RICHARD WILSON THE LANDSCAPE PAINTER. 11. Wilson's art Will hold its empire o'er my heart, Odes to the Academicians, by Peter Pindar. WHAT a pity, (says the severe satirist who penned the above lines,) what a pity that the world should be so fascinated by high finishing, fan-painting, the smooth Birmingham-waiter glare, the pigmy efforts of the art,-as to be totally unaffected by the powers of the giant WILSON,-as to proscribe the broad and vivid effects of his pencil, and forbid his works an entrance into its palaces! What a triumph for the shades of the Medicis, the patrons and idolators of Michael Angelo, and Raphael! What a pity that the patronage which might have fostered the breed of eagles, should have perverted the blessing to the support of hedge-sparrows and tom-tits! Wilson's processes in painting are described, on apparently good authority, to have been as follows:-The colours he employed were white, Naples yellow, vermilion, light ochre, brown ochre, dark or Roman ochre, lake, yellow lake, lamp black, Prussian blue, ultramarine, and burnt terra di Sienna. His dead colouring was very broad and simple, giving a faint idea of the effect and colour intended, but without any very bright light or strong dark; quite flat, and no handling whatever; the shadows on the fore-ground thin and clear: air-tint prevailing. When perfectly dry, he went over it a second time, heightening every part with colour, and deepening the shadows, but still brown, free, flat, and loose, and left in a state for finishing; the half-tints laid in, without high lights. The third time, he altered what was necessary in the masses of light, adding all the necessary sharpness and handling to the different objects, and then gave the finish to his picture. His great care was to bring up all the parts of his picture together, and not to finish one part before an other, so that his picture should not, as the painters term it, run away with him; and that while working in one part, he should introduce that colour into other parts where it suited, or to lower the tone, fit to make it suit, that the different parts might keep company with each other. His air-tint was blue, burnt ochre, and light red, sometimes a little vermilion, and in other cases, he made his air-tints of the lakes and blue; with the lakes, he made his glazing tints on the fore-ground very rich and warm, and of their full force; but all this was moderated by the tints he laid on the glazings. If any part was hard, he restored it by scumbling the air-tint, suited to the distance of the part, over it, and then added the finishing touches and sharpness, to prevent its being smoky or mealy. A magylph of linseed-oil and mastic varnish, in which the latter predominated,-was his usual vehicle, and an oyster-shell served him to contain it. He dead-coloured with Prussian blue, but always finished the sky and distance with ultramarine, being of opinion that no other blue could give the beautiful effect of the air. given to his verdure; and though being sometimes employed to paint particular views which were less picturesque than he would have selected, and consequently partook of the formality of portraiture, they were always treated with taste and ingenuity." Some anecdotes collected by Mr. Field exhibit characteristic points in Wilson's character. On our artist's return from Italy, he was naturally impressed with a sense of those powers which had won for him the good opinion of eminent men in Rome, and he might also have been somewhat disposed to under-rate the powers of his contemporaries. His return excited some inte rest, and much criticism in the coteries of art, at that time; and those artists, &c., who then constituted themselves what they called a "Committee of Taste," and led the understanding of the public in art, sat in judg ment several times upon him, and came to a resolution purporting-That the manner of Mr. Wilson was not suited to the English taste, and that if he hoped for patronage, he must change it for the lighter style of Zucarelli. Mr. Penny, (the academician who painted a fac simile of the Death of Wolfe, &c.) was deputed to communicate the resolution to Wilson, which was done accordingly. Wilson, who was painting at the time, heard it in silence, went on with his work, but soon turned round, and very coolly, and in the most contemptuous manner, gave an answer expressive of his thorough indifference as to the opinion of this self-constituted Committee of Taste. Nevertheless, he is said to have taken the hint in improving his style, thus showing that he did not consider himself above the reach of advice. But he was too great to grovel, and he felt that the distinctions of fortune sunk into con tempt before the riches of the mind. "He wanted that yielding spirit which is due from the individual to the order of society and his own happiness, and disregarded the sober conformity of his own judgment to the Ways of the world." The contemptuous answer of the artist, to the mes sage of the committee, seems to have been the origin of much of his subsequent ill success. The members opposed him in various ways, and injured him in the estimation of his patrons, which, added to his spurning. rather than conciliating the esteem of Sir Joshua Reynolds, was highly prejudicial to his interests. Thus his talents did not secure him from the pressure of neces sity, much less advance him to the distinction be deserved. "He was doomed to encounter the galling indifference of a tasteless public, which was probably aggravated by the jealousy and intrigues of some of the most distinguished of his contemporaries, with whom he did not live on very amicable terms. This also has been said to have resulted partly from his own conduct, which was by no means distinguished by a conciliatory disposition, or great suavity of manners.' An instance of the proud feeling, and freedom of retort on the part of Wilson towards Sir Joshua Reynolds, is a proof of the unconciliatory nature of our artist. The President one day proposed as a toast at a dinner of the academicians, "Gainsborough, our best landscape painter." Wilson, in his turn, retorted by giving, "Gainsborough, our best portrait painter." The contempt of the higher classes, combined with the pressure of poverty, compelled Wilson to seek for society in taverns, and places of public resort, where, The features of Wilson's Italian landscapes are grand, with his humble pot of porter, and with the witty conimposing, and true to nature. It has been justly ob-versation of a few old acquaintances, he forgot for served of them, that the waving line of mountains which awhile the mortifications to which he was subjected. In bound the distance in every point of view; the dreary a satirical picture of the Royal Academy, Zoffani introand inhospitable plains, rendered solemnly interesting by duced portraits of all the academicians, and represented the mouldering fragments of temples, tombs, and aque- Wilson with a pot of porter by his side. This roused ducts; are all indicated in a masterly manner, which the indignation of our artist so much, that he took a cannot but be considered peculiarly grand and classical. stick, and threatened Zoffani with a sound thrashing, "In his English pictures," says Byron, "he is particu- which he would certainly have inflicted, had not Zoffani larly successful in the fresh and dewy brightness he has prudently painted it out. Shut out, partly by his own want of tact, from circles which his genius would have adorned, and by which his character might have been softened, poor Wilson grew coarse in person and manners; a painful eruption on his face sometimes attracted notice as he passed along the streets, to avoid which he walked with a handkerchief to his face. His appearance was therefore sufficient to account for the prevalent idea, not confined to his own day, that he was a mere 'porter-drinker," "a coarse man who might be taken for the landlord of a public-house," &c. Thus was a man, really well-descended, with the advantages of education and travel, united to great diligence in the pursuit of that excellence to which he afterwards attained ;thus was he degraded by the accumulated pressure of poverty, insult, and neglect, into a morose and austere being, seeking his few pleasures in the lower ranks of life, and acquiring a repulsive grossness of behaviour and of appearance. "And how," asks the compiler of Wilson's memoirs, "can it be possible for any human being to maintain a temper at all times serene and unruffled when preyed upon by the irritating feelings which a long and painful series of unmerited disappointments and cruel neglect could not fail to produce? Instead, therefore, of passing an opinion too hasty or inconsiderate, respecting a character so much deserving of our commiseration, it will be far more becoming in us, while we look upon his failings in a less unfavourable and rather in a compassionate point of view, to ascribe, as we most justly may, that harshness of demeanour which has been so much complained of, to its only true and very obvious cause, i. e., to the galling indifference and ungrateful neglect which it was his sad lot to experience from the undiscriminating public of his day." The sunnier portions of Wilson's life were those in which, having been lucky enough to sell a picture, he would go and enjoy a cheerful meal with some old acquaintance. A lively picture is given of some of these meetings in an entertaining publication called Wine and Walnuts, whence we select the following. Thomson, an organist who kept a music shop in Exeter 'Change, was a favourite companion of Wilson's, and exactly suited to his taste, being humorous, good tempered, and recherché in his own profession. Sometimes, when a propitious star disposed a connoisseur to look in upon Wilson, and purchase one or two of his easel pictures, he would dress himself in his best suit, and proceed to the Black Horse, near Somerset House barracks, where he would order some well-cooked dish (Scotch collops was one of his favourites) to be sent to Thomson's. Then proceeding to the 'Change, he would busy himself with warming the bright pewter plates on the top of Thomson's German stove, while the organist, to use his own phrase, “composed the salad." Wilson liberally provided every necessary on these occasions, and Thomson would facetiously say, "there is the thema," placing the endive and celery on a plate; "there's for the majors," pouring the vinegar into the bowl; "and there the minors," as he opened the Florence flask; then stirring the egg, he would talk of tone and semitone; and holding the mustard and looking at his patron, beg to know if he liked "a bold diapason." When mixing the ingredients, he would conclude with a bow to Wilson, singing the old madrigal, "Sweet Harmony." These were high treats to the parties, and they sat together enjoying their pipes and their cold punch until the nine o'clock bell rung them out of 'Change. Another, and a very pretty anecdote, is told of a party at Garrick's, at which Wilson was included. Dr. Johnson, Sterne, and Goldsmith, were also present, and the gentlemen kept the ladies waiting some time for supper. We have been lively at your expense, gentlemen," said Mrs. Garrick, when they at last made their appear ance. "To punish you for not obeying our summons, the ladies likened you all to plants, and fruits, and flowers." "Pray let us hear," said Wilson, "doubtless I come in for a sprig of laurel." "No sir," said a lively young lady, "you are wrong." "For rue, per chance," said he. "No, sir, guess again." "Why, I am dubbed bitter enough; perhaps a crab," said he, "for that man (pointing to Garrick) has dubbed me Sour Dick." "No," said the laughing lady, "will you give it up?" "Yea, madam." "Why then, sir, you are likened to olives; will you dare to inquire farther?” "Let me see," said Wilson, all eyes upon him; "well then, my dear, out with it, I dare.” "Then," said she, rising and curtseying most gravely, "know, sir, that Mister Wilson is rough to the taste at first, tolerable by a little longer acquaintance, and delightful at last.' "Art thou content, friend Wilson?" said Johnson; "that is very handsome, sir." Wilson never looked so becomingly before; he made the damsel his best bow. "Faith,” said he, "I shall henceforth have a better opinion of myself; I drink to you, my dear, and should be proud to give your hand to one deserving of your superior merits." The same lady likened Sterne to the sensitive plant, that shrank into itself with more than earthly feeling. "And now for Dr. Johnson's, miss, if you will favour us," said Goldsmith. "May I take the "Why liberty, sir," said she, looking at the wise man. not, dear?" said Johnson, "certainly, by all means.' "We likened you, sir, then, to an aloe;" and with a faltering voice added, "as a lofty plant, whose glorious head raised towards heaven, adorns creation but once in a hundred years!" Johnson was silent for awhile; then bowing to the ladies, gallantly said: "Ah! shall we be forgiven for thus banishing the gentle sex from our lordly presence? Ladies, we must henceforth learn to sacrifice at the altar of the Graces, and become men again, by emulating the noble knights of old." In the year 1814, a collection of Wilson's pictures amounting to seventy in number, were publicly exhibited in the British Gallery, Pall-Mall; and of the public estimation in which they were then held, the following extract from one of the journals of the day is a proof: The style of this artist is in a peculiar degree chaste, classical, grand, and interesting; and his genius of the most indubitable originality. his landscapes, especially when the subject lies in Italy, It is impossible to contemplate without experiencing emotions of that sublime description, which it is the boast of superior talents to have the power of exciting. The graceful and easy undulations of line in his distances, which carry the delighted eye to the horizon, where it rests on tints truly celestial; the awful grandeur of his scenery, partaking of the sublimity, without the wildness and horror of Salvator Rosa, and the appropriate character which universally pervades it; the affecting and beautiful introduction of the ruined arch, or fallen column, and all the mouldering glories of architecture; the nobleness of his conceptions, and the corresponding vigour of his execution, tend, together, to fill the breast of the spectator with wonder and admiration. In many of these pictures, Italy is realized, and at one glance we are enabled to enter into all the great and powerful feelings which are awakened by the recollection of what that seat of stupendous empire, which virtue raised and our earlier studies taught us respecting that land of heroes, luxury withdrew, till it presented those melancholy scenes, in the representation of which Wilson so pre-eminently excels. They are fine compositions, mingling the loveliest appearances of nature where nature is most beautiful, with dreary and dark desolation, and every touching image which decaying grandeur, in the noblest works of art, From these could suggest to a classical imagination. sources an emotion is engendered by the magic power of the painter, to which we can apply no other epithet than that of "sacred." With such a mastery over the passions we are yet not blinded to some defects of this artist. Many of his landscapes of English views, are not congenial to the soil and climate of England. They partake too much of southern them, to acquire that of another quarter of the globe. skies, and lose the character which ought to belong to There is frequently too much evidence of carelessness in the finish of even those subjects which are the highest in point of conception; and generally speaking, we may observe that the foregrounds are too much neglected. Yet, with these petty blemishes, Wilson must still take his [JULY 20 place among the foremost artists who have adorned the last century. It must be recollected that the pictures which are liable to the above censure are chiefly those which were painted to meet pressing necessities, and when depression and poverty had rendered him careless of his own fame. Some of the finest examples of Wilson's paintings, are, we believe, at Ince Castle, near Liverpool, and were executed for Mr. Blundell, the owner of the castle. Lady Ford, also, is mentioned as the possessor of thirty or forty paintings by this artist. The greater part of these were formerly heaped together without frames, and covered with dust, against the wall of a miserable garret in the Adelphi. A view of Kew Gardens, painted expressly for George the Third, was from some unexplained cause returned upon the artist's hands, which caused extreme mortification and disappointment to Wilson. The names of a few of Wilson's finest compositions are as follows: The Death of Niobe, Phaëton, Evening, (the picture after which our illustration is executed,) View of Rome, Villa of Mecænas at Tivoli, Celadon and Amelia, View on the River Po, Apollo and the Seasons, Meleager and Atalanta, Cicero at his Villa, Lake of Narni, View on the Coast of Baiæ, The Tiber near Rome, Temple of Bacchus, Adrian's Villa, &c. THE ANCIENT FRID-STOOL, OR CHAIR OF PEACE. The English sanctuary was considered as having regard to penance, and those who availed themselves of it, were required to take oath, not only to keep the wholesome regulations of the place, but to observe the Sabbath, attending both morning and evening service in their respective churches. There were certain restric THE ASYLUM, OR RIGHT OF SANCTUARY. tions to the admission of fugitives,-for instance, Jews, II. NOTICES of the formalities anciently employed on entering a place of sanctuary are given by the writer quoted in our last article on this subject, and some of these we proceed to lay before the reader. By the laws of Edward the Confessor, a fugitive, on entering the house or courtyard of a priest, was to be as safe as if he had reached the church, provided the premises stood upon the demesnes of the church. Certain characters, to whom regard and reverence were due, had also the privilege of shielding the criminal, and of affording him, at least, a temporary security. Thus, if a person guilty of a capital offence fled to the king, archbishop, or nobleman, he was to be safe for nine days, but no longer, unless the king was pleased to indulge him with more. If he had recourse to the bishop of his province, or to the alderman, he was to be safe only for seven days, unless his protector was pleased to extend the time of sanctuary. That the design of this was to give the party time to make satisfaction for the injury he had committed, is evident from the tenour of the law. "If he be a thief or a robber, let him restore what he hath unjustly taken, if he hath it in possession; or if he hath wasted and embezzled it, let him make it good from his own property, if he be able." infidels, and heretics, could not claim the privilege of No hindrance was to be put in the way of criminals fleeing to the church for sanctuary; but, on their arrival pardon, a fugitive felon might leave his asylum in safety. On making peace with his adversary, or on obtaining at the precincts, they were to confess before a coroner the crimes for which they sought refuge, and to have their certain number of years, was obliged to leave his saneIt appears, however, that in Wales, a fugitive, after a names duly recorded. When a fugitive fled to the sanctuary, even though unpardoned; and was required to tuary at Durham, he knocked at the door of the Galilee, where men lay ready to let him in at any hour of the day or night. Then was tolled the Galilee bell, to inform the neighbourhood that some one had taken sanctuary. By order of the prior, the fugitive was then clothed in a gown of black cloth, having a yellow cross, called St. Cuthbert's cross, on the left shoulder. He was lodged on a grate within the fabric, on the south side adjoining the door, and near the altar. He was also to be disarmed of all weapons, defensive as well as offensive, and only permitted the use of a pointless knife to carve with. This was the more necessary, because when many criminals met together in the same sanctuary, it was no uncommon thing for them to unite in committing some act of violence. abjure his country for ever. been broken, but repaired with iron clamps. The right of sanctuary was first vested in the church of St. John of Beverley by the munificence of Athelstan, and this frid-stool was placed in a conspicuous situation near the altar, as an emblem of protection to the refugee. The sanctuary was called Leuga, and was comprehended within the circumference of a circle, of which the church was the centre, and whose radius was about a mile. It was defined by four crosses, one of which still exists in a dilapidated state. These crosses were placed on the four principal roads leading to the town. One was called Molescroft Cross, near Leckonfield Park, another was towards North Burton, a third towards Kimvalgraves, and the last to the south of Beverley, on the road which led to the ferry across the Humber. Camden has preserved the Latin inscription said to have been originally engraven on the frid-stool at Beverley. It is to the following effect: "This stone seat is called Freedstool, or Chair of Peace, to which fleeing, every guilty person finds perfect security." Offences against the privileges of sanctuary were looked upon as very heinous in their nature; nevertheless Henry the Second, in his strict regard for justice, would not suffer criminals thus to escape punishment. Knyghton declares that the king showed no reverence at all for asyla, but took delinquents from churches without scruple, both churchmen and laymen. The case of Hubert de Burgh, earl of Kent, justiciary and favourite of Henry the Third, proves that the law of sanctuary was little respected by that monarch also. Dugdale relates that in 1232, Hubert falling into disgrace with his master, took refuge in Merton Priory, but the king commanded the mayor of London to force him thence, and Hubert fled to the high altar. Some political reasons prevented the king from carrying the matter further at that time; but Hubert coming of his own accord from his fastness, soon found it necessary to flee again for refuge to some sacred place. He went to a small chapel at Brentwood, in Essex, taking a cross in one hand, and the host in the other. But these were forced from him, and he was conveyed to the Tower in an ignominious manner, his feet being chained under his horse's belly. The clergy were very indignant at this, and the Bishop of London threatened to excommunicate all who were concerned in the breach of privilege; upon which the king ordered Hubert to be sent back again to the chapel. At the same time, however, by the royal orders, the Sheriffs of Hertford and Essex guarded the chapel so closely, that the prisoner could neither escape nor receive any supplies of food. In this extremity Hubert yielded himself up to the sheriffs, and was a second time conveyed to the Tower. His affairs being in part made up, he was afterwards sent to the castle of Devizes, from whence he escaped to a neighbouring church. His pursuers found him before the altar with the cross in his hands, but dragged him away, and took him back to the castle. The Bishop of Salisbury was roused by this breach of privilege committed within his diocese, and after ineffectual remonstrances with the governors of the castle, he excommunicated the whole garrison, and joining with other prelates he preferred a complaint before the king, which was so strongly pressed, that Henry ordered the prisoner to be restored to his sanctuary. This, however, was of little benefit to Hubert, for the king commanded the Sheriff of Wiltshire to prevent any person from bringing him victuals. A troop of armed men effected the rescue of the pri-GooD example is a language and an argument which everysoner, who escaped into Wales, and at last died peaceably in that country. This account is curious, as exhibiting the state of feeling on the part of the monarch, who evidently wished, but dared not, to abolish the law in question, and the strong desire on the part of the clergy to maintain it inviolate. The principal sanctuaries in this kingdom were as follows: Aberdaron (Wales), Abingdon, Armethwaite (Cumberland), Beaulieu, Beverley, Battle-Abbey, Colchester, Derby, Durham, Dover, Hexham, Lancaster, Lechlade, Manchester, Merton Priory, Northampton, Norwich, Ripon, St. Martin's le Grand (London), St. Mary le Bow (London), Temple (London), Wells, Westminster, Winchester, York. In Scotland, Holyrood Abbey afforded protection to debtors. At the dissolution of monasteries sanctuaries were confined to parish churches, and their churchyards, cathedrals, hospitals, and collegiate churches, and no immunity was to be allowed to persons guilty of the more serious offences. On the re-establishment of popery in Queen Mary's reign, the right of sanctuary was restored to its wonted vigour. It was again restricted in the reign of Elizabeth, and in that of James the First it was totally abolished. Our engraving represents the frid-stool or chair of peace which still exists in Beverley Minster, York, being placed on the left of the entrance to the vestry. It is hewn out of solid stone, with a hollow back; it has been And This chair of peace, (says Mr. Allen in his History of York,) was a full refuge and safety from the immediate infliction of punishment for any crime whatsoever. In general it afforded protection while the nature and circumalways placed in the most favourable point of view; and stances of the crime were investigated, which the Church while its protection was continued, the culprit remained in perfect safety within the limits of the sanctuary. this course continued until the offended party was reconciled. In all cases, the life of the criminal was safe at Beverley, be his crime whatever it might. The fugitive having taken the oath of fealty to the abbot, and being placed in the chair of peace, might compel his adversary to additional cause of the high degree of respect paid in these accept pecuniary compensation. And this privilege was an times to the ministers of religion; for it is thought by some, that persons obtaining sanctuary, who had been guilty of capital crimes, received their pardon on condition of becoming slaves to the abbot, or lord of the place where the privilege was claimed. THE way to advance in Christian perfection is, to make Christian reflections upon every occurrence of life, and to endeavour to improve by them. Ir is a pernicious complaisance to conceal from our friends mortifying and afflictive truths, when it is expedient they should know them. body understands. HE that attempts to get rid of his fears by running from NONE so great as to be above giving an account to God of How careful should the great be to regulate their conduct, when they see how ready the world is to follow their example. He that is angry at another man's faults, and is not angry at his own, is an hypocrite.-BISHOP WILSON. THE pith of conversation does not consist in exhibiting your own superior knowledge on matters of small consequence, but in enlarging, improving, and correcting the information you possess by the authority of others.-SIR WALTER SCOTT. WHAT man should learn is, to reject all that is useless in remembrance, and to retain with cheerfulness, all that can profit and amend. Forget not thy sins, that thou mayest sorrow and repent; remember death, that thou mayest sin no more; remember the judgment of God, that thou mayest justly fear; and never forget His mercy, that thou mayest never be led to despair.-PETRARCH. WHOSOEVER is not persuaded by reason, will not be convinced by authority.-FEYJOO, |