Illustrations of the Graphic Art; EXEMPLIFIED BY SKETCHES FROM THE NATIONAL MUSEUM AT PARIS. IN the style of painting of the school which we are now illustrating, there is an extreme simplicity of design, and in which interest cau generally only be excited by the high finishing of the piece. It was indeed customary with most of the Flemish painters to compose a picture with only a single figure; they painted their servant maids as they would any other piece of household furniture, and gave to them the same high finishing, the same minuteness of detail, and the same precision of execution. Having once chosen their subject, they thought of nothing further than, by a well contrasted assortment of colours, to give the greatest effect to each mass of tint, so that an analysis of these overgrown miniatures presents nothing but the beauty of high finishing, and the defects which naturally occur where exactness usurps the place of genius, and where every thing else is sacrificed to the principal subject. Whatever they thought could give a value to their works, even though the truth of nature was sacrificed, was always adopted, so that the harmony or contrast of trifles were always considered as the first part of the science. Thus in the picture before us, THE DUTCH COOK-MAID; which can be noticed. The air of the figure too, is pleasing; its apparent movements are graceful, but a kind of grace which is neither that of the city, of the court, of the stage, nor even of the rustic villager; it is, in fact, that grace which Raphael knew so well how to give to a young female slave. As a counterpart to this is that which we have chosen for the second subject of our present criticism, and which is simply A SERVANT-MAID, WHO HANGS UP A FOWL IN THE WINDOW. As the Parisian critic observes, a servant-inaid banging up a fowl, can prescut nothing for matter of analysis but a servant-maid hanging up a fowl. The historian or critic then stops short in his description, as soon as he has said that the imitation has all the merit of being an exact representation of the subject. With regard to this servant-maid, in particular, she is fair and fresh coloured; her hair is not only light, but so is she throughout, and her con plexion is clear, her skin fine and blooming, and her hands and arms of a snowy whiteness, but they have, notwithstanding, quite the air of the under-ground story. The Flemish painters, in chusing their models from the Every thing is sacrificed to the effect of the kitchen, had at least this advantage, that the countenance; it is to produce this effect that || species of nature which they took in hand was the back ground has been made too dark, and completely at their own disposal, and would that a window which ought to admit the day- lend itself as complacently to their patient light, is not permitted to do so, because that labours as the articles of their household furlight would have interfered with that which niture, or even as the dead fowl which they falls upon the head of the figure. It is to imitated. But in this picture one sees, as in shew that with more force, that the artist has the former, the customary habit of sacrificing thrown back, as much as in his power, the every thing to the brilliancy of the head; the light which falls upon the forehead and cheeks. back ground of the cupboard is much too But then this is a false effect-it is of no con- dark, for though the natural shade of any sequence; it aids the general effect, and that place when shut up is dark, it is not a mass of is sufficient. This light, however, possesses a unchequered blackuess. Upon the linen the remarkable beauty; it is soft and glassy; it local light is reflected by the solid body itself, has neither the radiance of the sunbeam, nor and by the flat surface which throws it back even the broad glare of day. In this picture again, and this effect contradicts always the too, the touch is more firm and sprightly than intention of the painter; whilst back grounds in many others, it almost equals that of Van light, vapourous, or diminishing in perspecOstade or Teniers. The right hand, which is tive, are always easier of imitation, because fore-shortened, is however too meagre; but that the local light contrasts less with their hat is the only imperfection in the figure gencral effect. Seals his own exit from this world—farewell : vain, My far fetched hopes reject with firm disdain; No more, sweet maid! no more my plaintive fears, With sound unwelcome, shall offend y ur ears. ON EARLY RISING. SEE what crimson glory shines From the pillow lift thy head. "Rationals, arise and praise." O, what scents com on the gale, Stores of fragrance no v unfold; 'Tis those blossoms till the vale, Finely ting'd with pink and gold. Health sits waiting on the bill; Fly, and drink th morning air: Pleasure shall thy bosom fill, While thou seek'st the goddess there. See what num'rous beauties shine, Wheresoe'er the eye can rove; Let the wings of morning bear To that Parent songs of praise; Let them speed with ardent pray'r For his blessing through thy days. Precious is each fleeting hour; Haste, and greet the moment given; Virtue's joys are in thy pow'r; Rise, and take her path to heaven. PLEASURE. AH, let not Pleasure's witching eye She hides each danger near. And though her path be strew'd with flowers, Along the trembling skies. Yet, ah! the smile of Pleasure's Queen; QUERIES ON SECLUSION. Why rather seeks the eye to gaze, In gay saloon, or noon-tide bower? A. Q THE SPANISH SOLDIER'S WIDOW'S Which oft in triumph bore him. Fresh gore soon shall stain it; Ne'er again shall listen; Nor, as he draws the foe more near, Should'st thou fall to-morrow, CUPID. As Cupid once, his brows to grace, He chanced a honied bee displace, The sad mishap bewailed. "May I not well complain, "When such a paltry insect-bee, "Can cause such bitter pain?" To whom the laughing dame replied― "Young Urchin as thou art, "They who thy little shafts have tried, "Can feel no greater smart.” THE BLIND BEGGAR. TUNE." Contented I am." OVER fern-clad high mountains, and thro' the long vales, On paths wild and dreary, dejected I roam, Expos'd to the sun, or the sharp wintry gales, Unknowing my course, and imploring a home, [way, With no guide to protect me, or point out the But my friend and companion, my poor faithful Tray. What boots it to say, for my country I bled, The pitiless world seldom listens ny pray'r; [bread, 'Tis the fate of the bravest to wander for While the worthless too often every luxury share: But my dog, ever faithful, no want can dis may, [poor Tray. And 'twere well for mankind could they copy They tell me of sights I'm forbid to enjoy ; waste; Yet a crust from a cottage can still make me [houest Tray. gay, When I share the sweet morsel with poor On the dull road of Life, we observe Nature's law, [still free; From the censure of mortals we wander I pat his rough back, and he gives me his paw, [narch to me, Which is more than the hand of a moFor he fawns at my call, nor would lead me astray, [Tray. And my comfort of life is my poor honest Fond guide of my steps, soon I find we must part, [has shar'd; For age numbs the hand that our pittance But, oh! when life ceases to warm this sad. [regard! Who thy wants and thy wailing will ever 'Tis this pains my bosom so oft thro' the day, To leave thee, old comrade, my poor faithful Tray! heart, ADDRESSED TO A LADY, WITH A COPY OF COWPER'S POEMS. To thee, dear maid! let Cowper's pleasing lays, Sacred to virtue, paint domestic days, sun Is set in gloomy night, and all aghast Or, as he lists, the streams, the woods, the waste [taste: All Nature's charms pourtrays with classic Whether in Winter's fleecy robe they shine, Or boast the thousand hues of Spring's decline, When genial Summer decks the earth with Howers [bine bowers, And breathes her balmy sweets from woodA boundless theme, worthy alone the lyre, That bad the Seasons bloom with true poetic fire, Breathes there the man, whose rude and callous mind, Ne'er felt the joys and sorrows of his kind; Whose eyes with kindred moisture ne'er overflow At sight of human bliss-of hum n woe; No sweets to him the feeling Bard conveys, Self his whole thoughts, and selfish all his ways. Not such thy soul, my Mary! doom'd to feel, OFT thro' the thick'uing ranks of war, Take one joint more, you'll find me then Which will be shunn'd by men of sense. This, when revers'd is often found TO A ROSE, SEEN IN BLOSSOM VERY LATE IN THE TELL me, thou solitary flow'r, Thy dauntless head, When the sweet smiles that erst adoru'd the year To happier climes are fled? Too rude, too keen, For thee, I ween, Is Winter's harsh unfeeling pow'r; Thou lovely fragile flow'r! Hark! how the bellowing whirlwinds rise, With hoarse discordant yell! The storm, that sweeps along the skies, Without one pitying tear? Or view thy beauteous head decline, Nor stretch my hand to rear? And frost-encumber'd reign; There may'st thou flourish-there display around; While on the dreary ice-cold ground, The rustling leaves are blown from off each shiv'ring spray! And may the eye that beam'd with moisten'd glance On this fair flow'ret's pain Ne'er view with scornful look askance, Or insolent disdain, The wretch, whose bleeding bosom toru By Disappointment's rankling thorn, Weeps the sad hour when cheating Hope bebeguild! But, gentle Pity! Come, and with heav'n-born maid! raph smiles array'd, Teach me to heal thy woes long past, And screen from Mis'ry's shodd'ring blast Pale Sorrow's helpless child. |