The Archduke Albert, shortly before his death, enjoined his wife to trust to the advice of Rubens in matters of difficulty, as to that of a wise, upright, and clear-headed man. From that time Rubens received many marks of favour from the Infanta, and was employed by her in several important political negociations, among which was an embassage to Spain, and afterwards to London, to negociate a peace. Rubens remained many months at Madrid, during which time he completed eight pictures for the large saloon of the palace, and several portraits of Philip IV. and of some of the illustrious persons at Court. In August, 1629, he received his final instructions, and, being furnished with credentials for the British Court, he departed, loaded with presents and honours. On his return to Brussels, the Infanta expressed her approbation of the instructions given by the Court of Spain, and an order was issued for his immediate departure for England.

trait.

In October, 1629, Rubens arrived in London, on this secret mission from the Courts of Spain and Flanders. His friend, the Duke of Buckingham, had been dead upwards of a year; and the object of his arrival being then a profound secret, much caution was necessary to prevent the premature disclosure of his plans. He succeeded in procuring an introduction to the Chancellor, Lord Francis Cottington, and so pleased that nobleman that he informed the King of the artist's arrival. His Majesty named an early day for his admission to an audience. In this interview, the King questioned him on many subjects, and, being pleased with his candour and eloquence, appointed a day to sit to him for his porWhile thus engage, the artist skilfully contrived to speak of the object of his mission, and remarked, that, "if the two Courts were reciprocally disposed to arrange their differences, the means were at hand." To which Charles replied-" If the King of Spain is of this opinion (as you seem to indicate), why does he not send some one to open a negotiation ?" This was the expected question, to which a ready answer was given"Sire, if I might presume to the honour of being acceptable to your Majesty in that capacity, I could explain myself more openly on the intentions of the King my master, in virtue of the credentials with which his Majesty has furnished me." Charles was pleased with an honourable opportunity of making peace, and the more so, as the war had been undertaken by Buckingham somewhat capriciously, and the resources of England had been greatly diminished through it and the war with France. But the negotiations proceeded so slowly that Rubens found time to execute several pictures. His first production was an allegory, representing the blessings of peace and the horrors of war," which," says Waagen, "he presented to the king as a tangible recommendation of the pacific measures he had come to propose." This picture, after the breaking up of the collection of Charles I., passed into the possession of the family Balbi of Genoa. It was, however, obtained by the Marquess of Stafford during the French Revolution, and by him munificently presented to the National Gallery. Rubens also painted a St. George engaged in combat with the Dragon: this production is now in Windsor Castle. Also, an Assumption of the Virgin Mary; as also the sketches for the nine pictures which were intended to represent, in an allegorical style, the illustrious deeds of James I., intended for the ceiling of the Hall of the Ambassadors, now the Chapel at Whitehall. The pictures were finished at a later date in Antwerp, as was the custom with this artist in all large works: Rubens is said to have received 3000l. for them. The figures are all of colossal proportion, but have suffered much from repeated restorations.

The artist received repeated tokens of favour and reward from the King. In February, 1630, he was knighted in Whitehall, and the King presented to him the

sword with which he had performed the ceremony; and when, in November, the treaty of peace was ready to be signed at the Court of Spain, Rubens, on taking leave, received a handsome service of plate, and the portrait of the King, attached to a rich chain of gold, which last, in grateful remembrance, he ever after wore around his neck. But while thus successful in gaining the favour of the King of England, he kept steadily before his view the interests of the Court of Spain, as is proved by the fact that the articles of peace were most disadvantageous to England, and also by the honourable reception which Rubens met with at the Court of Madrid, whither he proceeded to give an account of his diplomatic labours. Philip IV. accompanied his expressions of high approbation with many costly presents. The artist having again painted the portraits of the King and several of his courtiers, with some other pictures of value, besides taking the measurement for works intended for the Palace Torre de la Parada, again returned to Brussels, where a gracious reception awaited him from the Infanta.

We must here interrupt our narrative to describe the celebrated picture from which the subject of our frontispiece has been taken. This picture, probably the most celebrated of all Rubens' portraits, is called the Chapeau de Paille, and is now the chief ornament of the fine collection of Sir Robert Peel, in London.

No picture justifies more than this the appellation which Rubens has obtained, of the painter of light. No one who has not beheld this masterpiece of painting can form any conception of the transparency and brilliancy with which the local colouring in the features and complexion, though under the shadow of a broad-brimmed Spanish beaver hat, are brought out and made to tell; while the different parts are rounded and relieved with the finest knowledge and use of reflected lights. The expression of those youthful features beaming with cheerfulness, is so full of life, and has such a perfect charm, that one is inclined to believe the tradition, that Rubens fell in love with the original (a young girl of the Landens' family at Antwerp,) whilst she was sitting to him. The treatment throughout displays a master-hand, capable of sporting with its subject and material.—WAAGEN.

The very inappropriate name of Chapeau de Paille, or Straw Hat, can only have been given to this picture in later days; for in the catalogue of pictures taken after the death of Rubens, this picture is entered simply as "A Portrait of a Young Lady, with her hands crossed in front." Mr. John Smith, who imported the picture into this country, gives some curious and interesting particulars respecting it. He describes the picture as the portrait of a young lady "wearing a black Spanish hat, adorned with black and white feathers, and elegantly attired, according to the costume of the time, in a black velvet bodice and skirt, with scarlet sleeves and white epaulettes, tied with rose-colour ribbons, and a tawnycolour scarf, thrown in a negligent manner over the shoulders; the hands are passed over each other in front, the left one holding the scarf. Her complexion is most delicately fair, but the hat inclining forward, throws a shade over the upper part of the face, which, by the reflex from the white bosom, is rendered beautifully transparent. She is represented passing before the exterior of a window, on a fine sunny day, the effect of which is strikingly denoted in the brilliancy of the colouring."

The artist is said to have prized this picture so highly that he never could be induced to part with it. After his death, and that of his widow, it passed into the family of Landens, where it remained as a joint property until a few years back, when it was purchased by Baron Stiers d'Aertselaer, for 2000l. On the decease of the Baron it was sold for the benefit of his children, in a collection of other valuable pictures, at Antwerp, on the 29th July, 1822, and was purchased by Mr. Smith, in conjunction with another person, at the total cost of about 3000 guineas.

Shortly after the arrival of the picture in England it

1842.]

was sent to Carlton House, at the express desire of His Majesty George IV., who was highly delighted with the picture, and retained it a fortnight. An opinion having been expressed by His Majesty's advisers that the price demanded was too high, Mr. Smith, "anxious to see so distinguished a specimen of the art in the royal collection, offered to accept such remuneration upon the prime cost as those gentlemen might think fit to recommend." "A proposition was then made, that some other pictures should be taken in part exchange, but they proved to be of such very indifferent quality," says Mr. Smith, that he was "under the necessity of refusing them. Thus the affair terminated."

In March, 1823, it was exhibited at Mr. Stanley's Rooms, Old Bond-street, and was viewed with general admiration and applause. During the four months of its exhibition nearly twenty thousand persons are stated to have visited it; after which it was bought by Sir Robert Peel for 3500 guineas.

FUNERAL CEREMONIES OF THE ANCIENT KINGS OF MEXICO.

WHEN a king of Mexico died, a lock of his hair was cut off as a relic, for therein lay the remembrance of his soul, an emerald was put into his mouth, and his body was wrapped in seventeen costly and curiously wrought mantles. Upon the outer mantle was the device or arms of that idol to whom he was most devoted, and in whose temple the body was to be buried. Upon the king's face was a visor, painted with devilish gestures, and beset with jewels; then they killed the slave whose office it was to light the lamps and make the fire to the gods of the palace. They then carry the body to the temple, with targets, arrows, maces, and ensigns, to throw into the funeral fire. The priests, some of whom are called Papas, and dress in black, receive him with a sorrowful song, and drums and flutes; and the body is cast into the fire, together with jewels, and a dog newly strangled to serve as a guide. Then about two hundred persons are sacrificed by the priest, to serve him. The fourth day fifteen slaves, upon the twentieth day five, and on the sixtieth day three, are sacrificed for his soul. The ashes and the lock of hair, with another which had been saved from the time of his birth, were put into a chest, painted on the inside with devilish shapes, on which chest was the image of the king. The king of Michnacan observed the like bloody rites; many gentlewomen were appointed to office in the service of the deceased, and while his body was burning, were killed with clubs, and buried four and four in a grave: slaves and free maidens were killed to attend the gentlewomen.-PURCHAS.

SEA PIECE IN THE PACIFIC.

Os approaching the land, we found that the barrier reef which encircles it afforded but one narrow entrance; and even this was occupied by powerful and rapid rollers, which were anything but inviting. A canoe, fishing in the offing, enabled us to obtain a pilot; when taking advantage of a tranquil interval, we pushed through the swell, and passed by an abrupt transition into the vast expanse of lagoon water between the reef and the main-land.

It is impossible to imagine a scene more perfectly beautiful than the one presented to our view as we glided through this placid sea, and towards the land, which rose towering, rocky, and isolated, at the distance of about three miles ahead of us. On every side a broad sheet of water, mapped out in various hues corresponding with its depth, contrasted strongly with the turbulence of the ocean outside the reef; while the bosom of the lagoon was strewn with many coral islets, level, circular, and often of great extent; their shores girded by a sandy beach of dazzling whiteness, and their soil covered with cocoa-nut palms, pandanus and casuarina trees, as well as with a short and verdant pasturage, unencumbered by any other underwood than a few bushes of Cape jessamine. Here and there a solitary hut appeared amidst the foliage of these motus; and some small goats (probably left here by a ship) ceased to browse on our approach, and followed the boats along the beach, bleating forth a plaintive recognition. The serenity of the morning and the sweet odour of pandanus flowers combined to increase the attractions of this enchanting spot, and conveyed an impression on which memory yet dwells with extreme pleasure.-BENNETT's Whaling Voyage,

THE LADDER TO THRIFTE.
To take thy calling thankefully,
And shunne the path to beggery.
To grudge in youth no drudgerie,
To come by knowledge perfectly.
To count no travell slaverie,
That brings in penny saverlie.
To follow profite earnestly,
But meddle with no pelfery.
To get by honest practisy,
And keepe thy gettinges covertly.
To lash not out too lashingly,
For feare of pinching penurie.
To get good plotte to occupie,
And store and use it husbandly.
To shew thy landlord courtisy,
And keepe thy covenauntes orderly
To hold that thine is lawfully,
For stoutnesse or for flatterie.
To wed good wife for companie,
And live in wedlocke honestly.
To furnish house with houshouldrie,
And make provision skilfully.
To joyne to wife good familie,
And none to keepe for braverie.
To suffer none live idlely,
For feare of idle knaverie.
To courage wife in huswiferie,
And use well-doers gently.
To keepe no more but needefully,
And count excesse unsavourie,
To raise beetimes up readily,
Both snorting Hob and Margerie.
To walk thy pastures usually,
To spie ill neighbours subtilly.
To hate revengement hastily,
For losing love and amitie.
To live by neighbour neighbourly
And shew him no discourtesie.
To answer straungers civily,
But shew him not thy secresy.
To use no frend decietefully,
And offer no man villanie.
To learne howe foe to pacifie,
But trust him not too trustily.
To keep thy touch substantially,
And in thy worde use constancie.
To make thy bondes advisedly,
And come not bounde through surety.
To hate to live in infamie,
Through craft and living naughtilie.
To banish house of blasphemie,
Least crosses cross unluckily.
To stop mischance through policie,
For chancing too unhappily.
To beare thy crosses patiently,
For worldly things are slippery.
To traine thy childe up vertuously,
That vertue vice may qualifie.
To bridle wild oates' fantasy,
To spend thee nought unthriftilie.
To pray to God continually,
To aide thee against thine enimie.
To spend the Sabbath holily,
And helpe the poore in miserie.
To live in conscience quietly,
And keepe thyselfe from malady.
To ease thy sicknesse speedily,
Ere helpe be past recoverie.

These be the steppes unfeinedly,
To climb to thrift by husbandrie.
These steppes both teach,
and reach thee shall;
To come by thrift,

to shift withall.

196

THE

PHOTOMETER, OR LIGHT-MEASURER.

IT is a subject for regret that science has not yet furnished an instrument of sufficient accuracy and delicacy to measure light, as the thermometer measures heat. Although the quantity of light which falls upon the earth is very unequal at different times, depending, as it does, upon the height of the sun, upon clouds, and upon certain states of the atmosphere, yet there are no means for comparing days together, under the relation of their degree of light, as we are accustomed to compare them with respect to heat. The photometers that we at present possess are adequate to little more than the comparison of two luminous bodies, and then this comparison is only exact within certain limits. The difficulties which attend inquiries of this nature are well stated by a high authority in this department of science.

We know of no instrument, no contrivance, as yet, by which light alone, (as such,) can be made to produce mechanical motion, so as to mark a point upon a scale, or in any way to give a direct reading off of its intensity, or quantity at any moment. This obliges us to refer all our estimations of the degrees of brightness at once to our organs of vision, and to judge of their amount by the impression they produce immediately on our sense of sight. But the eye, though sensible to an astonishing range of different degrees of illumination, is (partly on that very account) but little capable of judging of their relative strength, or even of recognising their identity when presented at intervals of time, especially at distant intervals. In this manner the judgment of the eye is as little to be depended on for a measure of light, as that of the hand would be for the weight of a body casually presented. This uncertainty, too, is increased by the nature of the organ itself, which is in a constant state of fluctuation; the opening of the pupil, which admits the light, being continually expanding and contracting by the stimulus of the light itself, and the sensibility of the nerves which feel the impression varying at every instant. Let any one call to mind the blinding and overpowering effect of a flash of lightning in a dark night, compared with the sensation an equally vivid flash produces in full day-light. In the one case the eye is painfully affected, and the violent agitation into which the nerves of the retina are thrown is sensible for many seconds afterwards, in a series of imaginary alternations of light and darkness. By day no such effect is produced, and we trace the course of the flash, and the zig-zags of its motion, with perfect distinctness and tranquillity, and without any of those ideas of overpowering intensities, which previous and subsequent total darkness attach to it.

But yet more. When two unequally illuminated objects (surfaces of white paper for instance) are presented at once to the sight, though we pronounce immediately on the existence of a difference, and see that one is brighter than the other, we are quite unable to say what is the proportion between them. Illuminate half a sheet of paper by the light of one candle, and the other half by that of several, the difference will be evident. But if ten different persons are desired, from their appearance only, to guess at the number of candles shining on each, the probability is, that no two will agree. Nay, even the same person, at different times, will form different judgments. This throws additional difficulty in the way of photometrical estimations, and would seem to render this one of the most delicate and difficult departments of optics.-HERSCHEL's Treatise on Light.

Under favourable circumstances, however, the eye is a tolerably exact judge of the equality of two degrees of illumination seen at once. If, for example, we wish to ascertain the relative quantities of light furnished by two different lamps, the most simple method is to place two disks of white paper on a wall a few feet apart, and to illuminate one disk with the light of one lamp, and the other disk with that of the other: then the lamp which affords most light must be removed to such a distance that the two disks may appear equally illuminated. On comparing the distance between each lamp and its corresponding disk, we shall be able to calculate the luminous intensities of the two lamps. These intensities are to each other as the square of the

[MAY 21,

distance: that is, suppose that when the disks are equally illuminated, the distance from one lamp to its disk is double the distance of the second lamp from its disk, then the first lamp is four times more luminous than the second; nine times more luminous if the distance be triple, and so on. This method is not very exact, because the eye cannot appreciate accurately, the amount of light necessary to make the two disks equally bright. A better method is shown in fig. 1: two conical Fig. 1,

tubes are united at their smaller extremities, and terminated at this place by two disks of white paper. If we wish to compare the light of a lamp with that of a candle, in order to ascertain how many candles will give a light equivalent to that of the lamp, the two lights are placed so far apart that their rays shall not interfere, the broad end of one of the tubes is directed to the lamp, and the broad end of the other tube to the candle. The lamp is then drawn back, or the candle moved forward, until the two disks appear equally luminous. The distances are then measured, and the calculation made as before.

The photometer of the late Professor Ritchie is the most perfect instrument constructed, for measuring the relative brightness of two lights, provided they are of the same colour, a condition which also applies to the two methods just given. A vertical section of Ritchie's photometer is shown in fig. 2. It consists of a rectangular box, open at both ends, and blackened within, to absorb extraneous light. On the top is a long, narrow, rectangular slip A B, covered with tissue or oiled paper. Within are two sheets of looking-glass, C D and C E, cut from the same piece in order to secure uniformity of reflection. Each sheet has the same width as the box, and its reflecting surface is turned towards the open end of the box. each other at c, where there is a line w.ich divides the The upper edges of the mirrors rest against black card to prevent the mingling of the lights reflected space A B into two equal parts. This line is formed of from the two mirrors. In using the instrument it is placed between the lights, whose intensities are to be compared, so that they may be reflected from CD and c E, upon the tissue a B. It is then approached nearer to one or the other, until, to an eye situated above A B, the two portions A C and B C appear equally illuminated, which, on account of the immediate proximity of a C and B C, may be determined with tolerable accuracy. distances must be measured from the vertical CF. viewing the illuminated disk, it is well to look at it through a prismatic box, blackened within to absorb shining light. about eight inches long, this box is to rest on the upper part A B of the photoOne end of meter, and the other to be applied close to the eye. Sometimes, instead of using mirrors and the paper-screen,

The

In

the inclined planes are covered with white paper, and looked at directly through the aperture. However the instrument be used, a mean of several observations should be taken, the instrument being turned round each time. When the lights compared are of different colours (as daylight, or moonlight, and candlelight) the rectangular opening A B is to be covered with a piece of fine white paper, printed distinctly with a small type; the paper is to be brushed over with oil, and then the instrument being placed between the lights, they are to be moved till the printing can be read continuously along the paper, with equal ease on the one side as on the other. Or the printed paper may be pasted on the mirrors, or the inclined surfaces against which they lie, and is then to be read through the opening. It is of advantage to enlarge the openings in their applications of printed paper.

The simple method of comparing two sources of illumination by means of shadows (fig. 3), was contrived Fig. 3.

by Count Rumford. The two lights are so arranged that each may cast a shadow of some object, such as a book or a stick upon a plane, white surface: the eye can then form a tolerable judgment of the relative darkness of these shadows. The brighter light, which casts the deepest shadow, is then to be removed, or the weaker to be approached, till the two are equalized, and the distance of the two lights from the object which intercept their rays being measured, the relative intensity of the lights will be, as before, as the squares of the distances. In this case the shadow of one light is illuminated solely by the rays of the other, while the surrounding space is illuminated by the rays of both; when the shadows therefore are equal, the lights are equal.

The method of Count Rumford is so easy that we trust our young readers will try a few experiments with it. All the apparatus required is a large table, with the white table-cloth on to receive the shadows, and a little book to cast them. The inventor applied this method to measure the variations in light, furnished by a candle left unsnuffed. There are few persons who do not feel annoyed to have to use the snuffers so often, but we know that if they are allowed to remain idle, carbon accumulates in the wick, and hinders the combustion of the tallow. Now supposing the light furnished by a candle when properly snuffed to equal 100, and if it be allowed to burn untouched during 11 minutes, the light will then be equal to only 39; and if allowed to burn unsnuffed during half an hour, only 16. Or, in other words, a room is equally well lighted, whether we put into it two candles that have just been snuffed, or five candles that have remained 11 minutes without snuffing, or thirteen candles that have been half an hour unsnuffed. It may, perhaps, be thought that we do not need a scientific instrument to convince us of the utility of snuffing candles; but it may be useful to know the extent of the utility of a pair of snuffers.

The photometer of Professor Leslie is constructed on the principle that light is convertible into heat. This principle, however, is not established, and, therefore, no dependence can be placed upon the instrument. It con

sists of the differential thermometer, of which one of the bulbs is blackened and the other clear: a glass case is put over the instrument to exclude rays of heat. When this instrument is used, the light to which it is exposed passes through the clear ball, but is absorbed by the black, and, supposing this light to be converted into heat, the rise of temperature will indicate the degree of illumination. In speaking of this instrument the ventor says, that when

Placed in the open air, it exhibits distinctly the progress of illumination, from the morning's dawn to the full vigour of noon, and thence its gradual decline till evening has spread her mantle; it marks the growth of light from the winter solstice to the height of summer, and its subsequent decay through the dusky shades of autumn; and it enables different countries, the brilliant sky of Italy, for instance, us to compare, with numerical accuracy, the brightness of with the murky atmosphere of Holland.

These remarks apply quite as much to a delicate air thermometer, as this photometer essentially was, as to the instrument with which it was professed to measure light. Indeed when we notice the discrepancies in the results of those whose reputation for accurate observation stands deservedly high, we must at once admit the imperfection of all photometrical measurements hitherto made. Leslie fixes the relative intensity of solar light to lunar light at 94,500: Bouguer finds it to be 256,289; and Wollaston 800,000. The great difference between these numbers depends not only upon the uncertainty of the means of observation, but also upon the state of the atmosphere, and the altitude of the heavenly bodies, at the times of observation. Leslie also infers that the light emitted from the sun is 12,000 times more powerful than the flame of a wax candle; so that, if a portion of the luminous solar matter, rather less than an inch in diameter, were transported to our planet, it would throw forth a blaze of light equal to the effect of 12,000 candles-Bouguer says 30,000 candles.

The discovery of an exact method of estimating the intensity of a natural source of light, such, for example, as a fixed star, would be of great benefit to science, especially to astronomy. Stars might then be classified according to their luminous intensities, and their probable distances from the earth could be thus more perfectly arrived at.

The aid which an instrument affords

to science depends entirely upon the accuracy of its indications: it is valuable only when it affords the

same numerical results whenever and wherever the same forces concur to produce them, and when any variation in the forces is met by a corresponding variation in the results.

ON EARLY RISING.

RISE with the lark, and with the lark to bed.
The breath of night's destructive to the hue
Of every flower that blows. Go to the field,
And ask the humble daisy why it sleeps
Soon as the sun departs: why close the eyes
Of blossoms infinite, ere the still moon
Her oriental veil puts off? Think why,
Nor let the sweetest blossom be exposed
That nature boasts, to night's unkindly damp.
Give to repose the solemn hour she claims;
And from the forehead of the morning steal
The sweet occasion. Oh! there is a charm
That morning has that gives the brow of age
A smack of youth, and makes the lip of youth
Breathe perfumes exquisite. Expect it not,
Ye who till noon upon a down-bed lie,
Indulging feverish sleep, or, wakeful, dream
Of happiness no mortal heart has felt
But in the regions of romance. Ye fair,
Like vou it must be wooed or never won,
And, being lost, it is in vain ye ask
For milk of roses and Olympian dew;
Cosmetic art no tincture can afford,
The faded features to restore: no chain,
Be it of gold, and strong as adamant,

Can fetter beauty to the fair one's will.-HURDIS.