LINWOOD GALLERY.

TO THE READER.

To introduce to general notice, and
give deserved publicity to the "LIN-
WOOD GALLERY," to distinguish it
from the exhibition of a day, by
shewing it as it is, and will be, a
standing monument of ingenuity, to
give information to young inquiring
minds, and lead them to emulate
unrivalled excellence, this little book
has been compiled by

An Admirer of Genius,

AND

Lover of the Arts.

A 2

LINWOOD GALLERY.

THE circumstance to which the public are indebted for the admirable EXHIBITION, whose rise and progressive increase to its present astonishing magnitude we purpose briefly to consider, was, a law of the Royal Academy, absolute as that of the Medes and Persians, which forbids the admission of any species of needlework: could the original institutors and makers of this law have foreseen how

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wonderful a collection of pictures in
needlework was destined to grow be-
neath the touch of their inimitable and
indefatigable country-woman, that her
collection would become, as it richly
deserves to be, the wonder of the age,
and the finest exhibition of which Eu-
rope can boast, we presume no such
law had been made. Her works ex-
hibit, also, in a moral point of view,
how much may be accomplished by
unremitting industry, and how satis-
factory and laudable it is always to be
usefully employed.

The first idea, we understand, pre-
sented itself in the form of amusement,
stimulated, no doubt, by genius hi-
therto dormant, but which was after-
wards to awake into unrivalled invi-
goration, without any intention of ex-

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tending the pursuit beyond one or two
pictures, still less expecting to swell
them to their present extent; she has,
however, shewn every thing that in-
dustry, activity, and perseverance,
could accomplish. The growth of this
art, and formation of this incompara-
ble Gallery, cannot be better made
known to our readers than by an ele-
gant poem by Miss AICKIN, which
we have transcribed.

When Egypt's sons, a rude untutor'd race,
Learn'd with wild forms the obelisk to grace,
And mould the idol god in ductile earth,
The loom and polish'd needle took their birth.

When, doom'd to dull obscurity no more,
Fair science reign'd on each surrounding shore,
And stretch'd her arm o'er Greece and early
Rome,
Still in her train appear'd the labours of the
loom.

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When Gothic night o'erwhelm'd the cheerful
day,
And sculpture, painting, all neglected lay,
And furious man, creation's savage lord,
Knew but the hunter's spear, the murd'rer's
sword.

Our softer sex emboss'd the 'roider'd vest,
In flow'ry robe the blooming hero drest,
Or rang'd in tap'stry's glowing colours bright,
The mimic crests, and long embattled fight.

Now Learning's better sun-beam shone anew,
And Gothic horrors, gloomy night, withdrew;
Again Prometheus wak'd the senseless clay;
Grace, beauty, order, leapt to second day.

Most did the manly arts its influence feel,
The pencil chas'd the housewife's humbler
steel;
Rent was the aged tap'stry from the wall,
Exulting genius gloried in its fall.

To monstrous shapes, and hydra forms uncouth,
Succeeded nature fair, angelic truth;
The artist man awak'd the victor's lay,
And woman's labours crumbled in decay.

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THEN LINWOOD rose, inspir'd at once to give
The matchless grace that bids the picture live;
With the bold air, the lovely, lasting dye,
That fills at once and charms the wond'ring
eye.

Hail! better Amazon, to thee belong
The critic's plaudits, and the poet's song;
To thee may fame no barren laurels bring,
But flow'ry wreaths, which bud each rising
spring!

This novel style of needlework,
brought to so high a pitch of excel-
lence by this ingenious lady, consists
of great numbers of beautiful copies
from the most celebrated artists, both
foreign and English, possessing, to
the full, every property and effect of
their originals.

Ascending a magnificent staircase,
the spectator enters a noble gallery,
100 feet in length, hung with scarlet

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broad cloth, terminated with fringe of
gold bullion; sofas, &c. are placed in
every appropriate situation, and a su-
perb canopy, of corresponding ele-
gance, graces the extremity.

The Pictures are hung to the left of
the entrance-door; at the end, a gloomy
passage leads the inquiring mind to
search for further beauties.—Miss
LINWOOD's correct taste here exhibits
itself in the happy adaption of the
decorations to the subject: such as
placing the Lady Jane Grey in an imi-
tative prison; Lions in dens; Gains-
borough's Woodman, and the Woman
shielding her Infant from the Storm,
under convenient places of shelter;
and the little cottagers in scenic rus-
ticity:—of these, and all the pictures,
as well as the artists from whose works

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they are copied, some account shall
be given.

But there is one picture whose sub-
ject, surpassing all the rest in sub-
limity, grandeur, and interest, de-
mands a notice as signal and alone as
its well-imagined situation in these
apartments;—contemplation as deep
as our reverence naturally inspires;
and encomiums great in proportion as
it must be understood and felt by all
mankind.—It is that celebrated pic-
ture of Our Saviour blessing the Sa-
cramental Bread and Wine, by Carlo
Dolci.

Louth has thus happily described
the Salvator Mundi:

To raise at once our rev'rence and delight,
To elevate the mind and charm the sight,

B

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To pour religion thro' th' attentive eye,
And waft the soul on wings of ecstacy;
For this the mimic art with nature vies,
And bids this visionary form arise.

Who views with sober awe, in thought aspires,
Catches pure zeal, and, as he gazes, fires;
Feels a new ardour to his soul convey'd,
Submissive bows, and venerates the shade.

Whilst our admiring eye is fixed in
contemplating the wonderful produc-
tions of Miss LINWOOD's needle, it
is with pride and pleasure we observe,
that the greater number of the pic-
tures she has copied are from modern
masters, and those of the English
school, whose subjects are not only
interesting and pleasing, but their
composition and execution evince su-
perior talent, genius, and taste.

Modern biographers have written

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of some of the modern artists, but
as there are many who have not yet
been introduced to the public, whose
works form a conspicuous part of this
Gallery, we shall take leave to sub-
join all those who have come within
our knowledge or observation.

We commence with

COZENS,

Universally admired for his light and
shade in bistre drawings, which are
admirable, and his compositions from
blots, of which he was the inventor.
He was many years drawing-master
to the Queen, and retained his high
station until his death.

There are five landscapes in the
collection, from this master.

B 2

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OPIE

Was born at St. Agnes, near Truro in Cornwall, a protégé of Doctor Walcot, who discovered in him early and strong marks of genius; and Sir Joseph Reynolds was one of his greatest patrons: he was self-taught, and his talents highly esteemed; he painted with great force and effect, of which his Jephtha and his Heloise are striking illustrations.

He died 1807, aged 46.

CATTON

Painted faithful portraits of animals, from life, with great effect, of which the Pomeranian Dog, is a fine specimen.

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RAPHAEL,

A celebrated painter, born at Urbano, in 1483. At Florence he studied the famous cartoons of Da Vinci and Michael Angelo, was employed by Pope Julius II. in the Vatican, and afterwards by Francis I. of France, and Pope Leo X., who liberally rewarded him. He died at Rome, 1520.

His Madonna Della Sedia was considered one of the most celebrated of his compositions in the Gallery of Florence; it is now at Paris.

ORIGINALS.

There are three in this Gallery.

B 3

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## GUIDO,

An illustrious Italian painter, born at Bologna, in 1575. He was placed by his father under Dennis Calvert, a Flemish master. He afterwards studied under Carraci, and soon acquired a greater repute than any of his contemporaries. Honours were heap-ed upon him by many crowned heads, and riches flowed in upon him in abundance. His heads are beautiful, and his draperies elegant. He died 1642.

In this collection there is a Head of St. Peter from this eminent master.

## JACKSON

Painted fruit and flowers; his works are not very numerous, but in high estimation.

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From his works is a small picture of grapes.

## MOSES HAUGHTON

Was most excellent in his line—that of dead game, &c. He in general painted from nature; was fond of field sports, of which he frequently partook, and selected, from his day of pleasure, those subjects that formed beautiful groups for his pencil; he retained the fire of genius to his last hour. He also painted animated nature, and his works are numerous.

He was a native of Birmingham, where he died in the year 1807.

Here are four specimens of his excellent talents.

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GEORGE MORLAND,

A celebrated painter, was born in London. The pictures of this great artist are faithful representations of rural nature and human life. In the description of farm-yards, rural landscapes, cattle, fishermen, and smugglers on the sea-coast, he is incomparable; his pictures are in high request, and many of inestimable value. He died, 1804, aged 40.

His Farmer's Stable is considered one of the finest of his compositions; here are five others happily selected from his admired works.

FRANCIS PLACE, Esq.,

An amateur, painted still life with beauty and correctness; his works are

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few, and in possession of his particular friends.

After his painting is a Lobster and Crab.

WESTALL.

This inimitable artist, so deservedly and universally admired, may be said to be the father of water-colour drawings, for we do not recollect any that may be ranked in that class until this genius of the art appeared.

In manners gentle
As in genius great.

After this highly-esteemed master there are two fine pictures.

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## RUSSEL,

One of the most eminent of our English crayon-painters. His works are numerous and beautiful, his portraits strikingly faithful and pleasing, without too much flattering his subjects; he also painted rural scenes with great effect, of which here are two very pleasing specimens.

## WRIGHT,

An excellent painter, born at Derby, in 1734. He was a pupil of Hudson. In 1773 he went to Italy, where he resided two years, and improved himself by studying the greatest masters. His historical pictures are painted in

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a fine taste; he also painted portraits, valuable, not only for their excellent resemblance, but also their fine colouring. His Blacksmith's Shop, Ordinary, and Alchymist, rank among the most celebrated of his works. His landscapes are beautiful. The effect of moon-light he studied from nature, and much injured his health by exposing himself to the night-air. No one has ever excelled so much in the union of fire and moon-light in one piece, as this admirable artist: of the effect of the former there are two pictures in this Gallery, as also of the latter, which are esteemed beautiful specimens.

He enjoyed an indifferent state of health, and died at Derby, 1797.

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SIR JOSHUA REYNOLDS

Was eminent in History and Portraits;
he was taught the first rudiments of
painting by Hudson; he afterwards
studied in Italy, and was thought to
imitate Michael Angelo, but more
Coreggio; he was considered at the
head of portrait-painters. When the
Royal Academy was instituted, he was
appointed president, which station he
held with honour to himself and ad-
vantage to the arts, till 1791, and then
relinquished it. He was also appoint-
ed principal painter to the King, and
knighted. His literary merits and
other accomplishments procured him
the friendship of the most distinguished
men of genius and talent in his time.

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He was a member of the Royal and,
Antiquarian Societies. He died, 1792,
and lies buried in St. Paul's Cathedral.

Here are five, from his justly ad-
mired works.

CARLO DOLCI,

A painter of Florence. He rose to a
great height in his profession, and ex-
celled in religious subjects. His pic-
tures were wrought in the most beau-
tiful and delicate style; his works were
few, but are held in high estimation,
and are of great value. He was born
1616, and died 1686.

Here are two from this master,
one of which is the Salvator Mundi,
considered the finest of his produc-
tions.

C

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CARLO MARATTI

Was born at Camerino, in the Mar-
quisate of Ancona, and became the
disciple of Andrea Sacchi. He stu-
died the most admired ancient statues,
and the works of the best painters.
These he sketched with the utmost
ease, till he had made himself master
of the most beautiful forms; hereby
giving such dignity and beauty to his
own works, as surpassed any of his
contemporaries. His designs were
grand, his colouring uncommonly
clear, and his carnations tender and
delicate. His first performances were
chiefly Madonas. He soon gave proofs
of his enlarged genius sufficient to con-
vince the world of his great talents.

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Whilst alive, his works sold at a great
price, and they still retain their value.
He died 1713, aged 88.

Here is only one from this master,
but it is a fine specimen.

J. RUYSDALE.

He was born at Haerlem. About
twelve years old his productions sur-
prised the best painters; he was inti-
mate with Berchem, had an opportu-
nity to observe his manner of design-
ing and colouring, and by these means
formed a style peculiar to himself, and
little inferior to him. His trees, skies,
water, and grounds, were all sketched
upon the spot as they pleased him.
He is esteemed and admired to this

c 2

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day. He perfectly understood the principles of the chiaro-scuro.

His works are distinguished by a natural and pleasing tone of colour, by a free, light, firm, and spirited, pencil. His general subjects were banks of rivers, hilly ground with natural cascades, cottages and huts, woods and groves, with roads through them, and water-mills.

He excelled in torrents and falls of water; the foam of the one, and the clearness of the other, were admirably described. He was assisted in his figures by Ostade, Vandervelde, and Woverman.

There are two pictures in this Gallery, which bear admirable testimony to the truth of the above.

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## RICHARD WILSON.

He was born in Wales. A small landscape of his, being seen by Zuccarelli, so pleased him, that he advised him to follow that mode of painting; he therefore adopted it with vigour and success; to which means is owing the splendour diffused by his genius over this country and Italy. Veznet, who was then in high reputation at Rome, saw his works, was struck with his landscape, and wished to exchange with him for his own.—Wilson consented. The French artist exhibited this picture to his visitors, and recommended him to their favour. His taste was excellent, his eye chaste; elegance and truth appeared in his easel-pic-

c 3

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tures. He was so versatile as to be at one time an eagle sweeping the Heavens, and at another a wren twittering on a thorn. His colouring was vivid, his touch spirited and free, his compositions simple and elegant, his light and shades, broad and well distributed, and his middle tints harmonious. He has been called the English Claude. His Celadon and Amelia, and his Niobe, are most beautiful. It is a doubt which was the best landscape-painter, Wilson or Gainsborough.

In this Gallery is a landscape from this master.

### HOPPNER,

One of our most celebrated English portrait-painters. His taste was ele-

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gant, and his colouring clear and brilliant. He died 1809.

A portrait from his works forms a part of this Gallery.

### MARIA COSWAY,

An Italian lady of great fancy and genius. One of her celebrated and justly admired pictures is, the Lodona, from Pope's Windsor Forest.

### BOULTBEE,

Justly esteemed eminent in his horses and cattle, which he painted from nature; here is one small, yet beautiful, specimen of his talents.

### MILLER,

Born at Birmingham, by profession a portrait-painter, but painted nature

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in every form, of which his Carp
is a beautiful specimen. His like-
nesses were such strong resemblances
as to make them valuable to their
possessor; but he had not sufficiently
learnt the art of flattery to make them
pleasing to those not interested in the
subject.

REINAGLE,

An universal painter of portraits,
figures, landscapes, cattle, birds, &c.;
and equally excellent in every line:
he has but to touch the canvas, and
his subjects rise to life.

We lament that only one small
work has been copied from this ad-
mired artist.

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REV. W. PETERS.

His subjects are chiefly divine. His
Spirit of a Child ascending to Glory,
and the Resurrection of a Pious Fa-
mily, are fine, and much admired;
but he has descended to lower sub-
jects, of which there is a specimen in
this Gallery.

NORTHCOTE,

A modern artist of great merit. In-
dependant of his other admirable
works, his Hubert and Arthur, and
his Lady Jane Grey, will immortalize
his name.

G. STUBBS,

A painter of eminence. Horses, cat-
tle, and animals, he painted from na-

ture, and was esteemed, in his line,
the first of the English school. He
gave that vigour and life to his sub-
jects, which no one has yet surpassed,
and but few have equalled: he also
enamelled many of his own works;
and published upon the Anatomy of
Animals and Birds. He painted with
spirit to his latest day; and died,
1807, aged 82.

There are two very fine specimens
in this Gallery from his justly admired
works.

GAINSBOROUGH.

We cannot give him a more just
character than by quoting a modern
biographer.—"Nature," says he, "was
his teacher, and the woods of Suffolk

his academy.” He was born at Sud-
bury in Suffolk, 1727, where he spent
his time in sketches. Having painted
several landscapes, when, between
the age of ten and twelve, he quitted
Sudbury, and came to London, where
he commenced portrait-painter, and
acquired great eminence. He lived
many years at Bath. His chief ex-
cellence, however, was in landscapes.
I have seen him taking sketches on
the road near Bath, with his horse
tied to a gate. He left Bath for
London, and resided some years in
Pall Mall.

His portraits are equal to those of
Vandyck, Reubens, or Sir Joshua
Reynolds; his landscapes have not
been exceeded by any native of this
isle. They are more like Reubens

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than any other master. His trees,
fore-ground, and figures, have more
spirit than Reubens. He had the
brilliancy of Claude, and the simpli-
city of Raphael. He copied the pic-
tures of Reubens, Teniers, and Van-
dyck, which a judge, at first sight,
might take for originals. In portraits
he exceeded every painter for likeness.

We see five very faithful copies
from the most eminent productions
of his pencil, amongst which are the
Ass and Children, Shepherd's Boy,
and Woodman; THESE are the ONLY
EXISTING copies, and are deemed
invaluable, the beautiful originals
being destroyed by fire in the year
1809.

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Historical Tracts.

LADY JANE GREY.

THIS illustrious personage, equally
distinguished by birth and virtue, was
of royal blood by both parents; her
grandmother, on the side of her fa-
ther, Henry Grey, Duke of Suffolk,
being Queen Consort to Henry IV.;
and her grandmother, on the side of
Lady Frances Brandon, her mother,
being daughter to Henry VII., Queen
Dowager of France, and mother of
Mary, Queen of Scots. Lady Jane
was born at Broadgate, her father's
seat in Leicestershire, in 1547. She

D

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gave early proofs of the most astonishing abilities. Her genius first appeared in the WORKS OF HER NEEDLE, and in the fine hand she wrote: she performed admirably on several musical instruments, and accompanied them with her voice, which nature had rendered exquisitely sweet, and which was assisted by all the graces art could bestow. Her father had two chaplains, Harding and Aylmer, both men of distinguished learning, whom he employed as her tutors; and she made such proficiency under their instruction as amazed them both; she not only spoke and wrote her own language accurately, but French, Italian, Latin, and Greek; she was also versed in Hebrew, Chaldee, and Arabic.

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Upon the decline of the King's health, in 1553, the Dukes of Suffolk and Northumberland, who, by the fall of Somerset, had risen to the height of power, began to think of preventing the reverse of fortune which they foresaw would take place on Edward's death, by changing the succession of the crown, and transferring it to their own families.

Here the excellent and amiable qualities of the Lady Jane, joined to her near affinity to the King, subjected her to be the chief tool of their ambition. On this account she was married to Lord Guilford Dudley, the Duke of Northumberland's fourth son, without being acquainted with the real design of the match, which was celebrated with great pomp, in

D 2

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the latter end of May. In a few days
after this, King Edward grew so weak,
that Northumberland, thinking it high
time to carry this project into execu-
tion, broke the affair to the young
monarch, and having made the most
plausible objections to His Majesty's
two sisters, he persuaded him to set
aside all partialities of blood, in fa-
vour of the Lady Jane; and a deed
of settlement being drawn up by the
judges, was, with great secrecy, sign-
ed by His Majesty, and all the lords
of the council.

Northumberland then directed let-
ters to the Princess Mary, in her bro-
ther's name, requesting her attendance
at court; but when she was within
half a day's journey of Greenwich,
the King died there, on the 6th of

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July, 1553; and, having timely notice
of it, she escaped the snare that had
been laid for her.

At length, every previous step being
taken, the Dukes of *Northumberland*
and *Suffolk* repaired to Sion-House,
where the Lady Jane resided with her
husband; and there the Duke of Suf-
folk, with much solemnity, told his
daughter, that the late king had left
his crown to her, by the consent of
the privy council; and that the magis-
trates and citizens of London ap-
proved of what had been done. Then
both he and Northumberland, kneel-
ing, paid their homage to her as
Queen of England. The unhappy
lady, overwhelmed with grief and
astonishment, answered, that natural
right, and the laws of the kingdom,

p 3

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declaring for the King's sisters, she
would not burden her conscience by
wearing a yoke that belonged to them;
that she was too sensible of the infamy
of violating these rights to gain a
sceptre by usurping a crown.

She then mentioned the anxieties
attending it, and concluded with say-
ing, "I will not exchange my peace
for honourable jealousies, for magnifi-
cent and glorious fetters; and, if you
love me sincerely, you would rather
wish me a mean fortune, than an ex-
alted condition, exposed to the wind,
and followed by a dismal fall!"

However, the exhortations of her
father, and the entreaties of her hus-
band, whom she tenderly loved, at
length prevailed on her to yield an
unwilling consent; and, with a heavy

43

heart, she suffered herself to be con-
veyed to the Tower, which she en-
tered with all the state of a queen,
attended by some of the principal
nobility. She was immediately pro-
claimed queen, and the same day as-
sumed the regal title, and proceeded
to exercise many acts of sovereignty.

Mary, however, was no sooner
proclaimed, than the Duke of Suffolk,
who then resided with his daughter
in the Tower, went to her apart-
ment, and in the softest tones told
her, that she must lay aside the dig-
nity of a queen; to which, with a se-
rene countenance, she answered, that
she received this message with greater
satisfaction than her former advance-
ment to royalty; that by her obedi-
ence she had sinned, and offered

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violence to herself, and now willingly resigned the crown.

Thus ended the reign, but not the misfortunes, of this unhappy lady; she and her husband were committed to the Tower, as were also the Dukes of Suffolk and Northumberland, who had raised an army to support her claims. The former of these noblemen was set at liberty; but the latter was beheaded on the 22d of August. On the 30th of November, the Lady Jane and her husband, Lord Guilford Dudley, were tried and condemned for high treason; but there are some reasons to believe, that Queen Mary would have spared their lives, had not the Duke of Suffolk imprudently engaged in Wyat's rebellion; the consequence of which

45

was, an order from the Queen for their immediate execution.

Lady Jane received the news with marks of real joy, for she was prepared to meet her fate. When Dr. Feckenham, Abbot of Westminster, came to her from the Queen, who was very desirous that she should die a Papist, the Lady received him with much civility, and with such calmness and sweetness of temper, that he could not help being moved at her situation, and, therefore, procured her a respite of three days; but, when he acquainted her with it, she told him, that far from wishing her death might be delayed, she expected and hoped for it as the period of her mini-series, and her entrance into eternal happiness. She heard him patiently,

46

and answered all his arguments in
defence of Popery with such strength
and clearness, as plainly shewed she
had studied her religion with the
utmost care. On Sunday evening,
which was the last she was to spend
in this world, it is said she wrote a
letter in the Greek tongue, on the
blank leaves at the end of a Greek
testament, which she bequeathed as
a legacy to her sister, the Lady Ca-
therine Grey.

The next morning, her husband
earnestly desiring the officers to allow
him to take his last farewell of her,
they consented: but upon notice, she
sent him word, that such a meeting
would rather add to his afflictions
than confirm that tranquillity, which
had prepared their souls for the

47

stroke of death, advising him to defer
the interview to the other world,
where friendships were happy, and
unions indissoluble. All she dare do
was, to give him a farewell out of a
window, as he passed to his scaffold
on Tower Hill, where he suffered
with much Christian meekness. She
also beheld his dead body wrapped
in linen, as it was brought back under
her window to the Tower chapel.

The lieutenant led this noble and
excellent lady, about an hour after,
to a scaffold opposite the White
Tower, where she was attended by
Feckenham; but, without paying any
regard to his discourses, she kept
her eyes fixed on a book of prayer,
which she held in her hand. After
a short recollection, she saluted those

48

who were present with a composed
countenance; then, addressing her-
self to Dr. Feckenham, she said, God
will abundantly requite you, good
sir, for your humanity to me, though
your discourses gave me more uneasi-
ness than all the terrors of approach-
ing death. She then made a plain
and short speech to the spectators,
after which, kneeling, she repeated
the Miserere in English. Then rising,
she gave her two women her gloves
and handkerchief, and her prayer-
book to the lieutenant of the Tower.
The executioner offering to assist in
untying her gown, she desired him to
let her alone, and turning to her
women they undressed her, and gave
her a handkerchief to bind over her
eyes. The executioner then, kneel-

49

ing down, asked her pardon; to which
she answered, “most willingly.”—
The handkerchief being bound close
over her eyes, she began to feel for
the block, and being guided to it by
one of the spectators, she stretched
herself forward, and saying, “Lord,
into thy hands I commend my spirit!”
her head was instantly separated from
her body at one stroke.

Thus were sacrificed two amiable
young people to the ambition of their
fathers.

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MOUNT VESUVIUS,

A volcano or burning mountain of
Campania, about six miles eastward
of Naples. The ancients, particu-
larly the writers of the Augustan age,
spoke of Vesuvius as a place covered
with orchards and vineyards, of which
the middle was dry and barren.

The first eruption of this volcano
was in the 79th year of the christian
æra, under Titus. It was accom-
panied by an earthquake, which over-
turned several cities of Campania,
particularly Pompeii and Hercula-
neum; and the burning ashes which
it threw up, were carried not only
over the neighbouring country, but
as far as the shores of Egypt, Libya,
and Syria. This eruption proved

51

fatal to Pliny, the naturalist. The
perpendicular height of this mountain
is 378 feet.

During the time of an eruption,
which generally happens in the course
of a few years, streams of liquid fire
issue from the crater, or hollow sum-
mit of the mountain, and, descend-
ing down its sides, overwhelm and
destroy the country through which
they pass. There now exists an ac-
count of twenty-nine of these erup-
tions. Of the lava of Mount Vesu-
vius, very beautiful tables and orna-
mental furniture are made.

E 2

52

VIRGIL.

The life of this great poet is so
replete with anecdote, that we cannot
pass it over without some few remarks
upon his interesting character.

Virgil, called the Prince of the
Latin Poets, was born at Andes, a
village near Mantua, about 70 years
B.C. on the 15th of October. His
first years were spent at Cremona,
where his taste was formed, and his
rising talents first exercised.

The distribution of the lands of
Cremona to the soldiers of Augustus
nearly proved fatal to the poet; and,
when he attempted to dispute the
possession of his field with a soldier,
Virgil was obliged to safe his life
from the resentment of the lawless

53

veteran, by swimming across a river.
This was the beginning of his great-
ness. He, with his father, repaired
to Rome, where he soon formed an
acquaintance with Mecænas, and re-
commended him to Augustus. The
emperor restored his lands to the
poet, whose modest muse knew so
well how to pay the tribute of grati-
tude; and his first BUCOLICK was
written to thank his patron, as well
as to tell the world, that his favours
were not unworthily bestowed. The
poet shewed his countrymen, that he
could write with graceful simplicity,
with elegance, delicacy of sentiment,
and with purity of language. The
Romans were not insensible of the
merits of this poet. Virgil received
much applause in the capitol; and,

E 3

54

when he entered the theatre, he was astonished and delighted to see the crowded audience rise up to him as an emperor, and welcome his approach by reiterated plaudits. He was naturally modest, and of a tremendous disposition. When people crowded to gaze upon him, and pointed at him with the finger of rapture, the poet blushed, stole away from them, and often hid himself in shops to be removed from the curiosity and admiration of the public. The most liberal and gratifying marks of approbation he received were from the Emperor and Octavia.

As an instance of his modesty, the following circumstance has been recorded. Virgil wrote this distich,

55

in which he compared his patron to Jupiter:

Nocte pluit totâ, redeunt spectacula mane
Divisum imperium cum Jove Cæsar habet:

and placed it in the night on the gates of the palace of Augustus. Inquiries were made for the author by order of Augustus; and, when Virgil had the diffidence not to declare himself, Bathyllus, a contemptible poet of the age, claimed the verses as his own, and was liberally rewarded. This displeased Virgil: he again wrote the verses near the palace, and under them,

Hos ego versiculos feci, tulit alter honores,
with the beginning of another line in these words,

Sic vos non vobis,

56

four times repeated. Augustus wished
the lines to be finished; Bathyllus
seemed unable, and Virgil, at last,
by completing the stanza in the fol-
lowing order,—

Sic vos non vobis nidificatis aves;
Sic vos non vobis vellera fertis oves;
Sic vos non vobis mellifcatis apes;
Sic vos non vobis fertis aratra boves;

proved himself the author of this dis-
tich; he received a reward, and the
usurper was banished. He was un-
commonly severe in revising his own
poetry, and used often to compare
himself to a bear, that licks her own
cubs into shape.

In his connections, Virgil was 're-
markably open and liberal; his friends
enjoyed his unbounded confidence,
and his library and possessions seem-

57

ed to be the property of the public.
Like other great men, he was not with-
out his enemies and detractors; but
from these aspersions he received ad-
ditional lustre.

He had attempted to attend his pa-
tron in the east, but was detained at
Naples, on account of his ill health.
He, however, went to Athens, where
he met Augustus on his return; but
he soon after fell sick at Megara,
and, though indisposed, ordered him-
self to be removed to Italy. He
landed at Brundusium, where, a few
days after, he died, the 22d of Sep-
tember, in the 51st year of his age,
B.C. 19 years. He left the greatest
part of his immense possessions to
his friends, particularly to Mecænas,
Tucca, and Augustus, and ordered

58

in his will his unfinished poem to be
burnt. These last injunctions were
disobeyed; and, according to the
words of an ancient poet, Augustus
saved his favourite Troy from a
second conflagration. The body of
the great Roman poet, according to
his own directions, was conveyed to
Naples, and interred with much so-
lemnity, in a monument erected on
the road that leads from Naples to
Puteoli. In Miss Linwood's Gallery
is a faithful representation of his
tomb, being taken on the spot by
Wright.

The tomb is sheltered by a bay-
tree, planted as a trophy of his fame,
the leaves of the bay-tree being used
formerly to compose the chaplets

59

of celebrated poets. The following
distich was engraved on the tomb,
written by the poet some few mo-
ments before he expired:

Mantua me genuit; Calabri rapuere; tenet
nunc

Parthenope: cecini pascua, rura, duces.

60

ORIGINAL POEM.

AN AUTUMNAL SCENE.

WRITTEN UPON VIEWING MISS LINWOOD'S PICTURE OF THE GLEANER.

BY MISS WATTS.

SEASON of gladness! bounteous Autumn,
hail!

Welcome once more to bless each fertile vale!

What Muse but wakes for thee, the grateful
lays,

And at thy shrine her duteous tribute pays?

While ever first th' exulting choir to lead,

Thy own lov'd Thompson "tunes his Doric
reed!"

And as, with hallow'd step, the Druid roves,
In solemn musing thro' his sacred groves;

And from his nightly "harp of Phrygian
frame,"

Wakes the bold notes that consecrate his
name;

61

In song sublime, of Nature's beauties sings,
And strikes to Nature's God the trembling
string;

Led by his hand, we learn aright to trace
The rural scene in all its moral grace;

And, while this great Interpreter is nigh,
The verdant volume read with clearer eye:

Come, then, illustrious bard! the mind's best
friend,

Come, with kind step the Autumnal Walk
attend!

Lo! now the waning sun with temper'd ray,
Invites the foot from shelter'd domes to stray,
Light speckled vapours shade the sober blue,
And the green world assumes a softer hue.
We wander forth, and climb yon steep as
cent,

With pleasing foil on varying purpose bent;

To rove the forest haunts, and studious trace

Th' instinctive manners of the sylvan race,

Or mark the trees that wave the lofty crest,

A beauteous crowd!—in varying foliage
drest—

62

The oak, proud guardian of Britannia's vale,
The aspen, shuddering at the sportive gale,
The feathery ash that nods his silver brows,
And sycamores that spread majestic boughs;
Or view, admiring with botanic eyes,
The fairy beauties that beneath them rise.

Now, as we issue from the woody glade,
The tangled walk, and canopy of shade,
With magic contrast, deck'd in brightest hue,
A beauteous scene bursts sudden on the view;
See on the right slow-swelling hills arise!—
Emboss'd with many a bush of varying
dyes:
Where 'mid the elm's green foliage loth to
fade,
The withering maple joins its russet shade;
While on the left a slow ascent is seen,
Its sloping sides with blooming pastures green
Undeck'd by trees, save where in rows out-
spread
One broad-leav'd grove adorns its modest
head;

63

Here, through the boughs, the neat white cot
appears,
Its humble spire the village temple rears:
Between with ample sweep extends a plain,
On whose broad circuit floats a sea of grain,
Its rustling surface undulates around,
And on the bending ear light zephyrs bound.

At distance see, the toiling reapers stand!
The sickle twinkling in the busy hand,
The crackling stems bow low their loaded
heads,
And round them soon a level circus spreads.
Behind the lab'ring band, with sport and
song,
In joyous troop the village children throng,
'Mid the cropp'd stalks their sun-dy'd fin-
gers ply,
While round the space they cast th' enquir-
ing eye,
And snatch with rival haste th' lingering ear,
The scythe, by pity paid, to want severe.

F2

64

But lo! the sky has lost its azure mien,
And folding clouds o'ershade the beauteous
scene;

The rising winds the rolling vapours bear,
And rush portentous thro' the thickening air;
Loud and more loud soon swell the echoing
blasts,

And one continual veil the heavens o'ercasts,
Till even the lingering streaks of languid blue
That tip'd the hills, are lost in sable hue.

Th' approaching storm the wary reaper
spies,

And with redoubled haste his sickle plies;
Heedless of threat'ning skies, with labour gay,
Th' youthful gleaners still pursue their way,
Viewing with Fancy's eye their promises'd
treat,

Of sweeten'd pottage, or the butter'd wheat;
Involv'd in future bliss they lightly bound,
Nor hear the distant thunder's startling
sound.

65

The gathering storm, “ with solemn pace
and slow,”

As if uncertain where its bolt to throw,
Now seems to die away in far-off peals;
Now on the ear in nearer cadence steals;
But soon its forces join'd, a dreadful train!
Its fury centres on the busy plain.

From sable clouds the arrowy lightnings fly,
Then flit away, as if to mock the eye;
That trembling Fancy, keener than the sight,
Might paint their terrors with encreas'd af-
fright.

In echoing crash now bursts the thunder's
sound,

And now in lengthening horror rolls around;
The deluge pours impetuous o'er the plain,
And mows in one vast heap the smoking
grain;

The reapers fly, while, struck with sudden
dread,

Tumultuous o'er the field the gleaners spread;
Before to fear unknown, the youthful crew
With piercing shrieks the certain danger view.

F 3

66

Confus'd, by terror, different ways they run,
And meet the peril which they mean to shun.

One beauteous girl, amid th' affrighted train,
With calmer footsteps pac'd the delug'd plain;
An orphan, whom, her little stores to heir,
A village matron train'd with tender care.
How fair the little maid, her mind how sweet,
Each rustic tongue could o'er and o'er repeat.
'Twas her's to charm, in sober talk or play,
Joy of the grave, and darling of the gay;—
The rural sage, as at his cottage-door
He sat, and mus'd on pleasures now no more,
Lov'd to behold the gentle listner near,
And win with story long her youthful ear;
While, as th' alluring tales her mind engage,
Her tender features wear the thought of age;
No sports her young companions joy'd to
taste,
Except her frolick smiles the gambol grac'd.
But now subdu'd by terror's potent pow'r,
They left their partner in the dangerous hour;
Trembling she sought some sheltering spot to
gain,
Safe from the beating of the rushing rain.

67

At length, o'ergrown with tangled brush-
wood round,
A shady bank the little wand'rer found;
Here her faint limbs she rests; high o'er her
head
Its rich embow'ring boughs an oak outspread;
A fearful glow o'ercasts her lovely cheeks,
Yet her mild look a patient reverence speaks,
One trembling hand grasps half her grainy
prize,
(Half, drop'd beneath her feet, forsaken lies;)
One folds her mantle o'er her shivering form,
While her blue eye, up-turn'd, surveys the
storm—
It pours around, the driving clouds and rain,
In one dim hue conjoin skies, trees, and plain;
Oft the rude blast assails her features fair,
Tossing with cruel rage her golden hair;
Rain-drops and hail in drifts successive beat,
Cold, keen, and pointed, on her unshod feet;
Sedate she sits—she fears, but not despairs,
Her tender breast a magic corslet wears;
There innocence has fix'd her hallow'd seat,
And taught the heart with holy hope to beat

68

Ah! what, when Nature thus terrific low'rs,
And, aweful, wakes her elemental pow'rs;
When Danger, clad in horrors from his hand,
Hurls the dire bolt, and darts the fiery brand,
When all creation as in pause attends,
And dread destruction from on high descends;
Ah! what can still the tort'ring throb of fears
But the sweet hope, that Guardian Power is
near?

'That HE, who rules the storm, will deign to
spread

His heavenly buckler o'er the guiltless head!

69

SALVATOR MUNDI.

We close our work with the fol-
lowing beautiful and interesting ex-
tract from the Citizen of the World,
sent in a letter to Bedredin, supe-
rior of the Dervises, of the convent
of Cogny in Natolia.

He sends him the following cha-
racter of Jesus Christ, with a descrip-
tion of his person, which Publius
Lentulus, president of Judæa, sent
to the senate of Rome.

"There lives, in Judæa, a man of
"singular virtue, whose name is Je-
"sus Christ, whom the barbarians
"estem as a prophet; but his own
"followers adore him as the offspring
"of the immortal Gods. He calls

70

"back the dead from their graves,
"and heals all sorts of diseases with
"a word or a touch. He is tall
"and well-shaped, of an amiable
"reverend aspect; his hair of a co-
"lour that can hardly be matched,
"falling into graceful curls below his
"ears, and very agreeably couching
"on his shoulders, parted on the
"crown of his head like the Na-
"zarites; his forehead is smooth and
"large, his cheeks without other spot
"save that of a lovely red, his nose
"and mouth formed with exquisite
"symmetry, his beard thick, and of
"a colour suitable to the hair of his
"head, reaching an inch below his
"chin, and parting in the middle like
"a fork; his eyes bright, clear, and
"serene; he robukes with majesty,

71

" counsels with mildness; his whole

" address, whether in word or deed,

" being elegant and grave: no man

" has seen him laugh, but he has
" wept frequently; he is very tempe-

" rate, modest, and wise; a man for

" his excellent beauty and divine per-

" fections, surpassing the children of

" men."

THE END.

Printed by RIDER and WEED,
Little Britain, London.