upholsterer, and a mason; and sometimes, over and above all this, he was a tailor. Genius had not then come to the aid of art, and paintings and statues were ordered exactly as chairs and tables are now.

Much of the undisciplined talent of the nation was employed by Henry the Third on the building and embellishing of his Cathedrals and palaces: foreign artists, too, were imported; and the manufacture of saints and legends was carried on under the inspection of one William, a Florentine. Those productions take their position in history, and claim the place, if not the merit, of works of taste and talent. At best they were but a kind of religious heraldry the most beautiful of the virgins and the most dignified of the apostles were rude, clumsy, and ungraceful, with ill-proportioned bodies and most rueful looks.

That the religious paintings of that period were such as I have described them, there is sufficient evidence; that those of a national or domestic kind were similar in character may be safely inferred. There is no account of the nature of those paintings which belonged to the royal Castle of Winchester; but we may conclude that they were not the same as those which aided the priests of the abbeys in explaining religion to an illiterate people. Walpole presumes-he says not on what authority-that when Henry the Third directed his chamber in Winchester to be painted with "the same pictures as before," they were of an historical nature. Historical, or religious, or domestic, the passage referred to by Walpole proves that the art of painting had been introduced early among us; perhaps it even countenances the tradition that it is as old as Bede. Vertue indeed urges, with more nationality than probability, the claim of England to early knowledge in art, and our acquaintance with the mystery of oil colours, before they appeared in Italy. In sculpture considerable talent was shown before this period; but he who proves that equal skill was exhibited in Painting has likewise to prove that the artists were Englishmen—a circumstance contradicting tradition, and unsupported by history. The early

works of art in this island were from the hands of foreigners. It was the interest of Rome to supply us with painters as well as priests, whose mutual talents and mutual zeal might maintain, and extend, and embellish religion. There is no honour surrendered in relinquishing our claims to such productions; the best of them displayed no genius, and exhibited little skill.

The arts seem to have suffered some neglect during the reigns of Edward the First and Second-the chronicles of the church and the state annalist are alike silent. Painting, which requires seclusion and repose, was ill suited to the temper of the conqueror of Wales and Scotland, and was not likely to obtain patronage from a fierce nobility, whose feet were seldom out of the stirrup. All art was neglected save that which embellished armour, and weapons, and military trappings. Elegance was drowned in absurd pomp, and luxury in grotesque extravagance.

Art and knowledge were more in favour during the long reign of Edward the Third. Poetry and learning were of his train; a better taste and a more temperate splendour distinguished the court; the country became rich as well as powerful, and the martial barbarism of the preceding reigns was sobered down into something like elegance. The ladies laid aside those formidable pyramids which made the face seem the centre of the body, and the nobles escaped out of the courtly boots of the first Edward, with the square turned-up toes fastened to the knees by chains of gold. There was everywhere a growing sense of what was becoming and elegant, yet the character of the times was decidedly martial. The actions of the Black Edward in France and Spain gave lustre to the arms of England. A spirit for martial adventure, tempered with high feeling and romantic generosity, spread among the nobles. He was accounted of little note in the land who preferred domestic repose to active war, or who imagined that the best productions of the human mind could be compared to the fame of a well-fought field. Sentiments and feeling such as these ushered in chivalry; to the influence of which we

owe so much, since it brought with it mildness, mercy, high honour and heroic daring, and many of the sweets and amenities of social life.

The art of painting during this reign partook of the warlike spirit of the king; the royal commissions for saints, virgins, and apostles gave way to orders for gilded armour, painted shields, and emblazoned banners-St. Edward was less in request than St. George. No works of art were produced in this period which induce me to lament their loss, and the oblivion which has come over them.

During the civil wars which succeeded, the waste of human life was immense; the contest was fierce and of long continuance; and the destruction of castles and churches involved the treasures of knowledge in ruin, and checked the progress of the elegant arts. In the intervals of repose, indeed, painting was not idle; but her efforts displayed neither originality of thought nor skill of execution. For many reigns art continued to work patiently at its old manufacture. No new paths were explored; nor had the painter any other aim than that of mechanically reproducing the resemblance of that which had preceded him. Those works are the first blind gropings of art after form and colour. The faces are without thought, the limbs without proportion, and the draperies without variety.

Among them there is one which merits notice, chiefly because it is one of the earliest of our attempts at historical portraiture which can be authenticated. It is a painting on wood; the figures are less than life, and represent Henry the Fifth and his relations. It measures four feet six inches long, by four feet four inches high, and was in the days of Catholic power the altar-piece of the church of Shene. An angel stands in the centre holding in his hands the expanding coverings of two tents, out of which the king, with three princesses, and the queen, with four princesses, are proceeding to kneel at two altars, where crosses, and sceptres, and books are lying. They wear long and flowing robes, with loose hair, and have crowns on their heads. In the background, St. George appears in the air, combating with the

dragon, while Cleodelinda kneels in prayer beside a lamb. It is not, indeed, quite certain that this curious work was made during the reign of Henry the Fifth, but there can be little doubt of its having been painted as early as that of his son. The monarch was not more fortunate than the apostles of the church; for neither his heroic character, nor the presence of princesses of the blood-royal, could animate the conception, or raise the artist above the usual cold level of barbarism.

Painting, nevertheless, may be said to have advanced a step or two during that period of blood and confusion, and the love of art was gaining a little ground. The demand for saints and legends was sensibly diminishing; a more rational taste in all things was dawning; men's sympathies, national and social, mingled freely in literature, and moderately in art. Portraits were frequently attempted; but they are grim and grotesque-present an image of death rather than of life and show but glimpses of that feeling and truth of character which distinguish true works of art. But though the draperies seem copied from the windingsheet rather than from the robe, and the faces from death rather than from life; still it was something to attempt to follow nature, and showed a spirit willing to be freed from the shackles of imitation, and a desire to escape from the thraldom of the church.

At this period the character of an English artist was curiously compounded; he was at once architect, sculptor, carpenter, goldsmith, armourer, jeweller, saddler, tailor, and painter. There is extant, in Dugdale, a curious example of the character of the times, and a scale by which we can measure the public admiration of art. It is a contract between the Earl of Warwick and John Ray, citizen and tailor, London, in which the latter undertakes to execute the emblazonry of the earl's pageant in his situation of ambassador to France. In the tailor's bill, gilded griffins mingle with Virgin Marys; painted streamers for battle or procession with the twelve apostles; and " one coat for his grace's body, lute with fine gold," takes precedence of St. George and the Dragon.

The superstition of the church formed a grotesque union with the frivolities of heraldry and the follies of courtiers and kings. The baron who patronised in his youth the gilded pomps and painted vanities of the court and camp, entertained other feelings as he approached the grave, and at once soothed a timorous conscience, and appeased a rapacious church, by benefactions to abbeys of painted saints and profitable manors. This was the true age of barbaric splendour; mankind wanted the taste to use their wealth wisely, and knew no way to estimate excellence save by price. The quantities of silver and gold, precious stones, and expensive colours, employed in works of art, were immense. Art, unequal to the task of touching the heart by either action or sentiment, appealed to our sense of what is costly, and trusted to her materials. The taste and genius of the Greeks enabled them to use rich materials, and perhaps to use them wisely; but our fathers acted as if all the charm lay in abundance of costly things. We had gilded kings with golden crowns; gilded angels with golden halos; and gilded virgins sitting nursing golden children on golden clouds: the heaven above was gold, and so was the earth beneath.

Yet art, in what was conceived to be a far humbler pursuit, made some atonement for all this. Before, and some time after, the invention of printing, literature was diffused over the land by means of the pen, and a skilful transcriber had more than the reputation which a clever printer enjoys now. Of the volumes thus produced, many were eminently beautiful: a single volume was the subject of a dying bequest, and the works of a favourite author were received as pledges for the repayment of large loans, and even for the faith of treaties. The hand of the painter added greatly to the value of those volumes. illustration of missals, and of books of chivalry and romance, became a favourite pursuit with the nobles, and a lucrative employment to artists. Illustrations on this scale required a delicate hand which excelled in miniature resemblances, and a fancy in keeping with the genius of the

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