HOPE. (For the Mirror.) 'Tis hope that cheers us through the ills of life, Sheds a soft balm and speaks a sweeter peace; And joys arise, and sorrows quickly cease. MIGNON'S SONG. FROM GOETHE. P. "Kennst du das Land wo die citronen blühen." KNOW'ST thou the land where bright the citron blooms? Where clustering gold the orange grove illumes ?— The myrtle thrives-the laurel shoots up high? "Tis there, 'tis there 'Tis there, 'tis there With thee, my guide, I gladly would repair. Know'st thou the path that climbs amid the clouds? While thickening mist the traveller's mule enshrouds; There haunt of wolves the gaunt and famished brood; There falls the crag: there roars the mountain flood. Thou know'st it well! Ah, thither, thither Let us, my father, wend our steps together. W. H. L. PEACE OF MIND. Or in the lowly cottage?-Say! By the zephyr that loves in her fragrance to play. ESSAY ON MAGUILPS; OR, MATERIALS FOR PAINTING.. BY MR. LATILLA. READ AT THE LAST MEETING OF THE SOCIETY OF BRITISH ARTISTS. (For the Mirror. ) MATTER is the medium through which mind is expressed. The poet, by the most inconsiderable means, transmits his glowing ideas to thousands; conveying them, as on eagle's wings, into the regions of spirits, or to the perception of darkness visible. In like manner, through materials insig nificant in themselves, the artist is enabled to present the illusion of space-heightdepth-cultivation-barrenness-beautydeformity; but, beyond these, to depict man -his person-his virtues-- his vices-his passions-in all their varied forms. The painter can also touch the chord of our sympathies, by the delineation of the relationships of social life. He can make the absent present, and retain to view the form and features of the worthy, the intellectual, and the beloved, when the bright originals have passed away. To do all this with success, it is true, requires the three-fold combination of intellect, manipulation, and material. The latter forms the theme of this essay; namely, the simple medium by which painters lay on their colours; such as maguilps, oils, varnishes, and all those mixtures or compositions which are denominated vehicles. These are indispensable to the artist; and, being adopted to produce beauty, are, consequently, of considerable importance, being master of their wide range, he is enas, by knowledge in these peculiarites, and abled to vary the mode of using them, according to his subject, compass, and taste, and to dare effects that exhibit originality and power. By the frequent intercourse of artists with each other, or painting together in galleries where there is mutual observation and communication, much benefit is derivable; and matter is often imparted in this simple way, that men in their studies may for years strive in vain to acquire. At these meetings, if artists would but contribute a little of their experience in art, I feel confident that the library of the Society would some day afford a fund of inform ation, that would considerably smooth the rugged path, and obviate the difficulties that obstruct, not only artists individually, but the art generally. Many a precept, that would be valuable to the profession at large, is often circumscribed to the narrow practice of one man; whereas, if all contributed, each would be likely to receive some addition to his own from the general store. I do not mean to say that, because an artist is in possession of a certain valuable medium, or vehicle, he will necessarily become a Titian, or a Rubens; but I do say, that, trifling as these means may appear, they are, nevertheless, essential to the perfection of art. They have their proper place, and are neither to be overrated as the chief excellence, nor despised and overlooked, any more than the words by which the poet expresses his idea, or the historian his fact. The characteristics of each school are shown by their peculiar mode of painting, as well as by their invention, drawing, colour, and chiaro scuro. In the management of material, the Venetian School was pre-eminent, though inferior to the Roman and Florentine in drawing and power of invention. The Roman painters, estimating colour a secondary object, never attained the highest excellence in it. as Michael Angelo, after visiting Titian, expressed to Vasari his unbounded admira. tion of that master's painting; at the same time regretting his neglect of drawing. Titian and Correggio, through being mas ters of their material, infused a charm into their works which has baffled the efforts of succeeding ages. This The Spanish, Flemish, and English, are justly celebrated for brilliancy of colour, dexterity of pencilling, and use of the oleaginous mediums; but in neither of these schools do the maguilp in anywise approach to the perfection of the medium used by the Venetians, and which, though used by Bellini, Georgione, Moroni, Titian, Paul Veronese, Bonifacio, and Bassano, is unknown to us. exquisite vehicle possessed the power of rendering the pigments remarkably brilliant, produced a fine impasto, and a depth of tone to the glazings, rivalling the beauties of precious stones, and to these qualities a hardness, rendering it exceedingly durable, and upon which the light and atmosphere of three centuries have made little impression. If fine pictures of the Flemish School be placed in juxta-position with those of the Venetian, the superiority of the latter will be seen at once, where the tints are comparable to the lucid gleam immerging from the deep hues of the lapis-lazuli, ruby, emerald, and topaz: the striking lustre of Rubens, and the charming delicacy of Vandyke, fade before them, as the aqua-marine in the presence of the diamond. The Flemish imitated these masters, who have rendered Venice so celebrated, and though they succeeded in improving their own system, they never attained the object of their fond pursuit. The Venetian method has also occupied much of the attention of the English School; Reynolds even destroyed several valuable pictures in order to discover their principle of colour, and the vehicle used by them. There is no record of his discoveries in these analyzations; but it is certain he succeeded, beyond any other artist, in obtaining the depth and richness of tone, so remarkable in Georgione, Titian, and Correggio: it is to be regretted that, with this, he did not acquire their permanency and durability. Many English artists successfully imitate the Venetian principle of colour and chiaro scuro; but the medium by which our pig. ments are used, tend rather to render our deep tones opaque and black. The same appearance is obvious in Roman, Florentine, and Spanish pictures. The Flemings avoided this blackness, by letting the ground or canvass appear through the dark glazings. It was a principle with Rubens, never to introduce white into the shadows. With his vehicle he acted wisely; but the superior medium of the Venetians rendered their opaque bodies transparent; and thus, with the very opposite principle to Rubens, they shone forth with eclipsing splendour. The medium of the Flemish School appears to possess the same properties as our maguilp; which is a gelatin; produced by the mixture of drying oil and mastic varnish. Ibbetson, the cattle painter, discovered a medium, by dissolving gum-mastic in drying oil, and mixing it up with sugar of lead and water. This also forms a thick gelatin, and is well adapted for small pictures: it retains the brilliancy of the colours, and dries very hard without cracking. By grinding the gum-mastic, in lieu of dissolving it in drying oil with sugar of lead and water,tit forms a stiff paste, which, in effect, resembles nearer the Venetian medium than any with which I am acquainted: it has their impasto, and retains the lustre of the colours without making them black. In referring to expe riments I made some years ago, I find even colours, evanescent in their nature, fixed and perfect by this vehicle. Let it not be thought, because this subject is brought forward, that I would place a medium, a material, as the all-important subject of a painter's study, like the specific of an empiric. The palette of Titian, in other hands, would not produce similar effects, without an equal power of mind. With all advantages of material and models, the artist, without a profundity of philosophic research, can never rise to eminence in the higher walks of art. The student who as pires to the fame of the great men of antiquity, must adopt the same course, tread the same path, and encounter the same diffi. culties; at no lesser cost can the end be achieved. Art is perfected by the manifold unity of the sciences; and in this Institution, where are associated the literati, dilletanti, and scientific, art generally will derive the benefits which foreign academies enjoy; and means, however simple, and apparently insignifi cant in themselves, as forming a portion of a perfect whole, merits consideration; especially when it is remembered, that the transmission to posterity of the artistic talent of an age depends on the medium used, or the varnish, which if it does not preserve, may eventually destroy. The Nobelist. FILIBERTA MADRUzzo. ONE evening, in the year 1650, towards the close of October, when the trees begin to lose their foliage, then "sere and yellow," in the lowly cell of a convent of the order of Sarafico, in the city of Trento, lay a young girl, upon whose countenance, by the dim light of a solitary lamp, were discovered the hues of death. A dense film was gathered over her large blue eyes; the coral had long since deserted those lips, once so smiling and so lovely; the cold whiteness of the pearl had usurped the dominion of the rose. Her shrunk and hollow cheeks, her pale brow, worn with grief and suffering, bore testimony to the anguish of an afflicted and sorrowing mind: her bosom heaved with a convulsive motion; and if occasionally a feverish movement roused the expiring sufferer, if her imagination wandered in the illusion of a grieving spirit, or strayed to the innocent pleasures of her childhood, it was only the last gaspings, the closing agonies, and after a short struggle she relapsed into the calm of death. No indications of grandeur distinguished this bed of death; all was simple, humble, monastic; one would in vain have sought in so lowly a chamber the heiress of twenty castles, the Lady of Madruzzo, of Narro, of Pergina, the noble mistress of the four hamlets of the Val Lagarina, the Countess of Chalant, the niece of the prince-bishop of Trento. This fair young creature, abandoned by her family, spoiled of the splendour and pomp of her rank, was on the point of closing her eyes in their last long slumber, like a rose withering on the first opening of its beautiful petals;-her soul was about to take refuge in heaven from the vicissitudes of fortune, and the perfidy of man, and to taste, amid the angelic choirs, that happiness which on earth had been denied her. By her bedside stood a Jesuit priest; dosing in a corner of the cell was a nun, who from time to time raised her eyes to see if life were yet extinct. The stillness of the room was disturbed by a distant sound of bustle in the convent, and, after a few moments, a venerable old man entered the cell; his white, open, and placid brow was shaded by silvery hair; his rich and elegant dress, his dignified and noble bearing, bespoke his high rank; he was the Austrian councillor, Carlo Filippo de Mohr. As he advanced into the little room, he glanced around, and turned with a look of surprise and anger to the lady abbess who followed him; the meaning of his look was easily understood, and she hastily endea voured to justify the meanness of the apart. ment, urging the rules of the convent. Shaking his head in disapprobation, the councillor approached the bed of the invalid, and, removing his glove, passed his wrinkled but snow-white hand over the pallid face of the maiden, parted the hair that was clustered about her forehead, and with tender care After a smoothed the disordered pillow. brief pause, he turned to the by-standers, saying-" Poor child, she seems very ill.” The friar, inclining his head, confirmed the observation, and continued his prayers. "Be comforted, Filiberta," said the councillor; "I am sent by her most serene highness the Archduchess Claudia, your guar dian; yes, unfortunate countess, I will be to you a father." Roused by this address, Filiberta fixed her eyes upon the speaker; her lips moved convulsively, in a vain effort to articulate some few words. "Gracious heaven!" exclaimed the compassionating councillor, she is, indeed, dreadfully feeble. Poor Filiberta, sacrificed to ambition and interest, robbed of all the innocent pleasures of thy youth, who shall tell all the sufferings of thy heart! who know all the anguish of thy spirit!" The astonished friar looked first at the councillor, then at the abbess. "Filiberta," he interrupted," has ever been gentle, submissive, and devout; her wishes have been in everything obeyed.” "And yet," replied the councillor, "I have reason to believe that this maiden has been compelled to languish away the brightest years of her youth in the gloon of this cloister; the sweetest moments of her life have been turned to bitteruess; her fondest hopes have been blighted-you have brought her to this-you have plunged her into this abyss of sorrow." "She delighted only in solitude," added the nun: "she shunned our society, remaining constantly shut within her cell, nor could we ever suppose that her seclusion from the world occasioned her one single pang." "It is," resumed the councillor," because her spirit was already oppressed with sorrow, because in solitude alone she could indulge her grief, and pour forth the anguish of her heart, or dwell upon the idols of her imagi nation; this young creature has been violently torn from the object of her love." The lady abbess reverently signed herself with the cross, and replied that, during the two years in which Filiberta had been an inmate of the convent, she had had communication with her own sex only. "In the heart of a young girl," continued the Austrian, "first impressions are deep, and leave there characters effaced but by death. Filiberta loved that young Piedmon tese; their attachment was disapproved, and she doomed to die here." "The prince, her uncle," said the nun, "could never have assented to an alliance that disgraced his illustrious house, and one so ill suited to the last representative of the Madruzzi." "Alfonzo was not an alliance to be so condemned," answered the councillor; "my lady, the Archduchess, would never have interested herself, had he not been of an honourable house." A deep sigh from the invalid interrupted the kind old man; in a sepulchral voice, the hollow tone of the dying, she with difficulty articulated the name of Alfonzo. "Great God, she hears us!" cried the councillor, and, softly stroking her cheek, he continued: "Alfonzo loves you, Filiberta; the Archduchess Claudia takes deep interest in your happiness, and your union will yet be accomplished." A transient ray of animation crossed the death-like features of the maiden: her eyes beamed for an instant with a brighter light; her lips relapsed into a sweet smile; and, uttering more distinctly the name of Alfonzo, she breathed a gentle sigh, then turned in apparent ease upon her side, and closed her eyes for ever. "She is gone!" exclaimed the abbess and the nun; the councillor threw himself into a chair, and grasped the already cold hand of Filiberta. The following day, attended by a long train bearing tapers, the last descendant of the Madruzzi was consigned to the tomb." EARLY ENGLISH MUSIC-PRINTERS. BY EDWARD F. RIMBAULT, ORGANIST OF EGLISE SUISSE. (For the Mirror.) (Concluded from page 360.) JOHN PLAYFORD was born in the year 1613, and brought up to the trade of a stationer and music-seller; and, as we learn from the title-pages of some of the books which he published, he lived "in the Temple neare the Church door." A very interesting MS. in the Ashmolean Library, states that he held the situation of clerk of the Temple Church, which is very probable, and derives some support from the above fact of his residing within the Temple. The first book that I know of which was printed by him, bears the date of 1650; and his productions extend • Extracted from No. 2 of the Foreign Monthly Review. We hail this new periodical with great pleasure, for it displays talent and research of no ordinary nature. from the above date to about the year 1698, being nearly forty years, during which time his press was in active operation. Playford was a man remarkable for his industry and constant application to business, insomuch that it gave him the familiar but honourable appellation of " honest John Playford." He was also fond of the study of music, which is proved from some works of his own composition, the first of which he published in 1665, under the title of "An Introduction to the Skill of Music."* This book was written in a very clear and distinct style, so that it very soon became popular, and had such an extensive sale, that, in the short space of fourteen years, it ran through no less than ten editions,-at once a proof of its popularity. The preface to this work is valuable, as it gives a good idea of the state of music and musicians at that period. Indeed, if a well-digested collection was made of historical fragments and notices that are to be found in the prefaces of such works, it would throw much light on these interesting subjects. Playford also published some other minor works, and of a miscellaneous character. He printed some songs, in parts, which were set to music by himself, in a work called the " Musical Companion," and also some "Psalms and Hymns in solemn Music." Although his skill in music, as might be anticipated from the nature of his common employment, was not so great as to entitle him to the name of a master, for he knew but little of the more difficult parts of the theory; yet, notwithstanding this, he might be called a good judge, and was, undoubtedly, well acquainted with the practical part, and with a tolerable knowledge of the rudiments of composition. He was a man of aspiring character, and contributed materially to the improvement of the art of printing music from moveable types, by the introduction of what he, in some of his publications, calls, the "newtied note." It may be observed, that the musical characters, or notes, first used by the English printers, were distinct from each other, and not, as in the present time, joined by lines, so that the quaver and semiquaver were signified only by single or double tails, without any connexion whatever; this improvement added much to the beauty and * The following curious lines by "Thomas Jordan, gent.," the Poet Laureate, and writer of the City Pageants, are to be found in the introduction to Playford's Musical Companion, viz.,— "The Parish Clerks, who never knew before |