264 
joyed, we were still more pleased with 
it; and certainly were not disposed to 
abate one iota of the critical admiration with 
which we then contemplated it. But the 
point of good fortune was that the day- 
beam tint, however mitigated, which’ par- 
tially illuminates the “ religious gloom,” 
Thro’ storied windows richly dight, 
Casting a dim religious light, 
predisposed us to enjoy, with increased 
susceptibility, the transition to M. Da- 
guerre’s still more exquisite view of the 
Ruins of Holyrood Chapel, by Moonlight. 
It is not possible to convey by words any 
adequate idea of the fascination andillusion 
of this magical picture. The scene itself is 
picturesque,almost to the conceivable extent 
of architectural representation: far more so, 
indeed, from its dilapidated state (in which 
nature, with her hoary lichens, and the wild 
shoots of spontaneous vegetation, is begin- 
ning to 're-assert her dominion over the frail 
magnificence of art), than can possibly 
consist with entireness, however accom- 
panied, of the most complicated and mag- 
nificent edifice. But the poetry of the 
pencil has touched with its inspirations the 
Tealities of the scene. Not only are the 
most favourable point of time, and the most 
favourable phenomena of the atmosphere 
(moonlight, with a partial and incidental 
haze) selected for heightening the solemn 
grandeur and stillness of the view, and giv- 
ing to the objects around the most effective 
and appropriate reliefs of light and shade :— 
a human and living interest is superadded 
to that which is awakened by the moulder- 
ing tombs that should chronicle the dead. 
This is effected by the introduction of a 
beautiful figure, in maiden mourning (white, 
with a zone of black), who, 
Held in holy passion still, 
Forgets herself to marble 
over a monumental pedestal,—upon which 
burns a glimmering lamp, whose earthly 
and unsteady light (finely contrasted with 
the pale serenity of the beams of 
heaven) quivers in flickering undulation (as 
if affected by the motions of the atmos- 
phere) on the projecting surfaces of the 
votive altar upon which it rests, and renders 
‘conspicuous in picturesge relief the pensive 
form that watches it. 
Nor is this all. Thestars (neither dots of 
white paint nor spangles of silver foil), 
actually scintillate in their spheres, ocea- 
sionally obscured, and occasionally emerg- 
ing from the mist; while the moon gently 
glides, with scarcely perceptible motion, 
now through the hazy, now through the 
clearer air; and the reflection upon the 
walls and shafts and shattered architrave of 
the chapel, becomes alternately dim or 
bright in proportion to the clearness or 
the obscurity of her course. 
If this be painting, however exquisite, it 
still is something more; for the elements 
have their motions, though the objects they 
Fine Arts. 
[April 1, 
illuminate are fixed: the ether hath its 
transparency, the stars their crystalline, the 
lamp its earth-fed flame ; though the ruins, 
and their terrene accompaniments, have 
their opaque solidity. 
In the rear of all this merited commend- 
ation, we do not know whether the good- 
natured part of the public who visit specta- 
cles of this kind for the wiser purpose of 
being pleased, will thank us for pointing 
out the only circumstance which can have 
a tendency to weaken the illusion: It is, 
that, though the moon changes her relative 
position, the reflection through the Gothic 
arch of the dilapidated window, &c., does 
not. _The light becomes more or less bril-- 
liant through the clear azure, or the appa- 
rently flitting mists; but the shadows do 
not move. 
It is almost a shame, where so much is 
done, to detect what can nut be accom- 
plished. But thus it is with the fastidious 
curiosity of criticism: whatever in the way 
of invention or discovery is attained, serves 
only as a light to shew what more is desir- 
able; and excellence itself, beomes the 
expositor of its own defects ; as the splen- 
dour of the sun reveals the spots on its own 
beaming disk. 
The Anniversary of the Society of British 
Artists in Suffolk-street, was celebrated 
by an elegant dinner, in the principal 
Saloon, or Gallery, of the Exhibition on 
Saturday 25th ; the company being, as 
might be expected, rather select than nume- 
rous. Among the guests distinguished by 
their rank, their taste, and liberal patronage 
of the Arts, were, the Hon. Agar Ellis, one 
of the Directors of the British Institution ; 
Sir William Ashburnham, Bart., ditto; 
Baring Wall, Esq., M. P., do. ; W. Williams, 
Esq., M.P.; the Hon. Douglas Kinnaird, 
and Sir Francis Burdett. Mr. Hofland, 
the President of the Society, was in the 
chair. The wines were choice, and the 
viands excellent ; and Master Smith, with 
the well known power and premature de- 
volopment of his delightful voice, well 
supported by a party of professional singers, 
added the luxury of sweet sounds to the 
pleasures of the palate. But the highest of all 
the gratifications of the day was, unquestion- 
ably, that which was offered to the eye by 
the splendid—we may justly say the proud, 
assemblage of beautiful pictures which adorn- 
ed the walls of this banquet-room (for such 
“for the time it was), of all the senses. We 
have not space to go into particulars or to 
enumerate the toasts, among which, how- 
ever, itis fit we should remark, that “‘the 
Royal Society,” “the British Institution,” 
“the Society of Painters in Water Colours,” 
&c. were not forgotten ; and, in short, every 
manifestation was given, both in the manner 
of conducting the pleasurable business of the 
day, and in the judicious observations made 
from time to time by the President, that 
the objects of the present Institution are 
very 
