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RICHARD WILSON, THE LANDSCAPE PAINTER,

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MORNING.

2

THE SATURDAY MAGAZINE.

RICHARD WILSON,

THE LANDSCAPE PAINTER.

I.

Kind too late,
Relenting Fortune weeps o'er Wilson's fate;
Remorseful owns her blindness, and to fame
his illustrious name.-SHEE.
Consigns, with sorrow,

IT has been justly observed, that the name of Richard
Wilson is a reproach to the age in which he lived. He
was the most accomplished landscape painter this country
ever produced, uniting the composition of Claude with
the execution of Poussin, yet with powers which ought
to have raised him to the highest fame, and the most
prosperous fortune, Wilson was suffered to live em-
"Conscious of his claims,
barrassed and to die poor.
however, he bore the neglect he experienced with firm-
ness and dignity; and though he had the mortification
to see very inferior talents preferred in the estimation of
the public, yet he was never seduced to depart from his
own style of painting, or to adopt the more fashionable
and imposing qualities of art which his superior judg-
ment taught him to condemn, and which the example
of his works ought to have exposed and suppressed."
From the life of Wilson, as given by Wright, we
collect the following particulars.

French paper, and is treated in a bold and masterly

manner.

He

Wilson continued to practise portrait-painting in London for some time, when he was enabled, by the assistance of his relations, to travel into Italy. There he still followed the same department, not being aware that this was not the true direction for his talents. was much respected by his countrymen abroad, and frequented good society. Of the circumstances which led him to turn his attention to landscape painting the following account is given.-One day, while waiting for the coming home of Zucarelli, upon whom he had called at Venice, Wilson made a sketch in oil from the window of the apartment, with which that artist was so highly pleased that he strongly recommended him to apply himself to landscape painting. Soon after another incident occurred, tending to confirm him in an inclination he now experienced to follow that pursuit. The celebrated French painter, Vernet, whose works at that period were held in the highest estimation, happening one day, while both these artists were studying at Rome, to visit Wilson's painting-room, was so struck with a landscape he had painted, that he requested to become the possessor of it, offering in exchange one of his best pictures; the proposal was gladly accepted, and the picture delivered to Vernet, who, with a liberality as commendable as it is rare, placed it in his exhibitionroom, and recommended the painter of it to the cognoscenti, as well as to the English nobility and gentry who happened to be visiting the city.-" Don't talk of my landscapes, when you have so clever a fellow in your countryman, Wilson," was the observation of this liberal-minded man.

There is very little doubt but that Wilson had painted some landscapes before he went abroad; but it is still more certain, that he never went through a regular course of study in landscape-painting until some time after his arrival in Italy. Unlike most artists he did not spend his time in copying the pictures of the old masters, but he contented himself with diligently studying their works, and then confirming his observations by reference to nature. Thus, instead of a decided imitation of the pictures of Italian masters, he struck out a manner of his own, which was, both in design and execution, classical, grand, and original.

Richard Wilson, the distinguished ornament of the British school of landscape painting, was the third son of a clergyman in Montgomeryshire. His father possessed a small benefice in that county, but soon after the birth of Richard he was collated to the living of Mould, in Flintshire. The family consisted of six sons and one daughter, all of whom died unmarried. The eldest son was a collector of customs in the town of Mould; the second was a clergyman, and obtained good preferment in Ireland; the third was our artist, born in 1713; the fourth was a tobacconist at Holywell, who afterwards went to Pennsylvania and there died; the youngest, when a little boy, was killed by the falling in of the Barley Hill at Mould, under which he was playing; Miss Wilson was an attendant on Lady Sandown, a lady of the bed-chamber to Queen Caroline, and it was through her means that Richard Wilson afterwards obtained an introduction to the royal family. It does not appear that a taste for painting exhibited itself in any other member of the Wilson family, except Richard, but in him it was an early and marked prediWhen quite a child he was .ection not to be mistaken. frequently seen tracing, with a burnt stick, figures on Wilson remained abroad six years, having left EngOn his arrival in the wall. Of his education and progress in general land in 1749 and returned in 1755. knowledge we have no account, but it appears that a He afterwards lived in relation, Sir George Wynne, at length took him to London he took up his abode over the north arcade of London, and placed him under the tuition of an obscure the Piazza, Covent-garden. painter of portraits, named Wright, living in Covent- Charlotte-street, Fitzroy-square, and also in Great garden. Whatever knowledge his master was capable Queen-street, Lincoln's Inn-fields, in apartments afterwards occupied by Mr. Theed, the sculptor. Several of imparting Wilson rapidly acquired; and it seems other places of abode are also mentioned, especially the that he must have gained for himself no mean rank among portrait painters, for, in 1748, that is, when he neighbourhood of Marylebonne, where the country was was thirty-five years of age, he executed a large picture at that time much more open than it is at present. of the Prince of Wales, afterwards George the Third, Wilson is said to have changed his quarters whenever his view was intercepted by the erection of a new buildand of his brother the Duke of York. This was done At one period he for Dr. Hayter, Bishop of Norwich, at that time tutoring, and this with more regard to his love of nature to the princes. He also painted another portrait of the than to his pecuniary circumstances. prince, from which there is a mezzotinto print by Faber. resided at the corner of Foley-place, Great Portlandstreet; his last abode in London was a mean house in The original picture bears the date of 1751. Tottenham-street, Tottenham-court-road, in which he occupied the first and second floors, almost without

Though Wilson appears fully to have reached the standard of portrait painting, as it then prevailed among his contemporaries, yet his works in this department are not much known, and no decided character has been affixed to them. His skill in drawing a head was, nevertheless, highly creditable, and a proof of this formerly existed in the collection of J. Richards, Esq., one of the founders, and secretary to the Royal Academy. It is a portrait of Admiral Smith, executed in black and white chalk, as large as life, upon brown

Wilson's studies met with rapid success in Italy. He had pupils in landscape painting while at Rome, and his works were so much esteemed that Mengs painted his portrait, for which Wilson in return painted a landscape.

furniture.

To the first exhibition of 1760, in the Great Room at Spring-gardens, Wilson sent his picture of Niobe, which confirmed the reputation he had previously gained as a landscape painter. It was bought by William as Duke of Cumberland, and came afterwards into the possession of the Duke of Gloucester. In 1765 he exhibited, with other pictures, a view of Rome, from

the Villa Madama, a very fine performance, which was purchased by the Marquis of Tavistock.

At the institution of the Royal Academy, Wilson was chosen one of the founders, and after the death of Hayman he solicited the situation of librarian, which he retained until his retirement into Wales. The last years of Wilson's life were passed with his brother in Mould, and with his relation, Mrs. Catherine Jones, of Colomondie, near the village of Llanverris, now called Loggerheads, a few miles from Mould. At the time of his residence in that neighbourhood, Wilson had nearly lost his memory, and was reduced to a state of childishness. Richard Lloyd, a servant living not many years ago at Colomondie, attended him in his last moments. The closing scene of life was not prolonged; Wilson merely complained of a cold, and retired to bed, where he very soon afterwards expired. His remains were interred in the churchyard at Mould, near the north door of the church, and a grave-stone, bearing the following inscription, marks the spot;-"The remains of Richard Wilson, Esq., Member of the Royal Academy of Artists, interred May 15, 1782, aged 69."-The village of Loggerheads, near which Wilson breathed his last, derives its singular appellation from a sign painted by our artist for the village ale-house, and upon which are the heads of two jolly-looking personages, grinning and staring towards the spectator; underneath are written in very legible characters the words,-"We three Loggerheads be." The innkeeper sets a high value upon this appendage to his house, which has been retouched many times since the days of Wilson, and which is found attractive in drawing customers to the house, notwithstanding the strange mode of salutation.

The house in which Wilson died at Colomondie is an elegant villa, and the grounds are laid out with much taste.

The views round the neighbourhood are singularly beautiful, and present most inviting subjects for the pencil. Several of Wilson's pictures were left at Colomondie in an unfinished state, and were seen there by Mr. Wright, with two or three merely in dead colour. At a little distance from the house, on either side of the road, stood two ancient Scotch firs, extremely picturesque in their forms, said to have been favourite trees of the artist, who introduced them more than once into his compositions. Near to them is a station commanding a fine view of the rocks above Llanverris, much admired by him. When very feeble, poor Wilson used to wander forth, attended by a Newfoundland dog, to feast his eyes with this beautiful scenery; and there was a large stone, at a considerable distance from the house, which he would seat himself on, while observing the landscape before him. One day, accompanied by his faithful companion, the aged painter slipped from the stone upon which he had been seated, and was quite unable to recover himself, so that, in his feeble condition, he might have lain there and perished on the spot, but the sagacious dog, seeing the situation of his master, ran howling to the house, and solicited the attention of the servants by significant looks, and by pulling the skirts of their clothes with his teeth. In this way he was the means of leading them to the spot, and to the succour of his poor master.

In person Wilson was rather above the middle size, robust, and somewhat corpulent. His features were finely formed, but the nose was of unusual size, a defect which he did not like to have observed. He wore a wig, tied or plaited behind into a knocker or club, and a triangular-cocked hat, according to the fashion of the time. The neglect he experienced acted on the sensitive mind of the artist, and led to neglect of his person and manners. Yet Northcote's impression of him was, that his mind was as refined and intelligent as his person and manners were coarse and repulsive; and that discernment and familiarity with him were necessary to discover the unpolished jewel beneath its ferruginous

coat. Wilson, under the influence of disappointment and difficulty, would sometimes lament among his associates, that his destiny had not been to follow some trade or profession bearing upon the wants of his fellow men, and, therefore, likely to yield a remuneration better than that of an artist, and which might, at least, supply him with the comforts and enjoyments of life. These complaints escaped him in moments of despondency, for he was so far from a thought of abandoning the profession on which he had once entered, that no hope of reward could ever tempt him to think of another, or to forego the consciousness of meriting the approbation of his fellow-minds. Yet his trials were numerous. He was frequently under the necessity of taking his small pictures to the brokers, and selling them for whatever trifling sum could be obtained for them. Many of his large pictures also were sent, fresh from the easel, to the same markets. A person in St. James's parish, London, being hard pressed by Wilson to give a small sum for one of his pictures, led the artist up to the attic story, and opening a door, pointed to a pile of landscapes against the wall, saying, "Why, look ye, Dick, you know I wish to oblige you, but see, there's all the stock I paid you for these three years." Such a proof as this of the utter neglect of his works by the public, must have been inexpressibly mortifying to the sensitive mind of the artist. At the time when Wilson was scarcely able to sell one of his productions, and was reduced to such expedients as the painting of a picture for a pot of porter and part of a stilton cheese, (this is affirmed respecting his Ceyx and Alcyone,) Barret was in the receipt of 2000l. a year, and other artists, of very inferior merit, gained high prices for their pictures.

Taste and discrimination in works of art appear to have been at that period at a very low ebb, but a high compliment to Wilson's powers was unconsciously paid, by one who was looked upon as a connoisseur. A gentleman having a picture by Claude, so damaged as to require a new sky, employed Wilson to put it in, and when done brought some of his friends to see it,"There, there is a sky!" exclaimed the connoisseur, "where is the artist alive that could paint such a one?"

The mode of painting adopted by Wilson, with some characteristic anecdotes, must be reserved for another occasion. His picture of "Morning," from which our illustration is taken, is celebrated for its dewy freshness, and clearness of effect.

THE ORACLES OF THE ANCIENTS.

I.

THERE has always existed in the human mind a craving desire of the knowledge of futurity. This knowledge generally has reference to the wealth, glory, and success of the individual who seeks to pry into future fate and fortune. It is, therefore, a question of personal interests; and must not be compared for a moment with the laudable desire to understand the will of the Almighty, as it is manifested in part by prophecy. To the originators of the ORACLES, which existed in the early ages of the world, whether those originators were human, or worse than human, as some of the Christian Fathers imagined, the words of God, addressed through his prophet, may be applied:-"For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways, saith the Lord. For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways, and my thoughts than your thoughts." Isaiah, ch. Lv. ver. 8 and 9.

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By the term "Oracle' we understand, according to the derivation of the word, that of which something is asked in prayer. The oracles were a result of the commonly-received opinion, that the gods had, at one time at least, been used to converse familiarly with men. Those who were believed to have been thus favoured, were supposed to be endowed with extraordinary powers, and to be admitted to a knowledge of the counsels and

designs of heaven: such were the seers, or prophets. The ORACLES, properly so called, had a fixed and permanent locality: they were neither portable nor transferable. The answers received by the oracles were thought to proceed immediately from the gods; the deity pronouncing his answer either in his own voice or that of a consecrated agent; hence the ancients held that there could be no mistake or deception on the part of the oracles, as might be the case in other modes of divination, where men, being the managing agents, might conceal or miss of the truth, through ignorance, mistake, or design.

Hence, oracles were so much revered, that among the higher orders nothing of importance, whether in public or in private life, was undertaken without consulting them. Before consulting the oracles of the gods, presents and sacrifices were offered. Their value was enhanced by their costliness; so that few besides princes and men of opulence, used to consult the oracles; and these were allowed to approach them only on certain days

In regard to the causes of oracles, it has been disputed in the later ages of the world, since the coming of Christ, whether oracles were the revelations of demons, or only the delusions of crafty and designing men. There is no doubt that, like all fortune-telling, in all ages of the world, the fulfilment of the predictions of the oracles often lay in the power of the priests themselves, and were often verified by chance. At any rate, they at one time gained such credit, and influenced to such an extent the minds of men, that some among the heathens imagined that the responses proceeded from human souls separated from their bodies (for it was a well established opinion among the pagans, that the soul of man, when about to leave the body in death, was gifted with the spirit of prophecy); and others, among whom was Tertullian, ascribed the oracular responses to the direct agency of Satan, to whom the Apostle of the Gentiles probably alluded, with reference to the oracles, when he spoke of his coming, as being attended "with all power and signs and lying wonders, and with all deceivableness of unrighteousness in them that perish." 2 Thess., ch. ii., ver. 9 and 10.

The strong language thus used by the Apostle, St. Paul, is perfectly applicable to the heathen oracles in all times and places of the world; for, though they frequently predicted correctly by subornation or by chance, yet, they preserved their reputation, for the most part, by the ambiguity and double-meaningness of their answers. Of them, likewise, the desperate sinner might at last truly say,—

And be these juggling fiends no more believed,
That palter with us in a double sense;
That keep the word of promise to our ear,
And break it to our hope.

It is remarkable that the more sagacious scholars, who were cotemporaneous with the oracles, direct attention to the general nature of their answers,-to their want of definitiveness, as to person, time, place, &c. In a few words, therefore, we may sum up the character and worth of the oracles, to which we shall presently point

individual notice.

It was neither hazardous nor difficult for the prophets of the oracles to make a prediction, as they pledged nothing for the truth of such prediction: their object being to proceed by such plans and arts as were compatible with the liability to error. Unless directly appealed to, they usually preserved a prudent silence. They uttered nothing spontaneous; obstacles were even thrown in the way of promiscuous inquiry. Many and magnificent sacrifices made the inquirers few; and the omission or mismanagement of any prescribed ceremony, served as a good excuse for the priests, if the event did not concur with the hopes excited in the inquirer's mind. If the managers of the oracles wished to put off, or elude, an inquiry, they could make it appear from the omens

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and auguries, that the gods were not inclined to be consulted. Their declarations were not only for the most part of a doubtful cast, but were too often inconsistent with strict virtue and morality.

To show the modern reader the juggling nature of the ancient and heathen oracles, we subjoin the following authentic instances.

Croesus, king of Lydia, having, in the year 548 B.C., consulted the oracle at Delphi relative to his intended war against the Persians, was told that, if he crossed the Halys, which lay in his march, he would destroy a great empire. The oracle might here mean as well his own empire, as that of the Persians. He naturally interpreted it of his overcoming the Persians. He therefore made war upon them, and was conquered by Cyrus; while the oracle still continued to maintain its credit.

About the year 274 B.C., Pyrrhus, having waged an unsuccessful war with the Romans, was overcome. To this war the oracle had encouraged him by an ambiguous answer to his application, which answer he took in a sense favourable to himself. The Latin scholar will see, at once, that the prophetical lines are capable of either of the two following interpretations:-"I say that thou, O descendant of Æacus, art able to conquer the Romans. Thou shalt go, thou shalt return, never shalt thou perish in war." The other rendering of these lines runs thus:-"I say that the Romans are able to conquer thee, O descendant of Eacus. Thou shalt go, thou shalt never return, thou shalt perish in wart." This prince was killed in attempting to take the city of Argos.

A very memorable instance of the ambiguity of pretended prophets occurs in the Old Testament, at 1 Kings, ch. 22. Jehoshaphat, king of Judah, and Ahab, king of Israel, united their forces against the Syrians, in order to recover Ramoth-Gilead, a town on the eastern side of the river Jordan. Ahab, having gathered together the idolatrous prophets, inquired of them, as we read at the 6th verse; "Shall I go against RamothGilead to battle, or shall I forbear? And they said, Go up, for the Lord shall deliver it into the hand of the king." Now we must observe, that the word it does not occur in the original Hebrew; and in the next place, that the word it, or the vacancy, may refer to Ramoth-Gilead, or to Israel; and the king may imply the king of Syria, as well as the king of Israel. The monarchs of Judah and Israel, relying upon this oracle as being favourable to themselves, engaged the Syrians, and were utterly defeated. The end of Ahab and his wife was miserable in the extreme.

But, in what manner soever the question respecting the causes of oracles be decided, it was the general opinion, that Jupiter was the original source of all sorts of divination, and that he revealed what he thought fit to inferior demons out of the book of fate, which he was supposed to possess. Hence, he was esteemed the author and dispenser of all divination; and to him is ascribed the invention of oracles. Whatever skill the other gods were supposed by their votaries to have in prophecy, was only in subordination to Jupiter.

The manner of delivering oracles varied in different places and at different times; in some places they were revealed by interpreters, and in others the gods themselves were supposed to answer with an audible voice. They likewise gave their responses by dreams, by lots, and in other forms. In some places several of these modes were used; and it not unfrequently happened that the priests of the temple had to explain the oracle, and that the inquirer had to consult a second oracle to get an explanation to the answers of the first.

In another article we shall describe the institution and proceedings of the principal oracles of Ancient Greece. * Κροισος Αλυν διαβας μεγαλην αρχην καταλύσει. Aio te, acida, Romanos vincere posse. Ibis redibis nunquam in bello peribis.

NATURAL HISTORY AND MANAGEMENT
OF CAGE-BIRDS.

VI.

THE SKY-LARK (Alauda arvensis.)

Ethereal minstrel! pilgrim of the sky!

Dost thou despise the earth where cares abound,
Or, while thy wings aspire, are heart and eye

Both with thy nest upon the dewy ground?
Thy nest, which thou canst drop into at will,
Those quivering wings composed, and music still!
Leave to the nightingale the shady wood;-
A privacy of glorious light is thine,
Whence thou dost pour upon the world a flood
Of harmony, with rapture more divine:
Type of the wise, who soar but never roam,
True to the kindred points of heaven and home.
WORDSWORTH.

THAT the lark, the sweetest warbler of the skies,
should ever be numbered among cage-birds, is a matter
of regret with all true lovers of nature; but that it is so
numbered, and that it is a chief favourite with many of
those who delight in keeping song-birds, a walk through
the streets of any populous town will prove. The soar-
ing nature of this bird, ever prompting it to mount into
the skies, and to pour forth its rapturous song in the
wide fields of the air, makes it evidently unfit for domes-
tication as a cage-bird. Where many other birds would
soon grow reconciled and happy, the lark, except in rare
instances, shows a continual restlessness and impatience
of his prison bars, or sinks into a state of gloom and
despondency. In the former case the bird is continu-
ally endeavouring to rise, and even the daily-repeated
blows which it gives itself against the top of the cage
are insufficient to restrain this instinct. On this account
cages for larks are often covered with linen, or some
soft material, that the bird may not run the risk of
wounding its head. Where the attentive kindness of
the owner has made the lark's prison as comfortable a
home as possible, and when the supply of food, water,
fresh turf, and sand, is regular and abundant, the bird
grows so familiar as to eat out of the hand, or on the
table; but, at the best, it continues to exhibit its natural
instinct, and to put itself in the attitude for springing
perpendicularly into the air, especially at those seasons
when it would naturally do so if it were at liberty.

The number of caged larks kept in London and its suburbs is very great; but from the account given by Mr. Wood, it appears that the people of Dunstable stand pre-eminent as imprisoners of larks. "In passing through Dunstable," he says, "you will be astonished at the number of cages hanging up on either side the street, and these, for the most part, each contain a solitary and miserable sky-lark. Every cottager seems to consider it indispensably necessary to possess a sky-lark at the door of his tenement, regardless alike of the fluttering of his unhappy captive, its wretched and forlorn aspect, and dirty drooping plumage. And these poor unhappy creatures are kept in the worst manner imaginable; they are fed, for the most part, with bruised hemp-seed and bread, and a clod of earth is placed at the bottom, which only serves to remind them of their native haunts; yet these birds do sing, but their ong is poured forth as if in despair."

Although the sky-lark is so common a biri in our climates, it has not unfrequently been confounded with other species of the lark. The cause of this seems to

be a considerable variation in the plumage, which is, nevertheless, devoid of prominent colours by which it might readily be distinguished. All the larks are remarkable for the form of the hinder claw, which is altogether straight, strong, and much longer than the others. They are all grain-eating birds, which sojourn and nestle on the ground. The sky-lark is chiefly known by its perpendicular flight. On observing it closely, we find it to be rather more than six inches long, from the extremity of the bill to that of the tail. The claw of the hind toe is sometimes nearly two inches long, but it differs according to the age of the bird. The plumage is brown above and whitish beneath, spotted throughout with a deeper brown; but in this respect there is much variation, as will appear from the following description. A mixture of black and grey, tinted with red and dirty white, constitute, properly speaking, the colour of the upper plumage of the sky-lark; a narrow band of reddish white passes above the eyes, on each side of the head; the throat is white; the fore-part of the neck, and all the under parts of the body, reddish white, with longitudinal blackish spots; the small upper wing-coverts are grey, tinted with reddish, and bordered with white; the large coverts, the most remote from the body, have a fawn-coloured border, around a brown ground, and those which are nearest have a grey-brown ground, the extremity being fawn-colour on the border; the upper half of the bill is blackish, and the lower rather whitish. The male bird is a little darker in his plumage than the female; he has a sort of black collar, and his hind claw is longer; sometimes individuals of this species exhibit remarkable variations of plumage: thus, a sky-lark is sometimes met with either partially or altogether white, and others have been seen in which the plumage is black, with a rusty tinge, the belly feathers being edged with white. The black plumage is sometimes produced in confinement by the cage being kept in a dark place, or by the bird being fed to an improper extent with hemp-seed.

The nest of the lark is made on the ground, and is generally concealed between two clods of earth; it is merely a little hollow place, lined with grass, small dried roots, or the hair of cattle.

The daisied lea he loves, where tufts of grass
Luxuriant crown the ridge; there, with his mate,
He founds their lowly house, of withered leaves
And coarsest spear-grass; next the inner work,
With finer, and still finer fibres lays,

Rounding it curious with his speckled breast.

larks usually have two broods in the year; but in more
In this country, and also in France and Germany,
southern countries, as Italy, they have three; the first
in May, the second in July, and the third in August.
The eggs, to the number of four or five, are of a greyish
colour, with brown spots; these are hatched in about a
fortnight, and at the end of another fortnight the young
ones quit the nest. Their mother teaches them how to
procure their food, which, at first, consists of cater-
pillars, worms, and ant-eggs. In the countries where
its consumption of vast quantities of the eggs.
locusts abound, the lark is highly valued, on account of
When
full grown, larks feed on grains, herbs, and vegetable
substances in general. They seldom go to the water,
but quench their thirst by inhaling dew-drops.

Mr. Blythe gives an instance stongly illustrative of the attachment of the parent lark to its eggs and young. Thus he says,

The other day some mowers actually shaved off the upper part of a nest of a sky-lark, without injuring the female which was sitting on her young; still she did not fly away, and the mowers levelled the grass all round her without her taking further notice of their proceedings. A young friend of mine, son of the owner of the crop, witif she was safe, when, to his great surprise, he found that nessed this, and about half an hour afterwards went to see she had actually constructed a dome of dry grass over the

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