BIRMINGHAM SOCIETY OF ARTS. 113 



face : sad, yet quietly proud, is the expression of her fine, yet some- 

 what care-touched features. Her eve gazes beyond the scene which 

 other eyes discern ; her thoughts are wandering to other times and 

 by-gone scenes, and, it may be, to scenes whose very happiness is sad 

 to think upon, when memory alone remains. Her fair boy stands 

 beside her, in all childhood's bloom and beauty, and seems as if try- 

 ing to look graver than his wont, because his mother is sad. She 

 clasps his little hand convulsively in hers, as if in all her reveries 

 he formed a part. But we are losing the picture in- the beings it 

 pourtrays — and is not this the highest praise of art ? Is not the 

 acknowledgment of excellence we thus unwittingly yield, of more 

 worth than all the technicalities and criticism in the world ? The 

 generality of professed artistical critics would tell us of the mellow 

 colouring, pearly tints, combinations of primary, secondary, and 

 tertiary shades, and heaven knows how much more learned mecha- 

 nism. But they cannot enjoy a glorious work like ourselves; when, 

 fascinated by its reality, we thus become the slaves of its creator's 

 genius. We shall consider this reality and romance by Vandyck 

 the gem of the exhibition. 



Christ contemplating the Cross, said to be by N. Poussin. We 

 have an engraved portrait of that unhappy artist ; it is far from 

 amiable in expression, though, being painted by himself, he might 

 have played the flatterer. But we tremble to imagine the terrific 

 frown that would have darkened his " visnomy" could he have 

 seen the unco queer productions which posterity would take his 

 name in vain to dignify. This is a most amusing caricature, and 

 that is all we can say of it. 



The Holy Family, bearing the name of Da Vinci, is enough to 

 arouse his wronged spirit in a most M;*holy rage. And its compa- 

 nions in mendacity on the same wall, attributed to Vandyck, ought 

 to be swept out of the rooms, as rubbish unworthy the presence of 

 better things. 



The two large Sea Views, by Vernet, are grand pictures ; true 

 to the life, both in colour and effect. The hazy appearance of the 

 distance, with the spectre-like vessels half-seen, half- lost; the rocky 

 shore, and brilliant foreground, combine to render these splendid 

 works most true transcripts of the particular aspect of nature which 

 they represent. 



Diana Hunting, by Rubens, in the same room, has all the faults 

 of this painter, and none of his beauties. We greatly doubt both 

 its authenticity and the correctness of the title ; at any rate it is a 

 very libellous portrait of the chaste, virgin goddess. 



Vandyck's wondrous portrait of himself, in the same room with 

 the above, is alike beautiful as a work of art, and interesting from 

 its evident connection with an important event of his life. The 

 rich and powerful colouring of the fine head, the spirited position, 

 and general expression, rivet the gazer's eye on this superb portrait. 



A lovely picture of Frances, Countess of Dartmouth, by Sir 

 Joshua Reynolds, clad in the garb of olden times, next engages us ; 



VOL. V. NO. XVII. P 



