indeed seems to think his own logic not very convincing : for he says, just afterwards, what we grieve to say is confirmed by the personal experience of most of us, that, in the case of some christians, "it is difficult to find out what conscience has to do with the matter." Mr. F. winds up this dramatic sermon with a phrase somewhat curious.

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Christians," saith he, "do not doubt as to their existence in a future state: nay, philosophers (as if it were quite impossible for a christian to be a philosopher) since the days of Plato have not doubted. Christians have a higher motive than the fear of other evils to make them suffer their afflictions with patience. If this be not plain, the devil's in it. (p. 652.)

There is in the last, No. of the London, an article on the Madness of Lear, by the same "sweet Roman hand.' Lear is exquisitely compared to a man drinking gin, who "turns in wrath and disgust from the pure element of truth," &c.; and then follows a long account of the plot, with quotations as ample as if Lear had only been written yesterday. Mr. F. evidently regards Shakspeare as having been a kind of mad doctor: for besides speaking of his physiological poetry, and his pathological correctness, he says, that "he displays not only a perfect knowledge of the disease under which Lear labours, but an intimate acquaintance with the course of medical treatment, which in those days, and, indeed, till very recently, was pursued with a view to its cure.”(p.82.) Sonetimes he speaks of him as an apothe cary-and says, that "he employs the proper medical agents with much effect." (p. 82.) He next gets quite wild about Lear's coronet of weeds, just as he had already done about Ophelia's flowers

And furrow-weeds, and harlock's, whence they make

Our Durham mustard; hemlocks, stingingnettles,

And cuckoo-flowers, thought good for epilepsy,

Which hold a place in all pharmacopoeiasWith darnel, otherwise call'd drunkard's grass, &c.

"These plants are all wild and uncuitivated; of bitter, biting, poisonous, pungent, lurid, and distracting qualities. Thus Lear's crown, like Ophelia's wreath, is admirably emblematic of the sources and variety of the disease under which he labours. Yet none of the commentators have given Shakspeare credit for the arrangement." (p. 84.)

We leave all this with one word. If the printing of such ineffable nonsense as this is not an insult to the publicit is not easily insulted.

We have now done with Mr. Farren: whose articles, if they are remarkable for nothing else, display an intimate, and rather disgusting, acquaintance with the signs of madness, in all the shapes in which the disease has ever visited "insane christians"-and Shakspeare (whom if we took our notions of him from Mr. F. we should consider as mad as himself) is perpetually praised for his pathological correctness and exquisite judgment," in the representation of "insane christians." We cannot say much for the "exquisite judgment" of Mr. Farren: but we hope, that if he reads this article, he may have the good luck to light upon "a happiness of Reply, that often madness hits on."

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0.

July, 1824.

J. S. F.

No original character was ever conceived by a painter, a poet, or a novelist, which had not in some of its varieties been noted as remarkable in some individual:- -so says the author of "Waverley," and he has surely some right to be considered as a high authority. We make bold to extend the remark, and to apply it to what has been called Ideal Beauty, which has long been the object of eager but unavailing pursuit among aspiring artists. To us, we must say, the terms convey no meaning, as we can form no conception nor idea of the shadowy thing called the Beau Ideal; and, of course, can never know what the search is for, nor ascertain and identify the object should it chance to be discovered. In the modes of inquiry hitherto pursued, we can never tell when we are right and when we are wrong, and must content ourselves with the state of blissful uncertainty..

Let us hear Barry's account of the matter. "I will readily grant to Reynolds, that no man can judge whether any animal be beautiful in its kind, or deformed, who has only seen one of the species; this is as conclusive in regard to the human figure; so that if a man, born blind, were to recover his sight, and the most beautiful woman were brought before him, he could not determine whether she was handsome or not; nor if the most beautiful and most deformed were produced, could he any better determine to which he should give the preference, having seen only those two. To distinguish beauty, then, we must have seen many individuals of that species. If it is asked, how is more skill acquired by the observation of greater numbers? It may be answered, that in consequence of having scen many, the power is acquired, even without seeking after it, of distinguishing between

accidental blemishes and excrescences, which are continually varying the surface of nature's works, and the invariable general form which nature most frequently produces, and always seems to intend by her productions."

Now though we may readily grant the premises, we should hesitate to admit the inference; for it is concluded, and attempted to be supported from the practice of great masters, that after having made multifarious comparisons of the individuals of a species, and selected what was most beautiful in each, and composed them into a whole,- that this new production which comprehends all the selected beauties is the only possible beauty of that species, and in so far as it is receded from, deformity must ensue. An example will make this plain, and it is important that it should be well understood since it is made the basis of all the rules for painting. There are many thousand individual roses, each possess. ing some little variety in point of beauty; no two individuals, indeed, are completely alike in every particular, though all are confessedly beautiful. Now, in order to make a rose supremely beautiful, or the perfect model and standard of beauty, the artist is directed to select from each what is most beautiful, and make a combination of the several selections; and when he has done so, if he has had taste enough to select, and genius enough to combine, then his rose is pronounced to be the most beautiful, though it be like no real rose in exist

ence.

The critic and the amateur will go farther, and aver that this rose of the painter is the only possible rose which can be the summit of beauty, and if any other painter were to paint a rose, he must either paint this identical one of selected combination, or every departure

therefrom will be a failure. That is, in other words, there can only be one form and one colour of a rose supremely beautiful, and all other forms and colours are inferior in beauty. What is true of the rose is true, according to this system, of every other thing animate and inanimate. There is, therefore, only one horse that can be beautiful; only one peacock that can be beautiful; and it follows, also, that there is only one landscape which can be supremely beautiful. Such is the principle of ideal beauty, which appears to be so absurd, that we might be supposed by those unacquainted with the discussion to have misrepresented or exaggerated it, though we are not conscious of having incurred such imputations.

It is possible, that this principle respecting the Beau Ideal may have originated from the well known anecdote told of the Grecian artist, who, when he was about to give all possible beauty to a Venus, which he had in comtemplation, took a journey all over Greece― examined every female celebrated for beauty, selected what pleased him, and combined all his selections into a Venus. The story is beautifully given in the Pleasures of Hope.

When first the Rhodian's mimic art array'd The queen of Beauty in her Cyprian shade, The happy master mingled in his piece Each look that charm'd him in the fair of Greece;

To faultless nature true, he stole a grace From every finer form and sweeter face; And, as he sojourned in the Egean isles, Woo'd all their love and treasur'd all their smiles:

Then glow'd the tints, pure, precious, and refin'd,

And mortal charms seem'd heavenly when combin'd;

Love on the picture smil'd, Expression pour'd

Her mingling spirit there- and Greece ador❜d.

All this, we confess, is a pleasing and pretty anecdote, but we very much question its truth. We would scarcely credit the artist himself, though he bad told it to us, for he must have deceived himself, we think, if he ever said so. It is much easier indeed to practice than to explain the manner of practising, and we know that the Greeks, who were so eminent in the execution of masterly productions, were seldom ever right in their criticisms. We shall illustrate our

doctrine by an example: a country gentleman, who was appointed a justice of the peace for his county, came in great distress to Sir Matthew Hale, complaining that he could do no good in his new office, as he knew nothing of the law. The shrewd and sensible advice of the lawyer was, that he should always fol low his own judgment to the best of his ability, but never to attempt giving any reason for it, as his judgment had every chance to be right, though his explanation of it, or his trying to find law to support it, had as much chance of being wrong. It is said of Haydn, that he could never give a reason why he wrote any one passage of music in the way he did. His answer invariable was, "I wrote it thus because I liked it best so ;" even when he had altered a few bars in a rough score, and was asked by a friend to assign the reason for the change, he could only reply, "I substituted the passage, because the first somehow or other did not please me." It would have been more according to truth, had the Grecian artist made a similar reply, than to have told the story of his tour in search of beauties.

case.

The fallacy here, is exactly similar to that of discussing, and wrangling, and theorizing about beauty in general; and is here as easily detected as in the other To recur to the example of the rosc, we think that so far from there being only one form and colour superlatively beautiful, that there may be any number all different in size, in form, and in colour, among which it would be scarcely possible to pronounce a superiority. We should be disposed, then, in opposition to the doctrine of ideal beauty, to conclude, that the kinds of beauty even in things of the same species, are multiplied and indefinite, and not confined to one solitary expression of form, of colour, or of feature; and we should not hesitate to prophecy, that the artist who is taught otherwise, and follows up what is erroneously taught in his practice, is sure to fail.

It is scarcely credible, that so many absurdities should find their way into elementary precepts, and even into philosophic criticism, as are every where to be met with. If a painting, for exam ple, or a statue, has the credit of being a master-piece, it is forthwith made the standard of beauty; and they even set about measuring its proportions, that the young artist may learn his art by