tem like this, would not be more than it is now; were it substituted for the present bounty system, it would even be less seamen do not usually live long. And we can conceive no higher light in which the navy of a country like ours could be placed, than that it should thus employ and protect the youthful industry of our maritime population, while it sustained the feebleness of their declining years;-on the condition only that a short period of their manhood shall be contributed to its own support. We shall now state but one more change, which the springs thus at work in the navy and in the times, will yet produce, we think, in the situation of seamen with regard to it; which is, that thus the system of impressment will be virtually, if not formally, given up. While the fleet was ruled by force, it was necessary that it should be manned in like manner; and we repeat a sentiment, which we once before expressed on the same occasion-so beautiful is the structure of our nature, the wind was tempered to the lamb thus shorn, and sailors laughed and made jests on the one system, while they came to lean on the other as a guide. As coercion, however, ceases in the one case, and even its means are withdrawn, it must also cease in the other, for no man will be influenced to do his duty in a man-ofwar, if the very scene is hateful to him, from a recollection of the violence, the anomalous violence, as it will then have become, which brought him there. The truth is, however, that when the whole system shall come to be matured and perfected-we shall not say, as we have attempted to sketch it, but as the elements of improvement, now at work, must make it in time, and which may be much better than we have divined-it will become a matter of competition for sailors to get into the navy, rather than a matter of dread. It will never be so to the present generation, we confess, but it will to others. They will be at all events well taught, well paid, kindly treated, not severely worked, and not necessarily long detained in it. Besides this, if we augur right, they will earn a provision for their declining years in it, greater or less, 8 according to their perseverance, but always a comfortable addition to whatever they may amass besides. The power of ever afterwards going and returning on their avocations in perfect security from violence, will be connected in idea to them with a few years voluntary service in it; and this service will accordingly come to be considered by them all as a necessary debt, well over when discharged. They will enter young accordingly, if they can; the rather that it is in youth that the imagination is most struck by the tales of merry days and occasional sharp service, such as those will delight to tell whose time is over, and their battles fought. And even among them, should any sudden emergency call at a moment for an increased force, numbers will be found willing again to try their luck for a brief period, certain of increasing their rate of superannuation, in hopes probably of coming to blows, demolishing a Frenchman, blowing up a galleon, &c., all on the approved pattern of elder times; which, whatever may have been their hardships to those actually engaged in them, we may be sure tradition will paint to our posterity as days of life and spirit, which their own eras will never equal, far less surpass. In drawing up this brief sketch of the future in the navy, such as we think we are able to read it, we have purposely omitted to mention minute points, relating to internal regulation; for example, to giving leave, breaking up men's chests on board, bringing their bags on deck through the day, &c., on all which, and many more, we see changes in progress, likely, in our opinion, to be limited only by what is physically impossible in the way of relief, but which might thus give occasion to difference of opinion, and bring in question the soundness of our views, on the very score that they are wire-drawn. We have tried to notice the spirit, rather than the particulars of innovation; and, in our next Number, we shall conclude the subject by a brief exposition of its last division, the probable effect of the whole on the character of our seamen, E. PARINI'S GIORNO. Ir is much easier to draw up an opinion of what we but half know, than of that which we are perfectly acquainted with. The whole truth concerning any subject is a most perplexing possession, an unarrangeable mass of contraries and shades of difference, dove-tailed into one another beyond the power of criticism to distinguish. It presents so many faces and outlines, that we can seize but one or two, and in these merging the rest, endeavour to generalize, with these awkward exceptions sticking out in spite of us. For examples of this, we need but look at the criticisms on Shakespeare and the great epic poets, where the writers are tossed up and down the contraries of antithesis, like a ship on what mariners call a chopping sea. The first sentence the launch is bold, and sent forth with confidence, after which it is all fret, but, and although, to the end of the chapter. Continually in dread of coming in contact with this fact, and that received opinion, they are compelled every moment to return upon their steps, explain away and contradict, till the sum of their opinions, annihilating each other, is nothing. Far different is the happy course of those, who have to do with what they scarce know any thing about; young black-letter men of research and shortsight, recurring every second to their alphabets and glossaries; critics, and translators of foreign poets, with their grammars and dictionaries under their arms; and reviewers of political economy, deep in the first book of Adam Smith and Madame Marcet's "Conversations." These have the happy knack of assuring themselves, that what is new to them, must be new to all. And they deal out their crude opinions in the glow of unrepressed admiration, and in the confidence and singleness of first impression, while those who have long studied the works in question, and long digested their truths or beauties, hesitate and find it impossible to hazard one simple question concerning them. The convenience of superficial knowledge, is nowhere more manifest than in criticisms on the literature of foreign languages. We are rarely troubled with too clear and extensive a view VOL. X. of the subject, and confining our observations to generalities, seldom become very absurd. But when people enter into exquisite dissertations on the beauties of foreign poets, as some wights in these countries have done, and in type too, we must confess, they weave terrible nonsense. Unable to define or mark out singly the character of the muse they contemplate, recourse must be had to comparison, which enables them to tell what it is not. Thus, for the most part, all the estimates and opinions of genius, which we gather from books, have no foundation but upon one another. We have no idea of Dante, but that he is more stern and sublime than Petrarch, and none of Petrarch, but that he is more tender than Dante. Their relative proportions and distances are carefully marked out, but of the real excellence of any one of them, we are informed nothing. We see them twinkle, like the stars, above us, some bright, some dim; but of their substances, their outlines, or their laws, we are left to tally ignorant. The superficial method, however, has its advantages, it is light, airy, and unburdensome, and affords elegant matter for periodicals and conversation,-it makes literature popular, and refines and intellectualizes life; while the contrary method of theory and rational investi gation would confine it to the closet, and make it altogether a scholastic pursuit. Nor would this be likely to produce much effect, since Alison himself has scarce left a vestige of influence on the criticism of the age. But when unable to define the peculiar excellencies of our own literature, how can we be expected to appreciate justly those of others? For, in fact, a man can know but one language that in which he thinks. Those subtle links between words and ideas, which it requires such a length of years at first to establish, cannot be applied, when we will, to a new tongue. Dictionaries are cold and unnatural preceptors; we may gather by their help, historical knowledge from plain narratives of fact; but to catch the spirit of poetry with such auxiliaries, is impossible. Words, in our own classic verse, come to our er rs, conveyed in a tone, and accompanied 3 U by associations, which it would be in vain endeavouring to explain to a foreigner. And this is much more the case with them;-read Petrarch's "Zefiro torna," and it is as common-place a piece of verse as ever was written: hear Foscolo repeat it, and the memory of its tone and feeling shall never fade from your ear. In the "Giorno" that lies before us, and which gave birth to this article, we dwell with delight on such lines as these: "Quella rosa gentil che fu già un tempo But translate them, and they are nothing. If ever that sublime piece of extra vagance, "Oh! that I were if ever this was realized, it has been in the Italian Muse, of which Petrarch is the true father;-in philosophy contemptible, in feeling frigid, and in ornament pedantic, still his verse speaks-it has the tone of " a broken spirit," if it has not the language, and it excites poetical ideas, even where it presents none. If Dante had not been first, he had never been-at least not under his existing character. A language may become refined and enervated, but it never ebbs towards strength and rudeness, once emasculated, its virility is not to be recovered. The followers of Petrarch are often happier than their great prototype, while the revivers of the school of Dante have utterly failed. For my part (in such hazardous assertions it is but fair to drop the plural,) I could never discover poetry in the dry compositions of Alfieri, whatever I might in his life-like a contemporary of ours, he was a great poet in every thing but making verses. It was with the anticipation of doing mighty things, that we pitched upon the Giorno of Parini. It is a Day spent by an Italian nobleman, to whom the bard acts as ironical preceptor, and describes the routine of toilette, visits, and gallantry, in all the minuteness and mock grandeur of the burlesque. It is interspersed with some sweet passages, and allegories, and at times exceedingly humorous, in spite of the dulness which necessarily attends a train of irony continued through five or six thousand lines. The poem is rather tedious and pedantic, its author being fond of displaying classical knowledge. Serious irony, verging upon bitterness, is not exactly the tone suitable to the ridicule of dandyism and effeminacy. On the whole, it would make but a very sorry figure, in comparison with Pope's "Rape of the Lock," or Luttrel's "Advice to Julia." Our intentions of extract and translation were at first huge; but when we considered that all young ladies blank verse requires to be very poigcan translate Italian, and that wit in nant, we have without much reluct ance confined ourselves to the following: "Already do the gentle valets hear Thy tingling summons, and with zealous speed Haste to unclose the barriers that exclude The garish day, yet soft and warily, Lest the rude sun perchance offend thy sight. Now raise thee gently, and recline upon Th' obsequious pillow that doth woo thy weight; Thine hand's forefinger lightly, lightly pass O'er thine half-open'd eyes, and chace from thence The curst Cimmerian, that durst yet re main; Stentorian-like commands, what shame would seize On the ear-rending boist'rous son of Mars? Such as of old pipe-playing Pallas felt, When her swoll'n cheek and lip the fount betray'd. But now behold, thy natty page appears, Anxious to learn what beverage thou would'st sip. If that thy stomach need the sweet ferment, Unwelcome gather, let his lip prefer Moca, that of a thousand ships is proud. "Twas fate decreed, that from the ancient world Adventurers should sail, and o'er the main, 'Gainst storm and doubt, and famine and despair, Should have achieved discovery and conquest: "Twas fate ordain'd, that Cortez should despise The blood of sable man; and through it wade, O'erturning kingdoms and their generous kings, That worlds, till then unkown, their fruits and flowers Should cater to thy palate, gem of heroes! The tailor, who, alas! is not contented And doth at home, abroad, at play or park, Disorganize thy bowels for the day. But let no portal e'er be closed on him, Who sways thy toes, professor of the dance. He at his entrance stands, firm on the threshold; Up mount his shoulders, and down sinks his neck, Like to a tortoise, while with graceful bow Waked into music by his skilful bow. Comes generous, laden with celestial sounds, And at his harmony ineffable, Lo! in thy patriot bosom rises strong Hate and disgust of that ignoble tongue, Which in Valclunsa to the echoes told, The lament and the praise of hopeless love. Ah! wretched bard, who knew not yet to mix The Gallic graces with thy rude discourse; That so to delicate spirits thou might'st be Not grating as thou art, and barbarous. "Fast with this pleasant choir flits on the morn, Unvex'd by tedium or vacuity, cup, Is pleasantly discussed, what name shall bear, Next season, the theatric palm away? Or comes the dancer, gay Narcissus, back, (Terror of gentle husbands,) to bestow Fresh trouble to their hearts, and honours to their heads ?" Our poet has all the Anti-Gallican humour of Alfieri; who carried it so far, as not to see any beauty in the Eloise, though of a nature, as he tells us, "appassionatissimo." The ironic preceptor continues. "Remove yon glossy volume from the shelf, And yawning ope at random; or where left, The index ribbon marks the favourite page. Who knew so well to cater to the taste cranes And turkeys, learned in the art of love." The Pucelle, infamous as it is, is generally considered much superior to the Henriade, or to any other work of Voltaire's: such, indeed, was the opinion of the poet himself. ON THE ITALIAN SCHOOLS OF PAINTING. No. I. On the Storia Pittorica of the Abate Lanzi, and the Works of Andrea ALTHOUGH Italy was well provided with historical treatises on the lives and productions of individual painters, there was still wanting a general history of the art, disencumbered from the useless and idle trifles with which modern writers had loaded their biography, and which the ancients scarcely deemed admissible in writing the lives of their mightiest heroes; a history which, throwing the chief light upon the great professors of the art, and placing those of minor excellence in less prominent positions, would admit nothing more than a mere sketch of the inferior classes. Such history tracing at the same time the causes of the advancement or decline of painting in certain periods, would contribute to preserve the lustre of the fine arts, to which example is so much more useful than precept; and would greatly facilitate the study of the various manners, of which some are very similar, though by different hands, and others widely different, though painted by the same master. No other work held out such flattering prospects to the selflove of Italy, because, however equal led or eclipsed she might have been in the progress of ultramontane science, she was still, and for ever, to be regarded as unrivalled in the arts of genius, The difficulties of such an undertaking were, however, to be sufficiently estimated only by those who had devoted the greater part of their lives to the study of painting; for it must have included a period of more than six hundred years, and the history of fourteen distinct schools, regarding several of which scarcely any notices of real value, were to be found in the works of the earlier authors. Our own Richardson had long ago desired to see united the various sources of information on painting which lay scattered here and there, and its progress and declension in every age, described and illustrated. This was slightly done by Mengs, in the letter in which he marks out the different periods of the art, and had its partial fulfilment in so far as regards the Venetian school in the work of Antonio Zanetti, Sulla Pittura Veneziana. But its final and complete accomplishment was reserved for the Abate Lanzi, in his celebrated Storia Pittorica della Italia.* This excellent work may be regarded as a luminous compendium of whatever was valuable in the guide-books, catalogues, descriptions of churches and palaces, and in the lives of the different painters throughout the whole of Italy. He divides his subject into the following schools, viz.: Florence, Sienna, Rome, Naples, Venice, Mantua, Modena, Cremona, Milan, Parma, Bologna, Ferrara, Genoa, and Piedmont, to the number, as already said, of fourteen, many of which are again subdivided into several periods, in which the various transitions from one de gree of excellence to another, are carefully and clearly described. Of the above mentioned schools, those of Lombardy are, perhaps, the most indebted to Lanzi, because, prior to his time, their history was the least known. That northern part of Italy, during the first times of painting, was divided into many states, each of which had its own capital, where flourished a different school of art; from whence it happens that the characteristic style of one place is often very different from that of its neighbours. Now, one great merit of Lanzi consists in his having detected the falseness of the principle by which these various styles had previously been considered and classed as the same, under the sweeping denomination of the Lombard school. He distinguishes each under its own proper head, or chief representative, and writes for it a separate history. Of these, he may be said to have extricated almost from utter darkness the school of Ferrara, of which, before his time, little or nothing was satisfactorily known. With the exception of the kingdom of Na * Storia Pittorica della Italia dal risorgimento delle belle arti fin presso al fine del xviii secolo. Dell' Ab. Luigi Lanzi Antiquario I. E. R. in Firenze. |