such a man as Moreau,—not only because he has already expiated his errors by a death of glory, but because his private character appears to us to have been more pure and gentle, and his public principles on the whole more sound and disinterested, than those of any other individual whom the eventful days of the French revolution have brought into notoriety. But the principle we have just stated is too clear and too important-especially in such a crisis as now impends over the world-to let us permit any shadow of doubt to be thrown upon it, from respect or from pity for the fate even of such a man. It is singular, indeed, that but a few months have elapsed since we would have quoted Moreau himself as the greatest practical authority for the principles for which we are now contending; since we have occasion to know, that, up to the period of his last embarkation for Europe, it was the decided opinion of that great man, that no circumstances could justify an individual in taking up arms against his country, but the cooperation of a great part of its natives; and that it was his professed determination, up to the hour of his departure from America, never to fight against Buonaparte but at the head of a French army,—which he firmly believed that the authority of his name would very soon enable him to collect, partly from the emigrants and prisoners that would be disposed to join him, but chiefly in consequence of the large defections which he reckoned upon from the forces of the tyrant.

By what circumstance he was afterwards led to abandon this noble and worthy resolution-or rather, as is more probable, to conceive that it might be substantially reconciled with the part which he actually adopted, we have no means of learning; and should look in vain to such a writer as M. Suinine for information. It is probable that he may have thought his own active example necessary to decide the conduct of those whom he still expected to flock to his standard; and that it became him to hazard even his consistency and reputation, in making an experiment, on the issue of which so much depended. Ŏf such a man we are willing not only to judge favourably, but to presume highly; and had he lived to command in a victorious field, we make little doubt that he would have been joined by multitudes of those very men who are now fighting under the banners of Buonaparte; and, finally marching at the head of his countrymen to the liberation of his country, might have set at defiance the imputations to which the early part of his career had subjected him. Unfortunately for him-and for the world-that part was all that he was permitted to perform; and a death, which postponed the deliverance of Europe, has necessarily left a shade on his fame.

ART. VI. Remarks on Antiquities, Arts, and Letters, during an Excursion in Italy, in the years 1802 and 1803. By JOSEPH FORSYTH, Esq. 8vo. pp. 393. London. Cadell and Da

vies. 1813.

T is very refreshing to meet with a work like the one now before us, exhibiting the impressions made by an interesting journey, though over a beaten path, on a mind of no ordinary strength and originality, without the prolixity so fatiguing in most modern writers, and with no appearance whatever of bookmaking. The unfortunate termination of the author's travels in France, where he was detained, and from whence he dates his work in the tenth year of his captivity, adds a claim to the forbearance of critics, more especially in those points where the want of acquaintance with recent productions might otherwise have been noticed. He appears to have been kept in ignorance of the works published in this country during the greater part of

his detention.

Mr. Forsyth is evidently a man of observation and reflection: He brings to his task, a very respectable knowledge of the subjects which ought to occupy an Italian traveller; and he is for the most part both liberal and original in his remarks. He expresses himself shortly and with force, though he does not always steer clear of affectation, and not unfrequently takes dogmatical and even extravagant views of things. He writes, too rather for those who have examined the subject, or are engaged in surveying it, than for the uninformed; and this often gives his statements and observations an air of obscurity, which the initiated will be content to take for the sake of their shortness and substantial qualities. His book is, indeed, in all respects a contrast to Mr. Eustace's valuable work; for it is full of vigour -always displays an active reasoning mind free from prejudice -more prone at all times to argue than to feel, and occupied with the matter rather than the language-or only careful about the latter, with the view of condensing it, and giving it the vigour of epigram and point. Frequently he is very happy in description.

After the length to which our account of Mr. Eustace's book extended, we shall not follow Mr. Forsyth minutely over the same ground, but, regarding this article rather as a supplement to the former, shall notice generally some of his most remarkable passages. Perhaps the reader may now take a livelier interest in guides to Italy, than could reasonably be felt on the former occasion. We then had about as much connexion with that

fair country, as if it lay in another planet, and not much greater chance of seeing it. Now there is scarcely a doubt, that the communication with its treasures of art and nature will speedily be thrown open, and that the pleasures of wandering over classic ground, so long cut off, or enjoyed by stealth, will be restored to all the rest of the world.

Mr. Forsyth begins his excursion at Nice, about Christmas 1801, where a soft and balmy air, oranges glowing in every garden, lodgings without a chimney, and beds with musquito'curtains, presented the first signs of Italy.' His observations here and at Pisa, are few and meagre; for he had arrived at the latter place before he thought of committing any notes to paper. We thus early in his book, however, meet with traces of the vigorous tone which it every where sustains. Speaking of a dead Christ in alto relievo by Michael Angelo, he says, 'The life and death which he has thrown into this little thing, the breathing ' tenderness of the Virgin, and the heavenly composure of the corpse, appeared beauties foreign to the tremendous genius of 'the artist. And upon visiting the Hospital of Incurables,' where priests and choristers were chanting between two rows ' of wretches, whom their pious noise would not suffer to die in peace,' he adds, that the very name of such hospitals, by 'forbidding the patient to hope and the physician to struggle, 'cuts off, at once, two sources of recovery.' p. 6.

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The author's remarks on Tuscany, lead him naturally to speak of the most celebrated literati who flourished in Italy about the time of his journey. The following sketch of Fontana, brother of the Abbate, is sufficiently characteristic.

This museum is under the direction of Felice Fontana, now a Cavaliere, yet more generally known than his brother by the title of Abbé; merely because he had once worn the clerical habit, from motives of economy. Fontana seems to preside here in the scientific world; not by superior knowledge, for his is rather diffuse than deep; by bringing into science the man-of-the-world faculty, by a well-managed talent of display and evasion, which gains him credit for double what he knows, by the art of improving the inventions of others, and passing their joint work under his own name. In his hands every man's ability is available, and nothing is lost.

'Fontana is above that consequential reserve which many affect on subjects where they are known to excel. He readily detailed to me the history of imitative anatomy, "an art invented by Zumbo, and revived," said Fontana, "by me. I began with a very young artist, whom I instructed to copy the human eye in wax. This I showed to Leopold, who, pleased with the attempt, and desirous that his sons should learn anatomy without attending dissections, ordered me to complete the whole system."

"I stood alone in a new art, without guide or assistants. Anatomists could not model, and modellers were ignorant of interior anatomy. Thus obliged to form workmen for myself, I selected some mechanical drudges, who should execute my orders without intruding into my design. Superior artists are too full of their own plans to follow patiently another's; too fond of embellishing nature, to toil in the slavish imitation which I required. Such difficulties I surmounted; but before I finished the system, the funds had failed."

This active Prometheus is creating a decomposable statue, which will consist of ten thousand seperate pieces, and three millions of distinct parts, both visible and tangible. I saw only the head and the upper region of the trunk; but this machine appeared to me as sensible to the weather as its fleshy original is. The wood is so warped by the heat, that the larger contours are already perceptibly altered, and the pieces are connected by pegs which become unfit on every change of atmosphere. When I suggested this to the Cavaliere" The objection is nothing. Ivory is too dear: papier mâché has been tried, but it failed." p. 39, 40.

Our author is equally expressive in painting the dead; the following sentence is horribly pictuesque, and is somewhat liable to the objection which it states against the gloomy modeller. 'Wax was first used in imitating anatomy by Zumbo, a Si'cilian of a melancholy, mysterious cast, some of whose works are preserved here. Three of these bear the gloomy charac'ter of the artist, who has exhibited the horrible details of the plague and the charnel-house, including the decomposition of 'bodies through every stage of putrefaction-the blackening, the swelling, the bursting of the trunk-the worm, the rat ' and the tarantula at work-and the mushroom springing fresh in the midst of corruption.' p. 38.

The subject of Improvvisatori is well handled; and its due share allotted to the facilities of the language, and the various tricks of the art, in accounting for the wonders displayed by its professors. We suspect, however, that much more light would be thrown upon this matter, by a very simple experiment, than has yet been struck out by those who have treated of it. We shall first give the account of La Fantastici, and then mention our experiment.

This lady convenes at her house a crowd of admirers, whenever she chooses to be inspired. The first time I attended her accademia, a young lady of the same family and name as the great Michael Angelo, began the evening by repeating some verses of her own composition. Presently La Fantastici broke out into song in the words of the motto, and astonished me by her rapidity and command of numbers, which flowed in praise of the fair poetess, and brought her poem back to our applause. Her numbers, however, flowed irregularly, still varying with the fluctuation of sentiment; while her song

corresponded, changing from aria to recitativo, from recitativo to a measured recitation.

'She went round her circle, and called on each person for a theme. Seeing her busy with her fan, I proposed the Fan as a subject; and this little weapon she painted as she promised, col pennel divino di 'fantasia felice.' In tracing its origin she followed Pignotti, and in describing its use she acted and analyzed to us all the coquetry of the thing. She allowed herself no pause, as, the moment she cooled, her estro would escape.

'So extensive is her reading, that she can challenge any theme. One morning, after other classical subjects had been sung, a Venetian count gave her the boundless field of Apollonius Rhodius, in which she displayed a minute acquaintance with all the argonautic fable. Tired at last of demi-gods, I proposed the sofa for a task, and sketched to her the introduction of Cowper's poem. She set out with his idea, but, being once entangled in the net of mythology, she soon transformed his sofa into a Cytherean couch, and brought Venus, Cupid and Mars on the scene; for such embroidery enters into the web of every improvvisatore. I found this morningaccademia flatter than the first.' (p. 54, 55.)

Now, we hope it will not be deemed ungallant to this fair performer and her art, if we suggest the propriety of having a short-hand writer stationed in some convenient nook, with the implements of his art; we should thus have the real merits of the verse before our eyes, stript of its various accompaniments; not merely of music, vocal and instrumental, beauty, hospitality, society, voice and gesture, for these are accidental; and an old Tuscan peasant, and a deformed Roman staymaker, have recently been the first improvvisatori of their day ;---but we speak of the circumstance always accompanying this feat, and disqualifying the audience from rightly judging,-the suddenness of the exhibition,---the rapidity which hurries us on from verse to verse and thought to thought, without leaving time to weigh the real merits of the composition; so that after hearing a long declamation, we are left unable to tell whether we admire any thing more than a knack of pouring forth indifferent rhymes. without stint. The measure and rhyme, indeed, aid the deception; and its conditions being complied with, we are very apt to forget how many of the requisites of poetry are left unprovided for. The improvvisatore would certainly, if desired to deliver a piece of sensible, elegant and fanciful prose, feel himself much at a loss.

Among other notices of the dramatic writers in Tuscany, we find many remarks on Alfieri, the praises in which, all candid men will admit to be somewhat exaggerated, and Englishmen will find it hard to endure. On his conduct, Mr. Forsyth is C &

VOL. XXII. No. 44.