turesque and the fine followed as matters of course. Hence the unaffected force and dignity of his style, which are only another name for truth and nature under impressive and momentous circumstances. The distraction of the face, the inclination of the head on one side, are as fine as possible, and the agony is just verging to that point, in which it is relieved by death. The expression of ghastly wonder in the features of the man on the floor next him is also remarkable; and the mingled beauty, grief, and horror in the female head behind can never be enough admired or extolled. The pain, the sudden and violent contraction of the muscles, is as intense as if a sharp instrument had been driven into the forehead, and yet the same sweetness triumphs there as ever, the most perfect self-command and dignity of demeanour. We would hazard a conjecture that this is what forms the great distinction between the natural style of Raphael and the natural style of Hogarth. Both are equally intense; but the one is intense littleness, meanness, vulgarity; the other is intense grandeur, refine ment, and sublimity. In the one we see common, or sometimes uncommon and painful, circumstances acting with all their force on narrow minds and deformed bodies, and bring ing out distorted and violent efforts at expression; in the other we see noble forms and lofty characters contending with adverse, or co-operating with powerful impressions from without, and imparting their own unaltered grace, and habitual composure to them. In Hogarth, generally, the face is excited and torn in pieces by some paltry interest of its own; in Raphael, on the contrary, it is expanded and ennobled by the contemplation of some event or object highly interesting in itself; that is to say, the passion in the one is intellectual and abstracted; the passion in the other is petty, selfish, and confined. We have not thought it beneath the dignity of the subject to make this comparison between two of the most extraordinary and highly gifted persons that the world ever saw. If Raphael had seen Hogarth's pictures, he would not have despised them. Those only can do it (and they are welcome!) who,

wanting all that he had, can do nothing that he could not, or that they themselves pretend to accomplish by affectation and bombast.

Elymas the Sorcerer stands next in order, and is equal in merit. There is a Roman sternness and severity in the general look of the scene. The figure of the Apostle, who is inflicting the punishment of blindness on the impostor, is grand, commanding, full of ease and dignity and the figure of Elymas is blind all over, and is muffled up in its clothes from head to foot. A story is told of Mr. Garrick's objecting to the natural effect of the action, in the hearing of the late Mr. West, who, in vindication of the painter, requested the celebrated comedian to close his eyes and walk across the room, when he instantly stretched out his hands, and began to grope his way with the exact attitude and expression of this noble study. It may be worth re marking here, that this great painter and fine observer of human nature has represented the magician with a hard iron visage, and strong uncouth figure, made up of bones and muscles, as one not troubled with weak nerves, nor to be diverted from his purpose by idle scruples, as one who repelled all sympathy with others, who was not to be moved a jot by their censures or prejudices against him, and who could break with ease through the cobweb snares which he laid for the eredulity of mankind, without being once entangled in his own delusions. His outward form betrays the hard, unimaginative, self-willed understanding of the Sorcerer.-There is a head (a profile) coming in on one side of the picture, which we would point out to our readers as one of the most finely relieved, and best preserved, in this series. The face of Elymas, and some others in the picture, have been a good deal hurt by time and illtreatment. There is a snuffy look under the nose, as if the water-colour had been washed away in some damp lumber-room, or unsheltered out-house. The Cartoons have felt "the season's difference," been exposed to wind and rain, tossed about from place to place, and cut down by profane hands to fit them to one of their abodes; so that it is altoge ther wonderful, that "through their

looped and tattered wretchedness," any traces are seen of their original splendour and beauty. That they are greatly changed from what they were even a hundred years ago, is evident from the heads in the Bodleian library at Oxford, which were cut out from one of them that was nearly destroyed by some accident, and from the large French engravings of single heads, done about the same time, which are as finished and correct as possible. Even Sir James Thornhill's copies bear testimony to the same effect. Though without the spirit of the originals, they have fewer blots and blotches in them, from having been better taken care of. A skeleton is barely left of the Cartoons; but the mighty relics, like the bones of the Mammoth, tell us what the entire and living fabric must have been!

In the Gate Beautiful there is a profusion of what is fine, and of imposing contrasts. The twisted pillars have been found fault with; but there they stand, and will for ever stand to answer all cavillers with their wreathed beauty. The St. John in this Cartoon is an instance of what we have above hinted as to the ravages of time on these pictures. In the old French engraving (half the size of life) the features are exceedingly marked and beautiful, whereas they are here in a great measure defaced; and the hair, which is at present a mere clotted mass, is woven into graceful and waving curls,

Like to those hanging locks
Of young Apollo.

Great inroads have been made on the delicate outline of the other parts, and the surface has been generally injured. The Beggars are as fine as ever: they do not lose by the squalid condition of their garb or features, but remain patriarchs of poverty, and mighty in disease and infirmity, as if they crawled and grovelled on the pavement of Heaven. They are lifted above this world! The child carrying the doves at his back is an exquisite example of grace, and innocence, and buoyant motion; and the face and figure of the young woman directly over him give a glad welcome to the eye in their

fresh, unimpaired, and radiant sweetness and joy. This head seems to have been spared from the unhallowed touch of injury, like a little isle or circlet of beauty. It was guarded, we may suppose, by its own heavenly, feminine look of smiling loveliness. There is another very fine female head on the opposite side of the picture, of a graver cast, looking down, and nearly in profile. The only part of this Cartoon that we object to, or should be for turning out, is the lubberly naked figure of a boy close to one of the pillars, who seems to have no sort of business there, and is an obvious eye-sore.

The Miraculous Draught of Fishes is admirable for the clearness and prominence of the figures, for the vigorous marking of the muscles, for the fine expression of devout emotion in the St. Peter, and for the calm dignity in the attitude, and the divine benignity in the countenance of the Christ. Perhaps this head expresses more than any other that ever was attempted, the blended meekness, benevolence, and sublimity, in the character of our Saviour. The whole figure is so still, so easy, it almost floats in air, and seems to sustain the boat by the secret sense of power. We shall not attempt to make a formal reply to the old objection to the diminutive size of the boats, but we confess it seems to us to enhance the value of the miracle. Their load swells proportionably with it, and the waves conspire to bear them up. The storks on the shore are not the least animated or elevated part of the picture; they exult in the display of divine power, and share in the prodigality of the occasion.

The Sacrifice at Lystra has the marks of Raphael's hand on every part of it. You see and almost hear what is passing. What a pleasing relief to the turbulent, busy scene, are the two children piping at the altar! How finely, how unexpectedly, but naturally, that innocent, rustic head of a girl comes in over the grave countenances and weighty thoughtful heads of the group of attendant priests! The animals brought to be sacrificed are equally fine in the expression of terror, and the action of resistance to the rude force by which they are dragged along.

A great deal has been said and written on the St. Paul preaching at Athens. The features of excellence in this composition are indeed so bold and striking as hardly to be mistaken. The abrupt figure of St. Paul, his hands raised in that fervent appeal to him who dwelleth not in temples made with hands," such as are seen in gorgeous splendour all around, the circle of his auditors, the noble and pointed diversity of heads, the one wrapped in thought and in its cowl, another resting on a crutch and earnestly scanning the face of the Apostle rather than his doctrine, the careless attention of the Epicurean philosopher, the fine young heads of the disciples of the Porch or the Academy, the clenched fist and eager curiosity of the man in front as if he was drinking sounds, give this picture a superiority over all the others for popular and intelligible effect. We do not think that it is therefore the best; but it is the easiest to describe and to remember.

The Giving of the Keys is the last of them: it is at present at SomersetHouse. There is no set purpose here, no studied contrasts: but it is an

aggregation of grandeur and high feeling. The disciples gather round Christ, like a flock of sheep listening to some divine shepherd. The figure of their master is sublime: his countenance and attitude" in act to speak." The landscape is also fine and of a soothing character. Every thing falls into its place in these pictures. The figures seem to stop just where their business and feelings bring them: not a fold in the draperies can be disposed for the better or otherwise than it is.

It would be in vain to enumerate the particular figures, or to explain the story of works so well known: what we have aimed at has been to show the spirit that breathes through them, and we shall count ourselves fortunate, if we have not sullied them with our words. We do not care about some works; but these were sacred to our imaginations, and we should be sorry indeed to have profaned them by description or criticism. We have hurried through our unavoidable task with fear, and look back to it in doubt,

W. H.

Benhall, March 31, 1823.

This is the earliest edition of Scoggin's Jests we have yet been able to meet with, although they must have appeared half a century earlier, since The Gestes of Skoggan gathered together in this volume" was entered in the Stationers' Register by Tho. Colwell, in 1565; and probably printed in that year. The edition now before us was in the famous Harleian Collection, Bibl. Harl. vol. iv. No. 19636; there is a copy in the British Museum, dated in 1626, purporting to be "The first and best part of Scoggin's Jestes, full of witty mirth and pleasant shifts, done by him in France and other Places; being a preservative against melancholy; and there was another, printed in quarto, without date, for William Thackery, a great vender of story books and romances, about the year 1670.

Of the author of the Jests in question, Holinshed thus writes,* "Scogan, a learned gentleman and student for a time in Oxford, of a plesant wit, and bent to merrie deuises, in respect whereof he was called into the court, where giuing himselfe to his naturall inclination of mirth and pleasant pastime, he plaied manie sporting parts, although not in such vnciuill manner as hath beene of him reported." Bale, who calls him "alter Democritus," affirms that

he was educated in Oxford, where he became Master of Arts, and that, in addition to his facetious qualifica tions, he was admirably skilled in philosophy and all other liberal arts and sciences. The same writer It should, however, be noted that places him as flourishing in 1480.† there was another Scogan, with whom our jester has been frequently confounded. This was Henry Scogan, a poet, who lived in the reign of Henry IV. and wrote "A morall Ballade to the Kinge's Sonnes," printed in the collection of Chaucer's pieces, and another entitled "Fleè from the Prese," which has been erroneously ascribed to Chaucer in Urry's edition, though given to the real author in a good manuscript in Corpus Christi College, Oxford. It of English poetry addressed a mewas to this Scogan, that the father trical remonstrance, extant in manuscript in the Bodleian (Fairfax, No. 16), beginning:

To broken been the statutes hye in hevenę, That creat weren eternaly to dure, &c. and Ben Jonson introduces him in one of his masques, The Fortunate Isles, as him

→→→→→→→ that made disguises For the king's sons, and writ in ballad royal Daintily well.

The Jestes of Scoggin are said to have been gathered by Dr. Andrew Borde, a physician, poet, and great traveller, of whom we shall have to take notice, when we come to the mention of The merry Tales of the Madmen of Gotham, another of his popular compilations. In a preface to the latter editions (for that of

JUNE, 1823.

*

1613 has it not), Borde gives a very brief account of the author. He had (he tells us)" heard say, that Scoggin did come of an honest stock, no kindred, and that his friends did set him to schoole at Oxford, where he did continue till he was made master of art:"† and we learn a little of his history from various adventures incidentally detailed in his merry pranks. He was, it seems, banished from England on account of a deception practised on the simple daughter of a goldsmith of London, whose honesty he corrupted by a very unworthy stratagem. Clothing "himselfe like a scholler," he crosses from Dover to Calais, where he lined his purse by a wager with one of the burgo-masters, "that he would make an oration in the middle of the market place, which should make one halfe of his auditors to laugh, and the other halfe to weepe;" he effects this in no very decent manner, and then travels into Picardy, where, after long solicitation, he was made chief warrener to a noble knight. Scoggin, however, puts a practical joke on his master, which occasions his dismissal in disgrace; affording a sufficient proof, as the compiler sagely remarks, "how a man may lose that in an houre, that was not got in a yeare." He next becomes "a horse-courser's servant," but is not more fortunate in this more humble situation, for he plays divers silly pranks, and is at last turned out of his service as an ungracious knave for his pains. We next hear of him at Paris, where he "was gretly beloued for his subtill wit and crafty deceites;" then at Caen in Normandy; and lastly at Rome, where, after being invited to sup with his Holiness, he is so reduced, if we may believe the tale, as to keep an ale-house upon the Cardinal rents. How to reconcile this with mention that is afterwards made of his holding a benefice, and being so merry conceited, that he would always say service quite contrary to

all others," we know not; but as we conjecture many of Scoggin's residences and offices are made to suit the stories that are related of him, we must be content to follow our authority, without very minutely canvassing the probable authenticity of the account. The little volume of 1613, which we believe to be only the first part of the whole collection, leaves its hero in the humble capacity of "serving man to a certaine squire that tooke great delight to trauell into strange countries to see fashions, the which pleased Scoggin wondrous well;" and here we also must bid him farewell, giving our readers a specimen or two of the wit which is said to have rendered our hero so popular at court, in the days of king Edward IV.

How Scoggin made the country people of fer their money to a dead man's head.

Vpon a time when Scoggin lacked maintenance, and had gotten the displeasure of crafty dealings and vnhappy tricks, he be his former acquaintance by reason of his thought himselfe in what manner he might get money with a litle labour; so trauelling vp into Normandie, he got him a prieste's gowne, and clothed himselfe like a scholler, and after went into a certaine churchyard, where hee found the scull of a dead man's head, the which hee tooke vp and made very cleane, and after bore it to a goldsmith, and hired him to set it in a stud of siluer, which being done, he departed to a village thereby, and came to the parthen told him that he had a relique, and son of the church, and saluted him, and

desired him that he would do so much for him, as to shew it vnto the parish, that they may offer to it; and withall promised the parson that hee should haue the one halfe of the offeringes. The parson, moued with couetousnesse, granted his request, and so vppon the Sunday following told his parishioners thereof, saying that there was a certaine religious scholler come to the towne that had brought with him a prethereunto should haue a generall pardon cious relique; and hee that would offer for all his forepassed sinnes, and that the scholler was there present himselfe to shew it them. With that Scoggin went vp into the pulpit, and shewed the people the re