name a brilliancy of reputation, which a series of ages can never efface or obscure. Few characters are superior to that of Sir Walter Raleigh, styled by Bishop Burnet, "one of the greatest men of the age in which he lived." The early friendship of Sidney, recommended him to the notice of the Earl of Leicester, whose patronage, assisted by his own wonderful talents and high attainments, gradually advanced him to that pre-eminence of distinction, which hath secured to him the admiration and applause of posterity; whilst the tragical event of his death will equally excite their commiseration and regret. Sir Philip Sidney, nurtured in the school of science, cherished the divine art of poetry with the kindest and most beneficent indulgence. It is related of him, that upon trading the first stanza of the description of Despair, in the ninth canto of the first book of the "Faery Queen," he was seized with such an unusual transport of joy, that he commanded the steward to reward the author with fifty pounds-that on the perusal of the second stanza, he ordered the sum to be doubled-and that, proceeding to the third, he increased the gratuity to two hundred pounds, directing the payment to be made without delay, lest in his progress through the poem, he should be induced to give away all his property. This story, though frequently repeated, could not with propriety be passed over in silence in this volume, though it is attended with so many very doubtful circumstances, that it is extremely difficult to allow any degree of credit to it. Spenser was already known to him in a much earlier period of his life, when the young poet spent several weeks at Penshurst, where he probably composed some of the pastorals in the Shepherd's Calendar. In this place of rural elegance they tuned their lyres together. To the advice of Sidney it is generally attributed, that he transferred his talents from pastoral to heroic poetry. The merit of cherishing the Faery Queen, while it was yet in its infancy, is assigned to him. That poem would probably never have existed, if the author of it had not been patronized by Sidney. Indeed Spenser himself, who was not encouraged by the government under which he lived, seems to acknowledge this, in a beautiful sonnet addressed to the Countess of Pembroke. ployment, and whose death was the occasion of real grief to him. After a life chrecquered with a variety of prosperous and adverse events, or rather almost wholly consisting of disappointment and distress, Spenser died, not indeed in extreme poverty and indigence, but by no means in a state of afflu ence and wealth." ELOGY OF JOHN OPIE, Esq. [From an Address to Prince Hoare, Esq. introductory to Mr. Opie's Lectures on Painting, by Mrs. Opie.] 66 T has been observed that dis- call forth his acuteness of observatinguished men generally re- tion and his depth of thinking; to semble their works, and this ob- follow him through the wide range servation appears to me strikingly of his perceptions, and to profit by true if applied to Mr. Opie. He that just and philosophical mode of greatly resembled his paintings; seeing and describing, on which his and, while the trivial defects both claims to mental superiority were so of him and them were obvious to strongly built. the many, the unusual excellencies of both could be completely known and justly valued only by the few. Any observer, however contemptible, might in some of his pictures discover a neglect of proper costume in his draperies, a too strict adherence to the models from which he painted, and an inattention to the minuter parts of art; but it required the eye of a connoisseur and the kindred feeling of an artist to distinguish and appreciate properly the simplicity of his designs, the justness of his representations, and the force of his light and shadow. -In like manner any one might ob serve in the artist himself a negligence in dress, a disregard of the common rules of common manners, and a carelessness to please those whom he considered as trifling and uninteresting; but it required a mind of powers nearly equal to his own, or gifted with a nice perception of uncommon endowments in others, to value, and to Those only whom he sufficiently respected to enter into argument with, or who were themselves fond of argument, are aware of the full extent of the powers of his mind: with others, even when he loved them as friends, and valued them as companions, he indulged, for the most part, in conversation, which, though never trifling, was often unimportant, and which at least served the useful purpose of unbending a mind, only too fre quently for the good of the frame which contained it, stretched to the very utmost limit. You have said of him that in argument he had the power of eliciting light from his opponent, and Mr. Northcote has exhibited his talent for conversing in another point of view, by observing that it is difficult "to say whether his conversation airs, he shone the most in certain societies. The fire of his mind required certain applications to elicit its brilliancy; and those were love, esteem, and respect for the companions with whom he was conversing, and a perfect confidence that they desired and valued his society. I was induced to mention this circumstance from being fully aware that many persons, with whom Mr. Opie lived in apparent intimacy, had no suspicion of his possessing conversational talents of the highest order. But in general the few only possess a key to open in another the stores of mental excellence, especially when the entrance is also guarded by the proud consciousness of superiority, suspicious of being undervalued. that my testimony in favour of Mr. Opie's conversational superiority can add no weight to that given by you and Mr. Northcote, and that both you and he may be supposed biassed by the partiality of friendship, I beg leave to offer, in corroboration of its truth, authority of a very high description, and which has hitherto not met the public eye,-that of Mr. Horne Tooke, whom even those who dislike his politics must admire as a man not only of sagacity the most acute, but of attainments the most extraordinary, and that of Sir James Mackintosh, on whose talents it is needless for me to expatiate. a few words than almost any man "I ever knew;-he speaks as it "were in axioms, and what he "observes is worthy to be remem"bered." Mr. Tooke, while Mr. Opie was painting him, had not only the opportunity, but the power of sounding him, from his lowest note to the You, my dear Sir, were one of top of his compass'-And he said, those who possessed a key, to unlock a short time afterwards, to one of the mind of Mr. Opie, and to you his most distinguished friends," Mr. were all its treasures known. You," Opie crowds more wisdom into therefore, are well aware that he excelled in aptness of quotation, that there was a peculiar playfulness of fancy in his descriptions; he possessed the art of representing strongly the ridiculous in men and things, which he instantly and sensibly felt, and therefore the pictures drawn by his tongue lived as powerfully to the view as those from his pencil;-while his talent for repartee, for strong humour, and formidable though not malignant sarcasm, gave an ever-varying attraction to his conversation; an attraction which no one I believe was ever more sensible of than yourself, as you were one of the friends whom he never failed to welcome with an artless warmth of manner which always found its way to the heart, because it bore indisputable marks of having come from it. But as I am fully sensible that Sir James Mackintosh, in a letter recently received from him, laments the loss of an acquaintance to whose society he looked forward as one of the pleasures which awaited him at his return to England, and adds the following observation: "Had Mг, "Opie turned his powers of mind to "the study of philosophy, he would "have been one of the first philoso r phers of the age. I was never more struck than with his original manner of thinking and expressing himself in conversa"tion; and had he written on the "subject, he would, perhaps, have "thrown more light on the philosephy of his art than any man living." Nor evening at a party in B-k-street. "He is gone," was the answer. "I am sorry for it," she replied, for I meant to have sought him "out, as when I am with him, I "am always sure to hear him say something which I cannot forget, or at least which ought never to "be forgotten." I have been led to dwell on Mr. Opie's great talents for conversation, and to bring forward respectable, evidence to prove it, in order to draw this inference; that to him who could, in society," speak in speak in "axioms," and express original ideas in an impressive and forcible manner, it could not be a very difficult task to conquer the only obsta cle to his success as an author, namely, want of the habit of writing, and to become on the subject most dear and familiar to him, a powerful and eloquent writer. That he was such, the following work, I trust, will sufficiently testify: and I should not have thought it necessary to draw the inference mentioned above, had it not been often asserted, and by many believed, that, however the ideas contained in the lectures might be conceived by Mr. Opie, it was not by his pen that those ideas were clothed in adequate language. But the slight texture of muslin could easily assume the consistency of velvet, as the person supposed to have assisted Mr. Opie in the composition of his lectures, have given as language to the conceptions of his mind. He who alone conceived them was alone capable of giving them adequate expression; nor could so weak and ill-founded a suspicion have ever entered into the head of any one, but for the false ideas which, as you well know, are entertained of painting and of painters in general. There are many who set literature so much above the arts, that they would think Mr. Opie showed more ability in being able to write on painting, than in executing the finest of his pictures. Such persons see a simple effect produced, and are wholly unconscious what compound powers are requisite to produce it. They would gaze on a portrait painted by the first masters, they would see the character, the expression, and the sort of historical effect which the picture exhibited; but they would turn away and still consider the artist as a mere painter, and not at all suspect that he could think, or argue, or write. Here let me declare in the most solemn and unequivocal manner, that to my certain knowledge, Mr. Opie never received from any human being the slightest assistance whatever in the composition of his lectures; I believe I read to myself some parts of them as they were given at the Royal Institution before they were delivered, and afterwards I had the honour of reading them to the Bishop of Durham, who said when I had concluded: "You were known be "fore as a great painter, Mr. Opie; you will now be known as a "great writer also:" but the four finished lectures on which he employed all the powers of his mind, and which he delivered as professor of painting at the Royal Academy, I never even saw, but he read each of of them to me when finished, and two of them I believe to Mr. Landseer, the engraver, and Mr. Phillips, the academician. Assistance from any one Mr. Opie would have despised, even if he had needed it; as none but the most contemptible of human beings can endure to strut forth in borrowed plumes, and claim a reputation which they have not conscientiously deserved. Such meanness was unworthy a man like Mr. Opie, and the lectures themselves are perhaps a fatal proof not only of his eagerness to obtain reputation as a lecturer, but also of the laborious industry by which he endeavoured to satisfy that eager ness. To the toils of the artist during the day (and he never was idle for a moment), succeeded those of the writer every evening; and from the month of September 1806, to February 1807, he allowed his mind no rest, and scarcely indulged himself in the relaxation of a walk, or the society of his friends. To the completion therefore of the lectures in question his life perhaps fell an untimely sacrifice; and in the bitterness of regret, I wish they had never been even thought of. But they were written, were delivered, and highly were they admired. They serve to form another wreath for his brow. Let it then be suffered to bloom there, nor let the hand of ignorance, inadvertence, envy, or malignity, attempt to pluck it thence! Mr. Northcote, in his character of Mr. Opie, has mentioned his filial piety, and I can confirm what he has asserted by the testimony of my own experience: indeed all who knew him, would readily admit, that the strength of his affections equalled that of his intellect. I have heard Mr. Opie say, that when he first came to London he was considered as a sort of painting Chatterton. But it was not in talent only that he resembled the unfortunate Chatterton. He resembled him also in attachment to his family. Chatterton, if we may judge by his letters, never looked forward to any worldly good without telling his mother and sister that he hoped to share it with them; and no sooner was Mr. Opie settled in London, with a prospect of increasing employment, than some of his first earnings were transmitted by him to his mother; and his sister, whom he tenderly loved, and who well deserved his affection, was invited to the metropolis, to enjoy the popularity and partake of the prosperity of her brother. Here, unhappily for Chatterton, the resemblance between them ceases, for he possessed not the industry, the patience, the prudence, and the self-denial of Mr. Opie. The mother and sister whom Chatterton held so dear were left by his wretched and selfish suicide in the same state of poverty they had ever known; while those of my husband were enabled by his well-deserved success to know the comforts of a respectable competence. Opie's father died, I believe, at a very early period of his son's life; but he lived to witness the dawnings of his genius, and to feel his affections, as well as his pride gratified by seeing that genius first exhibited in a likeness of himself.— Perhaps the following anecdote may not be unacceptable to my readers; but I cannot expect them to experience from it the same interest which it produced in me, especially as I cannot narrate it in the simple yet impressive and dramatic manner in which my poor sister used to tell Mr. |