Such fervent transports may not, cannot last, The Tailor's Wife. THE Tailor's wife! avaunt, ye peaceful few; And asses bray through more melodious throats. 66 Minister, there was likewise to be found a male-servant to saddle and unsaddle the minister's horse, to help his mistress off and on, to ride behind his master to the neighbouring Sacraments, to clean his boots, and officiate as gardener-Well-one Sabbath morning, Mr Aiken's Man, John, for Man was the honourable and appropriate designation by which this clerical appendage was known all over the parish, John, then, presented himself in his Master's presence, charged with a kind of half-suppressed, half articulated request, that he might go, that day, as every body else, except the Beddal, was going, to a "Whig" Sacrament at no great distance. Mr Aiken, who, though " quo ad sacra" an inefficient member, was by no means either an ignorant, or an ill-tempered Man, seemed to consider his request for a little, and then assuming a more cheerful look, replied, That, upon one condition, and upon that alone, could he bring himself to consent to John's request, and this condition was, that John should bring him home, what he termed a "note" of the sermon. When John, rather late in the Sabbath evening, had resumed his chair by the kitchen fire, the Minister, as was quite customary in these homely days came " But" the house to receive John's report of the action sermon. This John readily agreed to give, by the aid however, as he was a "wee dry," of a bottle of beer. This request being complied with, John proceeded immediately to groan and to cough, and to clear his throat, as if about to commence some lengthened speech. "Go on," said the Minister, impatient to hear what was a coming. "Go on," answered John, "why have not I been going on these five minutes past, for I am sure Jedediah in five hours gave us little thing else." "Bring John another bottle of beer, Peggy," said Mr Aiken, retiring at the same time with a satisfied aspect, in which something betwixt a smile and a laugh was with difficulty suppressed. Another anecdote is recorded of this same Man John. He had been sitting for some time by "Jedediah's tent," on the Sacramental occasion above alluded to; and the text had been some time read out, and the Minister had spoken for a considerable time at his subject, when an old Woman, who, either from a deficiency of hearing, or from absence, had not heard the text read, applied to John for information in these terms;-whispered into his ear-“whar's his grun-whar's his grun"-" Grun," says John," he has nae grun-he's summing!" If the reader cannot apply all this, I cannot help it. She comes! she treads! in all her furious sway; Now, woe to thee, O less than mortal wight! In vain thy throne of more than Turkish pride, The storm drives onward with increasing force, Nor may'st thou brook its brunt, nor stem its course; Oh, dared the poet half his mind explain, Misfortunes father on our heads, and see With after-thought, unto futurity; Instruct us of our danger when 'tis o'er, Affirm they prophesied it all before; For God knows what, how they will threap and thraw, Then lord it o'er us, with a mighty air, And scarcely grant us, in our home, a chair. The Smith's Wife. By copious draughts, and jarring disputes fired, Oh shame to manhood-blot on nature's plan, Shamed by the fiercest brute that roams the plain ; The fierce Hyæna-" fellest of the fell" In soft connubial amity will dwell. She shrinks at thy approach, whose broken heart VOL. VIII. 2 M And even now, beneath this load of ill, Where'er thy destiny has fixed thy fate, Or in the cottage, or the hall of state, Thy proudest boast, than all thy charms more dear- The Village Sabbath. THE Sabbath sun has mounted in the east, So, to begin the duties of the day, It best befits to sleep the morn away. The second bell has rung. His breakfast o'er, Too late to dress, and far too late to shave, With Willison or Boston, he may see The marrow-marked of true divinity, E'en, standing where he stands, amidst his door-way, Of holy Ambrose, read the Gospel page, Or, with his Devils,' doubtful combat wage; Forth comes the Landlord of the village inn- I pays my rent, and always has the ready' I paid a good two hundred pounds away In country parishes the church bell is rung thrice, at 8, 10, and 12, when the co gregation meets. These taxes are the devil-so come here, Thus then are nursed, and nurtured into crimes, How sad the tale of sweet Eliza's wrong- And fixed his visit for the "Sabbath-day." JUVENALIS JUNIOR. JAMES BARRY, THE HISTORICAL PAINTER, Few artists have begun their career with fairer prospects of success than the late Mr Barry, whether we consider the natural strength of his mind, his indefatigable industry in acquiring knowledge, or the powerful assistance which he derived from friends, whose capacity to instruct and direct him seem to have been equalled only by their zeal for his advancement. These united advantages also occurred at a time when the situation of the country was perhaps more congenial to the arts than at any former period: when they were fostered and patronised by persons of rank and fortune, and protected by the sovereign. Under auspices so peculiarly favourable, it does not, at first, seem easy to account for the failure of a man endowed with Barry's acknowledged talents and genius. The perusal, however, of his writings, and particularly of his private correspondence, solves the difficulty; and the causes of his unhappy exist ence, and obscure death, may be gradually traced to the original obliquities of his mind, which pursued him to the last, and defeated the expectations of those affectionate friends, who honoured his talents, and liberally supplied his early necessities. In commenting on the writings and character of this extraordinary man, we shall speak of him with that indulgence which his situation appears to demand-well assured, that we shall find an apology, in every generous + We hereby disclaim all allusion to the Times newspaper.-ED. mind, for drawing a veil over infirmi ties which must be regarded as the offspring of a wounded spirit, and a deranged intellect. From his childhood, indeed, Barry appears to have possessed a large share of vanity and presump tion, and an irascibility of temper nearly unexampled. This entire confidence in his own strength and abilities naturally engendered a contempt for those of his contemporaries, and led him to grasp at more than he could compass. Eminence in any particular art or science appeared too confined a field for the extensive range of his ambition. He wished to excel in all, and, as too frequently happens in similar cases, skimmed the surface of every thing, and made himself master of nothing; so that those powers which, if steadily employed on one pursuit, might have ensured him the highest excellence, were frittered away, and rendered unproductive, by the multiplicity of objects to which they were directed. The fatal effects of this unfortunate versatility were early foreseen by Mr Burke; but the evil was already too deeply-rooted to admit of remedy, even from the mild warnings of that profound searcher in to human nature. "You," (says this great man,)" whose letter would be the best direction in the world to any other painter, want none yourself from me, who know little of the matter. But as you were always indulgent enough to bear my humour under the name of advice, you will permit me now, my dear Barry, once more to wish you, in the beginning at least, to contract the circle of your studies. The extent and rapidity of your mind carries you to too great a diversity of things, and to the completion of a whole, before you are quite master of the parts, in a degree equal to the dignity of your ideas. This disposition arises from a generous impatience, which is a fault almost characteristic of great genius. But it is a fault, nevertheless, and one which, I am sure, you will correct when you consider that there is a great deal of mechanic in your profession, in which, however, the distinctive part of the art consists, and without which the first ideas can only make a good critic-not a painter. Vol. i. p. 87.*` The sage advice of this most excellent friend, though united with that of Richard and William Burke, appears to have been disregarded. Bar ry, indeed, frequently acknowledges the truth of their admonitions with gratitude and humility; but without allowing them to make any alteration, either in his habits or his disposition. He still continued to persevere in his old course, and though not insensible to the kind instructions of his patron, seemed daily to be departing in practice from them more and more widely. Without judgment and discrimination, he struck into his own devious rout, from which he could not be persuaded to depart; but he followed it with vigorous footsteps; and though it failed of conducting him to the ultimate object of his pursuit, he made many discoveries in his wanderings, which, if properly noticed, may serve as landmarks to guide others into the unerring road, which it was his hard fate to approach but never to attain. The singularity of his opinions, and his rough and violent manners, joined to the unhappy irritability of his disposition, created him many enemies, even in the commencement of his career; yet it ought to be remembered to his advantage, that he probably owed the larger proportion of his foes as much to that lofty independence of character, which could admit of no compromise between feeling and interest, frailties. What he felt strongly he as to his individual strongly expressed-in a manner often unjustifiable, and generally too incautious for his own welfare and repose. This threw him into the power of his opponents, who, well aware of the superiority of his understanding, set themselves to discover the weaknesses of his character, and quickly learned to play upon his most prominent defects. Under such circumstances, it is melancholy to observe how unconscious Barry always seems to have been of the real nature of his situation, and the fatal consequences to which a perseverance in such conduct must inevitably lead. It never occurred to him that his own forbidding manners might have a share in promoting the neglect and aversion which he experienced; and he was even so blind to the defects of his disposition, that he actually appeared to consider himself as having reached the acme of patience and forbearance. The Works of James Barry, Esq. Historical Painter, late Professor of Painting in the Royal Academy, &c. &c. ; containing his Discourses at the Royal Academy, Observations, Remarks, &c. together with his Correspondence, and some Account of his Life. 2 vols 4to. L.5, 5s. |