Blackwood's Edinburgh Magazine, Volume 62, No. 383, September 1847

it is likewise a strong bond of union between man and man – where shall we find such another? Hounds and horses may connect, indeed, a greater number, but if one of the field breaks his neck, who cares? "he should have been better mounted,"[1 - "Gentlemen," said a quondam acquaintance of ours, rising to return thanks to a party of fox-hunters who had proposed his health – "I thank you all for drinking my health, and E. for speaking as he has just done of my riding. You all know that a younger son has not much choice in horse-flesh; but should it please Providence to take my elder brother, you would see me differently mounted, and I might then, perhaps, be able to do something more worthy of your commendation; so allow me to propose in return for your kindness, 'The chances of the chase.'"] or else, "he could not ride;" – but ours is a gentler and a kindlier community. Where else exists that unanimity to which this body may justly lay claim? Not in the professions, where law detracts, medicine dislikes, and the church does not always hold the truth in charity; nor yet amidst mankind in general, for philosophers misquote, scholars revile, merchants monopolise, courtiers traduce, statesmen deceive: but here no conflicting interests, nor uncharitable surmises, no morbid sensibility, nor false and narrow views of life, arise to estrange those whom Linnæus and Cuvier have once united in fellowship. Constant, cheerful, unaffected, and sincere, the happy members of our coterie, every where, and in all ranks alike, show an instinctive tact in making each other out, and once friends continue so for life. We speak from long and intimate acquaintance with many naturalists: to some, courteous reader, we purpose, with your consent, hereafter to introduce you. Our object meanwhile is, to set before you now two humble foreigners of the gentler sex, who have passed their whole lives in the study and practice of taxidermy. Real and zealous enthusiasts are Annetta Cadet and her mother, who, in order to surprise in their haunts, and study before they embalm them, the various inhabitants of the Campagna about Rome, think nothing of braving any amount of heat, fatigue, and inconvenience; and such adepts are they in this art, that when stuffed, their birds, beasts, and reptiles seem to have received new life at their hands, and to be about to spring from the ground or to leave their perches, and glide out of sight. When, therefore, you shall have examined the out-doors[2 - Out-doors– because, as we have said in Birboniana, it would take years to explore the numismatic and other treasures of the museums.] antiquities, (and unless you would reconstruct the Forum for the thousandth time on some original plan of your own, or were to go mare's-nest hunting amidst the ruins with certain German Barbatuli, – the Bunsenists of a season – ten days will be more than sufficient,) we charge you not to fail calling at No. 23, Via della Vite, where, if you should possess any lurking propensities for natural history, they are sure to be elicited. As to your first reception, if this should be of a somewhat abnormal kind, why, so was ours; – for Cadet and her mother are certainly originals: but that you should not be disconcerted, and in order to prepare you for the personal appearance, as well as the unusual qualities of our friends, we transcribe the memorandum of our own introduction to them. Prince Musignano, whose birds they mounted, professor Metaxa, who sent rare insects for them to determine, and W – who affirmed, (par parenthèse,) that no one could stuff birds like them but himself, had all prœconised their accomplishments to us; so one morning with a note-book full of queries, and a bottle full of insects, we descended the Scalinata, and knocked at the door. It was opened by a cord pulled from above, while a female voice demanded, more solito, "chi c'e?" On answering, that our visit was to the Signore who prepared insects, the voice said, "Come up, go in at the door to the right, and we will join you as soon as we have made ourselves tidy." Obeying this Little-red-riding-hood invitation, we entered the reception room, and began to amuse ourselves with a survey of a score or two of queer-looking pictures, (for the most part without frames,) with which the walls were adorned; strange landscapes were there, and allegorical subjects, treated with an equal perversity. On one that first caught our eye, a waning moon, resting on the grass with its horns upwards, formed a couch for Diana and Endymion; from this we had turned to a naked nymph with a pretty face, and a torso half hidden under a cataract of dishevelled tresses, "not penitent enough for a Magdalen," thought we, when mother and daughter entering together, "Ecco la mia madre," said the girl pointing to the picture in question. "Come?" asked we, "that your mother?" "Certainly, it was painted by my own father, six months after their marriage; she was then as you see, una bella giovanne assai." "Was your father, then, a painter by profession?" "Not originally," interposed the old dame: "he was designed for a missionary by his patron, who brought him over from his native country, San Domingo, when a boy; but the old man dying shortly afterwards, the Propaganda undertook to complete the youth's education with the same view. As, however, he chose to think that painting, not preaching, was his calling, and as an attachment had sprung up between us, and I preferred passing my life with him rather than with Santa Ursula and her virgins, to whom my friends would have dedicated me, we determined to take our own case into our own hands, married without asking permission, and then, to support ourselves, I turned my attention to Taxidermy and he to the Fine Arts. Thus we managed to subsist till Annetta was nine years old, when I lost him." "And I," interposed Annetta, "gained a score of old botany books, and these beautiful paintings; I wonder no one comes to propose for me." "E pazza quella ragazza!" said the mother; and, to judge by her appearance and attire alone, she might have been so. Her descent sufficiently accounted for her woolly hair; but in addition to its negro texture, it was unteazled and neglected, being mixed with bits of feather and other extraneous elements. She was swathed from head to foot in coarse soiled dimity; in one hand she was holding a half stuffed hawk, in the other a sponge, dipped in some arsenical solution to preserve it. Our eyes had never rested upon so wild, so plain, so apparently hopeless a slattern; but these unpromising appearances were soon forgotten, and amply made amends for by the intelligence of her remarks, and the sprightliness of her conversation; and we know,

"Before such merits all objections fly,
Pritchard's genteel, and Garrick six feet high."

The officina was a curious place, and worthy of its mistress. It was something between a shambles, a museum, and a tanyard, and exhaled in consequence the mixed effluvia of decomposing flesh, alcohol, tannin, and the oil of petroleum. In one corner stood a large tawny dog, stuffed, and fixed to a board, with a new pair of eyes in his head, and his mouth well furnished with grinders. "Era molto vecchio questo cane," going up to introduce him to our notice, and patting his back affectionately: "his sockets have not had such eyes in them for many a day, nor his jaws such teeth. I have strengthened his legs with wire, and restored the proper curl to the tail; nothing further is now lacking but some tufts of hair to cover these bare patches on his haunches, when his master will at once recognise unaltered the favourite of fourteen years ago." "And whence the supplies necessary for your purpose?" "From this," replied she, drawing out from under the table a skin of the same tawny colour, "Eccola," and then pinching off with her tweezers a small tuft from the supplementary hide, and gumming over with a camel's hair brush, a bare spot, she proceeded to cover it. "And what's your remedy here?" said we, laying our hand upon a large duck,[3 - Anas Boschias.] whose glossy grass-green neck had lost much of its plumage, especially at the base, where it is wont to be, encircled with a cravat of white feathers. "By robbing others of the same family: for I always think a bird, while he lacks any of his feathers, is looking reproachfully at me, and if a parrot could find tongue it might say,

''Tis cruel to look ragged now I'm dead;
Annetta, give my tail a little red.'

But here are my stores;" and, touching a spring, the door of a small room opened, and revealed unstuffed skins of all sorts, dangling from strings like Fantoccini near the Sapienza, at Christmas-time. "Yonder is a bird, Annetta, that shot across our path yesterday in the villa Borghese; was he not then a foreigner of distinction escaped from the prince's aviary?" – "No; a Campagna bird, but rare;" and she proceeded to display his lapis-lazuli wings, which shone like burnished armour, and were set off by a brilliant edging of black feathers, as polished as jet, while the back was a rich dark brown, and the neck and breast light azure. "Oh! stuff us one of these birds, pray!" – "Non dubitate, one shall be on his perch expecting you when you return to Rome in November." – "And we must have, too, that beautiful neighbour of his who wears a short silk spencer over his back and shoulders, and a full-breasted waistcoat of buff." – "The Alcedo Hispida: he shall be ready too; they call him hereabouts, 'Martin the Fisher.'"

We took leave for the time, but frequently returned to the workshop. On one occasion, we asked Cadet how she attained such skill in taxidermy? "Our art," she replied, "like yours, consists mainly in observation, and therefore it must needs come slowly. In fact it has taken my mother and myself fifteen years to learn the natural instincts, habits, and attitudes of the birds and beasts of the Roman Fauna; every summer we visit their haunts, and bring back such specimens as we may catch or as the peasants, who all know us, may bring. Thus, we return, ever richly laden, sometimes with the carcass of an eagle, or it may be of an African Phenicopterus; or, failing in such large game, we are tolerably sure of porcupines, fine snakes, a nest of vipers, specimens of our three several kinds of tortoises, and different species of land crabs; to say nothing of the Tarantulas, Scholias, and Hippobosques, which I pin round my bonnet, or pop into spirits of wine. As to stuffing – the witnessing how some, who call themselves naturalists, stuff birds, has been long as a beacon to me! They really seem to forget, that it is one thing to prepare a goose for the spit, and another to fill his skin for the museum; they cram whatever they have in hand, as Fuocista Beppo crams a sky-rocket to repletion. Few take the natural shape as a model for the embalmed body. In such hands, sparrows become linnets, owls appear to have died of apoplexy, kestril eyes shine in Civetta's sockets, and the jackdaw has a pupil like the vulture. Then in grouping, they make all to look straight forward, as if, when a hawk has swooped upon a teal, his eyes did not turn downwards in the direction of his victim, or those of the poor teal upwards, in the direction of the expected blow; he too, should be represented as striving to extend his neck beyond the drooping screen of the other's impenetrable wing. Then birds of prey should not perch like barn-door fowls, nor a parrot divide his toes before and behind unequally; yet some taxidermists there are, who consider these things trifles!" "Well, sir, what do you think of my daughter's stuffing?" said the old woman. "Why, that she stuffs beautifully, but the smell of those old hides in the corner makes me sick." Whereupon they both laughed out at our affectation. "A doctor, and made sick!" said they, and they laughed again. "Have you heard of the Brazilian consul's lion?" interrogated the daughter, endeavouring to make us forget our sickness by exciting our curiosity. "No; nor even that he had a lion." "Oh, tell the story to the Signor Dottore, mother!" said the girl; "I can't for laughing." Upon which the old woman, summoning to her aid a ludicrously solemn look, prefaced the anecdote by supposing "We must know the Brazilian consul?" – "Not even by name." – "In that case we were to understand that he was by nature a man of great tenderness of character, but had once been chafed into an act of extraordinary ferocity, killing with his own hand, during the last year of his consulate, (but unfortunately, like Ulysses, without a witness,) a lordly lion: as there was no embalmer on the spot, he simply flayed his victim, and preserved the skin with spice till his return last year, when the wish naturally arose to have the lion mounted after the most approved models, in order that the dimensions of the body and the respective length of tusks, tail, and claws, might appear to the best advantage, making it very evident that this had been a lion that none but Hercules or a Brazilian consul would have ventured to cope with. On making inquiries for an accomplished embalmer, our diplomatist unfortunately stumbles upon a Frenchman – a gentleman of rare accomplishments, as they all are, perfectly versed, by his own account, in that ancient Egyptian art in all its branches; this man, on seeing the skin, takes care duly to appreciate the courage of the consul in killing so immense a beast, whom he promises forthwith to restore to his pristine dimensions and fierceness of physiognomy; his adroitness is rewarded by carte blanche, to purchase any amount of spices and cotton he may require, and his honoraire is fixed at fifty scudi on the completion of the job. Hoping to increase the family satisfaction by showing them the lion once again on his legs, without their previously witnessing the steps by which this was to be effected, he requests that in the interval no one would visit the workshop." "Mind you make him big enough;" says the Consul, signing the contract. "Laissez-moi faire," rejoins the other. After three weeks' mystery, the artist sends for his employer, who, speedily obeying the summons, finds the exhibition-room arranged for a surprise, and the Frenchman in anticipation of an assured triumph, rubbing his hands before a curtain, on the other side of which is the object of this visit. "Hortense, levez la toile!" says the Frenchman, giving the word of command. Hortense does as he is bid; up goes the curtain, and the Consul beholds his old friend, not only with a new face but with a new body: whereat, astounded and aghast, – "That's not, my lion, sir," says the Brazilian. "How, sir, not your lion; whose lion then? – you are facetious." "I facetious, sir," roars the impatient lion-killer, "and what should make me facetious?" "I have the honour to tell you, sir, that this is your lion," says the Frenchman chafing in his turn. "And I have the honour to tell you, then," reiterated the other, "that you never saw a lion." When the Consular family assembled, it was worse still; the children laughed in his face, and the lady said, "that but for his mane and colour she should not have guessed what animal he personated." It was a family misfortune. "Why did you trust a Frenchman with it?" asked his affectionate spouse: "you recollect that Alfieri calls them a nation of Charlatans, whose origin is mud,[4 - In allusion to the ancient name of Paris, "Lutetia," – from lutum, mud.] and that all he ever learned of them was, to be silent when they spoke." "But what's to be done now?" demands the disconsolate man. "Send for the little women who understand stuffing, and take their advice." "So we went," continued the old woman, "and were personally introduced to this lion." "Ah! che Leone!" interrupted the daughter, laughing at the recollection of the quizzical beast. "A lion indeed!" said the mother laughing, but less boisterously than her daughter. "What a king of the forest!" said the girl, going off again into inextinguishable merriment: "mother, do you remember his eyes sunk in his head as if he had died of a decline, his chest pinched in to correspond, his belly bulging out like the pouch of an opossum, with all her family at home, his mouth twisted into a sardonic grin, his teeth like some old dowager, one row overlapping the other, his cheeks inflated as if his stomach was in his mouth, and then the position of one of his fore-legs, evidently copied from that of the old bronze horse on the Capitol, while his tail wound three times and a half round its own tip!" "Basta, basta!" said the old woman, "he was a queer lion, and looked easy enough to kill if you could only keep your gravity while you attacked him." "And what said the Consul?" asked we, laughing with them. "The Consul cospettoed again and again, and was for knocking him off his legs at once, and then giving him to us to re-arrange. 'You and your daughter,' said he, 'will take him home and do what you can for me;' but we told him plainly, that to expect a new birth, after such a miscarriage as this, was only to indulge a vain hope, sure to issue in new disappointment. Why, the very tail would have taken us a fortnight to uncurl and make a lion's tail of it; the ears were quite past redemption; the bustle might have been removed from behind, and the wadding placed in front, where it was wanted; but the hide itself was corrugated into plaits that nothing could have removed. 'Cospetto!' said the Consul, poveretto, who had nothing else to say – 'and am I thus to lose my lion, the only lion I ever killed, and such a fine lion too!' and then he fell to abusing the Frenchman. 'I can't keep him here to show my friends,' pursued he; 'for it is obvious, if I do, that instead of admiring my courage, they will only ridicule me, and perhaps betray me into the hands of that rogue Pinelli as a fit subject for his caricature.' We could not say they would not; so we recommended him, upon the whole, as the best thing under the misfortune, to re-consult the French artist. 'Scelarato porco! consult him about a lion? why the commonest daub on a Trattoria sign-board gives a better idea of the noble animal than this." "It is difficult to stuff a lion," said the girl, half apologetically: "one cost me a fortnight's hard work to prepare." "Yes," added the mother eagerly – "yes, but he looked like a lion, he did." Then turning to us, "Well, sir, at last, as we could not help the Consul, he was obliged to have recourse to this Frenchman again, who admitted that the bulk of the animal was in the wrong place, and une idée trop large, and removed some of it accordingly. With respect to the hind-quarters, he cleverly got rid of this difficulty, by inserting three-quarters of the noble beast into a den, formed in a recess of the drawing-room, and hung with a profusion of green paper, representing bushes falling across its mouth, while beyond them protruded the head and open jaws of the lord of the forest, as reconnoitring the ground previous to a sally upon the guests; and there, doubtless, he is still exhibiting."… Well did Cadet herself avoid the errors she thus ridiculed. We possess one of her animated groups, of which the subject is an eagle killing a snake, and the execution is so true to nature, and so beautifully disposed for effect as to render improvement impossible: from some such original did the Locrian and Girgenti mints copy one of their finest reverses, and Virgil and Ariosto their lively descriptions. Our bird, which lay, a month before, an unsightly mass of blood-stained feathers, broken-winged, on the ground, when he came into our possession, stuffed, looked not only alive but in action. The talon which supported the body seemed to grasp the perch beneath it so tightly, as to convey a very lively impression both of his prehensile powers and of his weight; round the other, (embracing it as in a vice,) writhed the body of a large snake; the eagle's neck was erect, his head slightly bent, his wonderfully expressive eye glancing downwards, his hooked beak opening and disclosing the tongue slightly raised; the scant feathers round the olfactory fissures up; the snake hissing, his head elevated, and darting upwards, to anticipate the lacerating blow:

"Hic sinuosa volumina versat,
Arrectisque horret squammis, et sibilat ore,
Arduus insurgens; illa haud minus urget adunco,
Luctantem rostro."

The delusion as to the substance and weight of the bird was perfect. At first we doubted being able to lift him without considerable effort. On making the attempt, however, we find him light as a Nola jar. A glorious bird is the eagle, well worthy the attention and regard bestowed on him in ancient times by prophet, priest, and poet; but had they been silent, we should have learned the veneration in which he was popularly held by the frequent recurrence of his image – whether incised on Egyptian obelisk, chiselled by Grecian hands on ornamented casque, guarding the tombs of heroes, grasping the thunderbolts of colossal Joves, perched on Latin, standards, carrying off young Ganymedes to wait, invitâ Junone, on the gods above[5 - "Invitâ que Jovi nectar Junone ministrat." – Ovid.]– or bearing aloft, on consecrated coin, some most religious and gracious Augusta to Glory and to Olympus!

One day, meeting the elder Cadet in the street returning alone from the bird-market – a very unusual occurrence, for they generally hunted in couples – we asked after the daughter, and hearing she was ammalata assai, and wanted one of our little pills to set her to rights, turned in with the mother, and found the young naturalista reclining on an ill-stuffed bergère, with a large Coluber coiled round her temples, and a half-prepared Hoopœ in her hand. In the same apartment were a vulture picking an old shoe to pieces under the belly of an Esquimaux dog, and some little land-tortoises nibbling away at a large lettuce in the middle of the floor. Our inquiries were somewhat embarrassed by the unusual circumstances of our patient, particularly by the presence of the snake, which now began to untwist. "See! he has recognised his master," said the dame: "or perhaps has raised his head with a view of taking part in the consultation." We had seen snakes entwining the lovely brow of Medusa, in marble, cameo, and intaglio – painted snakes in clusters hissing in the hair of the Eumenides – but a living snake wound round living temples we had never seen till to-day. "Come, sir, you are only the snake to Esculapius; and though I am not ungrateful for what you have done in refreshing my hot forehead with your cool skin, now the doctor is come, bon giorno!" and, removing him like a turban from her head, she placed him in a box at her side. This was, then, that Epidaurian Coluber which we had so frequently seen in marble effigy wound round the consultation cane of the God of Physic,[6 - Divine honours were first paid to this snake in Rome on occasion of a great pestilence which prevailed during the consulate of Q. Fabius and J. Brutus. His form, rudely sculptured, and much water-worn, is still to be made out on the side of a stone barque, stranded in a Tiber-washed garden belonging to a convent of Franciscans, which convent, rich in Christian as well as these Pagan relics, possesses the complete osteology of two of the Apostles.] and not to be viewed by us alive for the first time without interest. "Mother," said the younger Cadet, brightening up when she perceived this, "bring our snake-boxes, and let us show them all to the dottore." In less than five minutes the cases were before us. The first contained a mother blind-worm and her viviparous family of ten offspring, not two inches long, while she stretched to about twelve. A Coluber Natrix inhabited the second. "He is a great favourite with children in Sardinia," said Cadet, "twisting himself round their arms, and sucking milk from their mouths; but if these supplies fail, he feeds on frogs and fish. His flesh is a sovereign remedy, say our doctors, in skin diseases; and they also say – but you know best how true this may be – that one of the late Dukes of Bavaria became a father by merely eating fowls that had been fattened on them." A Coluber Austriacus followed – a rare snake, and chiefly remarkable for his pleasant herbaceous smell, very unlike what proceeded from a neighbouring box, holding a Coluber Viperinus, who secretes, when irritated, a yellow fluid of intense fœtor, like the mixed stinks from asafœtida and rotten eggs. The specimen in this box was large. It had vomited, we were told, two frogs the day after its capture; and on cutting open another of the same species, Annetta had seen a living toad creep, Jonas-like, from the paunch, and make the best of three legs to escape, the fourth being already disposed of, and digested in the body of the serpent. The solitary Coluber Atro-virens passed next in review. She gave him a character for preferring good cheer to the best company, ex gr.– Out of two taken last week, one only survived; the other devoured his friend in the night, and next morning they found his enormously distended body dilated almost to transparency, and palpitating under the feeble movement of the victim, doubled up in his inside, but not yet dead. Being very exclusive, some call him "il milordo;" others, from the beauty of his colour, "il bello." When about to moult, his wonted vivacity changes to moroseness. Like a mad dog, he will snap at every thing. Perhaps the loss of all his beauty, which then takes place, may account for such peevishness. A glaucomatous state of the eye always precedes by some days the moult, which is accomplished by the skin cracking from the jaws, and afterwards being reflected over the head and shoulders, till by degrees the snake skins himself alive, leaving his old investment turned completely inside out. As gross a feeder as an alderman, he more frequently recovers from a surfeit, perhaps because, though a glutton, he will not touch wine.

Snakes are not so plentiful about Rome as farther south. Terracina in particular swarms with them, as did its ancient predecessor Amycle, which was once nearly depopulated by them. Their chief haunt hereabouts is two miles beyond the Porta Salara, at a place called Serpentina, on the opposite side of the Tiber, and nearly in front of the embouchure of the Cremara. At last we come to the family viper box, which perhaps we "would like to peep into with our gloves on?" "Per Carita, no," said we seizing the naturalista's hand – "on no account – a bite would be no joke!" Cadet laughed, observing that curiosity should not be baulked by timidity for a trifle. – "A trifle! had she ever been bitten, then?" "Come? sicuro ogni anno." It was of familiar occurrence: the part would swell, be stiff and sore for a couple of days, but that was all. Fontana found that it required four large and very angry vipers to kill a dog – of course it must require as many to kill a man. As to the Egyptian Queen's death being caused by a viper's bite, that question having been properly ventilated (ventillata) by Professor Lancisci, might be considered as set at rest. One viper could not kill one person, much less three; and we might remember that Cleopatra's memorable asp is said to have bitten two maids of honour, Neæra and Carmione, before it came to her turn, by which time the poison must have been expended and the viper's tooth dry. "Two things," added she, "I have noted about vipers; one regards the parturient viper, and is to the effect that, a prisoner, she never survives her confinement many days; long before the quarante jours y compris l'accouchement[7 - See the Affiche of the Parisian Sage Femme; passim.] are over, she has ceased to be a mother and a viper. The other regards her progeny, and is this; that young viperlings come into the world in full maturity of malice, offering to bite as soon as their mouths are open, and flying at each other when they have no other society to attack. We have five varieties in Rome." "Is the viper deaf, Cadet?" "You should read the experiments of Peter Manni, a great friend of ours who tames snakes; these will completely satisfy your curiosity on this point: " and she fetched us the work of Manni, in which he gives curious account of the influence exercised upon several varieties of the species by the sound of a pianoforte, and afterwards goes on to relate the effects produced upon the same serpents by electricity and light. "The Viper," says he, "was impassive to the second of these agents, suffering a lighted candle to be brought close to his eyes before he turned away his head; of the harmless snakes, Coluber Esculapius came up to look at a lighted torch, but, finding it too strong for him, gnashed his teeth and bolted; Coluber Elaphis bore the heat of a lighted candle in his mouth with apparent indifference; but the Coluber Atro-virens flew at it in a passion, snapping and biting while he struggled to retreat; he also appeared most distressed under the application of slight electric shocks, from which indeed all the snakes suffered, and the smaller ones died."

The action of some poisons upon snakes is similar to that on our own economy. For instance, on administering half a grain of strychnine to a full-grown Coluber Atro-virens, four minutes elapsed before, any change was visible. During this period the snake moved in the hand with his usual vivacity; the flesh then began to grow rigid under the finger; and in half a minute, the whole body, with the exception of three inches of coil, was seized with a tetanic spasm – the beautiful imbrication of the scales was dislocated by the violence of the muscular action, and the sleek round cylinder of the body was hardened into knots and reduced to half its former bulk. Reviving for a few seconds, the snake started, opened its jaws, but immediately afterwards became stiff and motionless except at the tail, which continued to exhibit feeble contractile action for about twenty minutes. After death, the body, losing its unnatural rigidity, became unnaturally supple, seemed without a spine, and might be doubled upon itself like a ribbon. In two cases which we witnessed of individuals poisoned by strychnine, similar tetanic phenomena were observed. Corrosive sublimate and prussic acid do not appear to act on snakes either with such violence or rapidity as on warm-blooded animals; for a dose of three grains of the former, and several drops of the latter, (Majendie's,) remained inactive for a quarter of an hour; then, two grains of arsenic being added, the snake suddenly raised his head half a foot from the ground, remained motionless as in a trance, for a minute, then fell back quite dead. We are not proud of these experiments, nor do we intend to repeat such; but having been guilty of them, the recital of the results can do no harm.

What various and even opposite qualities, owing to the supposed versatility of his character, have been ever attributed to the serpent! Viewed as fancy dictated, under different phases, men were not content to ascribe to him their vices only, but must also attribute to him most of their moral excellencies: wisdom, prudence, vigilance, fortitude and sobriety were all his; he was symbolical of the divine nature, of eternity, and of youth. Long before viper broth was used in medicine, the Coluber was at Hygeia's side by the fountain of health, and was twined round the stick of Esculapius, at once silent and expeditious in his motion. Harpocrates favoured, and Mercury the Olympic messenger employed him as his deputy; though victim on one occasion to the archery of Apollo, the god of verse found something in his so akin to poetry, (particularly to the kind called epic,) that he took an additional cognomen (Pythius) out of compliment to him; whilst Alexander and Augustus, those worthy descendants of Jove (whom he is said to have befriended in his amours), stamped his image on their coins, and assumed it as their crest. So far we behold him in favour both with gods and men: but opinions vary, applause is inconstant; and accordingly we equally find him charged with envy, hatred, malice, hypocrisy, ingratitude, cruelty, and almost every other vice. He is also accused of devastating towns, of usurping islands,[8 - Colubraria insula maris Balearinci colubris scatens, vulg. Dragonera.] of impeding armies,[9 - Vide Aulus Gellius, lib. vi.] of destroying priests at the altar, and it is certain that he lent his name to heresy, and permitted the great Heresiarch to assume his form in order to beguile Eve.

– "winding 'bout
Of linked structure long drawn out,"

MATERIALS FOR A HISTORY OF OIL PAINTING.[10 - Materials for a History of Oil Painting. By C. L. Eastlake, R.A.]

In the prosecution of an object, it often happens that the means employed lead unexpectedly to results of immeasurably more importance than the end originally proposed; and that, while the ostensible end may turn out to be a failure or of doubtful benefit, some real good, some lasting advantage, shall be brought out by the exercise of the ability, energy, and faithfulness of the agents employed.

The mind can scarcely work on given materials without making some discovery. In this sense did Socrates adopt the line of Hesiod —

"Employ thyself in any thing rather than stand idle."

We are of those who would doubt the advantages proposed by the Commission of the Fine Arts. If it were likely to lead to a permanent patronage for great works, it would be a boon indeed; but if it be the cause of only a temporary excitement, holding out a promise which it has no means of fulfilling, encouraging talent, and making it unprofitable, turning it from the line in which it is wanted, to that in which it is not likely to be sought after, the artists will have little reason in the end to be thankful for the establishing of this Commission. The competition which it proposes is not altogether wholesome: it is sicklied over from the beginning with the fear and jealousy of a class. The tried hands of an academy abstain from a contest which may take away from them the honour (in the world's eye) which has been exclusively appropriated to them; and the new aspirants work at too probable a loss, scarcely hoping that their labours will be adopted or rewarded: while in that absence of a higher competition, the public, and possibly the Commission itself, expect inferiority; and if these great pictures, great in dimensions as in attempt, are not purchased by the public, there can be little hope that any private dwellings will contain them. If the object be to adorn the Houses of Parliament with pictures, it would be far better to select from the painters we have, and give them their work to do, than to raise up a host of artists, nine-tenths of whom must sink under a hopeless lack of employment; for there is not a general taste for the particular style which it is the object of the Commission to promote, nor can there well be in a country where there are so few public edifices of importance and of public resort, and so few palaces capable of containing works of great size. Indeed the art of decoration is with us quite of another character, and one little adapted for the display of great works. There, is paint in profusion, and of a dazzling splendour, – we do not mean to speak slightingly of this architectural adjunct; – but there is little room for the sobriety of great art; and be it remembered that art, to be great, must have in it a certain sobriety, awe, and majesty, that does not quite accord with our style of decoration. We require a kind of furniture decoration. We doubt if in our Houses of Parliament and palaces, much room will be spared to what is so facetiously termed "High Art." Nor can we expect to be always building Houses of Parliament; and, therefore, too soon the magniloquent patronage must come to an end. Domesticity is the habit of modern life, (for even our club-houses are of that character, and assume the appearance of a home;) and, for such habits, easel pictures will ever have the greatest charm. Nor would it be correct to deny to them a very scope in the field of art. We doubt if we can recur to any extensive patronage for frescoes; and their great cost must exclude them from our churches, which we are more desirous of multiplying than of ornamenting. Nor can we wonder at this; for, whereas the churches and all public buildings in Italy, were and are open at all times, and the great works they contain, are to be seen every day, and at every hour of the day, with us it is a great thing to have them open once or twice in the week, for an hour and a half at a time. So that we fear the Commission for the promotion of the Fine Arts are, as far as we can judge of their ostensible object, in a labyrinth, from which if they find an exit, they will not have enlarged their prospect, and will have to congratulate themselves, at best, on being where they were when they entered it.

We do not here express a doubt as to the advantage of our having a Commission of the Fine Arts. We only doubt their judgment in the exclusiveness of their aim, and the largeness of their implied promises.

But if there be a suspicion of failure in the ostensible object, in some of its working the greatest benefit will have been conferred upon modern art. A more judicious or more fortunate choice could not have been made, than that made in the appointment of the Secretary to the Commission. Much as the world has reason to regret that this appointment has for a long, too long a period, been a sore let and hinderance to Mr Eastlake in the practice of his art, – the conscientious view he has taken of the duties of his office, and his entire faithfulness in discharging them, have led to results of a most beneficial character, – beneficial to artists, and to the arts as a perpetuity. His highly valuable work, though with the most modest title, "Materials for a History of Oil Painting," is the real boon, and will be the lasting proof of his faithful service. Considering the sacrifice with which a work of so much labour, thought, and research must have been achieved, we hope the Commissioners are empowered to reward his energy, ability, and fidelity, according to their merits, and according to the sacrifice.

Mr Eastlake, justly judging it to be of the first importance, in whatever schemes might be entertained for the promotion of the Fine Arts, to secure to the artist the best materials, and the approved methods of the best times, and to give him as complete a knowledge of the history of the art he professes as might be obtained, undertook to search out and examine records with the greatest care, leaving as little to conjecture as possible. He could not dictate to the mind, but he might be able to put means into the hands of genius; the more perfect the instruments, the greater would be the freedom, and, what is of no small importance, the more durable would be the works. The first step in this direction was evidently towards a knowledge of what had been done, and had been universally admired and approved: – to discover first, if possible, what was the method and what were the technical means in the hands of Titian and Correggio, of Rubens and most of the Flemish painters.

Aware of the discussions and disputes concerning the invention of Van Eyck, he found it necessary to trace the progress of art from its earliest records to the date of the supposed discoverer of painting in oil – or rather discoverers, Hubert and John Van Eyck, in 1410. The conclusion to which the documentary evidence led him was this, that: —

"The technical improvements which Van Eyck introduced were unquestionably great; but the mere materials employed by him may have differed little, if at all, from those which had been long familiar. The application of oil painting to figures, and such other objects as (with rare exceptions) had before been executed only in tempera, was a consequence of an improvement in the vehicle." "It is apparent, that much has been attributed to John Van Eyck, which was really the invention of Hubert; and both may have been indebted to earlier painters for the elements of their improved process."

The very early use of oil in painting need not here be discussed, though it was necessary to go into much detail in forming a history of the art, which was the object of Mr Eastlake. Perhaps, the earliest in our practice will be found to have been in England, and may have been the legacy of art bequeathed at the departure of the Romans. It did not commence in Italy. "The use of resinous solutions combined in various proportions with oil, as a medium or vehicle for the colours, was an early technical characteristic of the northern schools, and merits attention here, accordingly."

It is the opinion of the author of "Materials for a History," &c., that the Van Eycks did not so much invent as improve; it was therefore most desirable to ascertain what was previously ready to their hands to be improved. And as to the improvement, that was perhaps really less than has been supposed, the application being the novelty. Oleo-resinous varnishes had before been in use, even from a very early period; but the admixture of these with the pigments was the great step in advance, and it may be inferred that the method of rendering these oleo-resinous vehicles colourless, or nearly so, was the great invention of John Van Eyck.

Drying oil was well known to the ancients, that is before the Christian era. "Dioscorides, whose works were familiar to medieval writers on medicine, is supposed to have lived in the age of Augustus. He mentions two drying oils; walnut-oil and poppy-oil. The principal materials employed in modern oil painting were at least ready for the artist, and waited only for a Van Eyck, – in the age of Ludius[11 - We venture to throw out a conjecture respecting this Ludius, (by the bye, there were two of that name,) as an attempt to throw some light upon a passage in the "Sirmio" of Catullus, which has puzzled and led the commentators into very far-fetched explanations. The lines are —"Salve, O venusta Sirmio! atque hero gaude:Gaudete, vosque, Ludiæ lacus undæ:Ridete, quidquid est domi cachinnorum."I have adopted the word Ludiæ, before it is so in some editions given. Catullus, returning from his profitless expedition into Asia Minor, addresses his home (his villa) with affectionate address of a weary and longing traveller. He speaks of his home delights, his accustomed bed, – and then terminates with the above lines. What were the "Ludiæ lacus undæ?" May it allude to the pictures painted on the walls of his villa; and very probably by this Ludius – for the word domi would seem to indicate something within his dwelling, and this idea answers accurately to the sort of pictures which Pliny represents Ludius to have painted. Though Catullus is said to have died in his forty-sixth year, B.C. 40, and Augustus, A.D. 14, it is very possible that Ludius, who is said to have lived in the time of Augustus, may have ornamented with his pictures the villa of Catullus. We offer this conjecture for no more than it is worth – it may be at least as probable as many others which have been made.] and the painters of Pompeii."

We will not attempt further to pursue the history of oil painting to the time of the Van Eycks; suffice it to say, that a recipe of Theophilus, a monk of the twelfth century, furnishes materials – an oleo-resinous vehicle generally used after the time of Van Eyck – and that the improvement by Van Eyck was the substituting amber for the sandarach of Theophilus. The work of Theophilus has recently appeared, translated by Mr Hendrie from the Latin, and forms a very valuable addition to the painter's library, as well as to that of the curious and scientific, in general. The artist will find in Mr Hendrie's preface, the information he will be most desirous to possess. He strongly insists upon amber varnish as being the real vehicle or discovery of Van Eyck, and lays much stress upon a certain distilled oil as a diluent. He says: —

"Amber varnish, and probably other thick oil varnishes, would be equally benefitted, thinned with this distilled oil. It dries without a pellicle when mixed with colours. Colours used for finishing a picture, such as in the light for solid painting, or glazing for colour and shadows, are rendered very pure and without the slightest appearance of a skin, although it may be plentifully used. It dries much more slowly than any other distilled oil, and hence its great value, as it allows the artist as much time as he requires, in order to blend his colours and finish his work. In conjunction with amber varnish, it forms a vehicle which leaves nothing to be desired, and which doubtless was the vehicle of Van Eyck, and in many instances of the Venetian masters, and of Correggio; the different modes of painting necessarily producing the varied appearances of the different schools and masters."

This promises the remedy for the disease, as it were, of vehicles, the not drying from the bottom, which will delight every artist, if he finds it a practical truth. We confess, we somewhat fear the sanguine temperament of the translator of Theophilus, and should have preferred some proof to the bare assertion that the picture by John Bellini, in the National Gallery, was painted in amber varnish. Nor can we quite trust his translation of the recipe for making this amber varnish. We were startled with this account of 1 lb litharge to 1 lb linseed oil and 4 ounces of amber – is he correct in translating spigelhors litharge? It should be rosin. With regard to the value of amber varnish, Mr Eastlake quite agrees with Mr Hendrie. Another important improvement of the Van Eycks was the substitution of calcined white copperas for litharge. In a note, Mr Eastlake gives the information that on experiment it has been proved that oil does not take up any portion of the copperas, which nevertheless renders it very drying and hard, but that oil does take up sugar of lead. It should be added, however, that he does not think lead so prejudicial to colours as some have thought it to be.

The value of Mr Eastlake's book chiefly consists in the documentary evidence which is now brought to bear upon the question of vehicles; and doubtless, that which is subsequent to the time of Van Eyck is by far the most valuable. Evidence is produced not only of oils in use, and the methods of purifying them, but of varnishes, and recipes for making them, likewise of the colours used. There is yet, however, much untold with regard to the Italian practice, concerning which Mr Eastlake proposes to treat in a second volume. Yet, with regard to the Italian methods, we are not left without some important knowledge, which, however, must be considered as offered rather incidentally; for the Italians having modified, and in some respects much varied the vehicle they derived from the Flemish masters, their methods were again partially adopted by the latter; so that the methods of these two great schools of art could not be kept entirely separate.

To those much acquainted with art, it will be thought of the utmost importance to obtain any recipes of the time of Rubens and Vandyke. Such we are in possession of – contained in a manuscript in the British Museum – of which we may expect the publication entire. It may be interesting to give some account of this MS. and its author. The manuscript is entitled "Pictoria, Sculptura, Tinctoria, et quæsub alternarum artium spectantia, in Lingua Latinâ, Gallicâ, Italicâ, Germanicâ conscripta, a Petro Paulo, Rubens, Vandyke, Somers, Greenberry, Jansen, &c. – Fo. xix. A.D. 1620; T. de Mayerne." Theodore Mayerne, the author, was born at Geneva, 1573. "He selected the medical profession; and after studying at Montpelier and Paris, accompanied Henri Duc de Rohan to Germany and Italy. On his return he opened a school, in which he delivered lectures to students in surgery and medicine. This proceeding, and the innovation, as it then appears to have been, of employing mineral specifics in the healing art, excited a spirit of opposition which led to a public resolution, emanating from the faculty at Paris, in which his practice was condemned. His reputation rapidly increased from this period. He had before been appointed one of the physicians in ordinary to Henry IV. In 1611, James I. invited him to England, and appointed him his first physician. De Mayerne enjoyed the same title under Charles I. He died at Chelsea, leaving a large fortune, 1655."… "Dallaway, in his annotations on Walpole, after noticing the influence of De Mayerne's medical practice on the modern pharmacopœia, remarks that 'his application of chemistry to the composition of pigments, and which he liberally communicated to the painters who enjoyed the royal patronage, – to Rubens, Vandyke, and Pelitot – tended most essentially to the promotion of the art. From his experiments were discovered the principal colours to be used for enamelling, and the means of vitrifying them. Rubens painted his portrait; certainly one of the finest now extant. It originally ornamented the Arundel collection: was then at Dr Mead's, Lord Besborough's, and is now (1826) at Cleveland House.'… A monarch who was so fond of painting as Charles I., was fortunate in having the assistance of a person who combined a love of art with a scientific knowledge applicable to its mechanical operations. It is not surprising that such an amateur as De Mayerne should enjoy the confidence of the first painters of his time; or that in return for the useful hints which he was sometimes enabled to give them, they should freely open to him the results of their practical knowledge. Such communications, registered at the time by an intelligent observer, threw considerable light on the state of painting at one of its most brilliant periods, and tend especially to illustrate the habits of the Flemish and Dutch schools."

De Mayerne records the use of sand in purifying oils, as a communication from Mytens, painter to Charles I., before the arrival of Vandyke. "Coming from such a source," says Mr Eastlake, "it may be classed among the processes which were familiar to the Flemish and Dutch painters."

The works of the Flemish and Dutch painters are undoubtedly those which the artists of the present day would desire to be the tests of vehicles and of colours. They can scarcely have, therefore, a more valuable document than this manuscript of De Mayerne, the friend of Vandyke. From this source there is much information with regard to colours. It has always been supposed that Rubens in particular was lavish in the use of Naples yellow. It was largely used by the Italian painters; but it is omitted in the list of colours of the Dutch and Flemish. Many yellows, which in oil alone will not stand, are, it seems, durable if protected by an oleo-resinous medium. After enumerating many other yellows, Mr Eastlake remarks – "There was, however, one substance, viz. gamboge, now undeservedly fallen into disuse in oil painting, which is superior to most, if not to all, of those above named; the colouring matter united with its resinous portion, which renders it more durable in oil painting, may be easily freed from mere gum. De Mayerne, it would seem on good grounds, pronounces in its favour; and his speculations respecting the best mode of using it are confirmed by modern authorities. Gamboge, he observes, furnishes a beautiful yellow, constant, unfading, and that works freely."

We are not surprised to see another pigment commended; we have long used it, but believe it is unknown as a colour by the artists of the present day, though, we suspect, sold by colour-makers for common work as a cheap brown. It is common coal. De Mayerne says, "The shadows of flesh are well rendered by pit-coal, which should not be burned." It is also recommended by Van Mander, and by Norgate, "whose directions for oil painting correspond in all outward particulars with the Flemish methods." In some experiments recorded by Sir Joshua Reynolds – there are the words "Gamboge and oil – but no colour remains;" yet it should be observed that where it is protected it is most durable. We believe the Aloes Cavallino, spoken of in terms of commendation by Leonardo da Vinci, to be an excellent transparent colour – and well calculated to give great richness to browns and to greens. It is certainly very interesting to know the colours actually used by the best masters of bye-gone days, – but we must not forget that modern science may greatly have improved many, and produced others, and has surer grounds to pronounce on their permanency. Mr Field, in his Chromatography, has rendered a very great service to art.

It is not only the varnish, or rather the gums which compose the varnishes, that should be considered with great attention, in reviewing this subject, – but the great stress which seems to have been universally laid upon the necessity of purifying the oils. And this necessity is insisted upon from the earliest times. Even after all the precaution and pains taken to purify oils, there will be a tendency to turn yellow upon the surface. Rubens, in a letter, speaks of this, and gives orders for his pictures, which were packed freshly painted, to be exposed to the sun. And this practice of exposure to the sun seems to have been adopted generally in Italy, as well as elsewhere, not only for the purpose of drying the paint more readily, but for the freeing the surface from the yellowing of the oil, the deleterious portion of which is thus taken up by the atmosphere and the heat of the sun.

We have unhesitatingly exposed the surfaces of freshly painted pictures not only to the sun, but to all weathers, – and that not for a few hours but for weeks – and always with advantage. There is another method also which will be found equally beneficial. When the surface is greasy, and will not take water from the sponge, it may be truly conjectured that this deleterious quality of the oil has exuded. We always remove it by sand and water – the coarser the sand the better; the finer, being more silicious, is more likely to cut. But we must observe that even though the picture be not fairly dry, excepting under very rough usage, the paint will not be at all removed. Even after this cleansing, the oil will still, for a considerable time, throw up this greasy product. We remove it, therefore, again and again until, after a week or ten days' trial, we find the surface free from grease; and we are strongly inclined to think the colours undergo no change when this clearance has been once well effected. In a letter from Mrs Merrifield, she strongly recommends this exposure of pictures to the sun and atmosphere; and says it was universally practised. This should not, however, prevent the previous purification of the oils; for there is no writer upon the subject that does not insist upon this. Mr Eastlake's book furnishes recipes of all ages. Frequent washings with water, to which a little salt is added, and fine sand to take down the impurities of the oil, may be safely recommended. In describing the process taught by the Gesuate, friends of Perugino, the Padre Gesuato adds, "Observe, that wherever you find oil mentioned, this purified oil is meant."

It would appear that the pigments were, formerly as now, ground only in oil: the vernix was added to the colour, by drops, when on the palette; so that, should the new, or recovered old vehicles, if such they be, come into general use, it will not be necessary to discard the supply of oil colours from the shops of our colour-makers. The colours in tubes, which happily have superseded the bladders, will still be in general request. Northcote thought it a great advantage to the old Italian masters that they were under the necessity of making most of their colours themselves. This, certainly, was not the case in the earlier times; for the monks, who were every thing – physicians, painters, chemists, &c. – were not only the patrons and dealers, but were makers of the colours also. We cannot quite agree with Northcote. The only objection we have to offer to the present system of tube colours is as regards their cost; for, considering the value of the materials, the cost of putting them up seems very exorbitant. This is of little consequence, indeed, in painting easel pictures of no great size; but if we are to proceed on the large scale, which the Commission for the Fine Arts encourages, it would become a matter of some consideration. It has been supposed that the first colour-shop in London was set up by a servant of Sir Godfrey Kneller's; but there is reason to believe, from some incidental remarks, that the trade existed in De Mayerne's time. Some painters of great eminence had their favourite colour-makers, employed, probably, by themselves exclusively. In a letter, Titian regrets the death of the man who prepared his white, – and De Mayerne says of Vandyke, "He spoke to me of all exquisite white, compared with which the finest whitelead appears gray, which he says is known to M. Rubens. Also of a man who dissolved amber without carbonising it, so that the solution was pale yellow, transparent." We learn from this that there were then colour-makers and varnish-makers, and also that the brilliant white of Rubens may not always have been whitelead.

There seems to have been in the fourteenth century a kind of painting practised in England which much attracted the notice of foreigners. It was of water-colours on cloth – "on closely woven linen saturated with gum water. This, when dry, is stretched on the floor over coarse woollen frieze cloths; and the artists, walking over the linen with clean feet, proceed to design and colour historical figures and other subjects. And because the linen is laid quite flat on the woollen cloths, the water-colours do not flow and spread, but remain where they are placed, the moisture sinking through into the woollen cloths underneath, which absorb it. In like manner, the outlines of the brush remain defined, for the gum in the linen prevents the spreading of such lines. Yet, after this linen is painted, its thinness is no more obscured than if it was not painted at all, as the colours have no body." This does not at all resemble the kind of tempera painting in use in Flanders to imitate tapestry; for it is noticed as peculiar to England by a native of Flanders. May not this method be again, with some advantage, restored for the getting in the subjects of large pictures? The cloth so painted might easily be put on other cloth prepared with a ground.

The subject of grounds is not omitted: it is one of importance; and the artist will do well to study Mr Eastlake's book, if he would have a ground that might suit his after-work. All grounds made with glues are bad – they not only crack, but change the colours. M. Merimée accurately examined the grounds of some of Titian's pictures – and found starch and paste. It is supposed that grounds in which red-lead and umber have been used darken all the pigments.

The Venetians usually preferred painting on cloth, and not unfrequently chose the finest. There was a canvass used in Italy, and chiefly by the Bolognese school, which gives much richness, its peculiar texture being seen even through tolerably thick paint – the threads are in squares, and rather coarse. We are surprised that such is not to be met with in our shops. We have often endeavoured to obtain it without success. On canvass of this kind some painters, and among them Guercino, contrived greatly to raise the lights – so that as seen side-ways they appear to bulge. We are not aware how this was done.

We take some credit to ourselves for having in the pages of Maga, so long ago as June 1839 – promoted an inquiry into the nature of the vehicles used by the old masters. And this we did, knowing that we should incur some odium and contemptuous disapprobation at the hands of artists, too many of whom were jealous of any supposed superiority in their great predecessors, and were generally satisfied with the meguilp, (mastic varnish, beat up with drying oil,) which had, nevertheless, been proved so deceitful from the first days of its adoption. The readiness with which it was made, the facility of working which it offered, and its immediate brilliancy, were temptations too great to be resisted. The too common use of this vehicle, we confess, led us too far in a contrary direction – to set ourselves against all varnishes whatever; and we laid, perhaps, too much stress upon the authority of Tingry, who speaks strongly against the admixture[12 - "Some of the English painters," says Tingry, "too anxious to receive the fruits of their composition, neglect this precaution, (preserving the colours in newly painted pictures before they are varnished, by covering them with white of egg.) Several artists even paint in varnish, and apply it with their colors. This precipitate method gives brilliancy to their compositions at the very moment of their being finished; but their lustre is temporary and of short duration. It renders it impossible for them to clean their paintings, which are, besides, liable to crack and lose their colour. In a word, it is not uncommon to see an artist survive his own works."] of varnishes with oil; and, with this bias, we reviewed, in Maga, M. Merimée's work, in which, certainly with mistranslations of the Latin of Theophilus, as well as of Italian quotations, he insisted upon the use principally of copal, though without any distrust of mastic.

The difference between the texture of old paint, that is of the good age, both Italian and Flemish, and that which modern practice had exhibited, was too manifest to be overlooked; and we never could bring ourselves to believe that the meguilp in use, by itself, ever had or ever would produce that solid brilliancy or substantial transparency which was and is the great charm in the genuine works of the good old time of the art. And we believe still that all experience is against it, and that the era of its adoption is marked in the history of art by the visible deterioration in the quality of the painted surfaces. Bad as we conceive the use of mastic always to have been, it was not, until comparatively modern times, employed in the most injurious manner. The Flemish and Italian recipes incorporated it with the oil, together, generally, with other substances, by heat, and not, according to the subsequent modern practice, merely dissolved in turpentine and added to the oil. Of all varnishes mastic is the softest, most liable to decomposition, most readily affected by atmospheric changes, having no protection or medium of incorporation, being merely liquified with turpentine, which, evaporating, leaves the mastic to the injuries of air and moisture. Oil varnishes are, however, of another character, and we are converted to their use by historic evidence, and authorities which cannot be doubted. We do not assert that the exact recipes and formulæ, for the compositions of the true oleo-resinous vehicles are not now in possession of the public. We are inclined to think they are; but, as we are promised by Mr Eastlake another volume, chiefly upon the Italian practice, which, too, we presume to think was the best, we in some degree force ourselves to suspend our judgment, resting our hope for what is to come upon the undeniable value of what has been already given us.

When we formerly treated of this subject, we mentioned the great reliance we placed upon the results of the accurate research and experiments of a friend, P. Rainier, Esq., M.D. of the Albany. It is greatly to be regretted that, at his death, his papers were not properly collected and arranged for use; they are, it is to be feared, lost. We well remember his assertion, that the paint of the old masters invariably vitrified by fire. In proof, he scraped off some paint from an old picture, (it was in the shadow part of back-ground, and not very thick, and where there was not, apparently, any white-lead). He laid it on some platina, and subjected it to the heat of the blow-pipe. The oil first exploded, and the paint was vitrified. Hence, originated the borax medium – remarkable property of which was its capability of being used with water as a diluent or with oil, – thus being a kind of union of the earlier temperas and the oil medium. This borax-glass vehicle was certainly a discovery, or rediscovery, as he was inclined to think it, of our highly valued friend, P. Rainier. We say re-discovery, remembering his playful assumption of a motto, "Veterem revocavit artem." He was probably led to this use of a glass composed of borax, by the vitrification of the pigments; and we still suspect that, in some of the old Italian recipes, glass, with borax as an ingredient, will be found. "A peculiar kind of Venetian glass," says Mr Eastlake, "used, when pulverised, as a dryer, contained a considerable portion of lead; and if it acted chemically, may have derived its siccative quality from that ingredient." The question here naturally suggests itself, Why was a peculiar glass used for this purpose, when it was perfectly well known that lead of itself would have been sufficient? Again, in page 358, from the Mayerne MS., as quoting the authority of Mytens; "This oil (mancop) does not dry of itself easily, but it is usually ground with Venetian glass, and thus to the sun in a glass bottle. This should be shaken every four days for three or four weeks: it should then be carefully decanted for use, leaving the sediment with the glass." It is a question if the glass was here solely used to facilitate the sediment.

Vitrification would not depend upon the introduction of glass only, – calcined bones, which, it is now known, were much used in vehicles, will produce the same result. In a note, page 345, Mr Eastlake says that he requested Mr Marris Dimsdale to analyse a fragment of a picture by Cariani of Bergamo, (a contemporary and scholar, or imitator of Giorgione;) – the result being, that "one portion ran fairly into a vitrified state. Hypothetically," adds Mr Dimsdale, "I should say it had burned bones in it." And again, "Every colour mixed with phosphate of lime, (calcined bones,) vitrifies when exposed to strong heat. As Venetian pigments vitrify, might not phosphate of lime have been used as a dryer?"

We cannot but suspect any medium under which the pigments will not vitrify. The publication of Mr Eastlake's most important and valuable volume, rather strengthens our reliance upon the various communications made to us by Mr Rainier. For instance, many years ago, we used, at his recommendation, sandarach, dissolved in spike oil, and then mixed with the oil heated. It may not be amiss here, as sandarach is now so strongly recommended, and shown at least to have formed a part of one of the precious vehicles, to state the result of its use some twenty years ago. A picture we then painted with it, is still without a crack, extremely hard, and though by no means well painted, is good in texture, and resembles in the quality of the pigments very much that of the old schools. Though for some years shut up in a portfolio, the colours do not appear to have undergone any change.

Although it will not probably be found that borax was used in the good recipes by name, it may have been in the Venetian glass – at all events, though we are now rather in search of what was in use, than what may be useful and good in itself, as it were de novo, it may be worth while to remember the double facility it offers of use with oil or water, both or either; and it may be added that the experience of some years shows nothing against it and much in its favour. We have thought it to be a preservative of colours. In our review of M. Merimée, we threw out a conjecture that it might have been the Gummi Fornis in the recipe of Theophilus – and which M. Merimée believed to be copal. But we are quite convinced of our error by the arguments – we might say proofs – adduced by Mrs Merrifield, contained in a note, in her admirable and most useful volume, "Cennino Cennini." That it was sandarach there can be no doubt; and we were in consequence induced to try the making the vehicle according to the recipe of Theophilus, and perfectly succeeded. It has a pleasant lustre, not that somewhat disagreeable shine which is often visible in pictures painted with copal. For the quality of sandarach Mrs Merrifield quotes Raffael Borghini, from his "Reposo" – "If you would have your varnish very brilliant, use much sandarach."

Mr Eastlake has shown that Mrs Merrifield was not quite so fortunate in her remark against M. Merimée's conjecture that the "Gummi Fornis" was copal. "As that is brought from America, it could not possibly have been known to Theophilus, who lived between three and four hundred years previous to the discovery of that country." The name copal, as that of Brazil, is not indigenous to America. Both that gum and dye were African, and transferred to the similar productions of the New World. It is curious that a distinction made between "vernice," and "vernice liquida" should be the means of ascertaining the gum given in the recipe of Theophilus which M Merimée believed to be copal. Vernice was the name of sandarach, and was in common use in its dry state, as pounce, but when made into a varnish with oil, it was called vernice liquida.