and so very oraculous was her whole air, gesture, and delirious straight-forwardness, that those who should have stood between her and his Majesty recoiled backward to the right and to the left, and stood aghast and subdued as if she had been indeed some messenger of dooms and destinies. had od bisa yu ber om sy ge When she was come close to the King, she fell on her knees, and took hold of him by the surcoat, panting and breathless; being, by reason of her headlong haste, unable to speak. His Majesty, seeing the condition in which she was, moved not from her hold, but waited compassionately till she had utterance, when he said to her familiarly What wouldst thou with me? What tidings have caused thee to come with such speed, that it would seem as if thou hadst almost left thy breath behind yovnos ei To this, however, she made no prompt answer ; but, after a time, rising from her kneeling, she looked fearfully around, as if in quest of some person that she thought was present; and then she suddenly pointed to the barge prepared for the King and Queen, and said, I thought it was here, but it's yonder, yonder!” 5000 119łow What didst thou think was here?' said his Majesty curiously, and somewhat awed by the air of visionary horror with which she gazed towards the boat. Yon, yon,' was her answer, stretching forward her hand and keeping her eye fixed upon the thing which she saw. Then she added, still gazing earnestly and awfully, See you it not? a man in a winding-sheet with eight-and-twenty stains of blood, and d he h has a black banner in his hand. He's no meet company for a king; I redde you no to gang in the boat with him. out of seol Hade ew bee(97% same woman,' said his Majesty to the Earl of Athol, who stood behind him, anxious to avoid the eye of Anniple; and he added, addressing himself to her, But what wouldst thou by eight-and-twenty wounds Poy woy el 9198.91609 however, of making him any answer, she turned quickly round, and fixinstead, h g her eye on the Earl, cried ad blude not tedw baÅ Lord Athol, wha's that beside you?' bub tent abrawet virosse going boshida The Earl grew pale, and looked to the right and to the left, and was much confused, for every eye was directed towards him,unde en ai cittendo a bas „freed I see no one nearer than myself, said the King, ed and pans of (ealion view But I see another,' replied Anniple➡ a king too-an auld, auld, auld ane---abod ads teds His face is wrinkled, his eyne are young noutasi de ve a teyliyil badgiul guiledr A foto ad And he licks his lips wi' a lying tongue ow Do ye no see no see him there, at the Earl's right side? In his hand he has a chain, and that chain fastened deep, deep in the Earl's heart. My Lord, ye're his--when he gets the right-hand side and the left-hand grip) okrug and Bailey dah od wdw There's no a power by land nor by sea,, རྫུན་མ Nor a saint aboon that can set you free- og kang a But your gold for masses as well might be dross; What ye pray for ye'll get---Ah! mair's the loss, tău a nu saje qu So away wi' him ye maun gang, Q." A The King, notwithstanding the awe and dread with which this rhapsody visibly affected the Earl, smiled and said to him,-- This is worse than my eight-and-twenty wounds.' But his levity was in a moment checked by the utterance of a wild and frightful scream from the rapt and frantic creature. ، How now, Anniple," said Stuart, what see you now?' She made him, however, no answer, but going up to the Lady Catherine Douglas, who was standing between the Queen and the Lady Sibilla, she touched her on the right hand. What is this for ? said that lady, who had observed with much wonderment the whole scene. Nothing, nothing, replied Anniple, I saw nothing---but, bonny as yê bẹ, ye ’ll be married with the left hand.' That is to tell me,' said the Lady Catherine, endeavouring to laugh, I shall not be married at all.madada(duos And have you nothing to spae to me?' cried the Lady Sibilla, in a still gayer tone, to remove the solemnity which the prophetical phantasies of Anniple had very plainly bred in the bosom of her royal mistress. It had, however, been well for her that she had said nothing; for Anniple took hold of her right handy with her left, if to screen and holding up her own right hand between her and the Lady Sibilla, as if her eyes from a dazzling splendour, she looked at her for some time, and then dropped her hand and turned awaybug has wolny boote ban that od) at han idya eh, • You tell me nothing,' said the Lady Sibilla.ank bar Do you wish that I would replied Auniple sharply, and with a look that covered the face and bosom of the lady with the crimson of a blush... So By this time the boats and barges were prepared, and the King and Queen were on the point of going to the shore to embark, when Anniple again seized him by the skirts. doos Let the poor woman be taken hence,' said the King, Stuart, pray see that she is conveyed to some meeter place.' In saying this, his Majesty endeavoured to disengage his surcoat from her grip, but she clung to it, crying-- ! f I'm a leaf subject, and I'll no part wi' you. The yett's barred, if ye cross that water: once o'er, and there's nae coming back,' Stuart, at this, came forward and seized her roughly by the arm to draw her away, but the King chided him for being so rude. **** Harm her not, said he, it is but an innocent phrenzy. His Majesty then took hold of her by the arm, and said to her smilingly-- I pray thee, let me go,--it is not wise of one with such wisdom as thine to hold me here in this condition,-do,--take thy hand away,---the tide and the wind now serve, and we shall lose the favour of both, if I must longer abide thy pleasure. It were kind, and as a loving subject, to let me go.' I would be as false as'--she cried, looking wildly round, there, were I let you go abo 6 ---as Lord Athol She bears the Earlino good-will,' said the Lady Catherine Douglas. And what for should she?' exclaimed Anniple, heedlessly dropping the King's skirt, and going erectly towards that lady, who shrunk away at her coming And what's in Lord Athol, that I should bear him any good-will? A fozy heart, and a cheatrie man; though I travelled three times three, and thrice that of weary miles, to spae that he was to be a crowned King, he grudged to pay me the courtesie of a meet largess. The King laughed lightly at this speech; and said to the Earl, moving, with the Queen leaning on his arm, towards the shore, I no longer marvel that she bodes such ill to you. Gifts were always thought requisite to propitiate the oracles. I pray you, bespeak a better prediction. The Earl, who had all this time stood in trouble and perplexity, scarcely witting what he did, pulled his purse from his girdle, and taking from it several pieces of silver, threw them towards her; the which moved the King's mirth still more, and he looked round to Anniple, as she hastily gathered the money from the ground, saying, But I know not wherefore it is that thou hast been so cruel in the prophecy to me, as to deal me no less than eight-and-twenty wounds,---what shall I give thee to spae me a happier destiny?" son.' Anniple looked up, and smiling, said, Nothing to me, but gi'e a crown to your The King was observed to start at this; and the Earl of Athol and Stuart exchanged looks of alarm and anxiety. The Queen, who had all the while witnessed, with a cold and thrilling terror, what was passing, dropped her hold of the King's barm, and returning back two paces towards Anuiple, said,-- I beseech thee to be plain with me; and say what it is that moves thee to speak in this mysterions manner, as if thou wast privy to some coming sorrow." Anniple at first looked as she would have answered; but suddenly she waved her hand, as if to bid her Majesty not inquire; and turning round towards Stuart, cast her eyes wildly for a moment upon him, and then began to laugh with so frightful vehemence, intermingled, as it were, with yells and howls so very terrible to hear, that all present hastened towards the boats, and left her standing alone. By It only remains for us us to say, that our author has not intended to make us in love with feudal Scotland by this tale; for a more dreary 3 set of barbarians than her nobility, both then and long subsequently, 19 could scarcely be imagined. Heaven knows-this being about the era of the wars of York and Lancaster-England displayed barbarity enough; but the merciless stabbings and assassinations of the Scottish chivalry are unprecedented; nor do we think that the history of any other country records a tissue of more merely murderous and indefensible regicide. We are aware that, comparatively speaking, the English are a very contemptible race at present; but in truth Edward I. is half defended by the Scottish history of more than two centuries after him, and by the later happy effect of the union of the crowns. How, the eternal school-boy James the Sixth and First picked up his silly notions of right divine and passive obedience, we cannot tell,-certainly not from the history of his own country, where the lieges were in the habit of slitting a royal windpipe almost every other reign. It is curious to trace the progression of the ruffianism of one age into the loyalty of another, and that which renders so large a body of the very same people, who murdered royal Stuarts with so little ceremony at one time, endure all sorts of privation and danger for the most contemptible of that contemptible race at another. But what has this to do with the Spaewife? ON IMITATION IN THE ARTS OF DESIGN. "Ut pictura, poësis.". -HORACE. IMITATION in the arts of design has for its principal and essential end the fictitious representation of any object, whether of sight or feeling. Thus, for example, painting imitates a man, a horse, a tree, a plant, these are palpable existences; but neither light nor extent is susceptible of feeling. Yet art has found the method to present to our eyes the immensity of extent, and to embody, if I may thus express myself, not only light, but also that subtile and unseizable vapour which constitutes the air in which we live and breathe. Aristotle's De Poësia asserts that "the object of all the fine arts is to imitate, by colours and figures, rythm, eloquence, and harmony." The object of painting is to represent the form, the tone of colours, the circumambient air, the light in which animated beings are in action and motion. I do not allude to the other department of painting, which contributes to its perfection, that is, linear perspective, because it consists in forming the plan of a picture, requiring the application of geometry to determine with exactness the points of extent in elevation or in depth, for the purpose of establishing the respective distances of objects, in relation to each other. These divers parts constitute, in a comprehensive view, the art of painting, in considering it yet only in its mechanical powers. But as the fine arts tend to elevate the imagination, to awaken sentiment in the recesses of the heart, and conduct to the grand and sublime, imitation in the arts of design ought not to be servile, and offer but a cold and insipid copy of any simple view, observed without selection and discrimination. This is so true, that if the painter submitted to inspection, with scrupulous fidelity, all the imperfections of vulgar or degraded nature, his work would be repulsive to the eyes, and excite even disgust instead of pleasure-instead of emotion; above all, instead of surprise and admiration. I shall add, that painting cannot descend to a minute detail of the human form, so as to delineate the beard and the hair on the surface of the body; in a word, all the particles capâble of being divided and enumerated, without extinguishing the fire of the imagination and the warmth of sentiment,-the only two springs that give life to the intellectual creations of man. To reduce to such low operations, is to annihilate it. The great masters of different schools have painted, in masses, all these puerile details, so poor in effect. It may be adopted as a principle of the art, that extreme servility of delineation is admissible, at most, in flower-painting,-the sole branch that allows of an execution minutely and rigorously exact; but here neither genius nor sentiment is required. Sir Joshua Reynolds observed, "One who has a genius will comprehend in his idea the whole of his work at once; whilst he, who is deficient in genius, amuses himself with trifling parts of small consideration, attends with scrupulous exactness to the minuter matters only, which he finishes to a nicety; whilst the whole together has a very ill effect." The most general rule in the choice of subjects, fit for the purpose of the art, is that of Horace : "Omne tulit punctum, qui miscuit utile dulci, The useful, lovely, grave, and sweet unite; Each point is borne-of doctrine and delight.” Conformably to the system which we maintain,-a system, besides, supported by the soundest reasoning, the great painters have found means to produce the most complete and satisfactory illusion. Change the process, and the consequence most unfavourable to painting will be discernible. We may easily prejudge it from the works of modern German painters. Their pictures move no one; as the labour and patience, which are their distinctive character, supersede the facility, and above all the enthusiasm, which disclose, in the productions of painting, the brave eccentricities of the pencil. By dint of exactness they miss their aim. I go farther; let Rembrandt be placed in opposition with a Gerard Dow, or a Miéris, however precious and rare he may be as "the king of high and minute finishing," yet we shall discover which of the two fulfils the best the condition which is the characteristic excellence of painting, even illusion, that enchantress, which seduces in deceiving us. At the same time, the manner of the one is negligent and often incorrect, working with the broad fulness of the brush, and leaving the touch undisturbed; sometimes he employed the stick, the pallet-knife, or his fingers, to produce effect; whilst that of the two other painters whom I have named, is superabundant in pains, iis costly, but indicates the work of patience, rather than of the freedom in execution, which attests the force of ardour and of imagination. The power of Rembrandt in the art he practised was perfectly original, and its exercise quite unlike that of any other painter; being drawn from nature with the most faithful and discriminating eye, but with the most peculiar selection and enthusiastic rapture. His scholar, Douw, was remarkable for his patient perseverance in finishing his pictures. As an instance of this, it is mentioned that a broom in one of his pictures was particularly noticed and admired for its neatness: upon which he said, that he proposed to spend three days more in working on that broom, before he should think it complete. In another picture, he spent five days in finishing the hands of a lady, that leaned on her arm-chair. The most capital picture of this master in Holland is three feet by two and a half feet broad, representing two rooms with L a variety of objects. Another artist of the Flemish school, Douw's pupil, Mieris, resembled his master in the ingenuity of his compositions and execution; painting his draperies with so much minuteness, that all the peculiarities of their different textures were visible. Silk, velvet, stuff, carpets, &c. all were not only marked with their general characteristic appearances, but the threads of their texture were made as visible as in nature. His own valuation of his time, was a ducat an hour. One of the most beautiful works, in this country, is known by the appellation of the "Shrimp Man." A FEW WORDS ON GENOATs ordi &c quot Genoa, Oct. 1823. THEY may well call this Genova la Superba. Truly it is so in every sense. It is superb in our acceptation of the word, that is, magnificent; -magnificent in itself; magnificent, most magnificent, in its situation; and proud it has good cause to be, if such things occasion pride. Genoa must be a sore thorn in the side of feudal people, and the proudest of feathers in the cap of merchants. It is, or rather in its best days it was, a proud proof of what may be done by ships, and commerce, and industry,-trade, that is, in its large sensed without the assistance of any territorial advantages; and consequently, without the concomitant drawbacks of old territorial regulations and establishoments. Genoa is a little nook, a mere corner, considered in relation to Dits positive extent; and yet, during the ages when the large kingdoms of Europe equally neglected and despised trade, it had almost a power, and certainly a fame, equal, if not superior, to any of them. And after all it is not to be wondered; when all wealth and honour lay in the possession of land, and all fame in the cutting of throats, it is quite to be understood, that a city which had the precocious sense to perceive that there were other things not dreamt of in this no philosophy, should outstrip those lords of the good old time in every thing appertaining to the arts of life, in all cultivation and enlightenment of talent. It is true that these merchant-princes and their cities have since declined; but it appears to me that it is because the great territorial nations have by degrees imitated, and consequently, from their natural advantages, excelled them. Whence is the great existent wealth and power of England? Not, assuredly, from its size, or even from its fertility. It is small, and in an ungrateful climate; but it directed its attention to manufactures and trade; we became a "nation & of shopkeepers;" we supplied the world with the comforts, if not the neacessaries of life, and made them pay tribute to our intellect and industry, if not to our brute force. And whence will the decline of England come, if it do come? Not from our being less skilful, or less industrious, but from other nations with greater capabilities of climate, of numbers, and of soil, following our example, and, consequently, outstripping us in our own line. France is naturally, it is quite undeniable, a superior country to England. What has made us always her rival, always her equal, and sometimes her superior, has been these 1 moral, which have counterbalanced her physical, advantages. In the ancien regime it was a matter of inferiority; even of contempt, to be engaged in mercantile concerns; but Napoleon, with all his own mili |