the original, only in outline and in proportion, but wanting all expression of the peculiarity of thought or of feeling, which is seen in every face. How different is the effect of a production of the chisel, where some action is expressed, or some attitude of feeling or contemplation which cannot be mistaken. In this view, the statue of the Youth extracting a Thorn from his Foot, or that of the Fawn playing on the Flute, are far superior to the young Apollo or the Antinous, who do not seem to be doing any thing, or thinking about any thing; but merely to be alphabet exercises in modelling by some great statuary. Such is not the case with the Belvidere Apollo, which is most highly expressive, in both feature and attitude; just at the moment the arrow has sprung from his bow, the artist has chosen as the moment to seize the expressive attitude. The shaft has just been shot-the arrow bright With an immortal's vengeance; in his eye And nostril, beautiful disdain and might And majesty flash their full lightnings by, Developing in that one glance the deity. Childe Harold. The remark of West, when he was first introduced to the original statue at Rome, was highly characteristic. He said the Apollo was like a young Mohawk warrior, after he had sent an arrow to the heart of his enemy. The Houseless Wanderer, by Westmacott, affords another fine illustration of our principle, which we would not willingly omit. The subject is a young gypsey female, who has been soothing her infant in the midst of her own sorrows. The babe has just dropt its mouth from the nipple, and fallen asleep, while the mother is in the act of heaving a deep sigh; and so admirably is this told, that the very marble seems to move with the intensity of her feeling, while the contrast of the infant, in a sweet and placid sleep, is masterly and fine. But we should never have done, were we to give all the illustrations which crowd upon us. These, we hope, will serve to establish, on a firm basis, the principles contended for; that expression and action are all and every thing, as, unless feelings can be strongly awakened, the statue, however finely proportioned, must be imperfect-must be a failure. THE RHYMING REVIEW FOR THE MONTH. LET us write a review; but as every one knows, First, then, of our novels-at once there steps forth, Tis lost time to critique him-at all that is said But all must allow that his pen is more bright, When it runs upon scenes long removed from our sight; When the Templars + in chivalrous glory appear, When the voice of Queen Bess seems to ring in the ear. * Red-Gauntlet. A Tale of the 18th Century, by the Author of Waverly. Master go on, and I will follow thee To the last gasp, with truth and loyalty--As you Like It. 3 Vols. Constable, Edinburgh. When Claverhouse sweeps in full vengeance along, Till he writes on the days of good King George the Third. In Red-Gauntlet the hero of course is a goose, Of the heroine's perfections we have no great hantle, There's a Jacobite agent as usual at work, Father Crackenthorpe jovial, and stuffy, and swilly, To pass from Sir Walter-another bring quick, sir, A high German story, some pathos, much stuff, A sort of Saint Leon, mixed up with the monk, A story as hard to untwist as old junk; A style rather crabbed-digressions misplaced, In the middle of magic, a lecture on taste; Or when murder and incest are filling our skulls, A bungling collection of hack Irish bulls, Give the picture of this-but, good reader, there still is, The lady Aurelia is charmingly drawn, From the time that we hear of her passion's first dawn, Through the dark maze of fate which she's destined to tread, Had we time in the text, we should add that there are For instance that glimpse, which, with so much precision, We may also inform our readers, in prose, that we have received a tiny note from a Correspondent, which we cram in here. Sir.-In Red-Gauntlet I noticed the following slips of the pen, which are at your service. Now with all deference, the Septuagint is in Greek; therefore could not contain this quotation from the Latin vulgate. In vol. 2. p. 83. Darsie Latimer says, that he "was transported in one of the light carts of the country then called tumblers." Now this journal was written two or three days after the events it relates, and the name of "tumblers" was scarce changed in the interim, so as to allow Darsie to talk of what they were then called; there certainly is some alteration now-in 1824.-A small critic. § The Devil's Elixir. From the German of E. T. A. Hoffmann. In diesem jahre wandelte auch der.-DEUVEL. Offenllict auf den Strassen von Berlin.-Haftit Microc. Berol. p. 1043. In that yeare, the Deville was also seene walking publiclie on the streetes of Berlin. 2 vols. Blackwood, Edinburgh. Query, Why does Mr. Gillies mispell year, devil, seen, publicly, streets, in the above transla. tion. He may believe us that bad orthography does not make old English. VOL. I. F And th' events hurry on, that, though hard to discover, Besides, ere you read half a sheet you determine, That he gets through Alt-Deutsch very much con amore, "Some account of the life of the late Gilbert Earle," She pines and she dies-and he homeward soon ranges, Writes pretty good sentiments-sighs with an air, Next, comes swimming on with a dignified carriage, How easy, yet caustic, the flow of her chat- The story is piddling, but that is the fashion; Yet, perhaps, if H. Fielding's old plan § were revived, The Hora Germanicæ, in Blackwood's Magazine, are understood to be from the pen of Mr. Gillies, and in general beautiful things they are. + Some account of the life of the late Gilbert Earle, Esq. written by himself. But when returned the youth? the youth no more Returned exulting to his native shore; But forty years were past, and then there came London, Knight, 1 vol. The Inheritance, by the Author of Marriage, Si la noblesse est vertu, elle se perd par tout ce qui n'est pas vertueux; et si elle n'est pas vertu c'est peu de chose.-La Bruyere. 3 vols. Edinburgh, Blackwood. § See, particularly, Tom Jones. Heaven forefend, however, that we should panegyrize the execution of all the details. We are only recommending the admirable epic unity of the plan. Were arranged with due care-and no one opportunity No character useless-no episode such As to draw our attention away overmuch. Perhaps, we repeat it, with all due respect, The thing, as a whole, would have much more effect; But we wish not to blame the sharp elderly madam,* Why then, let her try, and we wager upon it, Clorinda is written, we're told, by Lord Dillon, A companion, in fact, for Sir Richard Maltravers. What d'ye think of the brains of a man who should bid us Should be ducked, for his pains, in a pool of the Hoogly. Enough then of these 'twere lost time, we conceive, Mr. Swan has translated-good reader look o'er 'em,- Wilhelm Meister -you know 'twas Old Göethe who penn'd it— For we give it, at once, as our serious opinion, There are few finer things than the story of Mignon. There's no poetry written this month-more's the pity, Since the above was written, we have learned that the lady's name is Ferriar. It is understood that all the characters introduced in these novels are drawn from the relations or acquaintances of the author. We think it gives them poignancy-though it must not a little annoy the good folks concerned. Clorinda. A novel, in one volume, said to be-but we vouch not for our authority, from the classical pen of Lord Dillon-the conspicuous and sagacious author of Sir Richard Maltravers. In this last work of his, he defends the Indian immolation of women. Havers. Scotch for nonsense. Adam and Eve. A Margate Story. Hunts, London. 1 vol. Rosalviva, or the Demon Dwarf. By Grenville Fletcher. Iley, London. 3 vols. ++ Gesta Romanorum. Translated by the Rev. Charles Swan. 3 vols. H. Colburn, London. #Wilhelm Meister's Apprenticeship. Edinburgh, Oliver and Boyd. 3 vols. Lord Byron is dead, and as dead to the Nine, Are the bards whom we knew in his spring-tide to shine. Sam Coleridge drinks gin, and keeps prating and preaching, Scott is better employed than in looking for rhymes, In fact, not to talk in the style of humbug, We have only to say, that a couple of stories," There's a "Loves of the Colours," not much to our palate. In which you will find, as we found with much sadness, And a thought, once or twice, sunk in blasphemous snivel. "Songs of Israel, by Knox, from the Hebrew;"§ pshaw! trash! He'd have made of the lump, which you wear as a head, For alloying his gold with your compost of lead. . Away, then, with verses-what next shall we start?— Voyage travel-or history-humbug-or fun, It were hard, we're afraid, in this metre of ours, To rush, sword-in-hand, like a Waterloo trooper, Right into the quarrel, 'twixt Charles Bell and Cooper- || The Silent River, and Faithful and Forsaken. Dramatic Poems. By Robert Sullivan. London, Whittakers. 1 vol. + The Loves of the Colours, with a few occasional Poems, and a Trifle in Prose. London, Hookham, 1 vol. Posthumous Poems of the late Percy B. Shelly, esq. London, Hunts, 1 vol. Songs of Israel, consisting of Lyrics, founded upon the History and Poetry of the Hebrew Scriptures. By William Knox, Edinburgh. Anderson. 1 vol. There is a controversy raging now between Mr. Charles Bell and Sir Astley Cooper, Bart. about broken bones, plagiarism, and Borough Billingsgate. |