from any direct or indirect participation in the election. Every Burgh in Scotland, without exception, is a close Burgh, and that, too, of the most indefensible description. In England, a close Burgh, in general, exists only when the members of the Burgh have been reduced to a very inconsiderable number, or when one person, having acquired the whole property, is enabled to fill the Burgh with his own creatures. In this, though unquestionably a great abuse, men are in some degree induced to acquiesce, because it is only an exception from the system, and because they are less offended with decay, where it is partial, and arises from the progressive operation of natural causes. But in Scotland, every part of the system is bad, without a single deviation to what is right. What makes it the more intolerable too, is, that the Town Council, who are only the servants and office-bearers of the Corporation, have most absurdly obtained the powers of the Corporation, and the exclusive possession of the rights that should reside in its members at large. It is the Burgesses who constitute the Burgh; yet they have no voice in the election of the member who is professedly their representative. Here is not only a state of things which calls for reformation, but furnishes the most obvious, the easiest, and most unexceptionable means of accomplishing it. Parliamentary reform, it is quite true, when conducted upon the real principles of the Representative System, should have less regard to Burghs, contemplated as the artificial creatures of the law, than to Towns, as containing certain proportions of the wealth and population of the country. To attempt reform, however, upon those enlarged principles, has appeared to many a difficult and hazardous experiment; and ancient institutions will always be respected even where they have nothing but their antiquity to recommend them. In admitting the Burgesses, however, to elect their own representatives, nothing is risked, nor can any part of the existing constitution be said to be altered or infringed. No new body of men is introduced as electors-no strange or unknown qualification is proposed. The reform will be achieved, by giving to the Burgesses rights which they once possessed, and which were most unjustly wrested from them; and by enabling them to resume, in their own persons, those powers which have been very unreasonably transferred to their Magis

An improvement so simple as this,-so congenial to the constitution,-so consistent with establishment,-so free from innovation, would be attended with incalculable benefits to this land; not only by ensuring it a more worthy and independent representation, but by creating in its inhabitants all the feelings

and energies of a free people-and by conferring on them that rank in the empire, and that share in the government, of which they are now in a great measure deprived, and to which they are eminently entitled, from their industry, education, intelligence and spirit.-We have touched, however, upon a theme too extensive and momentous to be now discussed, but which no Scotsman should allow himself for an instant to forget.

ART. XII. A Journey to Rome and Naples, performed in 1817; giving an Account of the present State of Society in Italy, and containing Observations on the Fine Arts. By HENRY SASS, Student of the Royal Academy of Arts. 8vo. pp. 400. London. Longman & Co. 1818.

THIS HIS titic-page appears not to be the composition of the author,-who presents himself to us in a very favourable light throughout the whole of his volume. Neither does it seem to be written by any one who has read the book; for nothing can be more inaccurate than the description which it gives of its contents. The narrative of Mr Sass's Italian tour is indeed prefaced by some detached Observations on the Fine Arts,' so very general, that they might as well have been inserted in any other book; and which, consequently, do not keep the promise implied in the title, that we should meet with such observations in the course of the journal. But any thing which could be mistaken for An Account of the present State of Society in Italy,' we certainly have not been able to discover within the four corners of the tome. This promise is the more attractive, and this disappointment the greater, that every one is aware how difficult it would be to give an account of the present state of a society, into which hardly any foreigner can find admittance. The Italians, from poverty among one class, and from penury, and national habits, and political prejudices among others, are known to shun all intercourse of mutual hospitality with the innumerable foreigners who have of late years passed through their fine country, or for a while settled among them. If they have associated at all with strangers, it has only been by accidentally frequenting their crowded evening parties: But if Mr Sass really enjoyed any opportunities of observing the state of Italian society by habits of intimacy in Italian houses, we will venture to say, first, that he is the only traveller who has recently had this good fortune; and, next, that his book contains not a single trace of his having profited by it: for it gives no one

piece of information relative to Italian society, whatever other merits it may display.

With the view of preventing the course of his narrative from being interrupted, our author prefixes his remarks on the fine arts. But they are not at all connected with his tour; they do not seem even to have grown out of it, or to have been affected by any thing that he saw in the course of it. They are as general as dissertations can be; and they are tinged by a strong though amiable and natural enthusiasm for the art of Painting, to which he appears to have devoted himself. He thus describes the requisites of a painter, which, as the reader will immediately perceive, embrace the whole circle of human attainments.

Few people are aware of the requisites to form an artist, or of the variety of studies necessary in an historical or poetical composition. A knowledge of anatomy and perspective, correctness of drawing, which can only be obtained by long practice, and an eye critically nice, form but the groundwork. Portraiture, landscape, and architecture, it is frequently necessary to combine with beauty of form and appropriate expression. But while the hand is made obedient to the will, the mind, on which all superior excellence depends, must be cultivated. He must have a knowledge of the history of mankind, with an intimate acquaintance with the laws, customs, character, and costume of nations, individually and collectively. He must be conversant with chronology and the heathen mythology, to enable him thoroughly to comprehend classic and poetic history. He must understand the laws of nature; in fact, he must have within the grasp of his mind, the universal frame. To these, and many other requisites that may be acquired, must be added an endowment of nature-a susceptibility of feeling which renders the possessor alive to every passion; for, without this, it is impossible to excite interest in others, and to improve, or convey instruction to mankind, which is the true end of art. p. xxxi, xxxii.

After this, we cannot be surprised that he should represent painting as the peculiar province of Minerva, because it adds the qualities of wisdom to those of genius, and unites to the ⚫ most finished dexterity of art the most profound sagacity of science.'-So, he naturally enough depreciates all other studies in comparison. Poetry and the drama, in particular, he reckons inefficient in point of expression, and unsafe as to moral effect; and, following out the same exclusive admiration of professional painters, he inveighs loudly, in another place, against the ignorance and pretension of connoisseurs;' exclaiming, What a folly for such men, in the present day of intellectual improvement, to set themselves up as the directors of public taste!' (p. 255.)- Probably his own taste, at least beyond the limits of this most sacred profession, may be questioned

by those who see him (p. xxxix.) calling Kemble and Kean the greatest actors perhaps that our stage ever had to boast of." Of the former, we would be understood to speak with all possible respect; but no one who really could estimate his eminent merits would ever have been led into so great an exaggeration of them: And to place Kean on a level with Garrick, and even above him, is as vile a blunder as it would be to compare Fuseli with Raphael. But we must not too confidently use such topics in arguing with Mr Sass: for he deals out, in the conclusion of his preliminary remarks, so many of the qualities of the greatest artists to the present Royal Academicians, that we fear his standard of perfection is a good deal lower in practice, than his romantic enumeration of the qualities required to form the abstract of a painter, would lead us to expect. Thus, we read of the delicate and beautifully poetic feeling' of one gentleman, whose excellence we willingly allow; the angelic grace and Raffaelle style' of another, whom we never till now heard praised; and the energy-the fire of Fuseli, by which we presume, is meant the extravagance that renders many of our print-shop windows mere exhibitions of monsters, and almost justifies the interposition of the police. But we had for a moment forgotten our station; we are not professors; and ought not to have outstepped the bounds prescribed to the ignorance of connoisseurs.' The archery of William Tell may in the eyes of true painters be intelligible and tolerable; the curvilinear arms and legs of a hundred other figures, with their ineffable physiognomies and agonistic postures, may be pleasing and even natural; the attempt to represent Milton's Death by a figure, the supreme beauty of which is its avoiding every trace of particularity, and all that can recal the vulgar image of a skeleton, may be a judicious improvement upon the original-we cannot pretend to judge of these things, and of their energy and fire.' We only venture, with all humility, to question Mr Kean's superiority over Garrick and Mrs Siddons and some few more of the late and present ornaments of the Drama.

6

The account of Mr Sass's journey offers much to excite our commendation, and very little matter of blame. He does not profess to give profound disquisitions either upon politics or science; but he is for the most part a fair and candid relater; and the information which he communicates cannot fail to assist very materially the ordinary travellers who visit Italy. He writes clearly, unaffectedly, and with sufficient elegance. He is highly to be praised for the honest warmth of his sentiments upon subjects which ought to rouse every Englishman's feelings of honour

and of national indignation. If upon one or two points we are forced to differ from him, we do so with respect for his disinterested boldness of expression upon unpopular topics; and the information which he conveys upon some other points of this

E. nature, is at once curious and important.

ご

Our author's route lay from Dieppe, where he entered France, to Paris. He seems to have been biassed in favour of every thing French, by observing the excess of the prejudice which usually operates among our worthy countrymen, in the opposite direction. We own, that, although very little inclined towards this ridiculous extreme, we cannot altogether agree with Mr Sass in his warm praises of every thing he sees in France, even the female beauty of all ages. For my own part,' says he,' I never saw a pretty Frenchwoman before I visited their country; where I found them all, young and old, highly interesting.' Indeed, he admires the country between Paris and Lyons to such a degree, that few travellers, we apprehend, will recognise it in his description. It is far superior,' he says, to the country between Paris and the coast; and has more visible signs of population: chateaus and cottages are continually seen, and the land appears everywhere richly cultivated.'-With Lyons, he is almost as much captivated as with Paris; and exclaims, that, to reside there, in such a climate, surrounded by all the attractions of Nature, united with the • comforts of civilization,' would be the height of happinessand might almost be termed voluptuousness. One should have marvelled, had he written this after being in Italy.

Proceeding over the magnificent route of the Mont Cenis, one of the many benefits which travellers owe to Buonaparte, he arrives at Turin; and naturally enough, but not very respectfully, remarks, that the King of Sardinia, who resides here, is not much respected by the people, who take every • opportunity of ridiculing him. 'We fear the poor Piedmon tese have little else but this merriment to comfort them under his Sardinian Majesty's happy sway.-At Genoa, he of course hears still more against this monarch and his usurpation.

The Genoese appear to retain all their ancient spirit; and nothing seems to gall them so much as being under the Sardinian government, which they detest. The Piedmontese and the Genoese have always been at enmity with each other; and being now placed under the same king, the whole of the odium falls on his Sardinian Majesty. The Genoese say they should glory in being under the British government; but, tied down under those who know not how to appreciate them, they suffer the most odious impositions and exactions. The city is filled with troops, as if it were a besieged town; and the rattling of drums is heard from morning till night. They say that