, thereby enabling the distant part of the landscape to melt into it by the most natural means; whilst the strongest part of the sky, being at the opposite angle, produces the greatest expanse, and mixes and harmonises with the picture. Thus the eye is carried round the composition until the two extremes are brought in contrast--the most prominent and the most retiring. I have observed that you not only are too prodigal of your favourite clouds, but that you carry the lines of them in a contrary direction, to counteract the appearance of all the lines running to one point: thus using the darks of the clouds to antagonise may apparently produce a better equipoise, but, in reality, it sacrifices many advantages, for where the landscape, figures, and clouds, are all on the same side of the composition, a soft, rich effect is produced, the strong light and dark touches of the figures, &c., telling with great force against a back-ground of houses, trees, rocks, &c., which are prevented from being harsh and cutting, by mixing their edges with the clouds or dark blue of the sky. Think not that by thus throw ing the composition on one side a want of unison will be produced, but rather be assured of the contrary, by perceiving how small an effect restores the balance, since, by its being detached and opposed to the most distant part, it receives a tenfold consequence. "I am, Mr. OLIVER YORKE, very little accustomed to public speaking, and it is the last thing I should have thought of to-day; but having been publicly appealed to in a manner which I must consider as paying me a higher compliment than I deserve, I felt bound to give the worthy divine a plain straightforward answer : Being now on my legs, I will not sit down until I have expressed my high satisfaction at witnessing the rapid progress a young acquaintance of mine is making towards perfection in his art. I speak of the composition exhibited last season at our Royal Academy. You will, of course, all know that I am speaking of Mr. Maclise, and his Vow of the Peacock.' I am far from asserting that it is a faultless production; but I will venture to say that it gave more promise of first-rate genius, and possesses more conspicuous beauties, both with regard to freedom of design and brilliancy of colouring, than any other picture I saw upon the walls. Mr. Maclise is already an associate; what he will be I can easily prophesy. Let him go on firmly; let him learn no tricks of art, and confide solely in his own taste, and the study of the old and best masters, and I see no reason why the standard of historical painting should not be reared in England, and our name rescued (a duty in which many other excellent painters have already assisted) from the sarcasm of other and envious nations, who will allow us no merit, either as regards the fine arts or scientific invention, although we in reality stand as the apex to the pyramid of civilization; and if we go on, as I believe we shall, we will have an entire pyramid of our own, as large and as unrivalled as the one which has stood the shock of so many tempests in Egypt, and is still considered one of the wonders of the world." Oliver Yorke.-"I am persuaded all present feel most deeply interested that the prediction of our respected visitor from Chelsea, Mr. John Burnet, should be fulfilled; but I should like to hear his opinion on other rising artists, as well as on his favourite one (and deserving he is of such favour), Mr. Maclise. It appears to me that we have many competitors for the place of honour; and I am sure the young gentleman himself alluded to will never sit down quietly unless assured that the chair of state has been awarded him by the majority of the nation at least, for to expect a nem con would be ridiculous. I believe Mr. Burnet would find that our celebrated Wilkie would do right to contend the point with him, leaving alone Edwin Landseer, George Patten, Haydon, Martin, Turner, Richter, &c., and I know not how many more. Giving him (Mr. Maclise) every credit for his composition of the Vow of the Peacock,' I see not how we can ground on it alone such high preeminence. I should like to hear further on this question, as it seems to involve no small share of our national honour that we should agree amongst ourselves which should be the major-star in our constellation of artists brilliant enough to draw the other nations of the earth to bow before it in humble adoration." Mr. Burnet.-" You will be pleased to recollect, Mr. Chairman, that I do not ground the preeminence of my young friend as a painter on the merits of the aforesaid picture, but on the indications that it gives of future excellence. Mr. Maclise is a very young inan; and very seldom, I believe, has it been found that one so young, consequently so inexperienced, has embraced so many fundamental principles of his art. He has great vigour of designin fact, at present a redundancy of it (one of the glorious faults of genius); he has expression: without this quality, how cold, how lifeless, are even the most symmetrical of forms! He has a fine conception of beauty, another and a rare perfection; and, then, his colouring! Does it not remind you of Rubens and of Titian? You will say that, with all these excellencies, where are his defects? I answer, he has not himself, as the reverend divine just now did, asked me my true opinion of his compositions; and I feel it would be invidious, unasked, in such an assembly as this, to point the finger at some few defects where so many beauties blaze. I am an old hand at painting, and have studied the art more than I have executed it; and I should feel most happy, should Mr. Maclise desire it, to give him the profit of my labours and experience; but though, perhaps, this might be the shortest way, yet I will venture to prediet again, he will find it out himself; and as he is evidently an ambitious man (who is not so that takes so high a walk?) why, it might be more gratifying to his selflove so to do. "Let me be clearly understood, Mr. Chairman. I derogate from the merits of none of those artists you have mentioned, and I could name many more possessing great merit; but I think they have all gone the full length of their fame (and a famous large circle does it describe); but Mr. Maclise has only just begun his career, and with giant strides, not that he looks, poor fellow, like a giant. The fire of genius within him seems to have been fed too much upon the oil of the flesh;' but good roast beef will supply a fresh stock, I trust, and he will thrive, notwithstanding the wear and tear within him, until he becomes a great man in every sense of the word." (Loud cheers.) Mordaunt Couplet." Allow me to ask Mr. Judkin if he be not preparing for the press some ancient legends and bellads? I heard so the other day amongst the general chit-chat of authors, who, by the way, are a set of the greatest gossips on the face of the earth. The ladies are nothing to us; indeed they have outlived that charge: they are become so literary that they only come in for their share of the sin of gossipping in their general character of authors rather than of women. But to return to my question.” Mr. Judkin. "It is astonishing to me how things leak out that are spoken in the strictest confidence. To only one person in the world have I confided the circumstance that I am amusing myself by trying my hand at a few poetical legendary tales, having an under current running through them of practical morelity. That my confidence has been abused I clearly see; but from what you have suggested, Mr. Chairman, perhaps it is for the best, after all. Í have finished a few of these trifles, and have one of them, or rather a scrap of one of them, here in my pocket-book." [Mr. Judkin searches, but brings out a sermon-case instead, which, with a look of vexation, he returns to his pocket; and at length finds the "scrap" in question, which he is requested to read, but is troubled with a fit of inodesty, which his friend, Dr. Black, VOL. XIII. NO. LXXIII. perceiving, seizes the paper, and reads aloud the following legend :-] "St. Albans was a goodly knight, Of stature tall was he; Most bold he was in love and fight, There was a ladye young and fair, He swore by his spurs of burnished gold sire! He mounted aloft to the lady's bower, And in secret he bore her away. Gaze on with most dread surprise? 'Twas a livid corpse!! and worms crawled out From the mouth of that staring face; They slowly crept that form about— That form in his strict embrace. He dropped his cloak, and away he flew, Mid the storm and the drenching rain; His limbs were cold, and his cloak was new, So he turned him back again. But when he came Mr. Judkin.-"I am sorry this tale is unfinished; but, as the volume will soon appear, you will then, Mr. Chairman, and you gentlemen around, be enabled to see the rest of it." (Groans.) "Our Man of Genius" next rose, and said, that, after listening to this ballad-butchery of sense, he was anxious to secure the attention of the honourable and learned contributors, then and there assembled, to the cases of two literary Resurrection-men. (Loud cries of "Hear!" and great sensation, especially among the Illustrious Ghosts.) After hemming, (or, as Morgan Rattler denounced it," hiccupping,") he, with a radiant look on Haynes Bayly's blue bottle, stroked his beard, and thus began. "When calling the attention of this, 34 the highest court of literary judicature, career. It is what Lords Mulgrave and Morpeth, and other pretty writers, 'curious coinciwould pronounce a dence,' that these two literary offenders are known among their intimate associates by two amusing nicknames, both having reference to a well-known farce brought out some years ago at the Haymarket Theatre- the author of the Student being called Mr. Liston Bulwer, and he of the Sketches and Recollections Mr. Paul Pry Poole.* The latter gentleman being the author of the more amusing farce, claims precedence on the present interesting occasion - not to mention the fact of his being first cousin to Mr. Namby Pamby Willis, a gentleman of whom I have nothing further to say than to congratulate him on the termination of his honeymoon. "Mr. P. P. Poole's Sketches and Recollections are frontispieced with an engraving, purporting to represent the whole of the face and part of the figure of the author. Herein the publishers of Mr. Poole have used him most preposterously. They have set him forth as a well-looking, clergyman-like person, of some twenty-eight or thirty years of age; whereas the distinguished author of Paul Pry is a marvellously ill favoured body, who, in the words of matter. Under any good-looking government, the voiceless lie perpetrated by Mr. P. P. P.'s pretended portrait might be past over. But let the reader reflect for a moment on the injury which may-nay, must-be sustained by the publishing handsome likenesses of ugly people under the present administration. An ill-looking phiz is by far the most favourable passport to the private recesses of public offices, while in the highest places—i. e. the places on the Treasury bench-we behold such features as those of Lord John Russell, Mr. Spring Rice, Lord Morpeth,-not to mention the auxiliary beauty of Brougham, Bannerman, and the other high cheek boned missionaries "frae As to the Irish Tail, the North." through all its trumpery joints, I say nothing. But confining ourselves to the leading features of the government, have I not a right to expostulate with Mr. Poole's publishers for depicting him in what their stupidity may suppose a very flattering manner? A true and faithful representation of Mr. P.'s outward man might have led to something serviceable, as in the case of my friend Moore, for instance. The deuce a point had he to recommend him for • The Student; a Series of Papers, by the Author of "Eugene Aram," "England and the English," &c. &c. in 2 vols. Sketches and Recollections, by John Poole, Esq., Author of "Paul Pry," &c. |