The Sun.
London, England, 1832-02-25 00:00:00

LITERATURE.

BYRONS WORKS—VoLs. 11. 111.
LONDON, 1832.
Having already twice noticed at considerable
length, Moore's Memoirs of Byron, of which
the two volumes now lying before us consist, we
shall content ourselves with stating that on a care-
ful re-perusal, we find we did not in any respect
over-rate their merits, whether as regards style
and anecdote, or minute, curious analysis of
character. So far as we can perceive, from a
recollection of the first ponderous quarto edition,
Mr. Moore has made few or no alterations in
this, we suppose, the second or third edition :
here and there, we fancy, a few redundancies of
language have been lopped off ; and in one or
two instances the meaning of a somewhat ab-
struse metaphysical passage—for Mr. Moore is
no metaphysician—has been simplified, but be-
yond these manifest improvements the book re-
mains precisely as originally published. But our
present task is rather with the embellishments
than the letter-press. These (two in each vo-
lume) are engraved by the Findens, and in their
best and most elaborate manner. The Palace of
Ali Pacha is an exquisite combination of grace
and expression ; nor can any thing exceed the
lightness and transparent delicacy of the
fleecy clouds, that hang, as it were, poised
in air, above the Palace. The scattered groups
of cavalry and pedestrians in front, each arrayed
in the rich Oriental costume, increase the anima-
tion of the picture, and forcibly remind us of
that matchless scene in that matchless fiction,
Anastasius, where the hero is represented as
practising Oriental exercises with his associates,
in the spacious area before the Palace of one of
the Beys of Egypt. The view of Marathon, in
the third volume, is another chefd'ceuvre. The i
moonlight on the sleeping waters produces a very
picturesque effect. We shall anxiously expect
the long promised illustrations to these two
graceful volumes.

LIVES OF THE BRITISH PAINTERS,
VOL. V. LONDON, 1532.
This volume, which forms the twenty-seventh
number of the Family Library, is the produc-
tion of Mr. Allan Cunningham, a gentleman
well known and deservedly admired both as a
poet and a novelist, but still more likely to be
admired and remembered as the biographer of
our eminent painters, sculptors, and architects.
In this department of literature he is perfectly
at home, and always writes con amore, conse-
sequently without effort and without confusion.
Nothing can be happier than the occasional cri-
tical reflections which he throws into his bio-
graphical sketches; they are uniformly just
and discriminating, and here and there rise
to the loftiest heights of eloquence. Where
he is severe, which is not often, lie makes
out a strong case for his severity, 41most
invariably to the conviction of his reader. In
the present volume Mr. Cunningham has fur-
nished u = with some delightful notices of Rom-
ney, once a first-rate authority in all matters
appertaining to art, but now (such is the caprice
of fashion !) less appreciated than he deserves
to be. For the major part of his information
he is indebted to Hayley's diffuse memoirs of the
great painter and idolator of Lady Hamilton's
beauty ; but his criticisms are new, and for the
most part striking. Of Hayley he speaks with
'less uniform contempt than that arch quack and
maudlin sentimentalist deserves. Another of
his biographies is that of Hoppner, the friend
of Gifford, who is duly commemorated (but we
fear not immortalized) in those overrated satires,
the Baviad and Mmviad. Of Harlowe, also,
we are furnished with an agreeable, though
somewhat scanty memoir, which we would gladly
have seen enlarged, as the anecdotes respecting
his habits and personal peculiarities are still nu-
merous about town, and all that relates to the
character of the painter of that fine work, " The
Trial of Queen Catherine," deserves to be held
in remembrance. Poor Bonnington, who died
too early for art, but not for his own fame, closes
the list, and has ample justice awarded him. In
closing our brief account of this entertaining vo-
lume, we cannot omit to mention the very
delightful style in which it is written. We
prefer Mr. Cunningham's prose a million times
over to his poetry. In the latter he is but too
often forced, abrupt, and extravagant ; in the former
uniformly easy and spirited, and often snatching
" a grace beyond the reach of art."
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KING'S BENCH.—(THIS DAY.)