such as they were in former times, before they had engaged in transmarine wars, and while their national manners remained yet un-) altered, I should say, without hesitation, that there was no one among them capable of such an act. In the present times, I should not venture to affirm this of the whole Roman people; nevertheless, of very many Roman citizens individually, I will make bold to affirm, that their integrity is proof against any temptation of this kind."

Elsewhere he observes gravely :

"These proceedings made it manifest to ail, that the Romans are so far from avoiding all interference with their neighbours' affairs which is not absolutely necessary, that on the contrary they are dis-. pleased if all disputes are not referred to their arbitration, and all matters transacted according to their wishes."

Another of his observations, though in itself sufficiently trite, yet, as coming from Polybius, will bear repetition, especially in the present age.

"In my opinion, the historian should neither praise monarchs nor blame them beyond bounds, (as has heretofore been the case with many,) but should be careful to report of them such things only as are consistent with the rest of the history, and with their known character. This, it is true, though easy to say, is difficult to practise; so numerous and manifold are the countervailing motives and circumstances by which men are influenced, and which restrain them from the free expression of their opinion. In some of the above-mentioned writers, therefore, this kind of partiality deserves indulgence; in others, who are not thus situated, it is unpardonable."

Of the demagogue, or tyrant, Asdrubal, whose cowardice. and incapacity were the more immediate cause of the final destruction of Carthage, the following picture is given.

"Asdrubal, the Carthagenian general, was a man of vanity and ostentation, and utterly destitute of civil and military ability. Having appointed an interview with Gulussa, the king of the Numidians, he proceeded to the place of meeting with a retinue of ten guards, himself arrayed in complete armour, over which a robe of Tyrian purple was thrown, fastened with a costly clasp, more splendid than was ever worn by a tragedy monarch. He was by nature stout, and had of late become exceedingly corpulent; his complexion also was florid to an unnatural degree; so that, to judge by his appearance, you would have supposed him to be some one who had taken up his residence in a tavern, and lived in a constant round of feasting, like a stall-fed ox, rather than the ruler of a people labouring under so many and great calamities, as exceeded the power of words to express. When he heard the conditions proposed by Gulussa, smiting his thigh several times, and obtesting fortune and the gods, he exclaimed, that the day should never come which beheld Asdrubal a spectator of his country's ruin; for that the patriot could find no nobler funeral pile than in the flames which devoured his country,'

Looking to his words alone, one would have been struck with the nobleness of the man, and the magnanimity of his declarations; looking to his actions, one would have been equally astonished at his baseness, and unmanliness. While the rest of the citizens were dying of hunger by wholesale, his time was spent in rioting and sumptuous feasts, and his bloated appearance seemed like a constant insult to the wretchedness of his countrymen. For the number of those who perished daily, as well as of those who deserted to the enemy, was incredible. Amidst all this, he maintained his power, insulting some, outraging others, and massacring others, so as to strike the people with terror; thus maintaining, in his country's misfortunes, an ascendency such as no usurper, in a prosperous state, could ever hope to possess."

We had selected one or two other passages for insertion in the present number, but our readers are probably satisfied with the specimens we have produced.

E. H.

ON GUSTO.

NOTHING Would more materially benefit the Fine Arts than a clear and philosophical explanation of their language. Among the many words whose signification is but imperfectly settled, there is, perhaps, not one on which it is more necessary to have a right understanding than the word Gusto; since this term is universally allowed to express some high excellence in works of art, or, what comes to the same thing, some powerful effect of excellence on the mind of the spectator. But let us inquire what it is which constitutes Gusto, rather than give a mere definition of the term-let us consider the object of the fine arts-the effect intended to be produced by them.

And this intended effect, as it appears to us, is to excite the imagination. Sometimes the fine arts do not stop there; sometimes their object is to influence the passions; but still the imagination is the medium through which they act. The fine arts then are only means-a picture, a statue, or a poem, is only excellent as it produces effect on the mind of the spectator or auditor. If these positions be true, it must follow, as a matter of course, that they who consider painting and sculpture merely imitative must shew that imitation is the best mode of influencing the human mind; for if it be not, imitation ought not to be adopted, since these works are not produced for themselves but always with a reference to their

effect on mankind. Nay, if the greatest quantity of this effect could be produced by dissimilarity, it would be the interest and duty of an artist to adopt this course; if, for instance, the idea of a man could be better given by depicting a lion than by painting a man, the artist would paint a lion, and he would do right. We have put this impossible case only to shew in the strongest light that imitation is not of itself an end. But it is of high importance as a means; and this very importance of it as a means makes it necessary to guard against the error of elevating it beyond its rank.. Whatever employs very much of our attention is likely to obtain an undue share of our favour-if the mind's eye be long fixed on any object, however minute, it seems to acquire a microscopic power, and swells out even a mite over the whole field of vision. Imitation must then be applied with reference to the precise effect to be produced on the mind; and this adaptation every successful artist religiously observes, though often, perhaps, unconscious of the philosophical principle on which he proceeds-for genius is guided by a species of instinct-by some loadstone of the mind which relieves its possessor from the labour of groping his way by the feeble and wavering light of inductive reasoning. And indeed induction, however high its pretentions, can carry genius but a little way, since it draws all its rules from genius itself. It surveys the line of his flight, and from his own course affects to direct his future motions. For ourselves we disclaim such presumption. We are far from attempting to direct his track; we merely endeavour, and that with diffidence, to predict what it will be in future.

In this survey of which we have spoken, this reverential contemplation of the great works of art, we shall find that in the imitations of each artist something is omitted*. Sculpture is without colour. The Cartoons of Raphael are without the high colouring of nature, and every part of his pictures, except his figures, is neglected. Titian is the painter of colours, but he neglects forms. Correggio wants forceMichael Angelo grace. We might run over the whole catalogue of artists and shew that every one has his peculiar defects, as they are called, that is, his peculiar omissionsor in other words, that each artist has given but a partial delineation of nature.

In sculpture and engraving the want of a complete imitation is charged upon the art themselves. No one complains that they are colourless, or that sculpture wants the adjuncts of landscape; but because every excellence of which imitative art

* Except one class which shall be afterwards treated upon.

is capable is found at one time or other in painting, it has been concluded that they ought all to exist at once*.

We have attempted to prove that the excellence of art does not consist in an abstract perfection, nor in an exactness of imitation; but in its power of affecting the mind of the beholder. In order then to ascertain the duty of the artist, we must inquire by what means the mind is most effectually influenced. We must look for some general principle of action, or more properly of passion, and this will be the more satisfactory if it extend beyond the fine arts, and still more so if it can be shewn to apply to all the transactions of life.

This principle (if we are not mistaken) is, that the causes of all strong emotion are powerful (other things equal) in proportion to their simplicity. Yet we allow that complexity may be a means of increasing power, as the weight of a sword increases the force of its blow. Yet beyond a certain point it is highly pernicious, because like too heavy a weapon it becomes unwieldly; but, as the weight of a sword (to continue the metaphor) is always an evil, though overbalanced by a corresponding advantage, so complexity is an evil, although perhaps necessary to the production of excellence. It is therefore the duty of the artist to use the very smallest portion of it that will produce the requisite effect.

And this principle obtains from the nature of the human mind, which precludes us from giving our attention to more than one thing at one time. Thus, we find men when under strong emotion rapt into oblivion of all surrounding existence; their minds completely filled with a single object. That these are cases which rarely occur we shall readily allow; but this is because in real life it generally happens that several objects are in competition for the attention of the mind, and though one may gain the mastery, its empire is precarious, disturbed, and evanescent. And even in cases where one object is powerful enough to gain the attention of the mind principally, there are generally discordant circumstances which weaken, though they cannot destroy, its force. In any scene or transaction of real life there must always be a great deal that does not assist the effect produced by the whole. And that which does not assist injures, for there is nothing neutral in the territories of art. She may truly say in the language of holy

*We have high authority on our side. Sir Joshua Reynolds combats the dogma that if Raphael had had the colouring of Titian, or Titian the majesty of Raphael, the world would have for once seen a perfect painter. Sir Joshua's reasons are different from ours, but that does not affect his authority, supposing our reasoning to be right, or ours, if his be correct; since on questions of this kind we take our opinions from our feelings, and then look about for the best arguments in support of them.

writ, "Whosoever is not for me is against me." If then we complain that Raphael, or Michael Angelo, is deficient in colour, it behoves us to shew, not that the objects they represent have colour, but that colour would heighten the effect which they intended to produce. Would colour have given more strength to the "race of giants*" of Michael Angelo ?, Would colour have added majesty to the figure of St. Paul, malignity to the spies of the portico, or ardour to the adoring disciples? So faithfully has Raphael followed the great principle of expressing nothing which does not assist the main design, that he has left the drapery of his figures in the same obscurity with their colour. He has not clothed them in wool, or silk, or linen; it is drapery and nothing else. It is not requisite that the spectator should know any thing more of it, and therefore nothing more is told. He was not painting for the information of haberdashers; nor did he choose to afford the mental idlers who would not open their souls to the reception of his sublimity a petty amusement in criticising the fineness of velvets. It has been said that Raphael could not paint landscape. Perhaps he could not; and if the power would necessarily have produced its exercise, we are glad he was without it. Raphael was the painter of man. Man, as actuated by his own mind and passions-man, as he would remain if all the universe but himself was annihilated-man, the species, not the individual. He neither painted Jew, nor Greek, nor Roman. His men are neither modified by nation nor climate; they therefore owe none of their characteristics to surrounding objects. They are not Italian banditti in the gloom of a forest, nor Arcadians "dancing in the chequered shade,"-if they were, landscape would become a part of themselves, and the want of it would as much derange our ideas as the sight of a judge without his robes-and more so, because the robes are not a natural adjunct, and these are-the judge would decree as wisely in his private dress as he does in his public garments; but the banditti and Arcadians could not so well labour in "their vocation" deprived of their forests, and their caverns, their champaigns and their streams. Why then should Raphael draw the attention of his beholders to the landscape of his pictures ?-He did not, and he was right.

We have said that the colouring of Raphael is not that of nature. Let us not be misunderstood-we do not mean to say that it is contrary to nature, but that it does not reach so far; it is negative; it is in the picture, because its absence

*Fuseli.

Reynolds.

Hazlitt.