patronage? Are not a hundred other artists of talent doing well, as the phrase is, in their profession? Mr. Haydon, indeed, though not mentioned in this volume, may be cited as a strik ing instance of great powers and exemplary diligence, failing of their reward. We shall decline entering on the explanations necessary for the full comprehension of Mr. H.'s case: it is altogether sui generis, and is out of the limits of our present inquiry; but it would be easy to shew, that his want of suc cess is not to be charged on any defect in the public taste, nor on any real absence of enlightened patronage. Mr. Hilton is brought forward by the present Writer, as an instance of unre." quited talent.

A painter of greater power in invention, design, execution, and colouring, the world has not been able to boast of for a length of time. It is surely to be lamented, that talents so splendid should be suffered to exert themselves without due encouragement; and that such fine specimens as those we have lately seen from the pencil of this accomplished artist, should, for want of a patron, be taken down from the walls, successively, of Somerset-House and the British Institution, to be carried back, with their just claims to public favour, humbled, disappointed, and mortified, to no other than to those enclosing the study of him who had produced them! O tempora, 0 mores ?

We have reason for believing that these syllables of dolour' are misplaced, inasmuch as Mr. Hilton has, we have understood from good authority, been, on the whole, successful in the disposal of his pictures, and, we should hope, on remunerating terms. His splendid composition from Comus' is, however, specifically stated to remain unsold. Though we regret the fact, yet, we think that it may be explained, partly from the subject, and partly from what at the time appeared to us the erroneous conception of the principal figure. The Lady,' if we recollect rightly, was represented as a plump, timid-looking blonde, in an attitude not peculiarly graceful, and without a trace of that majestic character that appears in her severe re buke to Comus, and the decision with which she repelled his sophistical pleadings. Assuredly, there was nothing Miltonic in her form or aspect; nothing that reminded the spectator of any resemblance to her brothers.

Their port was more than human, as they stood:

I took it for a faery vision

Of some gay creatures of the element,
That in the colours of the rainbow live,

And play i'th plighted clouds. I was awe-struck,
And, as I past, I worshipped.'

In all besides, the picture was admirable; and the groupe of gloating satyrs at the Lady's right hand, surpassed, in expression and execution, every thing of the kind we have seen.

But the most overwhelming illustration of the bad taste of these evil times, yet remains to be brought forward. It seems that Mr. Wright has long had it in contemplation to publish the present essay, and that some years ago,' two booksellers of credit and renown,' declined the risk, on the plea that ' works respecting subjects connected with the Fine Arts, meet with no encouragement from the public' More recently he received: from one of the first publishers in town,' the following note.

From the uncertain demand for works connected with the Fine Arts, we would rather decline speculating on the publication of your work respecting Wilson; should you, however, be disposed to be at the expense of printing, &c. we will with pleasure publish it for you on the usual terms.'

We take it for granted that these courteous and prudent bibliopoles had seen the manuscript; and in that case, we can fully understand the reasons of their hesitation, without having recourse to the apathy of the public mind towards works con'nected with the fine arts.' The ostensible plea in commerce is not always the real motive, and we can imagine a very dif-" ferent reply, if the papers had been tendered by Hope, Ottley, Fuseli, or Shee.

One of the most interesting chapters in this volume, is that in which Mr. Wright vindicates the superiority of the British school over the continental artists, in all the leading excellen→ cies of their profession, and especially in those connected with colour. In the limited opportunities which have been afforded us of making the comparison, we have been invariably im pressed with the same feeling; and by nothing have we been more astonished, than by the precedency which appears to be universally conceded to Canova in his own specific branch. If every thing that we have seen of Chantrey's were wholly of his own production, we should have no hesitation in placing him, in some respects, decidedly at the head of his class; but we have understood, and internal evidence appears to support the information, that he has been assisted in some of his designs, by Stothard, and that the perfectly unrivalled monument in Litchfield Cathedral, was, in particular, chiefly, if not wholly, the invention of that delightful painter. Flaxman is, probably, take him for all in all, our principal sculptor. He is of unbounded fertility in design; his outlines from Dante, Homer, and Æschylus, exhibit many specimens of skilful conception and adaptation. His deficiencies seem to lie in pathos and muscular action. With the works of Canova we will not affect to be very extensively acquainted; but, if the Hebe' may be

ranked among his happiest productions, (and it is certainly the best that we have seen,) we can only say that it appeared to us decidedly inferior to the Psyche of Westmacott.

A curious and instructive account is given in this chapter, of the vagaries of a gentleman who was considered among the most able and distinguished landscape-painters of the day, ⚫ in one of the principal cities in Germany.' This artist stood high, not only in the estimation of his countrymen, but his fame extended throughout the northern parts of Europe, though it is intimated that his works would not have obtained similar approbation in our own country. Mr. Wright, while travelling on the Continent, applied to this professor for instruction in the mechanical processes of oil-painting, and he gives a whimsical description of his tutor's enthusiastic love of nature.

Though this artist was by no means insensible to the merits of the great masters whose productions he never ceased to extol, he was nevertheless decidedly of opinion, that it was from nature alone, after the first rudiments had been learned, that any thing valuable could be ever obtained. The research, therefore, into the beauties of nature was his continual theme, (nach Natur, nach Natur, he would often repeat,) and so indefatigable was he in his study and observation, that he was in the habit of frequently spending whole days together out of doors, in his anxious endeavours to obtain a thorough knowledge of the intricacies and combinations belonging to the different materials of which landscape is composed. There was, however, one thing about which, above all other considerations, he appeared more particularly solicitous, and that was, his very great desire to hit upon the true way of giving in his pictures that rich, glowing, and harmonious appearance which is presented in the sky, when illumined by the splendours of the rising or the setting sun; having taken it very strongly into his head, that all the great painters in landscape, not excepting Claude himself, of whom more particularly he expressed himself as being a most enthusiastic admirer, had proceeded upon entirely wrong principles, and had, consequently, as might, very naturally be expected, altogether failed in their, attempts to produce the desired effect. The manner in which the sun had been represented in their pictures, had, according to this artist's way of thinking, been quite defective, and produced under a perfectly mistaken idea; for, observed he, very gravely, instead of exhibiting the disk of that luminary as a light-coloured object, which they invariably had, he was clearly of opinion that it ought to be painted dark, the absolute truth of which he conceived himself to have ascertained beyond the shadow of a doubt, having repeatedly verified the fact by his own ocular observation during the course of numberless experiments.

Though I did

my

best to enter into the nature of my instructor's

*After Nature, after Nature.

mode of reasoning, making at the same time, according to his direc tions, many very painful experiments, in order, if possible, to succeed, and in the practising of which I at several different times nearly half-blinded myself, so insufferable to my naked eyes were the dazzling rays of the sun; still, in spite of all my endeavours, I was never once able to see the thing in a similar light with himself. The fact seemed to be, that this worthy enthusiast, under the erroneous impression which he had imbibed, had been so long in the habit of gazing, with his eyes wide open, at the blazing orb of day, and had so repeatedly all but extinguished them, they being of a conformation essentially different in every respect from those with which the bird of Jove is supplied, that at length, as may naturally be supposed, the zealous observer could perceive nothing at all; that flit tering indistinctness excepted which ever accompanies the unprotected exposure of the organs of sight to the painful and intolerable blaze of a cloudless sun.

Upon again visiting this good man, about a twelvemonth or so afterwards, I was quite pleased to find him perfectly elate, and in the highest spirits imaginable, he having at length succeeded, as he exultingly informed me, in discovering the grand desideratum, the object of all his labour and research. After shaking me very cordially, by the hand, he, without any further ceremony, led me into his painting room: "There," said he, as we entered, "look there, I have got it at last; now you may see exactly how the sun should be painted; there's Nature herself." Upon casting my eye towards his easel, I observed a landscape of considerable dimensions, in a state of much forwardness, containing a large expanse of sky, glow, ing, for the most part, with all the blended hues which the mixture of red, yellow, and white is capable of producing; in the very midst and most conspicuous part of which might be seen a little, round, darkish grey spot, about the size of a threepenny silver piece, and which I evidently perceived he intended for nothing more or less than the shining sun. The effect produced by this curious display was, as may easily be imagined, ludicrous in the highest degree.

But it is time to regain sight of the great artist whose biography gives its title to the quarto in our hands. Richard Wilson, the third son of a Welch clergyman, was born in 1713. He seems to have exhibited a decided early preference for the art in which he afterwards excelled, since he was placed under the tuition of an obscure London portrait-painter, named Wright. In 1748, he was employed to paint a large picture of his late majesty when Prince of Wales, with his brother,t the late Duke of York.' In some of his early efforts, he imitated the style of Rembrandt; but he does not appear to have advanced beyond the average attainments of his contemporaries. In 1749, he visited Italy, still bending his attention to portraits, until the following circumstance gave his talents their true and effective determination.

One day, while waiting for the coming home of Zuccarelli, upon whom he had called at Venice, he 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. Another occurrence, which happenedonot long afterwards, tended to confirm him in his inclination 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 readily accepted, and the picture delivered to Vernet, who, with a liberality as commendable às it is rare, placed it in his exhibition room, and recommended the painter of it to the particular attention of 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 French artist.'

Wilson, though in portrait he started as an imitator, is affirmed by Mr. Wright to have avoided the subjugation of his powers to the unimproving drudgery of copying pictures of the old masters,' and to have given himself up, unfettered, to the study of nature-an assertion not quite in harmony with the opinion avowed in a subsequent page, that- in the be ginning of his practice in landscape painting, Wilson must have very carefully observed, and in no small degree attentively studied, the works of Momper.' If it be said, that to copy, and to study,' are distinct things, it may be replied, they are much the same when carried so far as to produce a truly remarkable resemblance both in manner and colour. Be this, however, as it may, (and it ought not to be forgotten, that this resemblance between Wilson and Momper rests, as far as we know, upon the single observation of Mr. Wright,) Wilson, on his return from Rome in 1755, gave proof of his splendid talents by exhibiting his Niobe;' a picture which, notwithstanding its great excellencies, Mr. Edwards's feeble defence has not rescued from the censures of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Wilson was one of the original members of the Royal Academy, and, after the death of Hayman, became librarian. Towards the close of his life, he retired into Wales, where he died, in 1782, having survived his memory and mental powers.

In person, Wilson was somewhat above the middle size, of robust make, and rather corpulent, his head, at the same time, being large in proportion to the rest of his figure. During the latter years of his life, his face became red, and was covered with blotches; he had