: ton's are four of his works, one of which of Castillo, a native of Cordova. He came represents "St. Thomas of Villa Neve, to Seville in 1666, when Murillo was at the when a Child, distributing Alms." At Mr. Wells', at Redleaf, is a very fine picture by Murillo, that was formerly in a church at Genoa; it also represents "St. Thomas of Villa Neve relieving the Sick." At Longford Castle, in Wiltshire, are two fine Murillos, along with some excellent specimens of Velasquez; at the Duke of Wellington's are several of the Spanish school; at Lord Lansdowne's is a curious picture of El Mudo (Navarete), a rare Spanish painter, as well as several works by the hands of Velasquez and Murillo; at Mr. Sanderson's is one Murillo; at Leigh Court near Bristol, are three fine Murillos; at Lord Shrewsbury's are two, on sacred subjects; at Burleigh, one picture; at Woburn one picture: and the above mostly comprise the whole of Murillo's works to be found in England. With regard to the number of his productions, Murillo is only to be rivalled by his countryman, Lopez di Vega. Like that poet, his youth was but of little use to him; like him he labored the rest of his life, and in his own line equalled the 1800 commedias, the 400 autos sacramentales, the epic and the burlesque poems, the sonnets, the stories, which made Cervantes call Lopez "a monster in nature;" unlike his master Velasquez, Murillo repeated his subjects often. Velasquez gave a care to every one of his paintings, all being intended for his king and master, while Murillo's works, destined to become the property of various persons in different parts of Spain, were often repetitions, and thus he became his own plagiarist. height of his reputation; and on looking at his productions, which he did with great astonishment, he saw Nature reflected in her most perfect shape, with a brilliancy that he knew he could not emulate, nor had he believed in the power of art to attain. At length he recovered his speech but only to exclaim "Yà muriro Castillo!" (Castillo is no more). He returned to his home, but never again to paint. Castillo was a poet as well as a painter. Seized with a hopeless gloom, he lived a short time in a state of despair, dying of a broken spirit, proving that there are natures endowed with such susceptible passions that to take away hope is to take away life. It has been written that Murillo was a stranger both to interest and to ambition. It was in 1670, when Murillo must have been about the age of fifty-seven, that one of his paintings was carried in procession at Madrid, at the festival of Corpus Christi. The subject was "The immaculate Conception;" and the picture made such a sensation at Madrid, and at court, that the king's impatience would brook no delay, and he sent for Murillo from Seville; but the love of ease and retirement of the painter was not to be conquered by ambition or honors. He refused the commands of his sovereign under various pretences, and continued to live on at Seville in independence, that is, in constant labor and study of his art. Pictures were, however, sent by him to the royal collection. But Murillo was not so totally engrossed with his art as to forget others. With the aid of his artist-friends, and the public auVelasquez was most at home in common thorities, he established an academy at Selife in an adherence to truth to nature, ville, of which he became director. It was while Murillo's greater energy, and more opened in 1660, at a time of public rejoicbrilliant imagination, loved to soar above ing in Spain,-at the peace of the Pyrreal life, though not like Zurbaran or Mo-enees and the marriage of Louis XIV. to rales, whose powers are in terror and gloom, the Infanta Maria Theresa. Neither in who revel in penance, in superstition, in this work nor in any other did Murillo reautos de fè, the scenes of the Inquisition, and the ecstasies of Loyola. ceive any assistance from his own family. His eldest son went to the West Indies as a merchant; his second son became a canon of the cathedral at Seville; and his daughter took the veil in the convent of the Madre de Dios. The fine arts are proved to be passions in hundreds of instances, and like passion wholly and entirely lay hold of the mind of man; and when this is the case, the picture partakes of the character of the artist. In 1681 Murillo went to Cadiz to paint There are many instances amongst artists the altar-piece of "The Marriage of St. of death occuring from grief, disappoint- Catherine," for the Convent of Capuchins; ment, jealousy, and envy, and particularly he fell from a scaffolding erected near the in Spain; amongst these examples is that painting, was much hurt, and returned to ume of verse, after a silence of nine years, in trustful reliance," as he says in his modest preface," on its indulgent reception by a public from whom he has never met with aught but courtesy and kindness." The unpretending but pleasing title given to this little volume, well describes its character. Many of the poems are addresses to living, or memorials of departed friends; many have been suggested by passing occurrences, and many are the pleasant musings of a thoughtful, pious, and grate his home at Seville, ill, in consequence of his fall. After lingering for some time, he died in April, 1682, and was buried in a vault in the church of Santa Cruz, under the chapel where is the painting of "The Descent from the Cross," by Pietro Campana, and where Murillo was accustomed to pass some part of each day in prayer and meditation. This magnificent picture had been ever the object of Murillo's admiration and reverence throughout his life. And in that same chapel where so many holy thoughts had entranced him, in the same ful mind. The stanzas on page 103 are spot where his mind had ever been intent on religious meditations and feelings, his body found a resting-place. There is a harmony and a peace in the whole of Murillo's life and death, very powerful in his religious and poetical life; and in him is found a painter, as Wordsworth is a poet. It is related, that one day when the churchdoors were about to be closed towards evening, the sacristan reminded Murillo, then in meditation before his favorite picture, that it was time to depart. "I wait," said Murillo, still in his ecstasy, "I wait until these holy persons have taken away the body of our Lord." After Murillo's death, it was discovered how entirely disinterested his life and character had been. No further fortune did he possess than a hundred reals, that he had received the day before he died; and that money, with sixty ducats found in a drawer, comprised the whole of his earthly posses sions. From the Eclectic Review. HOUSEHOLD VERSES. Household Verses. By Bernard Barton. THE reappearance of an old friend is always welcome; this neat little volume, therefore, inscribed with the well-remembered name of Bernard Barton, comes before us with peculiar claims on our attention and regard. During the last ten or twelve years, death has been busy among our poets; sickness, and advancing age, too, have compelled many more to give up "the gentle craft;" we are therefore well pleased to find a writer, whose productions have always been marked by much grace and feeling, putting forth his "eighth volVOL. III. No. II. 53 graceful, but the following poem is of a higher order; we regret our space will only allow the admission of the subjoined stanzas. They were suggested by a beautiful copy of the Madonna and child, presented to him by a friend. "I may not change the simple faith, In which from childhood I was bred; On what no painting can express, "And yet, Madonna! when I gaze On charms unearthly, such as thine; Unto that infant, so Divine ! I marvel not that many a shrine "And hence I marvel not at all, That spirits, needing outward aid, I rather pity than condemn. "For me, though not by hands of mine, In you, the human and divine Have both so beautiful appeared, In a similar feeling, these pretty lines. were written, "to illustrate a sketch of a ruined chapel." "Turn not thou in pride aloof "Almighty Father! in these lines, though brief, All things brief, and bright, and fair, "Symbols these of time and earth; "Brightly as these shone in thee, From the Dublin University Magazine. PASSAGES IN THE LIFE OF DAVID HUME. SECOND ARTICLE. [The reader can hardly regret to see a continuation of the lively abstract of the lately published life of David Hume, by Mr. Burton, the first part of which appeared in the May No. It abounds in anecdote and humor, and presents a glimpse of the men and manners of one of the most interesting periods of modern literary annals.-EDITOR.] THE life of Hume was one of much social enjoyment. When his pecuniary affairs had a little improved, he became a singularly happy man. "I was," says he, ever more disposed to see the favorable than the unfavorable side of things-a turn of mind which it is more happy to possess than to be born to ten thousand a-year." In our March number, we mentioned that within two years of his being apWith the subjoined remarkably flowing pointed keeper of the Advocates' Library, and graceful elegiac verses, to the memory he published the first volume of his "Hisof a young friend, we must conclude: re-tory of the House of Stuart;" and in 1756, commending Bernard Barton's pleasant the second volume containing "The His"Household Verses" to all our readers, and assuring him that we shall always be ready to welcome a similar volume from his pen. "Lilies, spotless in their whiteness, Fountains, stainless in their brightness, tory of England, from the Death of Charles I. to the Revolution." We then endeavored to show the origin of what we regard as some of the heresies in Hume's political creed, and we have little doubt, that had Hume commenced his studies with any earlier period of English history, he could not, with the same plausibility, have vindicated his notion of all power in the people being usurpations on the prerogative. The "History of the House of Stuart," was followed by that of "Tudor"-and the earlier part of the "History of England" was that which was last given to the public. It is in every respect the worst. The clamor against the House of Tudor" was as great as that against his first volume. The reign of Elizabeth," he says, "was particularly obnoxious." The volumes which relate the Anglo-Saxon story, and the fortunes of England, till the accession of Henry the Seventh," met with tolerable, and but tolerable success." The last volume was published in 1761-six years from the publication of the first. In the interval between the publication of the first and second volumes, appeared his "Natural History of Religion." The book was a failure-but Hume's disappointment was, he says, lessened by the gratifying circumstance that it was answered by Hurd. was, some short time before, pleasantly manifested to him by a correspondence with Madame de Boufflers, which was commenced by that lady, on reading his "History of the House of Stuart." The biographer of Hume guards us against confounding this lady, whose name was Hippolite de Soujon, Comtesse de Boufflers Rouvel, with the Marquise de Boufflers Rémencourt, mother of the Count de Boufflers. Among the distinguishing circumstances one was, that Hume's correspondent was mistress of the Prince de Conti, while the other ornamented the court of Stanislaus Augustus, in the same recognized relation. On the dissolute state of society, which the fact of ladies in such relations being leaders of fashion, and received every where, implies, there can be but one opinion in these countries; but Mr. Burton well observes, that in judging of the individual, the feelings of the society in which life is passed, must be our standard. same acts in breach of a higher one. A Ma Between Hume and this lady a correspondence commenced in 1761. Her first letter is amusing. In 1762, we find Hume speaking to his friends of the large sums given him for the copyright of the successive portions of his "There is." says he, "a great difference history; and he mentions the comfort of between those who act up to the standard of having set up a chaise. "I was become a low social system, and those who do the not only independent, but opulent. I re- hometan, with his harem in Constantinople, tired to my native country, determined is inferior in his tone of morality to an Engnever to set foot out of it, and retaining the lish gentleman of good domestic conduct; but satisfaction of never having preferred a re- he is infinitely superior to an Englishman with quest to one great man, or even making his harem in Piccadilly." advances of friendship to any of them." The plans of a literary man are as likely to be disturbed as those of any other, and Hume, though without solicitation on his part, was destined to be indebted to the "I am a woman," she says, not old; and great. In 1763, the Earl of Hertford, with in spite of the frivolity and dissipation in whom Hume was not in the slightest de- which we all live here, there is scarcely a gree acquainted, was sent as ambassador to good book in any language that I have not Paris, and invited Hume to accompany read either in the original or in translations; him, holding out the expectation which and I assure you, monsieur, with a sincerity was eventually realized, of Hume becoming have never met with any book which, in my which you cannot suspect or distrust, that I secretary to the embassy. Hume declined judgment, combines so many perfections as the offer at first, but on its being repeated, suffered himself to be prevailed on. In 1765, Lord Hertford became Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, and Hume was left for some months" chargé d'affaires." yours." This was likely to do, and it did catch the fat philosopher. She then tells him what she thinks of Cromwell and Charles, Hume's reception in Parisian society is and civil and religious liberty; and again. mentioned by him with extravagant delight. she returns to David Hume-every thing His reputation had preceded him, and his from whose pen shows him to be the perfect entire freedom from affectation or pretence philosopher and statesman, an historian of any kind completed the charm. His full of genius, an enlightened politician, works, too, were known by translations and a genuine patriot. This letter was were probably more read than in England-written at a time when she had no acquaintand certainly with greater sympathy. The ance whatever with Hume; nor does it apadmiration with which Hume had been re-pear that they had one friend in common. garded on the continent for some years, A woman of genius can do any thing; and "Tell Hume he is so much worshipped here, that he must be void of all passions, if In most houses where I am acquainted here, he does not immediately take post for Paris. one of the first questions is, do you know Monsieur Hume, whom we all admire so much? I dined yesterday at Helvetius's, where this same Monsieur Hume interrupted our conversation very much." In a letter to Smith, Hume himself describes the honors he had received :— "MY DEAR SMITH-I have been three in the postscript to this first letter she invites | ous even to Hume's arrival in France, he him to Paris. Hume's replies to these let- had received several letters describing the ters are those of a man greatly gratified; actual adoration with which he seemed to but the correspondence soon languishes, be regarded by that strange people. Lord and would probably have died away after Elibank writes to him (May 11, 1763) : the first expression of mutual admiration, "No author ever yet attained to that deif it were not that she became interested gree of reputation in his own lifetime that for Rousseau, and wrote to Hume about you are now in possession of at Paris." him at the same period that he was pressed In a letter from Andrew Stuart to Sir Wilon Hume's notice by another friend-the liam Johnstone (16th December, 1762), he exiled Earl Marischal of Scotland, who says:was banished for the rebellion of 1715, and was then governor of Neufchatel. In 1715, he must have been a mere boy; and when he wrote to Hume he had become a foreigner to such an extent as to find a difficulty in writing English. He was a singularly good-natured man, and he thought to have served both Hume and Rousseau by promoting the unfortunate acquaintance which was probably the most vexatious circumstance in all Hume's life. But to dwell on Rousseau now would be to anticipate. Hume arrived in France on the 14th of October, 1763. It is scarce surprising days at Paris, and two at Fontainbleau, and that he was received with great distinction. have every where met with the most extraorOf English literature, the French at the dinary honors, which the most exorbitant vantime absolutely knew nothing, except ity could wish or desire. The compliments through the representations of Voltaire. of dukes and marischals of France, and forShakspeare, judged of by their canons of criticism, was a barbarian of some genius, considering his age and country. Milton was something, but not much better. In the literature of England, however, there was much of promise. The only admirable things that had been done were by Addison, whose drama of Cato atoned, by its studious regularity, for the insults offered by Shakspeare to all true taste, and whose Campaign was, in spite of its subject, recognized as a great national epic. Addison's rank in society was one of the reasons why his literary claims were freely admitted; and this same feeling now operated favorably for Hume. That a great philosopher should have been born in Edinburgh, an obscure town, the name of which no one in Paris could pronounce or spell, was it- politeness, but that she seriously desired to be self little short of a miracle. That such a in friendship and correspondence with me. man should, in their own walk, be able to There is not a courtier in France who would take the lead of the Voltaires and Dide-not have been transported with joy to have rots, enhanced the wonder; and that he had the half of these obliging things said to should appear in the best society as an what may appear more extraordinary, both of him by either of these great ladies. equal, and not resting on any doubtful them, as far as I could conjecture, have read claims of literary merit-claims which with some care all my writings that have might be as capriciously denied as admit- been translated into French-that is, almost ted-was one of those things that could all my writings. The king said nothing parnot often occur, and its occurrence was therefore the more readily greeted. Previ eign ambassadors, go for nothing with me at present. I retain a relish for no kind of flattery the courtiers, who stood around when I was but that which comes from the ladies. introduced to Madame de Pompadour, assured me that she was never heard to say so much to any man; and her brother, to whom she introduced me,- * But I forget already that I am to scorn all the civilities of men. However, even Madame Pompadour's civilities were, if possible, exceeded by those of the and prime minister, and one of the ladies of Duchesse de Choiseul, the wife of the favorite the most distinguished merit in France. Not contented with the many obliging things she said to me on my first introduction, she sent to call me from the other end of the room, in order to repeat them, and to enter into a short conversation with me; and not contented with that, she sent the Danish ambassador after me, to assure me that what she said was not from Some words obliterated. But |