we suppose to be the case, we doubt whether Mr. Noble would not have derived more fame from suspending it in the student's room, for their private instruction, than from exposing it to the public, who never feel the slightest interest in such laboured efforts of mere skill.

As a curiosity, we may mention in passing Mr. Macartan's portrait of "Patrick Gibson, formerly of His Majesty's Royal Navy," of whom we are told, that he was "born in the year 1720, entered the navy in 1757, and in that year assisted in bearing General Wolfe off the field at Quebec; continued in service afloat up to his 90th year; has been in twenty-six general engagements, and is now living, in his 111th year, in the full enjoyment of his mental, and most of his physical faculties." He certainly does look a fine old fellow.

Of Mr. Hollins's five paintings, the portrait of Lord Nugent is decidedly the best, and we may say that, with respect to the truth of likeness, and the execution of the details, it may be compared, not disadvantageously, with most of the superior works in this line, of which the present exhibition can boast. A trifling accessary, new in portraits, sets off the dress of his lordship amazingly; it consists of a very small portion of the watch-guard chain, of very highly burnished gold, which appears, or rather shines, as if unintentionally, along the inside of the lapel of the frock coat upon the left breast. It is like one of those lights which the ancient masters were so fond of introducing upon all occasions, relying upon the well-known pleasure which light is universally found to give to the human eye. By the way, we are rather surprised that these guard chains, which have recently become so much the fashion, have not been introduced more generally into portraits. Our costume is, in general, so little favourable to art, that no ornament, however slight, which is usually worn, ought to be omitted. The resemblance of the picture to Lord Nugent is perfect; his lordship every body knows to be a handsome man.

What a very lovely family that is which Mr. Rothwell has grouped together, "The children of the late Charles Herbert, of Muckruss Abbey, Killarney"! The two brothers, fine youths, just going out to shoot, appear as if to wish their sisters good bye for the day; the eldest and youngest sister strongly resemble each other in their beauty, while the two between them have a peculiar style of countenance, not quite so pleasing, but more intellectual, The family likeness, that mysterious impression, of which our books can give no satisfactory explanation, shines with more or less strength in the countenances of all. It is a picture of which the family, not less than Rothwell, may be justly proud.

Mr. W. E. West has displayed a very high order of fancy and of feeling, in his representation of that most unhappy domestic affliction, the insanity of a young woman. She is the belle of the country round, a slender figure, wrapped in a red shawl, with a figured

apron, in the corner of which she has collected some wild-flowers. Her hair falls upon her snow-white neck like a shower of gold, and her face is loveliness itself. We have gone repeatedly to look at this picture, and have never left it but with that sort of regret, which one would feel from seeing such an example of misfortune in real life, and from hearing the affecting story of the misplaced, or ill-requited affection, which had been the cause of the calamity. The ill-fated girl is standing between her afflicted parents, who are trying to pour into her soul the balm of sweet and affectionate words. Every thing looks as if copied from nature; there is no effort of epic finery; it is a rustic tale, told after Miss Mitford's fashion. In the group behind there are two or three braces of lovers, who are differently affected by the melancholy scene. One girl is evidently hesitating whether she will receive any further attentions from her swain, lest she should be treated as this poor victim was, and lose her understanding. Another points to her own forehead, telling to her companion the story of this maid, as if with a view to end it in a serious moral. These episodes serve to give variety and relief to the principal subject, and they are managed with great taste.

Under Etty's picture in the great room, there is an Italian family, in the costume of Cavi, near Palestrina, by Eastlake, which is remarkable as a specimen of the true Italian form and features, displayed in a group just above the order of peasantry, and living in easy circumstances, composed of a villager, his wife and infant child. The babe is asleep upon its mother's bosom, as if after she had just given it the breast; the father's manly countenance, chiselled in the Roman outline, is wreathed in smiles of paternal tenderness while he gazes upon his offspring; the mother is all content and happiness; no anxiety casts its shade upon her cheek; her child is hushed to rest, and she no more remembers the pain which it had cost her. Our own English beauty is in all its varieties truly enchanting; nevertheless, we could not behold this Italian mother, without feeling that there is a beauty of a very different kind, that possesses, at least, equal power to charm. A traveller may wander over every village in that land of lovely women, without meeting one more perfect, in every respect, than this fair one from Cavi. Youth and health, and the unbought grace of nature, combine to render her the most pleasing object of contemplation we have ever beheld.

Mr. M. A. Shee, son of the President, seems resolved to illustrate Gil Blas. Last year he attempted a sketch from that inexhaustible collection of scenes of Spanish life, and, with some taste, exhibited rather a larger share of gaucherie in the management of his subject. His performance this year, in the same line, is a decided failure. It is a representation of that interview between Gil Blas, and Aurora de Guzman, in which he declaims his thanks to her for looking upon him with eyes of favour. In his appearance there is not a

single trait, which our associations allow as answering in any manner to Gil Blas. And as to the lady, we need only observe that her right wrist is nearly twice as thick as her left. But the principal fault of the picture is the barrenness of its invention. It has not a spark of poetical fire, and no man ever will succeed as a historical painter, who has not a very considerable share of poetry in his soul. Near this painting there is a capital "Interior," by Fraser, "Tapping the Ale Barrel," which is worthy of the Dutch school. "Solomon's Sacrifice, at the dedication of the Temple," by J. H. Nixon, is a truly magnificent composition. The altar is raised to a great height (not too great) in the sacred building, and the king, wrapped in enthusiastic devotion, with arms outstretched towards heaven, offers the glorious pile to the worship of his GoD. The elevation of the altar, and the consequently vast distance at which Solomon stands from his attendants, tend to give a sublimity to his person and action, worthy of the solemn ceremony in which he is engaged. The drapery of the attendants below, and the victims prepared for the sacrifice, afford the artist an opportunity of displaying the freedom and vigour of his pencil, as well as the fertility of his invention. This production must excite the most sanguine hopes as to Nixon's future career.

We were much amused with Gray's "Villagers returning from the fair."

In the Model Academy we were most struck by Sharp's "Boy and Lizard," in marble, and S. Nixon's "Infant Moses." Turnerelli's bust of Lady Morgan, Sievier's busts of Dr. Turton, and Baron Bolland; Westmacott's "Ascanius carried away by Venus," and his statue of the late Mrs. Rawson, of Nield, in Yorkshire; Chantrey's busts of His Majesty and the Duke of Sussex; and Westmacott junior's "Mischief," are also wel! entitled to be mentioned as distinguished works of art.

ART. X.-Essays and Orations, read and delivered at the Royal College of Physicians; to which is added an account of the opening of the tomb of King Charles I. By Sir Henry Halford, Bart., M. D., G. C. H. President of the College. Svo. pp. 192. London: Murray.

1831.

SIR Henry Halford has conferred a valuable kindness upon society, by publishing these papers in their present form. Though treating of subjects principally medical, yet they will be found, for the most part, acceptable to the general reader. Many of the topics which they discuss are interesting to us all; the climacteric disease, the Tic Douloureux, Insanity, the influence of some diseases of the body upon the mind, may well attract the attention of persons who are in no degree connected with the profession, the more particularly as the author, avoiding all technicality of expression, has uni

formly adopted language which every body may understand. His experience and great eminence as a Physician, render his communications important, beyond the ordinary mass of such productions; and his admonitions upon several points of practical utility, will, necessarily, be received with the greatest respect.

With respect to what is usually called the "climacteric disease," the author holds that it would be absurd to fix it at any stated epoch of advanced life. Much depends upon the influence which moral causes have exercised over our progress from youth onwards, much also upon the various accidents and habits of living, which more frequently determine the number of a man's years, than the strength of the stamina with which he was born.' The climacteric may be said to have commenced when the flesh falls away in the decline of life without any obvious cause. The pulse becomes quicker than usual, and the expression of the countenance undergoes an extraordinary alteration. This generally happens between fifty and seventyfive years of age, though, within that interval, men have frequently rallied from their feeble condition, and enjoyed good health for many years after. So gradual is the approach of this disease, that we seldom take notice of its commencement. We are more easily fatigued than usual; the frame grows thin and languid; the appetite becomes impaired; sleep flies our pillow, or ceases to afford refreshment. Headach and vertigo follow, and what are supposed to be rheumatic pains; the stomach loses its powers; the mind is torpid, and the lamp of life goes gradually out, rather from a want of its usual aliment, than from the effects of a mortal distemper.

This is the malady in its simple form, a form in which it is seen only in patients whose previous life had been entirely healthy. Generally speaking, it is found in combination with other complaints, whose character it assumes, and whose course it accompanies so evenly, that it cannot often be distinguished from them. Its presence is, however, to be supposed, when those complaints are unusually exasperated, particularly if the countenance indicate that peculiar character of expression, which the climacteric disease always produces. Sometimes it adopts the symptoms of the gout, sometimes those of a common cold, or any other accidental disorder, with which it connects itself, and thus, for a time, baffles the patient, who wonders that his fit of the gout does not go off as usual, leaving him refreshed and strengthened, or that his cough continues so long beyond the ordinary period. The disease would appear to occur much more frequently in men than in women. Perhaps, correctly speaking, it is only less perceptible in the latter, whose strength, seldom so great as that of man, is weakened, long before the approach of age, by the pains attendant upon labour, as well as by their less active habits. A common cold often causes it, or an act of unusual intemperance; a fall, which may appear consequence at the moment; a marriage contracted late in life, and, above all, sorrow or great anxiety of mind. In the early stages of

of no

sere and

life, grief produces little effect upon the health. If disappointments then occur, the man of fortitude and energy feels that he is still young enough to repair any disasters which he may have suffered. Not so when he reaches the period of the " yellow leaf." At this time of life,' as Sir Henry Halford affectingly expresses himself, it may be, the partner of all his happiness and all his care has been torn from him; or a child who had grown up to be his comfort and support; or perhaps a friend or contemporary, with his regret for whom there is mixed an apprehension that the next blow may fall on himself; and if, at this moment, a survey of past life be not more consolatory than the prospect of what remains, adieu to that animating and enlivening hopewhich is cheerfulness-which is health.'

For such a disease as this there can be no real cure. Physicians cannot treat it too gently. Active remedies are altogether out of the question. The change which it operates in the constitution, is, most probably, owing to a deficiency in the energy of the brain, and an irregular supply of nervous influence to the heart. The most effectual palliative on such an occasion is the consciousness of internal purity and peace. To be able to contemplate with complacency either issue of a disorder, which the great author of our being may, in his kindness, have intended as a warning to us to prepare for a better existence, is of prodigious advantage to recovery, as well as to comfort; and the retrospect of a well-spent life is a cordial of infinitely more efficacy than all the resources of the medical art.'

In an exceedingly sensible and well written paper on the necessity of caution in the estimation of symptoms in the last stages of some diseases,' Sir Henry has thrown out several suggestions, which are of great general utility to families as well as to physicians. The latter he particularly warns, against giving their opinions of the probable progress of particular maladies in too hasty a manner; and be mentions some striking cases, in which the necessity of great caution was particularly necessary, in order not to awaken false hopes on the one hand, or to produce unnecessary pain on the

other.

His dissertation upon that most harassing and most baffling of all distempers, the Tic Douloureux, is a most valuable contribution to medical science.

The Tic Douloureux, in its severest form, is one of the most painful and intractable diseases to which the physician is called to administer. By its severest form, I mean that which involves the several branches of the fifth pair of nerves, expanded over the face and the fauces, attacking with electric plunges, as it were, and in a manner so peculiar, that no other pain is expressed like it. It is distinguished by its intensity, from the milder species of disease to which nerves in other parts of the body are sometimes liable; the latter generally depends upon some derangement of the digestive organs, and usually gives way to a mode of treatment calcuVOL. II. (1831.) No. II.

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