In the steeple of Glasgow is a great bell, which is twelve feet one inch in circumference, and has a grave and deep tone. In 1789, it was accidentally cracked by some persons who got admission to the steeple. It was, therefore, sent to London, and cast anew. On the outside of it is the following inscription:—

In the year of grace

1594,

Marcus Knox,

a merchant of Glasgow,

zealous for the interests of the reformed religion,

caused me to be fabricated in Holland

for the use of his fellow citizens in Glasgow,

and placed me with solemnity

in the tower of their cathedral

My function

was to announce, by the impress on my bosom,

(Me audito venias doctrinam sanctam ut discas;2)

and

I was taught to proclaim the hours of unheeded time

195 years had I sounded these awful warnings,

when I was broken

by the hands of inconsiderate and

unskilful men

In the year 1790,

I was cast into the furnace,

refounded at London,

and returned to my sacred vocation

Reader,

thou also shall know a resurrection,

may it be to eternal life

MALVINA.

FANCY. (For the Mirror.)

Me, oft hath Fancy, in her fitful dream, Seated within a far sequestered dell, What time upon the noiseless waters fell, Mingled with length'ning leafy shade, a gleam Of the departing sun's environ'd beam; While all was hush'd, save that the lone death-bell Would seem to beat, and pensive smite mine ear Like spirit's wail, now distant far, now near: Then the night-breeze would seem to chill my cheek, And viewless beings flitting round, to speak! And then, a throng of mournful thoughts would press On this, my wild-ideal loneliness. Me, oft hath Fancy too, in musing hour Seated (what time the blithesome summer-day Was burning 'neath the fierce meridian ray) Within that self-same lonely woodland bow'r So sultry and still; but then, the tower, The hamlet tow'r, sent forth a roundelay; I seem'd to hear, till feelings o'er me stole Faintly and sweet, enwrapping all my soul, Joy, grief, were strangely blended in the sound. The light, warm sigh of summer, was around, But ne'er may speech, such thoughts, such visions tell, Then, perfect most, when indescribable!

M.L.B.

FINE ARTS

THE PROGRESS OF PAINTING IN FRANCE. (For the Mirror.)

Whether the French were first indebted to the Roman school for their knowledge of the art of painting is a matter of some doubt; indeed, several celebrated French writers affirm, that they first had recourse to the Florentine and Lombard schools; while others very strenuously declare, on the other hand, that the Venetian artists were alone resorted to, on account of the remarkable splendour of their colouring. A late author, however, observes, that the French do not appear to have imitated any school whatever, but to have adopted a style peculiar to themselves, which though perhaps not a noble one, is nevertheless pleasing. Though it is acknowledged that the French have a particular style, (i.e. a style of their own,) yet their progress in the arts has been exceedingly fluctuating and uncertain, so that it is actually impossible to ascertain who was the first reputable artist amongst them. Cousin was a painter on glass, and certainly obtained a good reputation amongst his countrymen. But he in fact possessed very little merit, and his name would not doubtless have been known to posterity had he not lived in a barbarous age, when the people knew not how to discriminate his errors and defects. He was supposed to be the best artist of his day, and consequently gained a reputation as such, though his works are far beneath mediocrity.

Francis I. was a great encourager of the fine arts, and the artists themselves were liberally paid for their productions, until that king was unfortunately taken prisoner at the battle of Pavia, in the year 1525. After the death of Francis, the kingdom was distracted with civil wars, so that painting was entirely neglected by his immediate successors. In the year 1610, however, Louis XIII. recovered the arts from their languid state. In his reign, Jaques Blanchard was the most flourishing painter; although Francis Perier, Simon Voüet, C.A. Du Fresnoy, and Peter Mignard, were equally gifted.

Of Charles Alphonse Du Fresnoy, author of a Latin poem, entitled De Arte Graphica, I shall attempt a little account. This painter was born at Paris in the year 1611. His father, intending him for the profession of physic, sent him to the university of Paris, where he made great progress in his studies, and obtained several prizes in poetry. He had a great inclination for painting as well as for poetry, and, though much against his father's desire, resolved to leave off the study of physic, and commence that of drawing. The force of his inclination subduing every measure adopted to suppress it, he took every opportunity of cultivating his favourite study. Leaving college, he placed himself under Francis Perier, from whom he learned the art of designing. He afterwards thought fit to travel into Italy, where he arrived in 1633. Being abandoned by his parents, who were highly incensed at his having rejected the study of physic, he was reduced to the utmost distress on his arrival at Rome, and was compelled to paint trifling pieces for his daily subsistence. After two years of extreme toil and difficulty, he was relieved by the arrival of Mignard, the artist, who had formerly been the companion of his studies. Mignard evinced the warmest regard for his friend, and they were afterwards known in Rome by the name of the inseparables, for they lived in the same house, worked together, and united the produce of their labours. They were employed to copy all the best pictures in the Farnese Palace, and every evening attended an academy of drawing. Mignard was superior in practice, while Fresnoy was perfect master of the rules, history, and theory of his profession. They communicated their sentiments to each other, Fresnoy furnishing his friend with noble ideas, and the latter instructing the former to paint with more ease and dispatch. Fresnoy painted several fine pictures in Rome, and, in 1653, he left that city, in company with his friend, travelled to Venice, and then to Lombardy. Here the two friends parted,3 Mignard returning to Rome, and Fresnoy to his native city. After his arrival in Paris, he painted some beautiful historical pictures, which established his reputation. He perfectly understood architecture, and drew designs for many elegant mansions in Paris. During his travels in Italy, he planned and composed his De Arte Graphica, an excellent poem, full of valuable information, and containing unerring rules for the painter. This poem was twenty years in hand, and was not published until three years4 after the author's death, which took place in 1665. It has been observed, that Fresnoy possessed the genius requisite for forming a great master; and had he applied himself more strictly to painting, and educated pupils, he would doubtless have proved one of the greatest painters France ever produced. But, possessing high literary talents, he chose to lay down precepts for his countrymen, rather than to present them with examples of his art. He adhered too closely to the theory of painting, neglecting the more essential part—practice.

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The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 10, No. 274, September 22, 1827

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GREAT BELL OF GLASGOW. (For the Mirror.)

In the year of grace

1594,

Marcus Knox,

a merchant of Glasgow,

zealous for the interests of the reformed religion,

caused me to be fabricated in Holland

for the use of his fellow citizens in Glasgow,

and placed me with solemnity

in the tower of their cathedral

My function

was to announce, by the impress on my bosom,

(Me audito venias doctrinam sanctam ut discas;2)

and

I was taught to proclaim the hours of unheeded time

195 years had I sounded these awful warnings,

when I was broken

by the hands of inconsiderate and

unskilful men

In the year 1790,

I was cast into the furnace,

refounded at London,

and returned to my sacred vocation

Reader,

thou also shall know a resurrection,

may it be to eternal life

FANCY. (For the Mirror.)

FINE ARTS

THE PROGRESS OF PAINTING IN FRANCE. (For the Mirror.)

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