his tenderest attentions. At length an epistle somewhat longer than the rest implored from the panic-struck Lady Jane her benediction upon an alliance for which the marriage settlements were already in progress; an appeal to which her Ladyship replied by enclosing Miss Muggins's formal acceptance of the proposals she had previously tendered in the name of Erasmus. The poor young man was distracted. On one side, Melusina threatened a prosecution for breach of promise; on the other, and more frightful still, stood performance of promise and his unseemly bride!

But he had little leisure for despondency! Parliament was dissolved, and it was now his cue to hasten down to Cumber Hall, and profit by whatever popularity might attach to the memory of the bonfires and the roasted ox. But alas! as the Cumber colours were seen traversing the Episcopal town, over whose chimneys Satan grins triumphant, they were saluted by an orchestra of marrow-bones and cleavers, instead of the anticipated merry peal. The tragical ditty of the Cheltenham heroine and her wrongs had already reached the hustings; and it was insinuated, on more than one placard, that the squireling had unhandsomely shirked a hostile meeting with Melusina's indignant brother, Ensign Phelim Grubbs, of the Tipperary Militia; whose cartel, by the way, had been dexterously intercepted and consigned to the flames by the officiousness of Lady Jane.

But it was not, alas! of adverse placards the candidate had a right to complain-it was of the hateful addresses issued in his own name and during his absence by his meddling mother. The dissolution of Parliament had originated in a change of ministry; and what so sure to follow a change of ministry as a change of politics on the part of the woman who was resolved that her son should achieve distinction and a peerage, at any cost of principle-at any loss of honour? Lady Jane, accordingly-who, in her surreptitious canvass, had desired it to be distinctly understood that Mr. Cumber, of Cumber Hall, was about to stand on the Dronington, or Whig interest-now took no shame to herself in setting forth in black and white, and in capitals as large as the town printer could emblazon his defalcation, that Mr. Cumber, of Cumber Hall, was standing upon the Cumber or Tory interest, with divers flourishes in honour of the Heaven-born minister, and the glorious and immortal memory of William of Orange! Yes! Mr. Cumber, of Cumber Hall, who had sacrificed a lobe of his lungs at Eton in officiating as fag to young Annesley and Lord Fitzwarren!-Mr. Cumber, of Cumber Hall, who had been goaded on to proclaim his liberalism with shawm and trumpet at all the spouting clubs and Whig meetings of the indignant University of Oxford!

The Tory member, therefore, finding vote after vote filched from him by these underhand proceedings, upbraided, in no measured terms, the perplexed Erasmus with tergiversation; leaving him but one mode of redress. Mr. Cumber could not, of course, accuse himself as being under the petticoat government of his maîtresse femme of a mother; in his own defence he could only pen a challenge, send it, fight, and fall. He did pen it— "sent it-fought-and fell;"-losing first his election and next his life; a victim, at two-and-twenty, to maternal domination.

In process of time, the Duke and Duchess of Drone were roused out of one of their septennial dreams by Lady Jane Restless, arrayed in her sable bombasin and broad hems, to learn the premature decease of

Erasmus II. And unfeigned was their grief; for knowing that the estate of the Cumbers must pass immediately into the hands of the heir-at-law, they felt horror-struck at the certainty that their old age was about to be embittered by the busy filial piety of their only daughter; that, no longer able to resist her domestic tyranny, they were now to be physicked and dieted,—dragged hither for their health, and thither for their recreation; made to read books which they did not like, and compelled to adopt hours and habits abhorrent to their dozy natures.

Under these apprehensions, a bright thought-the first of his long lifedawned in the mind of the old Duke. Into the apartments, now arrogated to herself by Lady Jane, at Dronington Castle, he caused to be transported the works of Miss Martineau, Mrs. Marcet, Dr. M'Culloch, Say, Mill, and their kind; with a portfolio of plans for a new village on the system of the Rationals, to be erected at the farthest extremity of his estate in the Fens; and Lady Jane gobbled up the baits as eagerly as could be wished. From that moment she ensconced herself up to the ears in political and rural economy; and our maîtresse femme is just now as busy as she could wish in repressing the increase of population, and encouraging the progress of agriculture, at a rising settlement among the fen-flies, known by the name of Restlesshaven, and emulating the parallelogram of New Harmony.

DIALOGUES OF THE LIVING.-NO. III.

Dialogue 1. Mr. Ewart, M.P. for Liverpool, and Sir Martin Archer Shee, Kt., P.R.A.

2. Sir Charles Wetherell and Mr. Baines, M.P.

MR. EWART, M.P. FOR LIVERPOOL, AND SIR MARTIN ARCHER SHEE, KT., P.R.A.

Sir Martin Archer Shee. I am sorry, Mr. Ewart, to perceive that you have felt it necessary to make an attack upon the Royal Academy, of which I am at this time President. I think you were harsh in your censures, in consequence of being incorrect in your data. I assure you we do not deserve all that you thought proper to say about us.

Mr. Ewart. Why, to tell you the truth, Sir Martin, it is not to be expected that I should know much upon the subject. I act upon principle; and, ever since I have had a seat in the House of Commons, have opposed monopolies of all sorts, and endeavoured to open and annihilate all corporations.

Sir M. Your liberality deserves great praise; but I apprehend that, like a great many disciples of your school, you are not altogether so impartial as people might expect. You oppose corporations, and are, if I mistake not, a member of the Council of the London University,-a society which is most anxiously striving to be incorporated.

Mr. E. I treat that in the way of business. You know I come from a trading stock, and joint stock trading suits me; besides, it has an effect with my constituents.

Sir M. But surely such considerations as these afford scarcely sufficient justification for attacking a body of men who endeavour to do their duty

conscientiously, and who, I will venture to say, deserve well of their country.

Mr. E. You mean the Royal Academicians. Why, to tell you the truth, from what I have heard through a very clever man, and from circumstances which have come to my knowledge from other sources, I cannot agree with you in that opinion. I conceive that a school of painting, dependent as yours is upon the Crown, dignified, too, with the title of Royal, ought to do more for the encouragement of native talent than you seem to me to do.

Sir M. Dependent upon the Crown! What on earth do you mean? The Royal Academy-justly called Royal, as founded by King George the Third, who, although somewhat bigoted in matters of religion, was one of the most munificent patrons of art that ever sat upon the British throneis no more indebted to the Crown for support than you would be to any client who might give you a brief-supposing that likely! All that the Academy owes to the country is the suite of apartments in Somerset House. Mr. E. The most inconvenient for the purpose in London: to be sure, they would look a little more decent if they were cleaned and kept clean. Dust and rust I believe are essential to objects of virtù, but why a modern exhibition should be so filthily dirty in its approaches, it is impossible to say, except, I suppose, as our Liverpool proverb goes, "The shoemaker's wife is always ill shod ;" a place abounding with painters never gets painted. Sir M. I admit the dirt, but that is no fault of ours; and I admit the advantages of the rooms, such as they are.

Mr. E. And nothing more?

Sir M. Yes: a sum of five thousand pounds, awarded by King George the Third out of his privy purse; the only assistance it has received since its establishment in 1768.

Mr. E. Well, but you self-elected gentlemen pick up a pretty penny! Sir M. And how disbursed? In the maintenance of the schools, in the salaries of Professors, Visitors, Keeper, Secretary, Librarian

Mr. E. But how does this aid the art of painting?

Sir M. To begin with: besides the delivery of lectures, besides the encouragement of prizes, besides the opportunities of the Model and Life Academy, we maintain a student on the Continent,— -we support all the requisite servants, and pay all incidental expenses; and all this is done, Mr. Ewart, out of the works of the artists themselves which are exhibited annually.

Mr. E. That is all mighty well: but it is not by the works of Academicians alone that the exhibition is produced or maintained.

Sir M. True: but unless a feeling of anxious desire that all artists should have fair opportunities of exhibiting their talents had induced the Royal Academicians to limit themselves to eight pictures they might have covered the walls of the rooms on each exhibition, and excluded all who were not belonging to their own body.

Mr. E. I'll touch upon that subject, Sir Martin, in a moment. All I mean to say at present is, that you get hundreds of artists to contribute to your exhibition who derive no earthly benefit from the receipts.

Sir M. All artists are benefited by the receipts, Sir. In the first place, the Royal Academy has, out of the funds saved by its own exertions, expended above 250,000l. in advancing art,-in ínstructing students, in purchasing books, and in supporting decayed artists, their widows and children.

Mr. E. Ay, the widows and children of Royal Academicians.

Sir M. Not so; there is no such exclusion. The charity is neither confined to Royal Academicians nor to their relations or connexions. All

artists are relieved as far as our funds permit; and perhaps your opinion of the Academy may be somewhat changed, when I assure you that between 30,000l. and 40,000l. have been expended in charity alone, and to those who are not in any way connected with the institution.

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Mr. E. Well, charity, to be sure, covers a multitude of sins; but still I object to the hole-and-corner system-I object to the mode and manner your elections. The whole affair is a job, Sir Martin; and I hate a job. Sir M. I honestly confess I see no job in the affair. The Academy is governed by a President, chosen annually out of its own body by his brother Academicians, forty in number;-surely they are the best judges of his fitness for office. The President is assisted by a Council of eight members, four of whom go out annually, and four others, in rotation, according to the date of their election as Academicians, succeed them; so you see the administration is constantly moving.

Mr. E. Something like the present Administration of the countryalways moving, but never goes.

Sir M. I see no great resemblance between them, I confess-at least, in one point there is a striking dissimilarity; for in the government of the Academy, the system pursued completely puts an end to jobbing, of which you and your friends so unceasingly complain as regards the other.

Mr. E. You elect yourselves.

Sir M. The whole body elect, when there is a vacancy, not the Council. The Council has no exclusive power in electing, or even recommending, members to fill any vacancies that may occur in the Academy; such election being vested in the whole body, and by ballot.

Mr. E. Balloting affords the most favourable opportunities for chicanery and favouritism.

Sir M. Indeed! I thought I had heard that you were a staunch advocate for the ballot, and, indeed, pledged upon that point.

Mr. E. Why, so I am, as far as Parliamentary elections go; but that is quite a different thing. I have no time to argue that question; but the matters are totally distinct.

Sir M. Well, then, we will drop the subject; and perhaps you will permit me to observe that the ballot being the mode adopted, it becomes assuredly the interest of the Academy to attach to its body and its interests the most talented artists. It has, as I have already said, no extraneous means of support, except its exhibition; and therefore it is of the highest importance to secure the most approved or most promising men as its supporters. Mr. E. And do you fairly and conscientiously act upon this principle? Sir M. In my conscience, yes; and when you have examined the list of our members, I think you will admit that, as a body, we may boast of some of the highest names in art,—I will not say in British art, but in European art. In me, it would be invidious to particularize; but I have no hesitation in saying that no existing school of painting in the world can produce greater names, in their respective walks, than that of England.

Mr. E. Why, I confess, as far as that goes, I do not know enough of the art to institute a comparison; nor do I, at the present moment, recollect ever to have heard of any foreign artist, except David and Canova.

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Sir M. Besides, look at the page of history. In the annals of our country stand recorded the names of Reynolds, Lawrence, Wilson, Gainsborough, Flaxman, and, indeed, many others, whose works have secured for them immortality. So much for the great dead. Of the great living, I must leave you to judge.

Mr. E. I am no judge of the art, I repeat. I go at the body as a corporation; I strike at the monopoly. I say that you have no right to set up an imperium in imperio, and declare that no man shall be an Academician

except by your will and pleasure. I contend that the affair is a national affair, and that the appointment should not rest in the members of the same profession.

Sir M. It does not, Mr. Ewart. The King himself must confirm the election of an Academician.

Mr. E. Very true; but then the Academician must be chosen out of the Associates, who are elected by the Academicians; so that the ultimate election of an Academician rests with the body itself, because, until qualified by your admission of him as an Associate, he is not eligible for the higher degree.

Sir M. How are all degrees conferred? In the Universities, what power grants honours and distinctions ?-the power of the University itself.

Mr. E. Yes. I am rather doubtful as to the policy of the University system; so that you do not gain much by quoting those. However, the case is different. At the University, men of all professions and of no profession are united in one common cause of study, disconnected with present profit and actual advantage: here you are all of one trade; and it is quite clear that it is your interest to keep down such men as you fancy likely to interfere with you; and, by preventing their accession to the advantages of Academicians, maintain your own superiority over them.

Sir M. In the first place, Mr. Ewart, all exhibitors are eligible for the rank of Associate, provided their names be put down within a prescribed period during the exhibition.

Mr. E. Yes; but what then? You ballot for those candidates; you yourselves, who, aware of the advantages of your own situations, select such men as are least likely to interfere with the loaves and fishes.

Sir M. Have you so mean an opinion of artists, and men of enlightened minds and liberal feelings, as to suppose that we make these elections purely matters of calculation?

Mr. E. I know that all these things go by favouritism; and the profits which you Academicians draw from the exhibition of the works of men whom you refuse to admit into your society, are too tempting to be looked at with indifference.

Sir M. Now, Mr. Ewart, except the honorary distinction, of what do you imagine the great advantages derivable by a Royal Academician to consist?

Mr. E. Oh! there are Lectureships, and Professorships, and Auditorships, and Visitorships, and

Sir M. There are, indeed; but perhaps your impression may be somewhat altered, when I tell you what the remuneration of a Visitor is, for attendance in the schools. He gets, for attending the Life Academy-an employment which, with going and returning, occupies more than three hours of his time-one guinea; and the Visitor to the Painting School, who gives up the most valuable portion of an artist's day to the instruction of the students at Somerset House for two guineas. Are these jobs?

Mr. E. I don't see why the payments should be derived from the labours of artists who have no chance of the emoluments. I would have the Academy a national concern, connected with the National Gallery, and

Sir M. Incur a great national expense. If you propose to have a National Free-School of Design, with salaried Professors, and a pension-fund for sick and decayed artists, it must be, of course, an undertaking de novo; and the question is, whether the House of Commons would consent to appropriate the funds necessary for such an undertaking.

Mr. E. I think a Reformed House of Commons would.

Sir M. If they should, it would even then remain to be proved whether