As Königstein is removed from the principal high roads, its importance, in a general military point of view, is not very great; it is, however, of vital consequence to the kingdom of Saxony, as it affords a secure place of retreat,.in which to deposit the immense treasures collected in the Green Vault, at Dresden, and elsewhere. Of late years, the difficulties which formerly impeded a visit have been relaxed; it is now merely required to present a passport to the governor, who immediately issues an order of admittance. It is a favourite place of resort on holydays, and at Whitsuntide, the great period of recreation for high and low, it is not unusual for nearly a thousand strangers to take peaceable possession of a fortress, which, as the Saxons assert with innocent pride, Napoleon was not permitted to occupy.

THE BLIND

BLIND HERMIT.

WHENCE arises the great charm of the juxta-position of age and childhood, and its peculiar adaptation for pictorial representation? Doubtless in the union of sympathy and contrast, converging, as it were, from opposite extremes; the opening bud of life gradually expanding into blossom, but still merely half unclosed, placed beside the flower, which, in the full glare of noon, expanded, but now gradually contracts and closes as the declining rays of the luminary disappear, which invested it with vital warmth and beauty. Considered merely in a technical point of view, and leaving the moral influences out of the question, the ruddy and healthy form of childhood, to whom existence itself is rapture, the fair freshness and blooming innocence of youth, its harmless mirth and guiltless trustfulness stand out in bright relief against the sober seriousness of manhood, the gravity and growing infirmity of advancing age, with its darker tints and harder features. It is indifferent to the beauty of the contrast, considering the subject abstractedly as a question of art, whether the child be a youth or a maiden; childhood of either sex, when naturally represented, that is, with that degree of idealisation through which nature is admitted within the region of art, is always interesting and attractive. Who that hath gazed upon the loving face of childhood, with its large expressive eyes, which seem to look so wistfully into the mysteries of the unexplored world, but has felt, and acknowledged its wonderful and irresistible charm. For our parts, we can easily

believe what most of us will recollect as related in the tales which amused our earlier years, that the unconscious smile of the infant has often arrested the blade of the murderous assassin, reeking with its parent's blood. Childhood is the instinctive poetry of life, before the understanding sharpens, but hardens before the indefinite feelings of the mind deepen into the darker sublimity of passion, it, therefore, interests all alike; it is the only stage of humanity, which, in all times, and in all ages, in all nations, be their standard of civilization high or low, claims universal favour and love. The budding graces of boyhood, with its incipient germ of strength, the soft beauty of girlhood are alike fitted to the painter's art, for childhood itself is eminently picturesque.

It is not so with age. Here the painter must walk more warily, the broad highway of life has expanded, and on its path lie weeds and flowers intermingled; not every object that exists in nature is a fit subject for art. Here the difference of sex is material; we reverence old age, we fear almost to be taxed with rudeness and arrogance when we assert that here man alone is a legitimate object. Of those who may be of a different opinion, we would simply ask, did they ever behold a pleasing picture, in which (family feeling of course excluded) the interest centered exclusively in a grandmother and grandchild. You smile, gentle reader; if so, you have decided in our favour. Whence comes it, that a representation, on which we have all looked with pleasure in real life, should be so little suited to pictorial representation, that the artist, as it were, instinctively avoids it. Its want or adaptation probably arises from the circumstance that the scene is but a weak repetition of what is woman's glory and her boast, while yet her beauty beams bright, and her husband has not ceased to be her lover. Maternal tenderness forms one of the noblest subjects of art, and numberless instances will doubtless rise to the minds of our readers, in which the greatest masters have done homage to this exquisite feature in the female character: we forbear from reverence to quote the most touching and sublime exhibition which has become a type in religious art. But with maternal tenderness, artistic fitness has reached its culmination, art pays no respect to genealogy, nay it is so exclusive that the father must be contented to play a subordinate part. And why? Because the development of the affections is the proper sphere of woman, and the gentle goodness of childhood reflects with radiant grace upon the mother. The father doubtless rejoices in the expanding beauty and virtue of his child, but as a recreation, it is not his chief occupation; the grand problem of his life, to watch over it with daily and hourly care. destiny calls him to other duties.

Man's

But in age the pictures are reversed. The blooming giri has become a lovely mother, her mother resigns to her her place; it is true, she lives again in her

descendants, remains the loved and honoured matron, but her sphere of active occupation is gone, she is an accessory where she was a principal, the intensity of her affection shines more mildly, and is therefore less picturesque. Man, as well as woman, must bow before the all-consuming force of time, his hair turns grey, his limbs are feeble, the vigour of his mind gradually fades from the bold and elastic spirit, which gave him strength to struggle with the world; a youthful generation rises around him, to which he too must yield. But, as he sinks beneath the common lot of all, he presents more points of interest. The pride and insolence of health, the hard struggles of mid-day life may have their poetry, but it is the poetry of passion, which belongs to a different sphere; the occupation of the great mass of men in pursuit of wealth, honour, and rank, is decidedly unpoetical, or at least unfavourable to that mild display of art to which alone our remarks refer. As man's strength decays, he seeks relief from the turbulence of life, in the quiet nook of household existence, in which kind nature has reserved especial joys to cheer the evening of his days; as age advances the smiling urchin that climbs his knee becomes more and more dear to him; the strong man assumes a tinge of womanly tenderness, which sits not ungracefully upon him; the intercourse is picturesque.

But" if age, at play with infancy" is always interesting, this interest is greatly enhanced when stern fate reverses the parts, when misfortune has reduced the man to the weakness, which moves our compassion without exciting our contempt, and has endowed the child with strength to repair the ills of life. Such is the scene in the picture before us; the good hermit, bound by his vows to forego the charms of conjugal and filial love, has devoted his powers to the service of Him who proclaimed peace upon earth and good will unto men. Bereaved of light he no longer enjoys the cheering splendour of the sun, but on the path of charity, the youthful stranger to his home, but not to his affection, for he has listened from infancy to his mild doctrines, guides his aged friend. Verily he shall reap his reward, for mercy and kindness have a double blessing, and strengthen by exercise those good qualities that flow from their source.

VOL. III.

R

GREENWICH HOSPITAL.

GREENWICH HOUSE was the residence of several sovereigns, and is doubtless familiar to the readers of Sir Walter Scott's romances of Kenilworth and the Fortunes of Nigel. This palace, the witness of so many gay scenes in the most romantic period of English court history, was pulled down about the period of the revolution, and the present edifice, the most noble public building in Europe devoted to charitable purposes, was erected on its site. The north-western wing of the hospital was built under the superintendence of Webb, the son-in-law of Inigo Jones, and is still known by the name of Charles the Second's, as that monarch occasionally resided here. This was the only part finished before the reign of William the Third. It was Queen Mary, his wife, who first suggested the plan of an asylum for old and wounded sailors; and Sir Christopher Wren proposed that the palace of Greenwich should be completed and appropriated to this humane design. The king granted the sum of £2,000 towards the undertaking: the commissioners who were appointed to superintend the execution of this great national work, and in whose hands the property was vested, subscribed a considerable sum, and Sir Christopher Wren lent his valuable assistance without any remuneration. The foundation was laid in June 3, 1696, and pensioners were received in the year 1705. Those parts erected during the reign of William the Third are distinguished by his name, and by that of his consort, King William's building being to the south-west, Queen Mary's on the south-east; the latter contains the chapel and the painted hall. The quadrangle to the north-east, which was erected during the reign of Queen Anne, bears the name of that sovereign. By an Act of Parliament, passed in the reign of William and Mary, all seamen of the royal navy are obliged to contribute sixpence a month from their wages to the support of the hospital; and, by an act passed during the reign of Queen Anne, the seamen in the merchant service contribute an equal sum, and if wounded, or otherwise disabled in the public service, are entitled to the same privileges as seamen of the royal navy.

The Hospital is a very striking object on the banks of the river, above which it stands on a terrace, eight hundred and sixty-five feet in length. Besides the four quadrangles mentioned above, it includes the asylum, or royal hospital schools, in which more than four thousand boys have been educated. The grand square, between King Charles's and Queen Anne's buildings, is two hundred and seventythree feet wide. In the centre is a statue of George the Second, by Rysbrach.