Page images
PDF
EPUB
[merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][merged small][graphic][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][subsumed][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][merged small][ocr errors]

IT is too generally true that those who enlarge the territories of their country, who adorn it with public works, and add to its physical resources, are held in perpetual remembrance, while those who enrich its language, and adorn its literature, are comparatively neglected and forgotten. This, however, can scarcely be alleged of Petrarch and his countrymen. All their nationality seems to be enlisted

ment than that of this beautiful spot. It
may not be uninteresting to the reader to
meet with a somewhat minute description
of the place to which Petrarch has, by this
and many other events of his life, at-
tached so much interest. The following
is from the pen of Ugo Foscolo:-

figure in this profession, and sent him, not yet fourteen years of age, to study at Montpelier, a town finely situated for health and pleasure, with a university famous for the skill of its professors, both in physic and law. The Roman law had been taught there from the twelfth century. Petrarch studied here four years; but it was so much lost time, for he could not be brought to fix his

in favour of his fame, and every thing tiful meadow till he arrives on a plain varied attention on such dry subjects; I could

and every place which can be brought into even a conjectural connexion with the poet, derive their chief interest from that circumstance.

Petrarch was born at Arezzo, in Tuscany, of a respectable Florentine family; and his father being banished during the infancy of his son, the latter was taken to Ancise, in the valley of Arno, fourteen miles from Florence. Here he was brought up by his mother till he was seven years old. After this period the father, losing all hope of settling himself again in Flo

not, says he, deprave my mind by such a system of chicanery as the present forms of law exhibit.

Petrarco, perceiving his slow progress, sent him to Bologna, a place of still higher renown for persons of this profession; but he succeeded no better there What a grief to than at Montpelier. Petrarco, to find that, instead of applying to the law, his son passed whole days in reading ancient authors, and, above all, the poets, with whom he was infatuated! He took a journey to Bologna, to re

rence, from which the violence of a poli- and spray, glittering with the reflection of the medy, if possible, this evil, which he ap

to become master of these treasures.

Petrarco having discovered the place in which they were concealed, took them out before his face, and cast them all into the fire. Petrarch, in an agony of despair, cried out, as if he himself had been precipitated into the flames, which he saw devouring what was most dear to his imagination.

The valley of Vaucluse is one of those works of nature which five centuries have been unable to disturb. On leaving Avignon the eye of the traveller reposes on an expanse of beauby numerous vineyards. At a short distance the hills begin to ascend, covered with trees, which are reflected on the Sorga, the waters of which are so limpid, their course so rapid, and their sounds so soft, that the poet describes them truly when he says " that they are liquid crystal, the murmurs of which mingle with the songs of birds to fill the air with harmony." Its banks are covered with aquatic plants, and in those places where the falls or the rapidity of the current prevent their being distinguished, it seems to roll over a bed of green marble. Nearer the source, the soil is sterile; and, as the channel grows narrow, the waves break against the rocks, and roll in a torrent of foam tical faction had removed him, departed prismatic colours. On advancing still farther prehended would be so fatal to his son. with his family to Avignon, whither the up the river, the traveller finds himself in- Petrarch, who did not expect his father, holy see had been transferred from Rome. closed in a semicircular recess, formed by rocks ran to hide the manuscripts of Cicero, Here young Petrarch first commenced his inaccessible on the right, and abrupt and pre-Virgil, and some other poets, of whose friendship for Gui Settimo, the son of a cipitous on the left, rising into obelisks, pyra- works he had formed a little library, deGenoese, with whom his father was acmids, and every fantastic shape, and from the quainted, and a youth of about his own midst of them a thousand rivulets descend. priving himself of every other enjoyment The valley is terminated by a mountain, perage. From Avignon, however, both fa-pendicularly scarped from the top to the botmilies shortly removed to Carpentras, a tom, and through a natural porch of concenpleasant town a few miles distant; and tric arches he enters a vast cavern, the silence here Petrarch was placed under the care and darkness of which are interrupted only by of Convenole, a Tuscan school-master, of the murmuring and the sparkling of the waters whom Petrarch said, many years after, in a basin, which forms the principal source that he resembled the whetstone which of the Sorga. This basin, the depth of which has never yet been fathomed, overflows in the sharpened knives, but remained dull it- spring, and it then sends forth its waters with self. Under him, however, and by the such an impetuosity as to force them through aid of the elementary instruction which a fissure in the top of the cavern, at an elevahe had received from him, Petrarch soon tion of nearly a hundred feet on the mountain, left his companions behind him in his whence they gradually precipitate themselves scholastic studies, and particularly in his from height to height in cascades, sometimes proficiency in the Latin language; and foam the huge masses of rock which they from the age of ten to fifteen he learned hurry along. The roar of the torrents never as much of grammar, rhetoric, and logic, ceases during the long rains, while it seems as as could be acquired in the schools of if the rocks themselves were dissolved away, that day. At about this age he appears and the thunder re-echoed from cavern to caeither to have first received the germ of vern. The awful solemnity of this spectacle poetical genius, or, at least, to have exis varied by the rays of the sun, which, towards evening particularly, refracts and reflects its perienced that which chiefly effected its various tints on the cascades. After the dog development, from a visit to the cele- days the rocks become arid and black, the brated fountain and valley of Vaucluse. basin resumes its level, and the valley returns He appears to have been inspired with to a profound stillness. all the enthusiasm which beauty of naThe professors soon discovered the tatural scenery can infuse into a young and ceptible mind of Petrarch become in-lents and the poetical genius of Petrarch, ardent mind; and in many of his poems, spired with that fancy and sensibility and directed their endeavours to the culin after life, he kindles, at the recollec- which constituted through life the source tivation of the latter. But while he was tion of the sweets of that sequestered of all his pleasures and all his sufferings. thus vacillating between his inclinations spot, into a strain of poetry by which The time, however, shortly arrived when and his duty, he received intelligence of they and he are alike immortalized. Nor his father thought it necessary to seek an his mother's death, and his father, unable need we wonder at this effect. The power establishment for his son. Science and to support his loss, survived her but a few of sympathizing with nature may be con- letters were held in contempt even at months. Petrarch, therefore, and his sidered as one of the most distinctive Avignon, though the residence of the brother, being suddenly left in this unfeatures of the poetic character; and, most polite and witty court in Europe. protected state, put their affairs in order, supposing this to have existed, perhaps Law was the only study which led to and entered together on the profession of there was no natural scenery which was fortune, and Petrarco, observing the ta- divinity, as the most promising path to more calculated to promote its develop-lents of his son, hoped he would make a that eminence which they alike thirsted for.

showing, and sometimes concealing, in their

In this beautiful solitude did the sus

Our poet, however, yielded to the dictates of filial duty, and, in the teeth of all his predispositions and tastes, pressed forward in the study to which his father had appointed him. But nature was always stronger than his efforts, though prompted by so powerful a motive. At this time he became acquainted with two of the best poets of that day, among the professors at the University of Bologna, Cino de Pestoye, and Cecco de Asoli. It was rather singular that Cino had three pupils who have done him, and their country, and themselves, the highest honour-viz., Petrarch, Boccace, and Bartholi.

(To be Continued.)

8

[ocr errors]

WONDERFUL INSTINCTS IN INSECTS. A SPECIES of spider (Mygale cementaria), inhabiting the south of Europe, constructs a cylindrical cavity more than two feet long, in some sloping bank, calculated to let the water run off; the inside is lined with a web of fine silk. But, in addition to the sagacity of choosing a steep bank and the luxury of furnishing its retreat with silk, this spider has the power of constructing a regular door: for this purpose it joins and cements layers of clay or chalk with its glutinous secretions, and thus contrives to make a door exactly circular, and so nicely fitting into the aperture of the cell, as to prevent its being distinguished by the casual observer from the surrounding earth. But the most marvellous circumstance yet remains to be told-the sagacious creature positively fabricates a hinge of silk, which it invariably fixes to the highest side of the aperture, so that it can very easily be pushed open from within by the insect, and shuts by its own weight. Thus barricadoed, the gallery furnishes a secure habitation for the male and female, with twenty or thirty of their young. No noise, however loud, no thumping, however violent, will bring the cunning inhabitant out of its cell; but if the least attempt be made to force the trap-door, a curious scene takes place the spider immediately runs to it, and fixing some of its legs to the silk which lines the door, and the rest to the walls of the gallery, it pulls with all its might against the intruder. Observers have convinced themselves of the fact by lifting up the door with a pin, when they have felt the counter tugs of the spider endeavouring to shut it. As soon as the creature is convinced that further efforts are useless, it relinquishes the contest, and retires to the bottom of the gallery. All attempts to observe the manners of this creature in captivity have proved fruitless, as it soon perished. These spiders prowl about at night, and, having secured their prey, drag it within their den, and consume it at their leisure.

The water-spider (Aranea aquatica) is another which spins no web to catch its prey; but, nevertheless, offers one of the most singular objects of contemplation. If we possessed no other evidence that the world had been planned and created by an Intelligent Being, the habits, proceedings, and instincts of this little creature would be alone sufficient to prove the fact. As soon as it has caught its prey on the shore it dives to the bottom of the waters, and there devours its booty. It is, therefore, an amphibious animal; although it appears more fitted to live in contact with the atmosphere than with the water. The diving-bell is a modern invention; and few facts excite our wonder more than the possibility of a man's being enabled to live and move at the bottom of the ocean. This triumph of reason over the unfriendly element, however, was anticipated by an insect, the spider in question.

This creature spins some loose threads, which it attaches to the leaves of aquatic plants; it then varnishes them with a glutinous secretion, which resembles liquid glass, and is so elastic as to admit of considerable distension and contraction; it next lays a coating of this same substance over its own body, and underneath this coating introduces a bubble of air. Naturalists conjecture that it has the power of drawing this air in at the anus, from the atmosphere at the surface of the pool; but the precise mode in which it is separated from the body of the atmosphere, and introduced under the pellicle covering the insect's body, has not

been clearly ascertained. Thus clothed, and
shining like a ball of quicksilver, it darts
through the waters, to the spot in which it had
fixed its habitation, and disengaging the bub-
ble from under the pellicle, it dexterously in-
troduces it into a web formed at the bottom.
After repeatedly moving from the top to the
bottom of the water, and at each journey fill-
ing its habitation with a fresh bubble of air,
at length the lighter completely expels the
heavier fluid, and the insect takes possession of
an aerial habitation, commodious and dry,
finished in the very midst of the waters. It is
about the size and shape of half a pigeon's
egg. From this curious chamber the spider
hunts, searching sometimes the waters, and
sometimes the land for its prey, which, when
obtained, is transported to this sub-aquatic
mansion, and devoured at leisure. The male
as well as the female exhibit the same in-
stincts. Early in the spring, the former seeks
the mansion of the latter, and having enlarged
it by the introduction of a little more air,
takes up its abode with its mate.
middle of April, the eggs are laid, and, packed
up in a silken cocoon in a corner of their
house, are watched with incessant care by the
female.

About the

In modern times, much interest has been
excited by the elevation of bodies in the air
by means of a balloon. The discovery consist-
ed in finding out a manageable substance
which was, bulk for bulk, lighter than air;
and the application of the discovery was to
make a body composed of this substance bear
up, along with its own weight, some heavier
body which was attached to it. This expedi-
ent, so new to us, proves to be no other than
what the Author of Nature has employed in
the gossamer spider. We frequently see this
spider's thread floating in the air, and extended
from hedge to hedge across a road or brook of
four or five yards' width. The animal which
forms the thread has no wings wherewith to
fly from one extremity to the other of this line,
nor muscles to enable it to spring or dart to so
great a distance; yet its Creator hath laid for
it a path in the atmosphere; and after this
manner, though the insect itself be heavier
than air, the thread which it spins from its
bowels is specifically lighter. This is its bal-
loon. The spider, left to itself, would drop to
the ground; but, being tied to its thread, both
are supported. By this contrivance, the crea-
tures mount into the air, to such immense
heights, that when Dr. Martin Lister ascended
York Minster, he still saw these insects much
above him. In the fine summer days, the air
may be seen filled, and the earth covered with
filmy webs:-

The fine nets which oft we woven see, of
scorched dew.
SPENSER.

Most nations have associated something po-
etical with their presence. The Germans, from
constantly observing them in the beginning of
the autumn, have styled the phenomenon "the
flitting summer." The French, unable to ac-
count for the existence of such pure films, in
the open and beautiful autumnal skies, called
them the threads of the "Virgin." And we
the gossamer-

Lovers who may bestride the gossamer
That idles in the wanton air.

Mr. White gives a curious account of a shower
of these gossamers. In September 1741, being
intent on field sports, he found the whole face
of the country covered with a coat of web
drenched in dew, as thick as if two or three
setting nets had been drawn one over the

other. His dogs were so blinded by them, as to be obliged to lie down and scrape themselves. About 9 A. M. these films, some an inch broad and six long, fell from a height, and continued to do so the whole day, with a velocity which proved their weight. When the most elevated parts of the country were ascended, the gossamers were seen to fall from higher regions; and, twinkling and glittering in the sun, they appeared like a starry shower, fixing the attention even of the most incurious.

These are now known to be the work of a

spider, for they have been either caught in
their balloons, or been seen to take flight. To
produce such effects, their numbers of course
must be prodigious. Dr. Strach says,
"that
twenty or thirty often are found on a single
stubble;" and adds, "that he collected two
thousand in half an hour, and could easily
have got twice as many had he wished it."-
The Family Library.

MY GRAVE.

FAR from the city's ceaseless hum,
Hither let my relics come!
Lowly and lonely be my grave,
Fast by this streamlet's oozing wave,
Still to the gentle angler dear,
And heaven's fair face reflecting clear.
No rank luxuriance from the dead
Draw the green turf above my head;
But cowslips here and there be found,
Sweet natives of the hallowed ground,
Diffusing Nature's incense round;
Kindly sloping to the sun,

When his course is nearly run,
Let it catch his farewell beams,
Brief and pale, as best beseems;
But, let the melancholy yew
(Still to the cemetery true)
Defend it from his noon-day ray,
Debarring visitant so gay;

And, when the robin's boding song
Is hushed, the darkling boughs among,
There may the spirit of the wind
A heaven-reared tabernacle find,
To warble wild a vesper hymn,
To soothe my shade at twilight dim!
Seldom let feet of man be there,
Save bending towards the house of prayer;
Few human sounds disturb the calm,
Save words of grace, or solemn psalm!
Yet, would I not my humble tomb
Should wear an uninviting gloom,
As if there seemed to hover near,
In fancy's ken, a thing of fear;
And, viewed with superstitious awe,
Be duly shunned, and scarcely draw
The sidelong glance of passer by,
As haunt of sprite with blasting eye!
Or noted be by some sad token,
Bearing a name in whispers spoken:
No!-let some thoughtful schoolboy stray
Far from his giddy mates at play,
My secret place of rest explore,
There pore on page of classic_lore;
Thither let hoary men of age
Perform a pensive pilgrimage,
And think, as o'er my turf they bend,
It woos them to their welcome end;
And let the woe-worn wandering one,
Blind to the rays of reason's sun,
Thither his weary way incline,
There catch a gleam of light divine;
But, chiefly let the friend sincere
There drop a tributary tear-
There pause in musing mood, and all
Our by-gone hours of bliss recall-
Delightful hours! too fleetly flown!
By the heart's pulses only known!
Aberdeen.

R

THE TOURIST.

MONDAY, MARCH 11, 1833.

OF THE BAHAMAS.

say that the King has continued this faithful and diligent public officer in his service. It would have been disgraceful in the last degree

Having notified to the Assembly the facts of this case, the Governor received a very disrespectful communication in reply. A Committee was appointed to inquire into his mal-if his virtue had been rewarded with dismission. administration, certain resolutions were adopted Such might have been the case in former by thirteen members, they constituting a days; but the times are now changed, and both SIR J. C. SMYTH AND THE ASSEMBLY majority of the House; and a petition was the government and people of this country drawn up, and agreed to, requesting his ma- have gained a clearer insight into the value of jesty to remove Sir J. C. Smyth from the gov- colonial testimony. There is a disgusting uniTHOSE of our readers who perused the Ex-ernment of the islands. The reasons of this formity in the slave system of our colonies. tracts which we gave in No. 28 from the Cor-violent procedure will be apparent to our Its accidents may vary, but it is essentially the respondence of the Governor of the Bahamas readers if we make another extract from the same in every island. It degrades the slave, with the Colonial Secretary, will not be sur- despatch of June 23, 1831. and brutalizes his lord. It is alike inconsistent prised to learn that strenuous efforts have been made by the Colonists to obtain his reof the human heart. Though administered by with the principles of religion and the charities moval. Indisposed to reformation themselves, an angel it could not fail to entail degradation they cannot endure the presence of a public officer who is honestly disposed to correct in the hands of men whom despotic power has and suffering: what, then, must be its effects whatever is vicious in their system. Their hardened and depraved? From the past, it is praise and censure have usually been given in some consolation to turn to the future. The an inverse proportion to the merit and demerit signs of the times are indicative of good; the of those on whom they have been conferred. Such national conscience is aroused; the virtuous of as have been willing to connive at injustice have every party are combining against this monbeen represented as equitable and enlightened strous evil; and his Majesty's government, rulers; while others who have brought out the there is good reason to believe, are about to latent evil to public view, and have sought its effect what justice and policy alike enjoin. correction, have been described as prejudiced, Let not the friends of humanity, however, revisionary, and despotic. Such is the enviable mit their exertions. Things may yet take an position in which Sir J. Carmichael Smyth is There is no meanness to now placed. In a despatch to Viscount Godeunexpected turn. rich, June 23, 1831, he which our enemies will not submit,-there is no deficiency of principle which they are not capable of evincing. They may yet protract mately to triumph. We must, therefore, be the struggle, though they cannot hope ultiprepared for strenuous and persevering efforts. Every abolitionist should gird himself for battle; and be ready, whenever their leaders shall require, to render the most prompt and effective

says:

"As I have not seen the documents or evidence upon which the committee founded their report, I am not aware if there are any particular instances of misconduct imputed to me. To the general Slave Court with more vigilance and attention, charge of superintending the proceedings of the and of interfering in the treatment of slaves, by listening to their complaints, and seeing that the proper authorities investigate the same with more attention than is agreeable to the majority of the assembly, I plead guilty. I had occasion to ascertain, shortly after my arrival in this colony, that the proceedings of the Slave Court were carried on in the most slovenly and disgraceful manner. When the transactions relative to Lord

COURTSHIP.

From Friendship's Offering.

"O LAURA! will nothing I bring thee

E'er soften those looks of disdain ?
Are the songs of affection I sing thee
All doomed to be sung thee in vain

Rolle's slaves took place, and five men, eight women, and one boy were so severely flogged for endeavouring to avoid the illegal and cruel removal to which they were about to be subjected, In the despatch which I had the honour to I sent for the records of their trial, in order that address to you on the 3d May last, I recapitulated, misconduct of which they were convicted, but also I might see, not only what was the nature of the as proofs of the necessity of taking away the power of flogging female slaves, a variety of instances become acquainted with what they had said in of severe and improper punishments which had their defence. There was no record or any minute been inflicted. Amongst others, I mentioned the of the trial or conviction of these poor people, becase of a person who keeps a retail spirit shop, and yond the warrant to the executioner to inflict the who is unfortunately a member of the Assembly, punishment. From that day, however, the pro-service. having caused thirty-nine lashes to be given to a ceedings of the Slave Court had assumed a differfemale attendant, in the gaol of the town. The ent appearance; the minutes of each trial are laid man, whose name is Wildgoose, since the date of before me by the police magistrate, and no senmy despatch, caused a female slave belonging to tence is carried into execution until forty-eight his mother to be similarly treated; and, having hours after it has been passed, and the report forpersonally gone to the prison, he, after some al warded to me, in order that I may have time to tercation with the first unfortunate victim of his read the evidence, to make such inquiries as I violence, in which she was induced to say she did may think proper, and extend his Majesty's parnot deserve such treatment, ordered her another don, should any favourable circumstances repunishment of thirty-nine additional lashes, which specting the prisoner appear to me to call for merwere inflicted accordingly; this poor girl, who is Cy. This power is not, as the assembly assert, of a very delicate and slender figure and make, an illegal and unconstitutional exertion of authothus receiving seventy-eight lashes with a cat-o'-rity, but it is vested in the Governor, as the nine-tails, by order of this ruffian, a treatment King's representative, by the laws and by the from which it is impossible but that her health constitution. I beg very respectfully to refer your and constitution must very seriously suffer, inde- Lordship to my speech to the assembly of the 21st pendent of the cruelty, injustice, and indecency of instant, in which I have explained to them, the proceeding. As soon as I was acquainted his Courts is inherent in the Sovereign, but have not only that the power of extending mercy in all with the particulars of this case, I sent for the Attorney-General, and directed him to take with stated to them the fact that it has been occasionout delay any legal means to bring Mr. Wild- ally exercised by my predecessors. It is very. As the unfortunate girl, when the true, that the pardons which have been granted second flogging was inflicted, was still in prison, by my predecessors, at least all those I have seen, and was consequently under the charge and auhave been in cases of transportation, in which thority of those magistrates who have charge of cases the small sum allowed by law to the master the place where she was confined, I am in hopes for the loss of his slave is stated not to be an that Mr. Wildgoose will be found to have been equivalent, and pardon granted to the slave was guilty of a misdemeanour, in punishing her for very agreeable to, and was often solicited by, the any imputed offence stated to have been commit- master, as giving back his slave. No cry was ted whilst in confinement. Such is the violence raised by the assembly as to an illegal stretch of and prejudice, however, that prevails, and the anthe royal prerogative, when the exercise of it suited ger which is excited at any attempt to curb the their own views. In the present case, I have parauthority of the owner over the slave, that, exdoned three slaves, who were sentenced by the cepting Mr. Wildgoose has a proportion of coSlave Court to be severely flogged. My letter to loured people upon his jury, he will in all proba- pardon, a copy of which I beg to enclose, will the police magistrate, forwarding his Majesty's bility escape.' explain the views and motives by which I was actuated, and which I make very little doubt will be approved of by your Lordship.”

goose to trial.

[ocr errors]

In this apprehension the Governor was justified by subsequent events. In his despatch of March 6th, 1832, he says,-" Your Lordship will observe with great regret, that the bills which the Attorney-General prepared and preferred against Mr. John Wildgoose, were ignored by the Grand Jury."

In opposition to the petition of the Assembly, two others were presented to his majesty, one from the most respectable and wealthy proprietors of the colony, and another from the people of colour. It is almost unnecessary to

I offer thee, fairest and dearest,
A treasure the richest I'm worth;
I offer thee love-the sincerest,
The warmest e'er glowed upon earth!"
But the maiden, a haughty look flinging,
Said, "Cease my compassion to move,
For I'm not very partial to singing,
And they're poor whose sole treasure is love.".

"My name will be sounded in story—

I offer, thee, dearest, my name ;

I have fought in the proud field of glory→→
Oh, Laura! come share in my fame.
I bring thee a soul that adores thee,
And loves thee wherever thou art,
Which thrills as its tribute it pours thee,
Of tenderness fresh from the heart."
But the maiden said, "Cease to importune,
Give Cupid the use of his wings;
Ah, fame's but a pitiful fortune,

For

And hearts are such valueless things!"

"Oh, Laura! forgive if I've spoken
Too boldly!-nay, turn not away,
heart with affliction is broken-
my
My uncle died only to-day!
My uncle the nabob-who tended
My youth with affectionate care,
My manhood who kindly befriended,

Has died, and-has-left-me-his-heir.'
And the maiden said, "Weep not, sincerest,
My heart has been yours all along;
Oh! hearts are of treasures the dearest-
Do, Edward, go on with your song!"****

[ocr errors]
[ocr errors][ocr errors][merged small][ocr errors][ocr errors][graphic][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors][ocr errors]

ON THE PICTURESQUE. THE arts are no less unfortunate than the sciences in being retarded by the vagueness and laxity of their technical terms. In various branches of philosophy, a single word has imposed on the notions of an age, or constituted the distinctive badge of a school. It has paralyzed investigation, and held the minds of men as in a spell; and, even in more modern and in the present times, an observer will frequently be struck with the extended and unhappy influence of some conventional words and phrases, to which the example of an individual or long habituation has attached a factitious importance. Nor, as we have said, are the arts exempted from a like disadvantage. Different meanings are sometimes attached to the same terms; and, where this is not the case, there is an indeterminateness in their application which is at once the source of much confusion and much con

troversy. Of this class may be specified such words as sublime, beautiful, picturesque, &c., the precise meaning of which, it would seem, can only be fixed by a reference to some acknowledged standard, of which we seem to be in want. Some authors, however, have laid down, both by definition and illustration, their views of the just application of these terms, and we propose to lay them before our readers in a selection from their writings. The distinction between sublime and beautiful objects is thus generally stated in Mr. Burke's treatise on that subject:

Sublime objects (says he) are vast in their dimensions; beautiful ones comparatively small: beauty should be smooth and polished; the great, rugged and negligent: beauty should shun the right line, yet deviate from it insensibly; the great, in many cases, loves the right line; and when it deviates, it often makes a

strong deviation: beauty should not be ob-
scure; the great ought to be dark and gloomy:
beauty should be light and delicate; the great
ought to be solid, and even massive. They
are, indeed, ideas of a very different nature,
one being founded on pain, the other on plea-
sure; and however they may vary afterwards
from the direct nature of their causes, yet these
causes keep up an eternal distinction, never to
be forgotten by any whose business it is to
affect the passions.

The distinction between the picturesque
and the beautiful is stated in the same
general manner, though with much in-
teresting illustration, by Mr. Uredale
Price, in his Essay on the Picturesque.

A temple or palace of Grecian architecture,
in its perfect and entire state, and its surface
and colour smooth and even, either in painting
or reality, is beautiful; in ruin, it is pic-
turesque. Observe the process by which time
(the great author of such changes) converts a
beautiful object into a picturesque one. First,
by means of weather-stains, partial incrusta-
tions, mosses, &c.; it at the same time takes
off from the uniformity of its surface and its
colour; that is, gives it a degree of roughness
and variety of tint. Next, the various accidents
of weather loosen the stones themselves; they
tumble in irregular masses upon what was
perhaps smooth turf or pavement, or nicely-
trimmed walks and shrubberies, now mixed
and overgrown with wild plants and creepers,
that crawl over and shoot among the fallen
ruins. Sedums, wall-flowers, and other vege-
tables that bear drought, find nourishment in
the decayed cement, from which the stones
have been detached; birds convey their food
into the chinks; and yew, elder, and other
berried plants, project from the sides; while
the ivy mantles over other parts, and crowns.
the top. The even, regular lines of the doors
and windows are broken, and through their
ivy-fringed openings is displayed the ruined
interior of the edifice.

In Gothic buildings, the outline of the suni-
mit presents such a variety of forms of turrets
and pinnacles, some open, some fretted and
variously enriched, that, even where there is
an exact correspondence of parts, it is often

disguised by an appearance of splendid confusion and irregularity. In the doors and windows of Gothic churches, the pointed arch has as much variety as any regular figure can well have: the eye is not too strongly conducted from the top of the one to that of the other, as by the parallel lines of the Grecian; and every person must be struck with the extreme richness and intricacy of some of the principal windows of our cathedrals and ruined abbeys. In these last is displayed the triumph of the picturesque; and its charms to a painter's eye are often so great as to rival those of beauty itself. So in mills, such is the extreme intricacy of the wheels and the wood-work; such is the singular variety of forms, and of lights and shadows, of mosses and weatherstains from the constant moisture-of plants springing from the rough joints of the stones; such the assemblage of every thing which most conduces to picturesqueness, that, even without the addition of water, an old mill has the greatest charm for a painter.

It is owing to the same causes that a building with scaffolding has often a more picturesque appearance than the building itself when the scaffolding is taken away-that old, mossy, rough-hewn park pales of unequal heights are an ornament to landscape, especially when they are partially concealed by thickets; while a neat post and rail, regularly continued round a field, and seen without any interruption, is one of the most unpicturesque, as being one of the most uniform, of all boundaries.

Among trees, it is not the smooth, young beech, or the fresh and tender ash, but the rugged old oak, or knotty wych elm, that are picturesque; nor is it necessary that they should be of great bulk; it is sufficient if they are rough, mossy, with a character of age, and

with sudden variations in their forms. The

limbs of huge trees, shattered by lightning or
tempestuous winds, are in the highest degree
picturesque; but whatever is caused by those
dreaded powers of destruction must always
have a tincture of the sublime.

i dont
As when heaven's fire visel
Has scathed the forest oaks or mountain pines
With singed top their stately growth, tho báre,
Stands on the blasted heath,'

M

« PreviousContinue »