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The separate parts of the human body may be given from scientific knowledge:-their modifications or inflections can only be learnt by seeing them in action; and the truth of nature is incompatible with ideal form, if the latter is meant to exclude actually existing form. The mutual action of the parts cannot be determined where the object itself is not seen. That the forms of these statues are not common nature, such as we see it every day, we readily allow that they were not select Greek nature, we see no convincing reason to suppose. That truth of nature, and ideal or fine form, are not always or generally united, we know; but how they can ever be united in art, without being first united in nature, is to us a mystery, and one that we as little believe as understand!

Suppose, for illustration's sake, that these Marbles were originally done as casts from actual nature, and then let us inquire whether they would not have possessed all the same qualities that they now display, granting only, that the forms were in the first instance selected with the eye of taste, and disposed with a knowledge of the art and of the subject.

First, the larger masses and proportions of entire limbs and divisions of the body would have been found in the casts, for they would have been found in nature. The back, and trunk, and arms, and legs, and thighs, would have been there, for these are parts of the natural man, or actual living body, and not inventions of the artist, or ideal creations borrowed from the skies. There would have been the same sweep in the back of the Theseus; the same swell in the muscles of the arm on which he leans; the same division of the leg into calf and small, i. e. the same general results, or aggregation of parts, in the principal and most striking divisions of the body. The upper part of the arm would have been thicker than the lower, the thighs larger than the legs, the body larger than the thighs, in a cast taken from common nature; and in casts taken from the finest nature they would have been so in the same proportion, form, and manner, as in the statue of the Theseus, if the Theseus answers to the idea of the finest nature; for the idea

and the reality must be the same; only, we contend that the idea is taken from the reality, instead of existing by itself, or being the creature of fancy. That is, there would be the same grandeur of proportions and parts in a cast taken from finely developed nature, such as the Greek sculptors had constantly before them, naked and in action, that we find in the limbs and masses of bone, flesh, and muscle, in these much and justly admired remains.

Again, and incontestibly, there would have been, besides the grandeur of form, all the minutia and individual details in the cast that subsist in nature, and that find no place in the theory of ideal art-in the omission of which, indeed, its very grandeur is made to consist. The Elgin Marbles give a flat contradiction to this gratuitous separation of grandeur of design and exactness of detail, as incompatible in works of art, and we conceive that, with their whole ponderous weight to crush it, it will be difficult to set this theory on its legs again. In these majestic colossal figures, nothing is omitted, nothing is made out by negation. The veins, the wrinkles in the skin, the indications of the muscles under the skin (which appear as plainly to the anatomist, as the expert angler knows from an undulation on the surface of the water what fish is playing with his bait beneath it), the finger-joints, the nails, every the smallest part cognizable to the naked eye, is given here with the same ease and exactness, with the same prominence, and the same subordination, that it would be in a cast from nature, i. e. in nature itself. Therefore, so far these things, viz. nature, a cast from it, and the Elgin Marbles, are the same; and all three are opposed to the fashionable and fastidious theory of the ideal. Look at Sir Joshua's picture of Puck, one of his finest-coloured, and most spirited performances. The fingers are mere spuds, and we doubt whether any one can make out whether there are four toes or five allowed to each of the feet. If there had been a young Silenus among the Elgin Marbles, we don't know that in some particulars it would have surpassed Sir Joshua's masterly sketch, but we are sure that the extremities, the nails, &c.

would have been studies of natural history. The life, the spirit, the character of the grotesque and imaginary little being would not have made an abortion of any part of his natural growth or form.

Farther, in a cast from nature there would be, as a matter of course, the same play and flexibility of limb and muscle, or, as Sir Thomas Lawrence expresses it, the same "alternate action and repose," that we find so admirably displayed in the Elgin Marbles. It seems here as if stone could move: where one muscle is strained, another is relaxed, where one part is raised, another sinks in, just as in the ocean, where the waves are lifted up in one place, they sink proportionally low in the next: and all this modulation and affection of the different parts of the form by others arises from an attentive and co-instantaneous observation of the parts of a flexible body, where the muscles and bones act upon, and communicate with, one another like the ropes and pullies in a machine, and where the action or position given to a particular limb or membrane naturally extends to the whole body. This harmony, this combination of motion, this unity of spirit diffused through the wondrous mass and every part of it, is the glory of the Elgin Marbles:-put a well-formed human body in the same position, and it will display the same character throughout; make a cast from it while in that position and action, and we shall still see the same bold, free, and comprehensive truth of design. There is no alliteration or antithesis in the style of the Elgin Marbles, no setness, squareness, affectation, or formality of appearance. The different muscles do not present a succession of tumuli, each heaving with big throes to rival the other. If one is raised, the other falls quietly into its place. Neither do the different parts of the body answer to one another, like shoulder-knots on a lacquey's coat, or the different ornaments of a building. The sculptor does not proceed on architectural principles. His work has the freedom, the variety, and stamp of nature. The form of corresponding parts is indeed the same, but it is subject to inflection from different circumstances. There is no primness or petit maître

ship, as in some of the later antiques, where the artist seemed to think that flesh was glass or some other brittle substance; and that if it were put out of its exact shape it would break in pieces. Here, on the contrary, if the foot of one leg is bent under the body, the leg itself undergoes an entire alteration. If one side of the body is raised above the other, the original, or abstract, or ideal form of the two sides is not preserved strict and inviolable, but varies as it necessarily must do in conformity to the law of gravitation, to which all bodies are subject. In this respect, a cast from nature would be the same. Mr. Chantrey once made a cast from Wilson the Black. He put him into an attitude at first, and made the cast, but not liking the effect when done, got him to sit again and made use of the plaister of Paris once more. He was satisfied with the result; but Wilson, who was tired with going through the operation, as soon as it was over, went and leaned upon a block of marble with his hands covering his face. The sagacious sculptor was so struck with the superiority of this natural attitude over those into which he had been arbitrarily put, that he begged him (if possible) to continue in it for another quarter of an hour, and another impression was taken off. All three casts remain, and the last is a proof of the superiority of nature over art. The effect of lassitude is visible in every part of the frame, and the strong feeling of this affection, impressed on every limb and muscle, and venting itself naturally in an involuntary attitude which gave immediate relief, is that which strikes every one who has seen this fine study from the life. The casts from this man's figure have been much admired:-it is from no superiority of form: it is merely that, being taken from nature, they bear her "image and superscription."

As to expression, the Elgin Marbles (at least the Ilissus and Theseus) afford no examples, the heads being gone.

Lastly, as to the ideal form, we contend it is nothing but a selection of fine nature, such as it was seen by the ancient Greek sculptors; and we say that a sufficient approximation to this form may be found in our

own country, and still more in other countries, at this day, to warrant the clear conclusion, that under more favourable circumstances of climate, manners, &c. no vain imagination of the human mind could come up to entire natural forms; and that actual casts from Greek models would rival the common Greek statues, or surpass them in the same proportion and manner as the Elgin Marbles do. Or if this conclusion should be doubted, we are ready at any time to produce at least one cast from living nature, which if it does not furnish practical proof of all that we have here advanced, we are willing to forfeit the last thing we can afford to part with a theory!

If then the Elgin Marbles are to be considered as authority in subjects of art, we conceive the following principles, which have not hitherto been generally received or acted upon in Great Britain, will be found to result from them:

1. That art is (first and last) the imitation of nature.

2. That the highest art is the imitation of the finest nature, that is to say, of that which conveys the strongest sense of pleasure or power, of the sublime or beautiful.

3. That the ideal is only the selecting a particular form which expresses most completely the idea of a given character or quality, as of beauty,

strength, activity, voluptuousness, &c. and which preserves that character with the greatest consistency throughout.

4. That the historical is nature in action. With regard to the face, it is expression.

5. That grandeur consists in connecting a number of parts into a whole, and not in leaving out the parts.

6. That as grandeur is the principle of connexion between different parts, beauty is the principle of affinity between different forms, or their gradual conversion into each other. The one harmonizes, the other aggrandizes our impressions of things.

7. That grace is the beautiful or harmonious in what relates to position or motion.

8. That grandeur of motion is unity of motion.

9. That strength is the giving the extremes, softness, the uniting them.

10. That truth is to a certain degree beauty and grandeur, since all things are connected, and all things modify one another in nature. Simplicity is also grand and beautiful for the same reason. Elegance is ease and lightness, with precision.

All this we have, we believe, said before: we shall proceed to such proofs or explanations as we are able to give of it in another article. (To be continued.)

maids' eyes

FROM AN UNPUBLISHED PLAY. Mary. Is this the close then of the truest love? It was too tender and too kind to lastAlas! I dream'd not of ungentle war: It is a fearful thing-war, where the odds Will make gods of the winners, is a game That charms the noble, but makes poor Moist with perpetual tears. Go, my love, goYet all my thoughts were still on gentle themes; On twilight walks aside the shaded brooks; Of songs by moonlight on the castle top; Of merry-makings when the corn was ripe ; Of building sunny homes for hoary men; And thou wert ever there with thy grave smile: But thou wilt find some higher love, when fame Has deck'd thy helmet, and the laughing eyes Of noble dames are on thee.

I shall be

Sir M.
True as these stars are to the cold clear sky;
True as that streamlet to its pebbly bed;
True as green Criffel to her stance; and true
As birds to song in summer. Smile, my love,
For I may yet return 'mid many a shout
And song of welcome.

W. H.

The Early French Poets.

HUGUES SALEL, AND OLIVIER DE MAGNY. HUGUES SALEL is one of those writers who, having been much caressed and applauded by their contemporaries, meet with a different treatment from posterity. Looking into a modern compilation of some authority for an account of him, I find that he is pronounced to be awkward, embarrassed, and languid; and that he is without any ceremony condemned to a place among the poets that merit no better fate than to lie on the shelf, and be gnawn by worms. I suppose, therefore, that it is in this vermicular capacity I must own that I have tasted, and found him no unsavoury food.

If matters come to the worst, there is something at least in his title-page that will be relished by all those who honour an old book, as some honour a great man, for nothing else but the title. Here is the style in which it runs:-"Les Oeuvres de Hugues Salel, Valet de Chambre ordinaire du Roy, imprimees par Commandement dudict Seigneur. Avec Privilege pour six Ans. Imprimé à Paris, pour Estienne Roffet, dit le Faulcheur, Relieur du Roy, et Libraire en ceste Ville de Paris, demourant sur le Pont S. Michel, à Lanseigne de la Roze blanche." "The Works of Hugues Salel, Valet de Chambre in ordinary to the King. Imprinted by Commandment of the said Lord. With Privilege for six Years. Imprinted at Paris, by Stephen Roffet, called the Mower, Binder to the King, and Bookseller in this Town of Paris, abiding on the Bridge Saint Michael, at the Sign of the White Rose." There is no date, except in manuscript at the bottom of the page, which imports it to have been printed in the year 1539. Whoever wishes to preserve his character as a bibliomaniac (so they have termed

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it of late years,) will go no further than this. They who can pluck up a good courage, and are not afraid of the more odious name to which they may subject themselves by pursuing the quest,, will venture onwards. The first poem then, or the first prey for the worms, whichsoever we shall term it, in this collection, is a Royal Chase, that containeth the taking of the wild Boar Discord, by the very high and very potent Princes, the Emperor Charles the Fifth, and the King Francis, the First of this Name." "Chasse Royalle, contenant la prise du Sanglier Discord, par tres haultz et tres puissans Princes l'Empereur Charles Cinquiesme, et le Roy Françoys, premier de ce Nom." France and Spain being in a state of perfect peace and happiness, all the Gods receive due homage from mortals, except Mars; who, enraged at the neglect, descends to the lower regions, and brings up the wild boar Discord to earth. Charles V. and Francis I. unite to hunt down the monster, whose defeat, with the help of other European princes, they soon accomplish. This is a slight sketch, and somewhat pedantic ; but I should say that it was filled up with much spirit.

In the Marine Eclogue on the death of the Dauphin François de Valois, there are some verses of remarkable sweetness, which remind me of Lydgate.

The Punishment of Cupid is another poem in which the materials, though very slender, are wrought up with a certain portion of elegance and fancy.

The following song may be considered as a testimony on the longpending suit with respect to the song of the Nightingale.

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Ye nightingales, whose voice divine
Thrills out these greenwood glades among,
Oh! fill no more these ears of mine

With such a sweet and pleasant song.
Ye see the way I now am wending,
Unto a place whence joy is flown;
Then but for once a sad note lending,
Sing, an ye will, my mistress gone.

Like most of his brethren, he celebrates the "green eyes" of his mis

tress :

Marguerite aux yeulx rians et verds. F. 53. The laughing eyes" would be too bold an expression for a Frenchman now-a-days; and accordingly one of them, who met with it in translating Dante,

Ond 'ella pronta e con occhi ridenti. Par. C. 3. has translated it,—

L'ombre me répondit d'un air satisfait. There are some more poems by Salel, printed at the end of the "Amours d'Olivier de Magny," of which I shall speak presently. The most remarkable amongst them are three Chapitres d'Amour (as they are called), in which he uses the Italian measure called the Terza Rima. It was adopted by some of our writers in Henry VIII. and Elizabeth's time, as Sir Thomas Wyatt, Sir Frs. Bryan, Sir Philip Sydney; and afterwards by Milton, in his version of the Second Psalm. Yet Mr. Hayley supposed that

he was the first to introduce it into our language, in that spirited translation of the first three cantos of Dante, which he inserted in the notes to his Essay on Epic Poetry; and Lord Byron, when he adopted it in a late poem called the Vision of Dante, was not aware of Mr. Hayley's mistake.

At the command of Francis I. Salel undertook to translate the Iliad, but did not proceed further than the beginning of the thirteenth book. By a preface to the eleventh and twelfth books, and a fragment of the thirteenth, edited after his death by Olivier de Magny, it seems he was accused of having made use of a Latin version instead of the original Greek. "But I was his amanuensis,' adds Magny, "and can with truth bear witness to the contrary." Whether it was made from the Latin or the Greek, his translation is but a lame one. It is curious to see how he has contrived to strip the moonlight landscape, at the end of the eighth book, of more than half its splendour.

Et tout ainsi que lon peult voir souvent,
En temps serain, prés de la lune claire,
Les corps du ciel (car ung chascun esclaire
Tant que les montz, les vallées et plaines
Sont de lumiere ainsi qu'en beau jour pleines).
Dont le berger que sa veuë en haut jette,
Se resjouit en sa basse logette.

All

But there is another extreme. my readers remember Pope's version of this,

As when the moon, resplendent lamp of

night, &c.

and if they have not yet seen Mr. Coleridge's observations on it in his Biographia Literaria, vol. i. p. 39, I

would recommend them to their notice.

In another famous simile, that in the fifth book, of the clouds amassed on the mountain tops by Jove, his anxiety that all should be well understood has caused him to make strange work of these cumulostrati.

Ainsi que les nues
Sont bien souvent sur les montz retenuës
Maulgré les ventz, par le dieu Juppiter,
Que ne pourroient aultrement resister
Au soufflement, et tourbillon divers
Du vent de nort qui leur donne à travers ;
Semblablement, &c.

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