sculpture of her gems. The era of that school whose followers more particularly excelled in the ❘ art of gem-engraving may be divided into three separate and distinct periods. From the time of Theodorus the Samian, who was the sculptor of the celebrated emerald Polycrates, to the period including the reign and victories of Alexander the Great, may be considered the first period; from the reign of Alexander to that of Augustus, the second; and from the time of Augustus to the fall of the empire may be considered the third and last period. The characteristics which particularly distinguish the Greek gems, are those of delicate grace gem, are represented the emperor and the princes of the house of Tiberius seated among the gods. On the second line, and more in the centre of the gem, is represented Germanicus, with Agrippina and Caligula beside him. On the lowest line, at the lower border of the gem, are represented the captives. The intaglios which have been handed down to us are still more numerous than the cameos, and of a more remote period of antiquity and excellence of detail and design.. Many and various have been the keen and classical disquisitions indulged in and written upon with reference to the design and intent which some of and stern vigour; the auxiliaries and adornments | these are intended to represent. As an example quired for the higher perfection of gem-engraving | sculpture and fine tint of the gem are executed are composed in a fine classical spirit; the emblems and attributes exhibit a care and accuracy of delineation and composition, which implies an extraordinary degree of historical and mythological information in the class of artists to whom the delicate workmanship of these sculptures was intrusted, and who may be considered to have been but as slaves during the long period of years in which the art which they possessed was known and practised. The Greek gems generally exhibit the figure nude; the Roman gems displayed the figure draped; the former were chiefly intaglios, and exhibited the finest workmanship; and where cameos were produced they were generally inferior in form, delineation, and sculpture. The great number of these gems, which were sculptured whilst the art was in the rich freshness of its youth and glory, compared with the actual small number which have come down to us in modern times, cannot but afford the melancholy proof that a vast number of these beautiful works of art must have perished; but with this sorrowing reflection we may mingle the happy reminiscence that many of these gems have reached us, whose delicate beauty and superiority of design and sculpture make the glory of the cabinets in which they are enshrined. Of this character are The Alexander and Olympias, a cameo in the Vatican, which was formerly in the Odescalchi collection, and is a work of remarkable size and beauty. Bacchus and Ariadne in a chariot drawn by centaurs, the apotheosis of Germanicus, Agrippina and Germanicus, Ulysses, Tiberius, Hadrian, Antinöus; all in the royal collection at Paris. The apotheosis of Augustus, in two lines of figures, with Livia as Rome, and her family, with Neptune and Cybele in the background; in the imperial collection at Vienna. The magnificent cameo sculptured on a sardonyx, and which has given origin to much learned dispute among the Tristans and Montfaucons, but which is now considered to represent the apotheosis of Augustus and his family. On the upper line, and at the summit of the of this, we may mention the beautiful gem Cornelia, which is supposed to have been Michael Angelo's seal, and is now in the cabinets of the Parisian collection. In this some have recognised a sacrifice in memory of the birth of Bacchus, the birth of Alexander, or the festival of Panathenæa. Others, again, have supposed it to represent the Paanepsiæ; Alexander in the character of the Indian Bacchus, or a copy of figures in the plafond of the Capella Sistina, at Rome; or, lastly, the representation of a simple village festa; which latter has been considered, and with much truth, to be the most probable conjecture. The industry of Pliny has collected a list of the most celebrated Greek engravers; and the additional names and notices which have been collected are but few and obscure. Among both of these we may enumerate Pyrgoteles-the only engraver to whom Alexander would intrust his portrait on gems-the heads of Alexander and Phocion. Tryphon-the marriage of Cupid and Psyche. Cenus-Adonis, a Faun celebrating the bac chanalia. Cneius-the stealing of the palladium, a young Hercules, a Cleopatra of singular beauty, a Theseus wearing the spoils of the bull of Marathon. Dioscorides (the most eminent engraver of the reign of Augustus)-a Mercury with the petasus, the caduceus, and the cloak; a Diomede with the palladium; an Io, an incomparable gem; a head of Demosthenes, two busts of Augustus, a Perseus gazing on Medusa's head. Epitynchanus - A Bellerophon mounted on Pegasus, a rich cornelian, in the possession of the chevalier d'Azard; a head of Sextus Pompey. Evodus-an aqua-marine, on which is sculptured a portrait of Julia, the daughter of Titus and Marcia. This work is a most admirable one for the elegance of the design and the skill and delicacy of the workmanship. These artists and their works constitute but a small proportion of the names or productions of the great engravers of Greece. voured land it may be traced to From that fathe sunny climate of Italy, where it was cherished and supported, though with less aptitude and skill, by those who professed it, than had been evinced by the artists of that land where it had risen to its highest pitch of pristine excellence. When the last ruin of the Roman empire fell, the art of engraving upon gems sank into comparative lowness and insignificance, and was but feebly cultivated and sustained during the savage darkness and tumult of those ages, which have ever been denominated "barbaric." During the reign of the Medici, literature and the fine arts underwent a general revival; and during the years of the fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries, the most celebrated engravers on gems were found among the Italians. Next to Italy, Germany held the next rank; and Kilian, (who, from his skill in the art, was named the German Pyrgoteles,) Pickler, and Natter, were among the ablest and the most famed of modern artists. In France, the fondness and, we had almost said, the exclusive taste of the nation for works of art on a vast and extended scale, to strike the popular eye, hastened most materially to turn off and withdraw the attention of the artists from the finer skill and minuter beauty of gem-engraving and sculpture. There are but few French artists of repute; and the science and skill re amongst those who have sculptured many gems of remarkable taste, spirit, and learning. The principal collections, cabinets, and museums of gems are to be found in foreign cities. Previous to the last invasion of the French, the principal ones in Italy were the Florentine, founded by Lorenzo de Medici; the Strozzi, the Ludovisi, the Azara, and that in the Vatican. Besides these may be enumerated the St. Petersburgh, the Prussian, the Danish, the Orange, and the Vienna collections. In the British Museum is a fine collection of valuable gems, which deserve to be more publicly known than they are. The principal private collections in England are those of the noble families of Devonshire, Marlborough, Bedford, and Carlisle. We cannot conclude this article without remarking, that although the finer and richer class and order of gems may be seldom within the means of private purchasers, yet that the art of making pastes or coloured stones places all that constitutes the true value of the original gemits story and its beauty-entirely within the most moderate expenditure. In Italy sulphur and wax impressions from the most famous gems are frequently to be met with; but we believe that the best imitations of the antique are to be met with in the pastes executed by Mr. Tassie, of Leicester-square. Among these the delicate seem to have nearly perished, or dropped into comparative oblivion. In the museums and cabinets of both public and private collections, the skill and science of English artists have ever held a deservedly high and favoured rank; and the names of Simon, Reisen, Brown, and Marchant, may be named and copied with a most praiseworthy and extraordinary fidelity. This collection of Mr. Tassie's, which may be considered as the most complete in Europe, amounts, we believe, to upwards of fifteen thousand, and comprises the finest facsimile copies of the most wonderful and celebrated gems known. EPHON. PEN AND INK SKETCHES. - No. I. MISTER LOFTY. Ir is our intention to prepare, for the amusement and edification of our readers, a series of pen and ink sketches of some of our and their dear friends. Many have already sat, others are now sitting to us; and others, again, only wait their turn. Among the portraits now in progress are those of Mistresses Kind, Smooth, Fussy, Snake, Meddle, and Soft; Misses Double, Finical, and Precise; Messieurs Sanguine, Gossip, Busy, Subtle, Purseproud, and Snap. The first which we are enabled to hang, in what we hope will hereafter be a very respectable gallery, is that of Mr. Lofty. Pindar, Euripides, Xenophon, Plato, Demosthenes, Euclid, Terence, Cæsar, Cicero, Virgil, Horace, Livy, Tacitus, Plutarch, Alfred, Dante, Hannibal, Alexander, Shakspeare, Bacon, Milton, Cromwell, Dryden, Pope, Wren, Marlborough, Locke, Frederick, Peter of Russia, Charles XII., Addison, Newton, Raffaelle, Michael Angelo, Salvator Rosa, Claude, Cervantes, Racine, Corneille, La Place, Handel, Mozart, Burke, Fox, Pitt, Sheridan, Washington, Watt, Canova, Napoleon, Goëthe, Scott, Byron, Canning, Coleridge, Wellington, Wilkie, Chantrey, Wordsworth, Majendie, Brougham, Moore, and a host besides, both ancient and modern, too numerous to mention. Lofty is a great man-a very great man. There have been many great men since the creation. Horace informs us that brave men These were, or are, all great men; yet Lofty, were living before Agamemnon, and doubtless in his greatness, resembles none of these: he is many great ones were also living in that remote not a great statesman, warrior, poet, painter, period. We have since had Homer, Hesiod, | architect, orator, chemist, sculptor, mathematician, surgeon, or philosopher; but he is a great lover | the beams of his genius-of now and then draw and admirer of himself. A deceased statesman proved that it is possible for a man to turn his back on himself. It must, therefore, be possible for him to behold himself through a glass. This Lofty does, taking care to use a magnifier of firstrate power, and when he has occasion to look upon his fellows, he inverts the telescope, and thus deludes himself into a feeling similar to that which Gulliver must have experienced while residing among the Lilliputians. An artist having occasion to illustrate the singular production of St. Patrick's eccentric Dean, above alluded to, could not do better than take a full-length of Mr. Lofty. The air, carriage, every thing required, he would be in immediate possession of, without the slightest exercise of imagination, if indeed he should happen to possess a faculty so rare. Yes, in Lofty he would find a Gulliver ready made, for he ever walks as if there was danger at every step of his crushing a hundred or so of the subjects of his majesty of Lilliput beneath the sole of his boot. ing life and light from a luminary so resplendent. Lofty, as may be supposed, is in the habit of speaking in a depreciating strain of most of the inferior individuals moving around him. But the wonder is-and the fact says much for his disposition, which we believe to be naturally amiable that he does not do this to a greater extent considering his fixed belief in the magnitude of his own importance, and the diminutiveness of that of others. It will sometimes happen that some one of his acquaintance is not disposed to acknowledge the gulf fixed between him and his traducer to be quite so wide as the latter supposes. He is presumptuous enough to require an explanation of something which Lofty has said; then the character of the latter shines forth in all its glory and grandeur. Lofty will not, of course, condescend to acknowledge that he did, or assert that he did not, say the thing complained of. He will not demean himself by giving a direct explanation of any kind; but, to preserve his dignity, he dodges right and dodges left of the question, like a fulldressed courtier returning from a drawing-room, who sees in the crowd a sweep already nearly in contact with him; and as the aforesaid courtier may, in his endeavours to avoid actual contact with his sooty neighbour, put his leg knee-deep in the kennel, so Lofty sometimes comes out of these affairs bedaubed to an extent which would be very prejudicial to self-complacency less invulnerable than his. Extremes meet; pride and meanness are twin-brothers. So Lofty, in en Lofty's notions are ludicrously aristocratical, as far as his station in life is concerned. Had he been a peer, he would have been one of the most pertinacious sticklers for the privileges of his order, unless indeed the superior degree of enlightenment and more enlarged view of society which such rank supposes, should have prevented his imbibing the vulgar and narrow feeling which now influences him. He pretends not to the distinction of birth: indeed, the fact of the existence of his father is only presumptive, yet he is a man of fashion, for he pays and receives | deavouring to retain his supposed altitude, de morning visits; he moves in a circle of gentility, for he receives and attends tea-parties; his station is exalted, for he is member of a profession; he is eminent in learning, for he proceeded in the Latin grammar beyond hic, hæc, hoc; and we believe, though we cannot vouch for the fact, knows nearly the whole of the Greek alphabet. He has a knowledge of the fine arts, for he pays an annual visit to Somerset-house ;of science, for he peruses the Mechanics' Magazine. He is decidedly literary, for he seldom omits to turn over the pages of the Literary Gazette and the Athenæum; and altogether, as we trust we have made sufficiently apparent, he is a very exalted and consequential personage. scends to a level which would never be reached by an individual less exalted in his own estimation. Yet, after all, even in his sinuosities Lofty is the great man: if he deviates from the direct course, it is not with the gentle, moderate curvature of the earth-worm. No, his twistings and twinings are all on a large scale, like those of the boa constrictor. Great he aims to be in all situations; therefore, when he shuffles, he is a great shuffler. We are not without hope that time and a few lessons, unpalatable it may be, yet extremely salutary, may modify Lofty's character, and reduce him to the natural dimensions of man; a result much to be desired, for, in proportion as he becomes less great, he will undoubtedly become more respectable. Lofty's associates are mostly men possessed more or less of that species of greatness by which he is so distinguished; and although he perceives among them no equal, he yet permits the approaches of a chosen few, and extends to them the peculiar privilege of basking occasionally in | of London. Reader, if you wish to discover Lofty, do not trouble yourself to look in the "Court Guide," he is to be met with in most of the genteel streets COLERIDGE AND PLAGIARISM. MR. COLERIDGE has often been charged with plagiarism, whether justly or not we do not now mean to decide; perhaps the following statement may be mistaken by some for a confirmation of the charge. The following lines of Coleridge's were published in the complete edition of his poetical works, by Pickering, without any allusion to a similar poem by any other writer; Unperishing youth ! STROPHE. Thou leapest from forth The cell of thy hidden nativity. Never mortal saw The cradle of the strong one; Never mortal heard The gathering of his voices,— The deep-murmured chorus of the son of the rock, That is lisped evermore at his slumberless fountain. There's a cloud at the portal, a spray-woven veil At the shrine of his ceaseless renewing; It embosoms the roses of dawn, It entangles the shafts of the moon, And into the bed of its stillness The moonshine sinks down as in slumber, It would have been no disparagement to Mr. Coleridge if he had mentioned that such a piece had been written by Stolberg; and if he had called his own an imitation from Stolberg, it would not have been more than was due to the German poet. The German has great merit, perhaps as much in that language as Coleridge has in English. Coleridge's poem was cited, in No. CI. of the "Quarterly Review," (" Review of Translations of Pindar,") as a rare specimen of rhythm without rhyme; and justly so. Perhaps there is no instance in the whole compass of English poetry in which words, metre, and cadence are so admirably adapted to express the sense intended to be conveyed. The wild, ebullient sportiveness of the gushing cataract could hardly have been transferred to paper more faithfully than it is here. Certainly, it was written under the inspiration of Stolberg; but, notwithstanding this, it is, in most respects, original, -the melody is original, and the latter part is original in words, ideas, and every thing else. With Stolberg's lines before him, probably no writer but Coleridge could have produced so perfect a poem. No other poet with whom we are acquainted, in any language, appears to have possessed so delicate a sense of harmonious combinations, so elastic a susceptibility to the impulses of the melodious, or so unerring an instinct in detecting and perpetuating the just balance : instinct, we call it, though, in reality, the power to which we allude, if primarily a gift of nature, is only brought to the perfection we speak of in its wider application, by close and minute attention, and a continued observation of the phenomena of sound. Coleridge has imitated, and acknowledged the imitation of, another poem of Stolberg, "Tell's Birth-place." This is almost a translation. FUNERAL CEREMONY AT TAVOY. BY THE REV. H. MALCOM, A. M. DURING my stay at Tavoy were performed the funeral-rites of a very distinguished pongee, or priest; it is a rare occurrence, of course, and attracted the attention of almost the entire populace. He had been dead several months, and was preserved, embalmed, and cased in wax, till now, when the ceremony of burning was to be performed. The body had been covered with wax, after extracting its juices and applying the usual preservatives, and was lying in state under a highly ornamented canopy. The face and feet, where the natural shape had been restored by the coating of wax, were visible and completely gilded. Five or six cars on low wheels, very magnificent in Burman eyes, had been prepared, to which were attached long ropes, to some of them at each end; they were constructed chiefly of cane or bamboo, and were, in their general construction, in pretty good taste, and quite costly withal, in gold leaf, worked muslin, &c. When the set day arrived, the body and its decorated coffin was removed, amid an immense concourse, from its place under the canopy to one of these cars, with an excessive din of drums, gongs, cymbals, trumpets, &c. When it was properly adjusted in its new location, a number of men mounted the car at each end, and hundreds of people grasped the ropes, to draw it to the place of burning, half a mile distant. But it had not advanced many paces before those behind drew it back. The air was rent with the shouting of each party to encourage their men. The other cars of the procession were dragged to and fro in the same manner. The pretence of the one party was a devout desire to accomplish the funeral-rites; and that of the other, an affectionate reluctance to part with the remains. Some two or three old women at the ropes looked grave; all the others were laughing and making sport of the operation. I came away, at length, leaving them contending still. drunkenness or quarrelling came under my eye, either now or on the preceding day. Within the enclosure was a car, on which was a pyramid, open on all sides, like the others. The height was about forty feet. At an elevation of sixteen or eighteen feet it contained a sort of sepulchral monument, like the square tombs in our churchyards, highly ornamented with Chinese paper, bits of looking-glass arranged like flowers, and various mythological figures, and filled with combustibles. Over this the car was formed into a canopy, with a long spire, all decorated to the utmost with tinsel, festooned embroidery, wreaths of flowers, &c. The body, in its gorgeous sarcophagus, being removed from the car on which it was brought, and placed on the monument, a procession of priests was seen approaching, who took their seats within the enclosure, at one end, on a raised platform, while in another direction came an artificial tree, called "the tree of life," borne on the shoulders of men, who reverently placed it between the priests and the pyramid or funeral pile. Women also came, bringing on their heads baskets of fruit and other articles. The tree was ingeniously constructed of fruits, rice, boxes, cups, umbrellas, staves, raiment, cooking-utensils, and, in short, an assortment of all the articles deemed useful and convenient in Burman housekeeping. These and the other offerings, I was told by a bystander, were for the use of the deceased. They were, however, taken to the neighbouring monastery, and, of course, applied to grosser uses. The priests, confronted by a small audience of elderly persons, having mumbled over one or two short prayers, and performed some absurd ceremonies, retired. Then commenced an exhibition of fireworks, at a little distance, a parade of which Burmans are very fond, and in some parts of which, especially the rockets, they certainly excel. Cords from the place of exhibition were attached to the funeral-car or pyramid, along which ran horizontal rockets, bearing various figures, which dashed into the pyramid, deinolishing, each time, some portion of it, till at length, more combustibles being thrown into the car, it began to blaze, and in half an hour was totally consumed. A few other fireworks concluded the ceremony, and the people quietly dispersed. Nothing could be further from solemnity than the whole proceedings. Not the least effort was made by the priests to instruct the multitude; but after their part of the pageantry was performed, they instantly mixed with the people, gazing and laughing like boys. The principal feeling manifested before white persons was pride at the glory of the occasion. This seemed very |