was to be seen, with many a blow of lance and sword: the English still defending themselves, killing the horses and cleaving the shields."-p. 200.

"On the other side was an Englishman who much annoyed the French, continually assaulting them with a keen edged hatchet. He had a helmet made of wood, which he had fastened down to his coat, and laced round his neck, so that no blows could reach his head. The ravage

The

he was making was seen by a gallant Norman knight, who rode a horse that neither fire nor water could stop in its career, when its lord urged it on. knight spurred, and his horse carried him on well till he charged the Englisman, striking him over the helmet, so that it fell down over his eyes; and as he stretched out his hand to raise it and uncover his face, the Norman cut off his right hand, so that his hatchet fell to the ground. Another Norman sprang for. ward and eagerly seized the prize with both his hands, but he kept it little space, and paid dearly for it; for, as he stooped to pick up the hatchet, an Englishman with his long-handled axe struck him over the back, breaking all his bones, so that his entrails and lungs gushed forth. The knight of the good horse meantime returned without injury; but on his way he met another Englishman, and bore him down under his horse, wounding him grievously, and trampling him altogether underfoot."-p. 209.

Such were the "fair deeds of arms" on the field of Hastings, the memory of which was probably in Wace's time still matter of boast in the families of the Norman chieftains who had performed them.

Wace, the chronicler of these events, has given a short account of himself.

"If any one ask who it is that tells it and writes this history, let him know that I am Wace, of the Isle of Jersey, which is in the western sea, appendant to the fief of Normandy. I was born in the island of Jersey, but was taken to Caen when young; and, being there taught, went afterwards to France, where I remained for a long time. When I returned thence, I dwelt long at Caen, and there turned myself to making romances, of which I wrote many.

"In former times, they who wrote gests and histories of other days used to be beloved, and much prized and honoured. They had rich gifts from the barons and noble ladies; but now I may ponder

long, and write and translate books, and may make many a romance and sirvente, ere I find any one, how courteous soever he may be, who will do me any honour, or give me enough even to pay a scribe. I talk to rich men who have rents and money; it is for them that the book is made, that the tale is well told and written down; but noblesse now is dead, and largesse hath perished with it; so that I have found none, let me travel where I will, who will bestow ought upon me, save King Henry the Second. He gave me, so God reward him! a prebend at Bayeux, and many other good gifts."-p. 4.

The most important of Wace's writings is the Roman de Rou, or Chronicle of the Norman dukes from Rollo to the year 1106, when he ends abruptly. It is in this work that he gives the account of the battle of Hastings and the Norman Conquest which Mr. Taylor has so ably translated. The only edition of it is that printed at Rouen by Ed. Frere, in 1827, edited by M. Pluquet (2 vols. 8vo.) Unfortunately, the text is not found in its original state, for it is our impression that none of the MSS. are older than the middle of the thir

teenth century. Another valuable work by our author is the Roman de Brut, or history of the fabulous period of British history, founded on the work of Geoffrey of Monmouth. Of this work, also, an edition is now in the press at Rouen, edited by M. Le Roux de Lincy, to make similarly two volumes 8vo. The first volume was published a few months ago, and we expect soon to receive the second, when we intend to give a more detailed notice of it. Wace has left us two or three other pieces-his Metrical life of St. Nicholas has been most ably edited by M. Monmerqué for the Société des Bibliophiles Français: his poem on the establishment of the Festival of the Conception, dicte la feste as Normands, merits also to be pub. lished.

* Le Roman de Brut, par Wace, Poète du xiie siecle, publié pour la première fois d'après les manuscrits des Bibliothèques de Paris, avec un Commentaire et des Notes, par Le Roux de Lincy. Tome 1. Rouen, Frere, London, Pickering. 1836. 8vo.

66

'My heart is disquieted within me: and the fear of death is fallen upon me.

Fearfulness and trembling are come upon me and an horrible dread hath overwhelmed me.

And I said, O that I had wings like a Dove; for then would I flee away, and be at rest.

Lo, then would I get me away far off: and remain in the Wilderness.

I would make haste to escape: because of the stormy wind and tempest."

On reading the tragedy of Octavia— generally attributed to Seneca-I was much struck with the annexed lines, which that unfortunate Empress is supposed to exclaim just before her

Utinam miseræ mihi Fata darent! Fugerem luctus ablata meos Pennâ volucri, procul et cœtus Hominum tristes, cædemque feram. Sola in vacuo nemore, et tenui Ramo pendens, querulo possem Gutture moestum fundere murmur." And I will here add, for the sake of comparison, an excellent Latin translation of those three verses of the above Psalm, by one of our British Poets :

Remarks on Historical Painting, IN a paper on Historical Painting which appeared in the last number of this Magazine, a scheme was proposed by which it was hoped that a taste for the highest order of Painting might gradually be implanted in the minds of all classes of the people of England; and also that by drawing off the attention of the public from works which are in fact only the parts of a picture from mere landscapes, and representations of animal nature, our artists might be constrained to do rightful homage to their patrons, and to make human nature the ruling principle of all their works, and then cease to starve, to snarl, and to squabble.

Too much severity cannot be employed in animadverting upon the condition of a class of persons whose misfortunes, if we may judge by the walls of the Royal Academy, of the British Institution, or of the Society of British Artists, are so much attributable to the grossest indolence and the most impertinent knavery. But it is to be feared that this severity will be of little use until, by touching one of the party, the sapper has established for himself a footing beneath the wall he would throw down. Nothing that we can do will affect the condition of the kingdom of Art, till the loyal party are bold enough to declare themselves GENT. MAG. VOL. VII.

Yours, &c. J. H.

cognizant of our kindly intentions. It is in vain we harangue the public in favour of their cause, till they, by contriving for us a landing, give our forces an opportunity of satisfying their own senses as to the truth of what we saytill they, by such a scheme as that proposed in our last paper, convince the public that there is rebellion against good taste in every painter who worships not the human form divine, but beasts instead, mere animals, among which may be ranked portraits, and buildings, and slices of the sky and earth. When they bestir themselves to meet us in our views, something may be done; till then they must continue to groan, and art to grow rotten.

There is no creature subject to the frailties of human nature, so desirous of being looked upon as a man of genius as an artist. This is not extraordinary, since without genius, considered as an intellectual being, he is usually the most contemptible of his kind; his ignorance, which is proverbial, being now only equalled by his uselessness. The possession of genius is the only excuse for a man who determines to spend his whole life at an easel, the loom from which the charmed hand of genius alone can bring canvass that is not worthless; and it is to be doubted whether there is an artist in existence who is not of the same 4 G

opinion; every artist therefore, we presume, must be desirous of giving proof to others, and of assuring himself, that he is thus endowed. How greatly is it to be regretted that every artist is not aware that this is to be done, only through the medium of Historical Painting: and that thousands are disposed to esteem Claude Lorrain a man of genius, because by universal suffrage he has the reputation of being the greatest landscape painter that ever lived. There never lived a painter whose works gave less indications of this faculty of the soul; and, consequently, there never lived one, perhaps, who has been the occasion of so much mischief to the profession of which he is often esteemed a chief ornament.

means

There can be little doubt that the decline of painting in modern times dates from the rise of landscape painting. This was the immediate cause of a sudden increase of the number of persons calling themselves artists, which nothing but a diminution of the difficulties of the profession could render possible. And although it might be averred that the existence of landscape painters does by no necessarily suppose the annihilation of those belonging to the higher branches of the art, yet who can deny that it has not been the cause of starvation to many of the latter, and of the most deplorable degeneracy in their art?and who can deny that they are unreasonable in growing disheartened when it is hourly their lot to see what merely forms a subordinate part of their productions-the Eden without Man, obtaining for its creator more glory than the Eden when graced by the presence of his image?

Did the space allotted to us for these remarks admit of it, we should take great pleasure in submitting to the reader an argument which we have no doubt would satisfy him, that it is Historical Painting alone which, in order to be brought to the greatest state of perfection, imperatively requires that the artist should be a man of genius; but of this enough has been said for the present, and we now proceed to offer a few words of advice upon the subject of criticism.

It should be insisted upon that all pictures aiming at admission to the

highest class, come within certain prescribed limits as to size. For, applied to this subject, nothing is more just than the observation of Aristotle respecting the length of an heroic poem: it should neither be too long nor too short, he says; for, if the latter, its beauties as a whole will escape the observation of the reader, as the limbs of a small insect are lost to his sight; while, if the former, its parts being carried out to too great a length, he never can consider it as a whole, just as it would be impossible for him to judge of the form of a beast whose dimensions extended beyond the compass of his eye.

The portions of fine historical pictures which are oftenest apt to be criticised carelessly are animals which may have been subordinately introduced into them. A Raphaellist scorns to take note of aught in the works of his idol, which, if remarked upon at all, must necessarily be censured; or, with the rashness characteristic of certain adorers of the antique, he describes with enthusiasm such defects as truly classical, accusing the more honest and discerning critic of coldness and natural incapacity to decide at all upon the merits of such a lofty genius. We are not aware of any painter, some of whose juvenile performances contain fewer indications of talent, much less of the genius he afterwards displayed, than those of Raphaelle. We have seen chalk or pencil drawings of his in the Ambrosian Library at Milan; and amongst the drawings in the Lawrence Gallery, a horse's head as large as life, and a sketch of horses; a Last Supper, in the British Institution last year, may also be ranked with them; which we do not hesitate to pronounce execrable. Such as, if produced as specimens of the talent of a son, would at once convince us of his total incapacity from nature to become a successful painter;-but these things-how frequently are they admired and held up as admirable examples of uneducated genius!

The subordinate parts of a picture, especially when they consist of animals, are those which first of all excite the attention of the uninitiated spectator; if these, therefore, are imperfect, and he have intelligence

enough to notice it, there is surely nothing very inconclusive in his reasoning that, as the more difficult passages would naturally in a much greater degree partake of this inaccuracy, there must be a deal of humbug in the enthusiasm for the fine arts expressed by every one who has appreciated the divine excellence of Raphaelle and Michael-Angelo. He is also disposed to rest satisfied in his own mind, since he finds these things better done by the pencil of a Morland, that historical painting is not by any means justly entitled to the supremacy over the other branches of the art which is universally conceded to it; so that, if not disgusted with painting altogether by this disappointment, he patronises from this moment the mere copyist of nature only. Were nature, on the contrary, beautifully represented in the parts which strike him first, he would be tempted to advance further in the work of examination, and thus receiving a gradual extension of his views, have ultimately developed to him, in the power to sympathize in a painted sentiment, the whole secret of the delight he had previously imagined a vain conceit.

Such things as the disproportionate sizes of the boat and the persons in it, represented in one of the celebrated cartoons of Raphaelle, should never, upon any consideration, now be permitted to pass by unnoticed or without the severest animadversion; for such things do more towards the hindrance of an extension of interest in the pictorial drama, than the deep

ly initiated admirer of true poetry may readily conceive possible.

us.

Painting and sculpture, it should ever be kept in mind, have for their main effect the developement of the sympathy between heart and mind,— and nothing more. They of themselves make not better Christians of The susceptibility indeed which they give rise to, may prove only a new source of wretchedness to us: the number of our passions is increased by them, and as a consequence the number of our temptations. But, devoid of this sympathy between heart and mind, how are the precepts of the Gospel to have their due effects upon us? In vain does eloquence exert her powers in the pourtrayal of the Redeemer's agonies; without this sympathy the heart is deaf, and gratitude, at least, and love and admiration will never be among the incitements which cause the knee to bend and the foot to seek out the narrow path of righteousness. The fine arts, therefore, which conduced to render the Chaldeans, the Egyptians, the Greeks, and the Romans, by every account the most depraved people of antiquity, become, when enlisted in the service of Christianity, on account of their amiability and persuasiveness, the most efficient of her champions. * Sublimity or pathos, therefore, must exist in every picture in order to make it valuable, or its author worthy of patronage.

The profanest subjects-far be it from us to advocate an exclusive adherence only to religious themes!-may