architect, for four colossal busts of Howe, St. Vincent, Duncan, and Nelson, for Trinity House, and for the Greenwich Naval Asylum. From this time he was unrelaxing in his efforts, and continually successful. In 1817 there appeared the exquisite group of The Sleeping Children,' in Lichfield Cathedral. Among his numerous works are busts of Lord Castlereagh, Sir Walter Scott, Wordsworth, Southey, Canning, George IV., William IV., Queen Victoria, Lord Melbourne, Sir Robert Peel, and the Duke of Wellington, and statues of James Watt, Dr. Cyril Jackson, Grattan, Washington, etc.

We can hardly do better than conclude this brief notice of the labours of this great sculptor by quoting the following eulogium from the Quarterly Review, said to be from the pen of Mr. Allan Cunningham:

'England may justly be proud of Chantrey. His works reflect back her image as a mirror. He has formed his taste on no style but that of nature, and no works of any age or country but his own can claim back any inspiration which they may have lent him. He calls up no shapes from antiquity, he gives us no established visions of the past; the moment he breathes in is his, the beauty and the manliness which live and move around him are his materials, and he embodies them for the gratification of posterity. He seems to work as if he were unconscious

of any other rival but nature: the antique is before him, but he prefers flesh and blood, and it would certainly cost him far more labour to imitate the work of another school than to create an image from the impulse of his own feeling. Robert Burns said that the Muse of his country found him, as Elijah did Elisha, at the plough, and threw her inspiring mantle over him; and the same may be said of Chantrey. It was in a secluded place, a nameless spot, into which art had never penetrated, that the inspiration of sculpture fell upon him. The desire of the art came over him, before he knew to what toil he was tasking his spirit. Nature had taken possession of his heart, and filled it with forms of English loveliness, before he knew that the works of Greece existed; and to this we attribute his success and his fame. An air of freedom and ease, of vigour which comes not from the muscle, but from the mind of sentiment making action her auxiliary, and a look of life and reality, are stamped on all his statues, busts, and groups. He courts repose; he seems not averse to gentle action, but has never yet sought in violent motion for elements either of sadness or solemnity. We call this not only the true, but the classic sculpture of our country. The Greeks charmed the whole earth by working in this spirit. But the liberties which the Greeks took with their Olym

pus gave them advantage over modern sculptors. A Christian artist allows not his fancy to invade the sanctities of heaven; he presumes not to embody its shapes; he dares not define the presence of God. Our best sculpture is therefore of a grosser nature, less ethereal in form, and less godlike in sentiment.

'The works of Chantrey are all of a domestic or historical kind. He has kept the preserve of pure poetry for the time when his hand may have uninterrupted leisure, and the cares of providing for existence shall no longer have any right to interfere with fancy. His statues are numerous, and we like his sitting ones the best. Meditation and thought are at their freedom when the body is at rest; and though some of our poets have conceived and composed in the act of walking, we hold that a man who thinks seated will always look more like a man in grave thought than one who stands, let him think ever so stoutly. James Watt is still living, so far as sculpture can prolong life; his perfect image, meditating on the extraordinary power which man wields so easily and profitably, is preserved to the world. The statue of Chief Baron Dundas is graceful and unaffected; that of

Dr. Anderson is the literal and perfect image of the happy and benevolent old man; and that of Dr. Cyril Jackson must please all who knew the Dean, or love flowing draperies and the memory of Christ Church walks. Of his erect figures, Washington is our favourite: the hero of American independence seems the very personification of one wrapt up in thought—a man of few words, of prompt deeds, with a mind and fortitude for all emergencies. Grattan is a being of another class-earnest, voluble, in motion more than any other of the artist's works, and yet with something both of dignity and serenity beyond what the orator possessed. Horner is anxious, apprehensive, and mildly grave. You look, expecting him to speak. General Gillespie is a fine, manly, martial figure.

'In all these works we admire a subordinate beauty, a decorous and prudent use of modern dress. All its characteristic vulgarities are softened down or concealed. There is no aggravation of tassels, no projection of buttons. Though we are conscious that there is no art used in hiding these deformities, the skill of the sculptor has contrived to conceal it in nature.'

produced, was born early in the reign of Henry VIII. It has been frequently asserted that he was organist of the Chapel Royal during the reign of that monarch, and also in that of Edward VI., Mary, and Elizabeth; yet it would be difficult to prove that in the first three of these reigns laymen were ever appointed to any such office. In the reigns of Henry and his daughter Mary, when the Roman Catholic religion prevailed, the organ in convents was usually played by monks, and in cathedrals and collegiate churches and chapels by the canons and others of the priesthood. The first lay organists of the Chapel Royal upon record, were Dr. Tye, Blithman, the master of Dr. Bull, Tallis, and Bird-all during the reign of Queen Elizabeth.

Though the melody of the cathedral service was first adjusted to English words by Marbeck, yet Tallis first enriched it with harmony.

But the most curious and extraordinary of all his labours was his song of forty parts, which is still subsisting. This wonderful effort of harmonical abilities is not divided into choirs of four parts-soprano, alto, tenor, and bass in each-like the composi

tions a molti cori of Benevoli and others, but consisted of eight trebles placed under each other, eight mezzo-soprano or mean parts, eight counter-tenors, eight tenors, and eight basses, with one line for the organ. All these several parts, as may be imagined,

are not in simple counterpoint, or filled up in mere harmony without meaning or design, but have each a share in the short subjects of fugue and imitation, which are introduced upon every change of words.

Tallis died in the year 1585, and was buried in the old parish church of Greenwich, in Kent. The following epitaph, which Dr. Boyce has printed in the first volume of his collection of cathedral music, Strype, in his continuation of Stowe's Survey, printed in 1720, says he found engraved in Gothic letters on a brass plate in the chancel :