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the other pourtrays the capacities, energies, and idealities of form. Raphael excels in resemblance; he walks the earth, but with dignity, and is seen to most advantage in relations of human fellowship. Michael Angelo can be viewed only in his own world; with ours he holds no farther communion than is necessary to obtain a common medium of intelligence. In the grand, the venerable, the touching realities of life, the first is unrivalled; his fair, and seeming true, creations cause us to reverence humanity and ourselves. Over the awful and the sublime of fiction, the second extends a terrible sway; he calls spirits from their shadowy realms, and they come at his bidding, in giant shapes, to frown upon the impotency of man.

mendous. During those ages of ignorance, a faint trace of its existence occasionally appears, but is again quickly lost in gloom. At Florence, early in the 13th century, a decided forward motion is first perceptible, though not till the middle of the 15th century did oil painting find its way across the Alps, being first intro. duced into Italy by Van Eyck of Bruges. To Leonardo da Vinci, undoubtedly, belongs the appellation of Father of the Italian school. His was exactly one of those bright spirits which we rejoice to find hovering on the confines of darkness, and pointing the way to excellence and perfection. Contrasting the state of art when he first appeared, and when he left it, we may well as sign him a seat beside Michael Angelo and Raphael; as a genius, we must probably place him higher than either. "To contend here for superiority is futile each has Not contented with the multitudinous pursuits of art, his own independent sphere. The style of Raphael has he plunged with avidity into the more intricate paths of justly been characterised as the dramatic, that of Miscience. Descended from a noble and wealthy family, chael Angelo as the epic, of painting. The distinction is he is a rare and striking instance of a mind paralysed, accurate, in as far as the former has made to pass beneither by pride of birth, nor means of worldly ostenta- fore us character in conflict with passion-in all its intion. In speaking of him, Fuseli thus expresses him- dividualities of mode; while the latter represented and self: "He broke forth with a splendour which eclipsed generalized both character and passion. The first leads all his predecessors. Made up of all the elements of us from natural beauty to divine-the second elevates genius, favoured by form, education, and circumstances, us at once into regions which his own lofty imaginings all ear, all eye, all grasp; painter, poet, sculptor, ana- have peopled. Hence, than Michael Angelo's prophets, tomist; architect, engineer, chemist, machinist, musi- and other beings that just hover on the confines of hucian, philosopher; and sometimes empiric, he laid hold man and spiritual existence, the whole range of art and of every beauty in the enchanted circle, but, without ex- poetry never has, and never will, produce more magniclusive attachment to one, dismissed, in her turn, each. ficent and adventurous creations. This is his true Fitter to scatter hints than teach by example, he wasted power-here he reigns alone, investing art with a mightlife insatiate in experiment. To a capacity which at iness unapproachable by any other pencil. But when once penetrated the principle and real aim of the art, he the interest is to be derived from known forms, and najoined an inequality of fancy, that at one moment lent tural combinations, he fails almost utterly; never can him wings for the pursuit of beauty, and the next flung his line want grandeur-but grandeur so frequently subhim on the ground to crawl after deformity. We owe stituted for feeling, and when the subject cannot susto him chiaroscuro, with all its magic; but character tain it, presents only gorgeous caricature. Human afwas his favourite study-character he has often raised fection mingles in every touch of Raphael, and he carfrom an individual to a species, and as often depress-ries our nature to its highest moral, if not physical, eleed to a monster from an individual.'" vation. Hence, his supernatural forms may want abNext to Da Vinci appeared the "mighty Floren-stract majesty and overawing expression; but they distine;" and though Tintoretto has been called "the play a community in this world's feelings, without its lightning of the pencil," from his rapidity of execu- weaknesses or imperfections, by which the heart is tion, yet the appellation more particularly characterizes haps even more subdued. the illustrious Buonarotti. His mind, fervid and restless in the extreme, seems to animate every touch of his pencil, and gives a sort of hurrying grandeur to his compositions, looked for in vain in the productions of other masters. The adage,

"By tedious toil no passions are express'd; His hand, who feels them strongest, paints them best," seems never to have been absent from his memory. On viewing his works, our feelings are akin to those of Cain, when led by Lucifer through regions of unknown beings, and forms of dim, uncertain magnificence. The power and originality of conception displayed by Michael Angelo carries captive all attempt at criticism, and judgment itself is prostrated at the foot of genius. Contemporary with this fiery spirit appeared the sweet, the inimitable Raphael; but, as in the comparison instituted between them by Dr Memes, the distinctive properties of both are admirably given, we extract the following passage, which is both energetic and eloquent:

COMPARISON BETWEEN MICHAEL ANGELO AND

RAPHAEL.

"It is only in the individuality and profoundness of expression, that Raphael reaches the sublimities of art. In the abstract conception of form he is inferior; hence, in the representations of mythological existences, he becomes feeble in proportion as he generalizes. It is this that discriminates between the Roman and the Florentine. The former is the painter of men as they live, and feel, and act; the latter delineates man in the abstract. The one embodies sentiment-feeling-passion;

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"If this be a true estimate of the powers of these great men, and we have drawn our inferences from impressions often felt, and long studied, no comparison can be more unjust, nor less apt, than the one so frequently repeated, that Michael Angelo is the Homer, Raphael the Virgil, of modern painting. The Florentine may justly take his place by the side of the Greek. Not so the Roman and the Mantuan. The copyist of Homer, nay, frequently his translator, whose nature is taken at second-hand,-whose characters, in the mass, have about as much individuality as the soldiers of a platoon, and little more intellectual discrimination than brave, braver, and bravest, must occupy a lower seat at the banquet of genius than the original, the ever-varied, and graphic artist. The great error in estimating the merits of these masters appears to have arisen from not considering them separately, and as independent minds. Michael Angelo, indeed, created, while Raphael may be said to have composed; but he discovered and collected he did not derive his materials. Michael Angelo found the art poor in means, undignified and powerless in composition; he assumed it in feebleness, and bore it at once to maturity of strength."-Pp. 166-68.

Circumscribed as we are, it were vain to attempt, even excursively, to follow the history of painting from its golden age, down to the present day. We must be contented with merely naming the bright stars which here and there shine pre-eminently forth, even among the rich galaxy that surrounds them. The founders of the Florentine and Roman schools have already been considered; that of Venice next claims attention. Here colour was carried to its utmost power, and the “nimi

um ne crede colori" of Virgil (Ec. ii.) entirely forgotten. Titian decidedly claims supremacy;-and though he may too implicitly have yielded to the fascination of colour, yet he has shown a genius entirely independent of all meritricious effect. He is remarkable for his exquisite finish; and if we agree with the opinion expressed by Du Fresnoy,

"Maxima deinde erit ars, nihil artis inesse videri," we must give Titian the full benefit of this praise. Of Corregio, another artist for whom we have always entertained a peculiar affection, we would willingly quote some of the able remarks of Dr Memes, but our space forbids. We reluctantly, also, pass over notices of many other artists of great celebrity in the Italian school, especially Daniel di Volterra and Domenichino, who, with Raphael, in the opinion of Poussin, produced the three masterpieces of art. The Caracci, Guido, Albani, Salvator Rosa, and many others, could only be done justice to in separate treatises, as they each possess merits of a peculiar and distinctive kind. Plutarch ascribes to Simonides the following saying, which appears applicable to the school of Italy alone, and with which we must conclude our hasty remarks on it: Σωγραφίαν είναι φθοεγγομένην την ποίησιν, ποίησιν δε σίγωσαν την ζωγραφίαν. The Transalpine schools of painting, as long as they retain their indigenous features, have always appeared to us to rank immeasurably below those of Italy; when, on the other hand, they have united the peculiarities of the Dutch and Flemish schools to the severer graces of the Romans, as was the case especially with Teniers and Vandyke, they become worthy of the closest study. In its theory, painting is only interesting as long as it

reaches the mind. The Dutch school has ever address

ed the eye, with a precision and minutiæ truly admi. rable, but left the heart and head unemployed. The famous picture, for example, by Quentin Matsys, of the Misers, we admire only for the accuracy of its detail, there is no breadth of effect. One great auxiliary in painting the Dutch have peculiarly made their own, we mean chiaroscuro, which, though perhaps more appropriately applied to inanimate objects, Rembrandt has extended to portrait and history.

Of the French school of painting Dr Memes has spoken at some length, and with much discrimination; and, after paying not unmerited praise to the present English school, he ends with a short notice of the rise and progress of the art in Scotland. We have already transgressed our limits, and must confine ourselves to one extract, which gives a short account of our own national school:

THE SCOTTISH SCHOOL OF PAINTING.

painting is inferior, but that it is so nearly equal, to that of London. But there needs not an appeal merely to relative excellence; the absolute merits of some of the masters now in Edinburgh, or belonging to Scotland, are not surpassed in their respective departments. It is far from the intention, in these remarks, to institute any invidious distinctions, but to state fairly the claims of Edinburgh, and that the talents of her artists, and the zeal of her people, place her, not among the secondary cities, but among the capitals of Europe. It ought also to be remembered, that in no instance are the arts of any kingdom more indebted, than those of the British Empire to Scotsmen. Not to mention the exertions of Gaknowledge of antique art materially assisted the general vin Hamilton, himself an artist, whose discoveries and restoration of taste and we do know that, in this light, Canova both regarded and ever spoke of him with gratitude-there are two cases more immediate to the present purpose. Sir William Hamilton, at his own risk and expense, though afterwards, as was only proper, in part repaid, made the most splendid collection of ancient vases now in the world, excepting that of Naples. These are in the British Museum, and have not merely refined taste, but have most materially improved the useful arts of the country. The Earl of Elgin's inestimable treasures of ancient sculpture have enriched Britain with examples of unrivalled excellence, and which have already mainly contributed to the present superiority of her genius in art. These precious remains, with indefatigable assiduity, at a ruinous and hopeless expenditure, collected an enterprise in which kings had formerly failed he gave to his country on repayment of not nearly his own outlay, though we have reason to know, through the late venerable Denon, that the former government of France offered to the possessor his own terms. The meritorious act of removal indeed has, with schoolboy enthusiasm, and maudlin sentimentality, How utterly absurd is this, to lament that the time-hobeen deplored as a despoiling of a classic monument. noured labours of ancient Greece did not sink for ever beneath the violence of the despot and the ignorance of the slave, instead of being, as now, in the midst of an admiring and enlightened people, shedding abroad their beauty and their intelligence, again to revive in our living arts !"-Pp. 247-49.

We know of no treatise on Painting, within a similar compass, which we can so sincerely recommend to our readers, as that of Dr Memes.

MISCELLANEOUS LITERATURE.

MORAL & MISCELLANEOUS ESSAYS.
No. 5.

THE CHARACTER OF ROBERT BURNS. "Non quivis videt immodulata poemata judex; Et data Romanis venia est indigna poetis."

HOR.

"We may now turn our attention for a little to the past state of painting in Scotland. During the eighteenth century, though there can hardly be said to have existed any separate style, so as to merit the distinction of a school apart from that of the empire generally, yet several very respectable Scottish artists are found to have practised both in London and Edinburgh. In the latter capital, towards the close of that period, a school THERE is no difficulty in deciding on the claims of gradually arose, which, considering the resources of the Robert Burns as a man of genius: they are universally country, the opportunities of improvement, the means of acknowledged; and the Scottish bard is now placed in patronage, and latterly, the merits of its individual mas- the first rank of poets. Both Mr Lockhart, and his ters, especially of its head, the late Sir Henry Raeburn, able reviewer, Mr Carlyle, have done ample justice to displays an inferiority certainly not greater than might the character of Burns, considered in this point of view.t reasonably be expected. Or we will go farther: when But there is another aspect in which it is the duty of the invigorating influence of royal countenance and pro- the biographer impartially to view him. While we adtection upon the fine arts, the superior wealth and in-mire the genius of the poet, we must not forget the relatelligence congregated in the seat of legislature, are viewed all concurring to foster and advance art in the The above able paper on the character of Burns, presents one capital; and when, on the other hand, we reflect, not view of the picture, to which, as Editor of an independent Litemerely on the absence of these advantages, but on the rary Journal, we do not hesitate to give admission, leaving our positive detriment of a non-resident nobility, whose pre-readers to form their own opinion as to its justice.-Ed. Lit. sence might in some measure supply other deficiencies, See Lockhart's Life of Burns, and Edinburgh Review, No. it must be matter of astonishment, not that Scottish XCVI. Art. I.

Jour.

tions and duties, the dispositions and actions, of the man: and in this last point of view, the labours both of Mr Lockhart and his reviewer have, in our judgment, been but very partially successful.

There are two prominent features of Mr Lockhart's work, to which we request the attention of our readers. The first is, that in the course of his narrative he relates a series of facts in the Life of Burns, which exhibit him as a man enslaved to the most base and sordid lusts; not as an occasional transgressor of the rules of a high and uncompromising morality, but as habitually a violator of some of the plainest and most sacred dictates of conscience throughout the latter half of his life. The second point to which we allude is this-that the impression which the narrative, as a whole, was evidently intended, and is calculated, to leave on the reader's mind, is, that if Burns was not a positively virtuous man, yet, with all his failings, he was, on the whole, by no means worthy of severe blame. Such is the impression, in regard to Burns, which the Edinburgh Reviewer also aims at producing. To us it appears, that the man who can admit the facts in Burns's history which have been alluded to, and yet deliberately come to such a conclusion respecting his character, must be labouring, if not under a culpable obtuseness of moral perception, at least under serious misapprehension and prejudice. We are aware that it is, as in general it ought to be, an invidious task to speak evil of the dead; but, when men whose talents give to their opinions weight in general society, presume to claim the sympathy, and all but positive approbation, of mankind, for the character of one who, with great talents and some moral virtues, was yet a notorious profligate-an open despiser of the laws of God and of all virtuous society, it is time to lay delicacy aside, and it is not unbecoming to expose that false charity which calls evil good, and good evil-puts darkness for light, and light for darkness."

With the view of presenting the moral character of Burns as a whole, in what appears to us to be its true light, let us attempt, in the first place, briefly to sketch a few of its most prominent features. That Burns was a man of excessive pride, will scarcely be denied by any one who knows his history. Even his biographer, Mr Lockhart, who yields to none in admiration of the poet, admits (we quote from his work, p. 148,) that "jealous pride formed the groundwork of his character." A groundwork of pride, laid in such a mind as his, could hardly want a superstructure of impiety; and that Burns was, in fact, a profane and irreligious man, appears but too evidently from his life and writings. It is true, that through the moral darkness which broods over these, there here and there glimmers the light of a purer spirit; occasionally we find a poem or a letter, the production of some happier moment, breathing the spirit of religion-a spirit, however, which soon gives place to that impious disregard of things sacred, which was the prevailing tone of his mind. Of the other vices with which Burns was chargeable, his pride and want of all practical religion were, in our judgment, very much the source. Had his mind been imbued, as it ought to have been, with the spirit of Christian humility, he might, and undoubtedly would have, borne up under all the difficulties of his untoward situation. But, pressed as he was from without by the hardships incident to the lower ranks of life, and from within by a haughty and ambitious pride, which disdained to be fettered by any laws, and could with difficulty brook the thought of a superior, it ought not to be greatly won. dered at that he gave the reins to the basest appetites of our fallen nature, and became at length, through perseverance in vicious habits, what his history must convince every man of impartial judgment and proper feel ing that he was,-a confirmed profligate. On this painful subject we refrain from entering into details already sufficiently known to all who are acquainted with the

melancholy story of Robert Burns. It is by no means our intention to represent Burns's character as devoid of all moral excellence. He was naturally endowed, in no common degree, with some of the finest susceptibilities of our nature; nor were all the excesses of which he was guilty sufficient to destroy the virtuous sympathies of his heart. He was moreover a thoroughly honest man; and, although we cannot but consider his excessive dislike at being under any kind of pecuniary obligation as in no small degree the result of his characteristic pride, and by no means worthy of that admiration which has been bestowed upon it, yet his hatred of falsehood, and contempt of what was mean and ungenerous, are traits of character worthy of sincere approbation. We have thus endeavoured impartially to sketch what appear to be the most remarkable features of Burns's character, and shall only express it as our decided opinion on the whole that by no laying of the good over against the bad, is it possible fairly to come to any other conclusion than this, that the character of the man, even in the sight of his fellow-men, is the just object of severe reprobation.

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The article in the Edinburgh Review to which reference has been made, is written almost throughout in a strain of apology for Burns, not the less imposing, perhaps, that its able author refrains from entering into any formal or laboured defence. Of this general strain of apology, the following loose and most fallacious statements will afford a specimen. The influences of that age," says he, speaking of the age in which Burns lived, his open, kind, and susceptible nature, to say nothing of his highly untoward situation, made it more than usually difficult for him to repel or resist; the better spirit that was within him ever sternly demanded its rights, its supremacy; he spent his life in endeavouring to reconcile these two; and lost it, as he must have lost it, without reconciling them here." And again : "We question whether the world has since witnessed so utterly sad a scene; whether Napoleon himself, left to brawl with Sir Hudson Lowe, and perish on his rock amid the melancholy main,' presented to the reflecting mind such a spectacle of pity and fear,' as did this intrinsically nobler, gentler, and perhaps greater soul, wasting itself away in a hopeless struggle with base entanglements, which coiled closer and closer round him, till only Death opened him an outlet." Now we ask, what is the impression which these passages are calcu lated to make on the reader's mind? Unquestionably this that Burns in his heart hated those evil propensities and vices by which his character was stained;—that he was through life engaged in an active and unceasing warfare against them;-and that his ultimate defeat in the struggle was altogether the effect of a resistless force of circumstances acting in direct opposition to his own will. We must confess, that in the whole history of Burns we can find no marks of any such warfare. We deny that he spent his life in carrying on a struggle with vice-that he offered any real, voluntary, habitual resistance to "base entanglements." It is true, that he often felt-bitterly felt-the sting of remorse and disappointment; and these effects of his vices he certainly did hate, and would gladly have parted with. But, that he hated his pride, or his profanity, or those sins into which his profligacy led him,-this is a statement altogether unsupported by proof.

We cannot help remarking, that there is a something in the style in which this reviewer is pleased, for the most part, to speak of the defects of Burns's character, completely adapted to shut out from the reader's mind the thought of what common men know by the names of sin and guilt,—a certain beautiful, though somewhat mystic and transcendental dress, in which, for the most part, he clothes his account of Burns's aberrations, by means of which you are almost irresistibly led to think of them, not with those feelings of reprobation which

naked vice is fitted to call forth, but rather with that sympathy which is due to misfortune without blame. Thus, comparing in one place Burns's life to some unfinished building," The plan," he beautifully says, "of a mighty edifice had been sketched; some columns, porticoes, firm masses of building, stand completed; the rest more or less clearly indicated; with many a farstretching tendency, which only studious and friendly eyes can now trace towards the purposed termination." The true sense of this passage we should give briefly thus:-Burns had the finest talents given him by nature; and, had he but used them aright, what might he not have been! In another place he expresses himself thus :—“ In such toils,” alluding to Burns's professional employments in the excise, was that mighty spirit sorrowfully wasted, and a hundred years may pass on before another such is given us to waste;"- -a passage which, interpreted literally, implies that the blame of Burns's ruin lay with his fellow-men; but which, in the language of truth and real life, just amounts to this: First, That it was the lot of Burns, as it has been of many another man of noble genius, to drudge at an employment in which there was nothing great or worthy of his mind; and secondly, That, by profligate habits act. ing upon a constitution naturally nervous and irritable, he wore out the vigour of his body, and greatly wasted the energies of his mind. Once more, apologising for Burns's life, he says Granted the ship comes into harbour with shrouds and tackle damaged, and the pilot is therefore blameworthy; for he has not been all-wise and all-powerful; but to know how blameworthy, tell us first whether his voyage has been round the globe, or only to Ramsgate and the Isle of Dogs ?" Will it be credited that, of this very Robert Burns, whom he thus virtually acquits of all blame, (for what man is or can be all-wise and all-powerful,")-that of this very man he had before spoken in such appalling terms as the following:-"For now, with principles assailed by evil example from without, by passions raging like demons' from within, he had little need of sceptical misgivings to whisper treason in the heat of the battle, or to cut off his retreat if he were already defeated. He loses his feeling of innocence; his mind is at variance with itself; the old divinity no longer presides there; but wild de sires and wild repentance alternately oppress him. Ere long, too, he has committed himself before the world; his character for sobriety, dear to a Scottish peasant as few corrupted worldlings can even conceive, is destroyed in the eyes of men, and his only refuge consists in trying to disbelieve his guiltiness, and is but a refuge of lies. The blackest desperation now gathers over him, broken only by the red lightnings of remorse." Of this man it is, that the same reviewer afterwards says“With our readers in general, with men of right feeling anywhere, we are not required to plead for Burns." And, finally, it is with respect to this man and Lord Byron that he speaks, in another place, thus:" They were sent forth as missionaries to their generation, to teach it a higher doctrine, a purer truth: they had a message to deliver, which left them no rest till it was accomplished; in dim throes of pain this divine behest lay smouldering within them, for they knew not what it meant, and felt it only in mysterious anticipation, and they had to die without articulately uttering it." True, indeed! if Burns and Byron were missionaries to their generation of a purer truth, they had to die with. out articulately uttering it. Certain at least it is, the "higher doctrine, the purer truth," is not to be found in The Holy Fair or Don Juan.

"

We cannot attempt to notice every thing which Mr Lockhart has advanced, by way of apology for Burns, in the course of his Biography. It appears to us, indeed, that his defence of the poet owes not a little of its effect to the incidental use of certain softening phrases, to express the darker shades of his melancholy history

an expedient, by the way, the success of which ought certainly to recommend it to all whose object it is to extenuate whatever guilt and deformity may stain the character of those whom they admire. There are, however, of Mr Lockhart's more formal apologies for the poet, one or two which we cannot help noticing. In one place, he prefaces an account of the origin of certain faults, which he had just before related, by the following passage :-" Of these failings, and indeed of all Burns's failings, it may be safely asserted, that there was more in his history to account and apologize for them, than can be alleged in regard to almost any other great man's imperfections." Now, weshall willingly grant to Mr Lockhart the truth of all that he states respecting the origin of these failings, as he is pleased to term them. Let it be supposed that they at first took their rise from a burning desire in the poet's soul to be dis. tinguished, from his conscious possession of uncommon talents for conversation, from appetites naturally fervid, from a characteristic contempt of " nice and scrupulous rules;" yet all this cannot change the essential nature of those vices which, through such means, became fixed elements of his character. The truth is, that if it be admitted as forming any apology for the vices of Burns, that they arose from such and such causes, there are few characters so guilty as not, on the same principles, to admit of defence.

Mr Lockhart allows that "it is possible, for some it may be easy, to imagine a character of a much higher cast than that of Burns, developed, too, under circumstances in many respects not unlike those of his history, the character of a man of lowly birth, and powerful genius, elevated by that philosophy which alone is pure and divine, far above all annoyances of terrestrial spleen and passion." But then he asks, “Could such a being have delighted his species, could he even have instructed them, like Burns? Ought we not to be thankful for every new variety of form and circumstance, in and under which the ennobling energies of true and lofty genius are found addressing themselves to the common brethren of the race? Would we have none but Miltons and Cowpers in poetry; but Brownes and Southeys in prose? Were the doctrine of intellectual excommunication to be thus expounded and enforced, how small the library that would remain to kindle the fancy, to draw out and refine the feelings, to enlighten the head by expanding the heart of man! From Aristophanes to Byron, how broad the sweep, how woful the desolation!" Not to dwell on what is sufficiently obvious, that all this, even supposing it true, has no bearing on the question of Burns's culpability, we cannot but express our astonishment, that Mr Lockhart should ever have given to the public the passage which has just been quoted. Are we then to be gravely told, that a profligate rake, who can dress up the tale of his midnight revels in a drapery far more fascinating to the sense of most men than midnight revellings are abhorrent to their minds,-that such a man is a better instructor of his species than he who, with a powerful genius, has spent his days and nights in the school of a "pure and divine philosophy ?" If such are the instructors to whom Mr Lockhart would bring our youth, we like him not for a pedagogue. But "ought we not to be thankful for every new variety of form and circumstance in and under which genius addresses us ?" Yes, truly, thankful for every variety! and, though it should be Atheism, or debasing lewdness, or brutish intemperance, or malignant revenge,—if these are "forms in and under which the ennobling energies of genius are found addressing themselves to the common brethren of the race," surely we ought to be thankful for them! Would we have none but Miltons and Cowpers, Brownes and Southeys? From Aristophanes to Byron, how broad the sweep, how woful the desolation!

But we must close these strictures on Mr Lockhart

and his Reviewer. We are quite aware that the opi- It is not absolutely necessary, according to the con. nions which have thus been expressed will, in the judg- stitution of the Kirk, that the Moderator or President ment of many, stamp their author as an impenetrable of the meeting should be a minister. The celebrated bigot, and "narrow-minded puritan in works of art." George Buchanan once held the office; but he was, so There are many, very many, who, provided a man pos- far as we know, the only instance of a layman being sess genius, and provided, always, that he is unim- called to the Moderator's chair; and custom has, in a peached on the point of honour, feel very indifferent as manner, now sanctioned that no one but a minister be to his morals in other respects, whether he be profane elected. It is right that it should be so; for in an or religious, profligate or temperate. To all such, our ecclesiastical court, it would be preposterous, not to say old-fashioned, sober way of thinking, will be far from uncanonical, to elect a layman as President. It was agreeable; nevertheless, it will not do to lower the only in a late Assembly, however, that a learned judge standard of truth to suit them. One remark more, and a ruling elder-vigorously maintained that he, or any we have done. When a man of genius sits in judg- other member, had as good a right to the Moderator's ment upon the character of a man of genius, allowance chair as the Reverend Principal (Haldane of St Anis due for the partialities of a brother. In this circum-drews) who so ably filled it; nay, if we recollect right, stance, sonie excuse is to be found, not only for Mr the said learned judge even hinted that, on some future Lockhart and his Reviewer, but also for one who needs occasion, a lay member would probably propose himself apology perhaps more than either, because, with a cha- as a candidate. The thing might be done, but we beracter for sound and strict morals which has more than lieve with little hopes of success. The case of George once procured for him, from Mr Lockhart, the appella- Buchanan would be found of little weight as a precetion of the "great moral poet,"-he, too, has lifted his dent; because Buchanan, though a layman, was a Propen in defence of Robert Burns. It is deeply to be la- fessor or Doctor of Theology, and lectured as such in mented that Wordsworth, in the enthusiasm of generous the University of St Andrews. Let us only observe the sympathy with a kindred genius, should have lent him- duties of the Moderator. This functionary is chosen self to write an apology for Burns, wherein he, the annually, that is, a new Moderator is always elected "moral poet," speaks with disapprobation, if not con- at the annual meeting of the Assembly. It is the duty tempt, of the "rigidly virtuous," and which profane of the Moderator, as President of the Convocation, to wits will find ample enough to cover whatsoever of im- open and conclude every sederunt with prayer; and piety or of profligacy they also may be able to adorn when the assembly has concluded its business, the Mowith poetic charms. derator addresses to the members a speech, (having first addressed the Lord High Commissioner,) in which, as a clergyman, he terms them right reverend and right honourable. This being done, he dissolves the Assembly in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ, and, by the same authority, appoints when it shall meet again. During the sitting of the Assembly, too, the Moderator, pro tempore, is, or ought to be, the great channel of communication between the church and the government. It is utterly impossible that he can be re-elected; at least, we never heard of such a procedure in the annals of the court. At the subsequent meeting, the Lord High Commissioner walks in procession to the church or cathedral of St Giles', where divine service is performed, and a sermon is preached before him by the last Moderator, after which the court assembles in the aisle; the Lord High Commissioner submits his commission to the Assembly, which is read, and duly registered; the old Moderator constitutes the court, and the first thing done, is to proceed to the election of a new President, which being accomplished by a kind of popu lar election-popular, however, more in name than in reality-the old Moderator vacates his seat to his successNow it is not very likely that the church of Scotland would admit a layman into her pulpits; and it is less likely that, when she can get clergymen to under. take the office of Moderator in her supreme ecclesiastical court, she would consent to the duties being done by proxy.

THE GENERAL ASSEMBLY.

No. II.

WE have already offered a few remarks on the appearance of the members who compose the General Assembly. We now proceed to the Court itself.

The Assembly is a very dignified court. There is something peculiarly fine in the idea of a national ecclesiastical synod, convened annually in a systematic manner, for the dispatch of business. The Assembly had indeed at one time greater power than it now possesses. Our readers, we presume, know something of its history in the reigns of James I., Charles I., and the Commonwealth; and they are also aware, that the time has now gone by when this court was an object of fear to the government,-when it even defied the power of Oliver Cromwell; and when, by his command, it was found necessary to cause Colonel Cotterell to surround the house where it was held with an armed force, and peremptorily dismiss the members. Yet it is still, though shorn of its power and influence, a court, the meeting of which is of great importance to the Established Church-a magnum et venerabile nomen; and its members must necessarily look forward to its convocation with no common interest.

The court is constituted in a peculiar manner: a nobleman is always appointed by the King to be the representative of royalty, dignified with the title of the Lord High Commissioner; and this functionary walks in procession to and from the meetings of the Assembly with a guard of honour, and with a limited, though at the same time imposing, parade of dignity. During the two Sundays which intervene during the sittings of the court, a procession is got up, and the Commissioner proceeds to St Giles' in state, where sermons are preached before him by ministers appointed by the court for that purpose. He also holds levees every day before the opening of the court for daily business; those levees, which are held on the first day of the Assembly (which is always on a Thursday), and on the Sundays, are best attended. Finally, there is abundance of feasting and making merry: the Moderator gives his breakfasts, and the Lord High Commissioner his dinners, not to mention many other private occasions.

or.

Our readers are aware that the Church of Scotland, for nearly a century, has been divided into two parties, termed the moderate, and the popular or evangelical party; or, as they would be termed in England, the court and the country parties-the High Church and the Low. The former of these parties are generally Tories, the latter Whigs; and their mode of preaching is very different, yet both profess to follow rigidly the doctrines and usages of the Kirk. Since the days of Principal Robertson, the historian of Scotland, the former of these parties have always possessed the ascendency in the Assembly; and it is from that party that the Moderator is generally chosen: indeed, we may say, has been chosen, with only one or two exceptions, for more than half a century. The election of the Moderator is completely on the close or borough system, it never coming to a fair trial of votes, for the new Mo

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