of some of the productions of Constable, Calcott, Turner, Wilkie, Allan, &c.

In landscape and pictures of common life, the English preserve their superiority, and in these two departments of art their painters equal their descriptive poets. However, many of their landscapes are merely rapid sketches, very different from the dioramas created by the magic pencils of Girtin* or Turner.

The exhibition is not very splendid; but this must be attributed to the carelessness of the artists. Turner has sent but one picture. I am indebted to Mr. Hulmandell for my acquaintance with the greater part of this artist's astonishing water-colour drawings.

Turner has carried the principles of perspective to a greater length than any painter we know of. Claude himself has not more successfully represented the variations of the atmosphere at the different hours of the day, the accidents of light and shade in clear and cloudy weather, or the effects of storms and the differences of seasons.' 'I send you the last number of the Antiquities of Scotland. The first engraving is from one of Turner's charming drawings. The wind not only agitates the foliage of the trees, but its powerful effects are admirably expressed on the dog and the poor woman, who is endeavouring to wrap herself up in her plaid, while her little boy goes to fetch her some water to refresh her fish. I should never

* An artist of extraordinary talent who died a few years ago.

tire of admiring the truth, the force, and striking effect of these pictures.odarbes $‚Ì a

Constable, to whom C. Nodier last year awarded the palm, has not exerted himself this year. The few small landscapes he has sent are not sufficient to support his reputation. He is inferior to himself and to Calcott, whose Smugglers surprised by a sudden change of weather, is a fine productions With the exception of a man, who is looking up as if to utter a malediction on the heavens, there is nothing remarkable in the expression of the figures, and the groupes are by no means happy...... It is in the representation of inanimate nature that Calcott charms us by the truth and freshness of his pencil. There is a surprising effect produced by the clearing off of the fog, and the gradual› appearance of the rocks. ft.

But Wilkie's master-piece is the work which most attracts attention in France. The graver has already made us acquainted with his Blind Fiddler. Reading the Will, Blindman's Buff, &c. all of them, admirable for the composition of the groupes, and/ the variety of expression in the individual figures. This last picture represents Chelsea pensioners [ listening to the reading of the Gazette, which announces the battle of Waterloo. The choice of the subject has, no doubt, contributed to the extravagant eulogiums which the English lavish on this work; but it must be confessed that the artist has evinced great skill in his careful delineation of each figure in a pretty numerous groupe. All are animated and natural. The old man who is read

ing the Gazette, a negro belonging to the military band, a soldier who is stretching his head out of a window, in fact every actor in this scene possésses originality of character. Allan, who is the rival of Wilkie, and is also a Scotchman, has been no less sparing of his productions; he has exhibited only one small picture, The Broken Fiddle. Allan's pictures are, like Wilkie's, conspicuous for exquisite tact in the conception of their subjects and the disposition of their parts. They exhibit the same happiness in the details, the same shrewdness of observation, the same talent for introducing characters, which, though totally distinct, are always expressed with originality. But if Wilkie may be accused of employing too pale a style of colouring, this complaint may be urged with still greater justice against Allan. The former artist too has left his rival far behind in invention, vivacity of expression, and correctness of drawing. I must not omit to add, that the graver has greatly contributed to maintain the popularity of Burnett, Wilkie, and Allan.

We must now bid adieu to the exhibition; but I shall devote a few letters to two or three painters, who exhibit their own works, and whose names are not always to be found in the catalogue of Somerset-house. It is a mistake to say that no picture is refused. A committee decides what works are worthy of admission, and no artist can send more than seven. No. 842 concludes the list of this year.

VOL. I.

LETTER XVI.

TO M. DE LAROCHE.

I WILL now return to four painters, to whom I have merely casually alluded in a preceding letter; and I shall begin by asking a question, which is very much canvassed here, namely, whether the English really have a school of historic painting? I consent to answer in the affirmative, since they appeal to West and Fuseli, (the one an American, the other a Swiss, both naturalized in London) to Barry and to Haydon. But has this school produced any models? This question is not so easily answered. West found a munificent patron in George III. The royal galleries, which till then had received no large works, but those of foreign artists, and the churches, whose doors were before closed against paintings, now readily admitted the productions of West. National glory and religion furnished his subjects. During a life of eighty years, he had ample time to meditate on all the secrets of his art, and to perfect and retouch his compositions. West was, however, merely a painter of talent; if there is little to condemn in his pictures, there is at the same time nothing to excite that enthusiasm, or those strong emotions, which are the true end of painting. West possessed the science of the artist, but none of the genuine poetry of his art. The puritans re

proached Raphael and Dominichino with seducing the people to popish superstition. West would have reconciled even the iconoclasts to church pictures. He satisfies the reason, like a cold narrator of historical events. One feels almost tempted to efface his colours, to decompose his groupes and figures, to study the frame-work of his pictures, and the geometrical lines which have guided the painter's hand; while, in a work of inspiration, on the contrary, we never think of analysing until we have been in some measure actors in the scene represented, and until we have shared the passions which animate each individual. There is notwithstanding a rich variety of expression and contrast in his great picture, in which Jesus confounds the wisdom of the Pharisees by his sublime parables, as well as by his miracles. The laws of unity, of action, and of interest have seldom been better observed. Every countenance presents an excellent study, from the expression of the priest, whose lips are quivering with the malediction which one almost seems to hear, to the mild and sweet ingenuousness which breathes through the features of the young girl, who is leaning on the Centu

rion's arm.

The appearance of the Witch of Endor is but a common-place phantasmagoria; West has succeeded better in his Death on the Pale Horse, in which he has embodied all the allegories contained in the imposing enumeration of the scourges in the sixth chapter of the Revelations. There is certainly something singularly horrible in this ideal repre