produced me a shilling.' Bacon was probably stimulated to this piece of deception by the criticism of Banks and some other brother-artists, who complained of the "want of antique feeling" perceptible in his compositions.

In 1780 Bacon had reached the zenith of fame and prosperity; commissions flowed in upon him in greater abundance almost than he could execute, and he still retained that most important accessory to an artist's success in the metropolis,-the favour of the court. On the death of the earl of Chatham, Bacon, not without the practice of some disingenuous finesse, and by availing himself also of his influence with the royal ear, obtained the commission from government for his monument. He executed it with considerable power and effect; but it betrays the prevailing faults of the sculptor's style. It is altogether too gorgeous, and evidently framed ad captandum. It is not the conception of a mind possessed with the highest faculties of the art; it is only that of one who knows what will please and strike generally. It wants simplicity and unity of design.

His next popular works were the monuments to Major Pierson in Westminster abbey, and to Mrs Draper (the Eliza of Sterne) in Bristo! cathedral, and the bronze recumbent figure of Thames in the court of Somerset-house. All these, and former works, were greatly surpassed, however, by his monumental statues of Samuel Johnson and John Howard, placed on the right and left of the entrance to the choir of St Paul's; the former erected in 1785, the latter ten years later. Mr Cunningham has the following remarks on Johnson's statue: “It represents the sage and critic in the attitude of profound thought,-his head, neck, arms, and feet are bare, and over him is thrown a robe which reaches to the pedestal, displaying, amid the arrangements of its folds, the manly form which it covers. There is an air of surly seriousness about it which corresponds with the character of the man,—he stands musing and pondering; there is enough of good portraiture to satisfy those who desire likeness in statues, and of poetical skill and treatment in the costume to please those who, while they covet simplicity, are sensible that modern dress is injurious to the dignity of sculpture. At the foot of this fine figure is an inseription, from the pen of Dr Parr, in a language which ten millions out of twelve that see it cannot read, and in which the works that render the name of Johnson famous are not written. To come a step lower, there is a period inserted between every word. In the ancient inscriptions, which this professes to imitate, similar marks are placed, but then spaces were not left between the words. In short, the mark in the old Latin inscriptions had a meaning-the dot in the modern pedantic epitaphs has no meaning at all, and merely embarrasses the sense." The ingenious critic has stepped a little out of his way, and, as it seems to us, to no very good purpose, in the latter part of these strictures. In works of taste only the purest models of taste should be employed even to the minutest accessories; and there can be little question that, besides the powerful effects of association which must ever accompany the use of that noble language on the remains of which our earliest taste is formed, its mechanism is incomparably more beautiful than that of any modern language, and better fitted, therefore, for embodying the graceful in thought and expression. Johnson himself would have shuddered at

the idea of an English inscription being placed on his monument. As to the points or periods inserted between each word, we have always thought, that though the same necessity no longer exists for their use, yet their introduction in lapidary inscription has always a pleasing effect on the eye; and perhaps suggests to the mind the calm and measured tone in which the epitaphs of the illustrious dead should be pronounced. Bacon continued in active employment and the full exercise of all his faculties, almost up to the moment of his death, which took place on the 6th of August, 1799. He was buried in Tottenham Court chapel, where a plain tablet bears the following inscription from his own pen: What I was as an artist seemed to me of some importance while I lived; but what I really was as a believer in Christ Jesus is the only thing of importance to me now."

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His merits as an artist are unquestionably very great. He did not enjoy the advantage of studying the works of ancient art in early life, but perhaps this was in his favour. It threw him upon the native resources of his own mind, and was perhaps the origin of his success, by driving him into a style of his own, into which he "infused more good English sense" than any preceding artist.

In his private character he was amiable and decidedly pious. "His habits," says Cecil, "were frugal, but not penurious. This statement I feel warranted to assert, though I am sensible it has been and probably will be denied. Being favoured by the public with the execution of most of the principal pieces which have been done of late, he could not but acquire considerable property; but the prudence which, as a father of a large family and in a precarious profession, he deemed it necessary to observe, the plain and careless style of every thing about his house, -the envy of some interested contemporaries, and, above all, the motives of his conduct being greatly misunderstood, gave occasion to the objections which have been raised against his liberality. That there was sometimes the appearance of parsimony cannot be denied; and also that he has been known to lament a disposition towards it, while he dilated, as he frequently did, on the odiousness of the sin." "He has," says Mr Bacon, junior, "been thought hard and irritable when little mistakes have been made; but if he was at any time little it was in little things; for in greater affairs he always manifested a noble character of mind. He would give a considerable sum of money to some pious or charitable design on that very day in which he would burn his fingers by sparing paper in lighting a candle. I am ready to concede that Mr Bacon did not possess that splendour of bounty proportioned to his means, by which some religious characters have distinguished themselves and put a dignity upon their profession. His original circumstances had begotten close habits; they had become even natural to him; and he had, from sentiment and from principle, a disapprobation of the expensive habits of the present day. His manner of living was that of the last age, and he thought such an example best for a large family, among whom his property was to be divided. I however mention, on the best authority, that as he had observed his own infirmities and those of the tender part of his family to increase, he had determined soon to enlarge his expenses for ease and retirement as far perhaps as Christian prudence and its charitable requirements would permit."

Notwithstanding his defective early education he continued to obtain a considerable amount of various knowledge, and to write respectably, as the following quotation from an article which he furnished to Rees's edition of Chambers's Dictionary, will testify: "It is probable," he observes, "that sculpture is more ancient than painting, and if we examine the style of ancient painting, there is reason to conclude that sculpture stood first in the public esteem; as the ancient masters have evidently imitated the statuaries even to their disadvantage; since their works have not that freedom of style, more especially with respect to their composition and drapery, which the pencil might easily acquire to a greater degree than that of the chisel; but as this is universally the case, it cannot be attributed to any thing else besides the higher estimation of the works on which they have formed themselves. Which is the more difficult art, has been a question often agitated. Painting has the greatest number of requisites, but at the same time her expedients are the most numerous; and therefore we may venture to affirm, that whenever sculpture pleases equally with a painting, the sculptor is certainly the greatest artist. Sculpture has indeed had the honour of giving law to all the schools of design, both ancient and modern, with respect to purity of form. The reason perhaps is, that being divested of those meretricious ornaments by which painting is enabled to seduce its admirers, it is happily forced to seek for its effect in the higher excellencies of the art; hence elevation in the idea as well as purity and grandeur in the forms, is found in greater perfection in sculpture than in painting. Besides, whatever may be the original principles which direct our feelings in the approbation of intrinsic beauty, they are without doubt very much under the influence of association. Custom and habit will necessarily give a false bias to our judgment; it is therefore natural, and in some measure reasonable, that those arts which are temporaneous should adapt themselves to the changes of fashion. But sculpture, by its durability, and consequent application to works of perpetuity, is obliged to acquire and maintain the essential principles of beauty and grandeur, that its effect on the mind may be preserved through the various changes of mental taste."

Thomas Banks.

BORN A. D. 1735.-died a. D. 1805.

CONTEMPORARY with Bacon was Thomas Banks, the son of the duke of Beaufort's land-steward; born in the close of the year 1735. He received a better education than Bacon, and entered on his professional career under fairer auspices. His father intended him to follow the profession of an architect, and with this view placed him under Kent, at that time the "unlimited monarch in architecture;" but he does not appear to have devoted himself very zealously to the instructions of his master. Sculpture obtained his early homage; and when the doors of the Royal academy were first opened, he had made such proficiency in the art as to obtain the instant notice of Sir Joshua Reynolds. Let it be remembered, however, that at this time Banks had attained the mature age of thirty-three; and had given himself sedu

lously to the cultivation of his favourite art for many years, as appears from the number of premiums which had been awarded him by the Society of arts between the years 1763 and 1769.

There was this difference betwixt the rising sculptors Bacon and Banks, that while the works of the former affected nothing of the antique, those of the latter were pervaded by its spirit; in the language of Sir Joshua, Banks's "mind was ever dwelling on subjects worthy of an ancient Greek." His classical group of Mercury, Argus, and Io, was so much approved of by the academicians, that they resolved to give the sculptor an opportunity of studying at Rome. He was now in his thirty-seventh year, but his spirit was young enough, and his enthusiasm for art sufficiently strong, to prompt him, married man as he was, to set out for the Eternal city,' with the prospect of remaining three years abroad.

On his arrival in Rome he took lessons in some of the practical manipulations of his art from Capizzoldi. "There is nothing more beautiful in the whole range of art," says Allan Cunningham,-who has an unquestionable right to be heard on such a point,-" than to see a skilful person hold the chisel upon a piece of fine sculpture,-to observe the perfect confidence with which one hand guides the tool while the other gives the blow, and this in places requiring such neatness and delicacy of handling, that the smallest slip would be fatal, and a button weight of more than the proper force maim the marble for ever. Banks was not insensible of the value of a skilful man's instructions: 'Your good friend, Capizzoldi, has been truly kind to me;' he thus writes to Smith, who introduced him, he has improved me much by the instructions he has given me in cutting the marble, in which the Italians beat us hollow.' This reproach, if just then, is no longer merited; from the studios of British sculptors much exquisite workmanship is constantly sent into the world, rivalling in softness and delicacy, and surpassing in vigour, even the marvellous marbles of Canova." While at Rome our sculptor proved a most laborious and successful student. He executed several works which were pronounced first-rate by the Italian connoisseurs, especially a figure of Love catching a moth or butterfly, of which his biographer says, that "perhaps for grace, symmetry of form, and accuracy of contour, it has scarcely been equalled by a modern hand, and might almost vie with those productions of the ancients to which his admiration as well as emulation had been so constantly directed."

After a residence of seven years in Rome, Banks returned to England. He found Bacon in full fame and almost exclusive employment, and in vain attempted to obtain a share of public patronage. After much patient waiting, his spirit sickened at the indifferent reception he had met with in his own country, and he accepted a proposal from the court of Russia to transfer his studio from London to Petersburgh. He soon perceived, however, that his fortunes were not likely to be greatly benefitted by his change of country, and, after an absence of two years, again presented himself in London.

Soon after his re-establishment in the metropolis, he was fortunate enough to attract the attention of a wealthy patron, a man also of taste and learning, in Mr Johnes of Hafod, the well-known translator of Froissart. For this gentleman, Banks executed various works, chiefly

classical subjects: amongst others, Thetis dipping the Infant Achilles ; and Thetis and her nymphs ascending from the sea to condole with Achilles. For these and other works he was made an academician. His admission-gift to the academy was the figure of a fallen Titan, which has been much admired for its anatomical truth.

Fortunately for himself and his fame, our sculptor's next work was of a class and character to which his chisel had been altogether a stranger. Hitherto we have seen it employed only on classical compositions,— groups from the antique conceived in the spirit of ancient poetry,— beautiful but cold poetical abstractions: it was now to be exercised on a simple subject,-the simplest almost that nature could offer. This was a monument to the infant daughter of Sir Brooke Boothby, now in Ashbourne church, Derbyshire. "Simplicity and elegance," says Dr Mavor, " appear in the workmanship-tenderness and innocence in the image. On a marble pedestal and slab, like a low table, is a mattress, with the child lying on it, both likewise in white marble. Her cheek, expressive of suffering mildness, reclines on the pillow, and her little fevered hands gently rest on each other near to her head. The plain and only drapery is a frock, the skirt flowing easily out before, and a ribbon sash, the knot twisted forward as it were by the restlessness of pain, and the two ends spread out in the same direction with the frock. The delicate naked feet are carelessly folded over each other, and the whole appearance is as if she had just turned in the tossings of her illness, to seek a cooler or an easier place of rest." The exhibition of this work at Somerset-house did more to extend Banks's name, and procure him commissions, than all the works of infinitely greater labour, both as regards conception and execution, that had hitherto proceeded from under his chisel.

Banks's last work was the monument to Captain Westcott, in St Paul's. It is, like most of this class of works of that day, allegorical and unimpressive; the effect does not correspond with the execution. The same objection applies with perhaps still greater force to his monument to Sir Eyre Coote in Westminster abbey. On this subject the following remarks are so admirable that we feel great pleasure in giving to them what additional currency our pages can confer: "It is singular to find, that with the peculiar excellency which distinguishes our national sculpture, more of merit should not exist in our museums and public monuments. Perhaps boards of official trustees and committees of taste may not form the best school of arts. The events of the last thirty years ought to have led to a different result. During the late wars, the eminent men who have fallen in the service of their country have been but too numerous, and parliament has been profuse (perhaps to a fault) of monuments to commemorate their glory and their loss. Those would have opened the noblest field for the artist. The higher feelings connected with national glory, with the attachment of free citizens to a free state, would, we might hope, have stimulated the enthusiasm of the artist. Here we might have anticipated, that in those mansions where the mighty rest,' the names of our departed statesmen and warriors would have been handed down to posterity by the successful efforts of our great artists. We cannot imagine any object much more deeply interesting than a collection of monuments thus created by national gratitude for public services and for departed