THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 IN MEMORY OF 
 
 PAUL TURNER, U.S.M.C.R. 
 
 KILLED IN ACTION, SAIPAN 
 
 JUNE, 1944
 
 .31 HIEIS EPS. 

 
 NEW f YORK: 
 
 LlfcHEB BY BAKER & 8CBIBNER. 
 
 1846.

 
 THE 
 
 AKTISTS OF AMERICA: 
 
 A SERIES OF 
 
 BIOGRAPHICAL SKETCHES 
 
 OF 
 
 AMERICAN ARTISTS; 
 
 WITH 
 
 PORTRAITS AND DESIGNS ON STEEL. 
 
 BY 
 
 C. EDWARDS LESTER. 
 
 AUTHOR OF "THE ARTIST, THE MERCHANT, AND THE STATESMAN," ETC., 
 
 ETC. 
 
 NEW-YORK: 
 
 BAKER & SCRIBNER. 
 1846.
 
 Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 1846, by 
 
 BAKER & SCRIBNER, 
 In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the Southern District of New-York. 
 
 LEAVITT, TROW & CO., PRINTERS, 
 
 33 ANN-STREET.
 
 Art 
 
 Library 
 
 THIS 
 
 OFFERING 
 
 IS MADE 
 
 TO ALL THE 
 
 JFrtenfrs 
 
 AMERICAN ARTISTS.
 
 PREFACE, 
 
 THE immediate object of this Series of Biographical Sketches, is 
 to make Our Artists and their Works better known at home. Abroad, 
 this is not necessary, for there they have always been better known, 
 and better appreciated than in their own country. The names of 
 such men as West, Allston, Durand, and Powers, are a sufficient 
 pledge of the truth of this statement. 
 
 While every American of taste, and of national feeling, is proud of 
 Our Artists, he blushes when this fact is told. It does not reflect 
 much credit upon us, it seems to me, to have it said, and with too 
 much truth too, that no American Artist can get bread at home till 
 he has won fame abroad. 
 
 I have long believed that the insensibility of the nation to the 
 claims of Art and Artists was more owing to a lack of information 
 on these subjects, than to any, perhaps all other causes ; and I have 
 long desired to see this want supplied with some work, uniting beauty 
 of execution and cheapness of price, with authenticity of facts, to 
 secure for it general circulation. Artists themselves will not do it, 
 although well qualified for the task ; perhaps they could not do it 
 without suffering, however unjustly, unkind imputations. No one 
 else seems inclined to make an attempt, and I have resolved to try it 
 myself. 
 
 Confining myself strictly to the object of this work already 
 stated I shall endeavor only to make our Artists and their Works 
 better known to their own countrymen. No alarm need be felt by 
 them ; for I shall not consider it my business to deal with living men
 
 v i PREFACE. 
 
 without their consent, however current the old adage may be that 
 public men are public property. I do not propose to compare one 
 artist with another, nor to praise any body. Praise cannot make 
 Artists ; otherwise we should have had masters by the score. All 
 an Artist or Author needs, is to be known through his works. If 
 these are his eulogium, let him have no solicitude about his fame. 
 
 My materials come from the most authentic sources, princi- 
 pally from Artists themselves. I have drawn freely from Dunlap, 
 who has written the only work which affords me any aid. With a 
 warm love of art, he rendered it the best service he could. 
 
 The illustrations are executed on Steel by Mr. Burt, the Artist 
 who engraved the LAST SUPPER, just published by A. L. Dick, Esq. 
 
 The author would be happy to receive from Artists and their 
 friends any information which may be made useful while these 
 
 Sketches are in progress. 
 
 C. EDWARDS LESTER. 
 New-York, Feb. 5th, 1846
 
 FROM HARD ING'S PAINTING
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 CREATOR of the beautiful, which lives through distant years 
 
 Methought 1 saw a funeral band, following thee in tears; 
 
 'Twas not the tread of mortals, but a strange ethereal train, 
 
 For stars shone brightly through them, while sweeping o'er the plain 
 
 The Dead Man of Elisha, pass'd sadly in my dream, 
 And the Angel of St. Peter shone like the morning's beam ; 
 Elijah from the Desert, and Uriel from the Sun, 
 Mourned in tearless silence the great departed one. 
 
 Rosalie's radiant form was there her tresses flowing wild ' 
 Man's glorious Madonna a Mother and her Child ; 
 Saul and the Witch of Endor and then a Bloody Hand 
 Floated before Spalatro, as he followed in the band. 
 
 Monaldi, gazing wildly, moved with an air of pride ; 
 Gil Bias, with fair Lucretia, went weeping by his side; 
 Catherine and Petruchio, and Anna Page, were there ; 
 And men, the noble and the brave, and women pure and fair. 
 
 The Angels pass'd, with Jacob, arrayed in Glory's dies, 
 Their shining wings half folded, and quivering for the skies. 
 The prophet Jeremiah, as he stood sublime of old; 
 And the Destruction of Jerusalem to aged Baruch told. 
 
 Fair Rebecca from the well whose tears were streaming fast, 
 With the imperial Miriam, who slowly glided past 
 And darkly strode Belshazzar for now his Feast was done 
 With terror on his curling lip and fear upon his tongue. 
 
 They gathered round the yawning grave, a group of Shadows wild, 
 And pour'd their tears of incense o'er Columbia's gifted child 
 The night wind blew a solemn dirge, and bright stars twinkled dim 
 "He rested from his labors, and his works did follow him." 
 
 CALEB Lrott, OF LTONSDALK. 
 New- York, Feb. 10th, 1846.
 

 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 ALLSTON'S name will in all coming time quicken the 
 fancy, and stir the blood of the American Painter. His 
 triumphs and his sorrows are over ; he rests quietly in 
 his tomb among the shades at Mount Auburn ; and we 
 should feel, however reverently we approached it, that 
 there were others who had a right to draw nearer ; for 
 there are those who shared his confidence, and were 
 welcome at his quiet and cheerful home, who have 
 seen his beautiful creations grow under the touches of 
 his wondrous pencil, who were near him in his last 
 days, and who now go to his green resting-place to 
 weep. We do not feel worthy of being Allston's 
 biographer, nor should we attempt even this brief sketch 
 did we not feel that in a work of this kind, American 
 artists would expect to find, on its first page, the name 
 of him who stands unquestionably at the head of our 
 painters. No words of ours can do him honor, but 
 they may at least serve as an earnest expression of our 
 veneration for the Great Poet- Painter. We shall en- 
 deavor to convey a correct idea of Allston's history and 
 genius as an artist, for it is principally, and indeed 
 almost exclusively, in this aspect that we are to deal 
 with the names that will be brought forward in these 
 sketches.
 
 4 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 Washington Allston was born in South Carolina, in 
 1779. His physicians recommended his removal to a 
 northern climate, and from his early boyhood he seems 
 to have made his home in Newport, Rhode Island, 
 where he continued his studies till 1796, when he was 
 entered at Harvard University. It would be difficult 
 not to believe that this boy amused himself with brushes 
 and paints, or had in lack of such objects, some quiet 
 chit-chat with nature, as Ben Jonson quaintly says. In 
 fact we have a scrap of authentic history about it, from 
 the pen of the boy himself now become a man a 
 Poet and a Painter. 
 
 " To go back as far as I can I remember that I used 
 to draw before I left Carolina, at six years of age (by the 
 way no uncommon thing), and still earlier that my fa- 
 vorite amusement, much akin to it, was making little 
 landscapes about the roots of an old tree in the country 
 meagre enough no doubt ; the only particulars of which 
 I can call to mind were a cottage built of sticks, shaded 
 by little trees which were composed of small suckers (I 
 think so called), resembling miniature trees, which I 
 gathered in the woods. Another employment was the 
 converting the forked stalks of the wild fern into little 
 men and women, by winding about them different col- 
 ored yarn. These were sometimes presented with pitch- 
 ers made of the pomegranate flower. These childish 
 fancies were the straws by which, perhaps, an observer 
 might then have guessed which way the current was 
 setting for after life " And then follow a few lines which 
 would guard the reader from drawing too exalted an 
 opinion of his native talent or propensity for Art and 
 Allston had no false modesty that worst display of in- 
 sincerity was no part of his nature. Dunlap very prop-
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 5 
 
 eriy says " In these delights of Allston's childhood ap- 
 pear the germs of landscape gardening, landscape paint- 
 ing, and scenic composition. Less intellectual children 
 are content to make mud pies, and form ovens with clay 
 and clam-shells, as if to bake them in. Even when at 
 play they are haunted by the ghosts of cakes, pies and 
 puddings." Allston goes on with his sunny sketch : 
 " But even these delights would sometimes give way to 
 a stronger love for the wild and the marvellous. I de- 
 lighted in being terrified by the tales of witches and hags, 
 which the negroes used to tell me ; and I well remem- 
 ber with how much pleasure I recalled these feelings 
 on my return to Carolina especially on revisiting a gi- 
 gantic wild grape-vine in the woods, which had been a fa- 
 vorite swing for one of these witches. " Here," remarks 
 Dunlap, " may be perceived the germ of that poetic tal- 
 ent which afterward opened and was displayed both by 
 the pen and the pencil of Mr. Allston." 
 
 The Painter now gives an account of his boyhood. 
 " My chief pleasure now was in drawing from prints of 
 all kinds of figures, landscapes and animals. But I soon 
 began to make pictures of my own at what age, how- 
 ever, 1 cannot say. The earliest compositions that I re- 
 member, were the Storming of Count Roderick's Castle, 
 from a poor (though to me delightful) romance of that 
 day, and the Siege of Toulon the first in India ink 
 the other in water colors. I cannot recall the year in 
 which they were done. To these succeeded many 
 others which have likewise passed into oblivion. Though 
 I never had any regular instructor in the art (a circum- 
 stance, I would here observe, both idle and absurd to 
 boast of), I had much incidental instruction, which I have 
 always through life been glad to receive from every one
 
 6 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 in advance of myself ; and I may add, there is no such 
 thing as a self-taught Artist, in the ignorant acceptation 
 of the word ; for the greatest genius that ever lived must 
 be indebted to others if not by direct teaching, yet indi- 
 rectly through their works. I had in mj school days 
 some of this latter kind of instruction from a very wor- 
 thy and amiable man, a Mr. King, of Newport, who 
 made quadrants and compasses, and occasionally painted 
 portraits. I believe he was originally bred a painter, but 
 obliged, from the rare calls upon his pencil, to call in the 
 aid of another craft. I used at first to make frequent 
 excuses for visiting his shop to look at his pictures, but 
 finding that he always received me kindly, I went at last 
 without any, or rather with the avowed purpose of making 
 him a visit. Sometimes I would take with me a drawing, 
 and was sure to get a word of encouragement. It was 
 a pleasant thing to me, some twenty years after this, 
 to remind the old man of these little kindnesses." Pleas- 
 ant thing too must it have been to the old painter, to 
 hear such acknowledgments from the Artist who had 
 brought away the prize from the British Institution. 
 
 Malbone's success in Miniature Painting induced 
 Allston, now in his freshman year at College, to try his 
 hand at it. He tells us, " I could make no hand of it 
 all my attempts in that line being so far inferior to what 
 I could then do in oil, that I became disgusted with my 
 abortive efforts, and gave it up." He then relates an an- 
 ecdote which illustrates his admirable sincerity and sim- 
 plicity of character. " One of these miniatures," he con- 
 tinues, " or rather attempts at miniature, was shown me 
 several years after, and I pronounced it without promise, 
 not knowing it to be my work. I may add, I would have 
 said the same had I known it. I may observe, however
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 7 
 
 (for I know not why I should not be as just to myself 
 as to another person), that I should not have expressed a 
 similar opinion respecting its contemporaries in oil : for 
 a landscape with figures on horseback, painted about this 
 time, was afterwards exhibited at Somerset House." 
 
 This reminds me of a remark of Haydon, the best his- 
 torical painter many suppose England has ever had. He 
 was speaking of an English Artist, of promising genius 
 in landscape, who was determined to paint historical 
 pieces, and whose earlier attempts rendered it nearly cer- 
 tain he could never succeed. " That man, sir," said Hay- 
 don, in his impetuous way of talking, " was doing ad- 
 mirably in landscapes he w 7 as made for landscapes. 
 He has lately conceived a penchant for Historical paint- 
 ing, and it will most likely prove his ruin. Scores of 
 Artists cut their throats in the same way. There are 
 few men gifted with universal genius. It is enough to 
 satisfy any reasonable being to climb to fame on one 
 ladder, without trying half a dozen. When a boy be- 
 gins to talk about being an Artist, some master should 
 shake him up and see what kind of art he can shake out 
 of him : it certainly won't take long to find out whether 
 it's oil, or water colors, or marble. And depend upon 
 it, you don't often get a Benvenuto Cellini, nor a Michael 
 Angelo into the bag. These chaps who can do every 
 thing, are white crows among Artists." He spoke with 
 great admiration of Allston, and in alluding to his aban- 
 doning miniature, said " Next to knowing what one 
 can do, the best acquisition for an Artist is to know what 
 he can't" 
 
 He tells us of his progress in Art while at the Uni- 
 versity. " My leisure hours at College were chiefly de- 
 voted to the pencil, to the composition equally of figures
 
 g WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 and landscapes : I do not remember that I preferred one 
 to the other ; my only guide in the choice was the incli- 
 nation of the moment. There was an old landscape at 
 the house of a friend in Cambridge (whether Italian or 
 Spanish I know not), that gave me my first hints in color 
 in that branch ; it was of a rich and deep tone, though 
 not by the hands of a master ; the work perhaps of a 
 moderate Artist, but of one who lived in a good age, 
 when he could not help catching something of the good 
 that was abroad. In the coloring of figures, the pictures 
 of Pine in the Columbian Museum in Boston were my first 
 masters. Pine had certainly, as far as I can recollect, 
 considerable merit in color. But I had a higher master 
 in the head of Cardinal Bentivoglio from Vandyke in the 
 College Library, which I obtained permission to copy 
 one winter vacation. This copy from Vandyke was by 
 Smybert, an English Painter, who came to this country 
 with Dean, afterwards Bishop Berkley. At that time it 
 seemed to me perfection ; when I saw the original, some 
 years afterwards, I found I had to alter my notions of 
 perfection. However, I am grateful to Smybert for the 
 instruction he gave me, his work rather. Deliver me from 
 kicking down even the weakest step of an early ladder." 
 In the same cheerful way he opens another chapter 
 of his Artistic life. He says to a friend, " On quitting 
 College (in 1800), I returned to Charleston. * * My 
 picture manufactory still went on in Charleston till I em- 
 barked for London. Up to this time my favorite sub- 
 jects, with an occasional comic intermission, were ban- 
 ditti. I well remember one of these, where 1 thought I 
 
 7 O 
 
 had happily succeeded in cutting a throat ! The subject 
 of this precious performance was, robbers fighting with 
 each other for the spoils, over the body of a murdered trav-
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 9 
 
 eller, and clever ruffians I thought them. I did not get 
 rid of this banditti mania until I had been over a year 
 in England. It seems that a fondness for subjects of vio- 
 lence is common with young Artists. One might suppose 
 that the youthful mind would delight in scenes of an op- 
 posite character. Perhaps the reason of the contrary 
 may be found in this ; that the natural condition of 
 youth being one of incessant excitement from the con- 
 tinual influx of novelty for all about us must at one 
 time be new it must needs have something fierce, terri- 
 ble or unusual, to force it above its wonted tone. But the 
 time must come to every man who lives beyond the mid- 
 dle age, ' when there is nothing new under the sun.' His 
 novelties then are the rifacimenti of his former life. 
 The gentler emotions are then as early friends who re- 
 visit him in dreams, and who, recalling the past, give a* 
 grace and beauty, nay a rapture even to what in the hey- 
 day of youth had seemed to him spiritless and flat. And 
 how beautiful is this law of nature perfuming as it were 
 our very graves with the unheeded flowers of childhood. 
 One of my favorite haunts when a child in Carolina, 
 was a forest spring, where I used to catch minnous, 
 and 1 dare say with all the callousness of a fisherman ; 
 at this moment I can see that spring; and the pleasant 
 conjuror, memory, has brought again those little crea- 
 tures before me ; but how unlike to what they were ! 
 They seem to me like the spirits of the woods, which a 
 flash from their little diamond eyes lights up afresh in 
 all their gorgeous garniture of vases and flowers. But 
 where am I going ?" 
 
 So always was it with this gifted man. While the 
 painter held the pencil it spoke the language of the soul 
 when he took up the pen he was a poet and poetry
 
 1Q WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 and painting are only two breathing forms of the same 
 spirit. 
 
 In Charleston he painted a head of St. Peter, when 
 he hears the cock crow, and one of Judas Iscariot. He 
 was now at the age of twenty-two, and he determined in 
 the freshness and enthusiasm of youth to visit the shrines 
 of Art in the old world. Dunlap says, " Allston sacri- 
 ficed his paternal inheritance to his love of the Arts to 
 which he had devoted himself. The product of the sale 
 of his hereditary property was appropriated to the sup- 
 port of the student in Europe, and the furtherance of his 
 enlightened ambition ! He had generous offers from 
 friends in Charleston, who, it would appear, wished to 
 prevent any sacrifice of this kind, but the painter pre- 
 ferred independence and a reliance on his own resources." 
 
 Allston has illuminated this period also with his own 
 pen " There was an early friend, long since dead, whom 
 I have omitted to mention, and I cannot but wonder at 
 the omission, since he is one whose memory is still most 
 dear to me. The name of this gentleman was Bow- 
 man. * * I believe I was indebted for the uncommon 
 interest he was pleased to take in me, to some of my 
 college verses, and to a head of St. Peter (when he hears 
 the cock crow) which I had painted about that time. 
 Be this as it may, his partiality was not of an every day 
 kind : for when I was about to embark for Europe, he 
 proposed to allow me, nay, almost insisted on my ac- 
 cepting, a hundred pounds a year during my stay abroad. 
 This generous offer, however, I declined, having at that 
 time a small income sufficient for my immediate wants ; 
 it would have been sordid to have accepted it. He then 
 proposed to ship for me a few tierces of rice : that too I 
 declined. Yet he would not let me go without a present,
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. J ] 
 
 and so I was obliged to limit it to Hume's History of 
 England and a Novel by Dr. Moore, whom he personally 
 knew. * * Such an instance of generosity speaks for 
 itself. But the kindness of manner that accompanied 
 it can only be known to me who saw it. I can see the 
 very expression now. Mr. Bowman was an excellent 
 scholar, and one of the most agreeable talkers I have 
 known. Malbone Frazer and myself were frequent 
 guests at his table, and delightful parties we always 
 found there. With youth, health, the kindest friends, and 
 ever before me buoyant hope, what a life to look back 
 on ! I cannot but think that the life of an Artist, whether 
 painter or poet, depends much on a happy youth. I do 
 not mean as to outward circumstances, but as to his in- 
 ward being ; in my own case at least I feel the depend- 
 ence ; for I seldom step into the ideal world but I find 
 myself going to the age of first impressions. The germs 
 of our best thoughts are certainly often to be found 
 there. Sometimes, indeed (though rarely), we find them 
 in full flower ; and when so, how beautiful seem to us 
 these flowers through an atmosphere of thirty years ! 
 'Tis in this way that poets and painters keep their minds 
 young. How else could the old man make the page or 
 the canvass palpipate with the hopes and fears and joys, 
 the impetuous, impassioned emotions of youthful lovers 
 or reckless heroes ? There is a period of life when 
 the ocean of time seems to force upon the mind a bar- 
 rier against itself, forming as it were a permanent beach, 
 on which the advancing years successively break, only to 
 be carried back by a returning current to that furthest deep 
 whence they first flowed. Upon this beach the poetry 
 of life may be said to have its birth where the real ends 
 and the ideal begins."
 
 |2 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 Soon after Allston's arrival in London he became a 
 student of the Royal Academy. The Gladiator was his 
 first drawing from plaster, and it gained him permission, 
 says Dunlap, to draw at Somerset House the third 
 procurQd him the ticket of an entered student. West was 
 then in the zenith of his fame, and he gave him his hand. 
 Here is Allston's tribute to that great Reformer in Eng- 
 lish Art. "Mr. West received me with the greatest 
 kindness. I shall not forget his benevolent smile when 
 he took me by the hand ; it is still fresh in my memory, 
 linked with the last of like kind which accompanied the 
 last shake of the hand, when I took a final leave of him 
 in 1818. His gallery was open to me at all times, and 
 his advice always readily and kindly given. He was a 
 man overflowing with the milk of human kindness. If 
 he had enemies I doubt if he owed them to any other 
 cause than his rare virtue." 
 
 " I arrived in London about the middle of June 1801, 
 near the close of the annual exhibition. The next year 
 was the first of my adventuring before the public, when 
 I exhibited three pictures at Somerset House. The 
 principal one a French Soldier telling a story (comic at- 
 tempt) a Rocky Coast (half length) with banditti, and 
 a Landscape with horsemen, which I had painted at Col- 
 lege. I received two applications for the French Soldier, 
 which I sold to Mr. Wilson, of the European Museum 
 for whom I afterward painted a companion of it, also 
 comic the Poet's Ordinary, where the lean fare was 
 enriched by an incidental arrest." 
 
 Allston spent three years in England and then went 
 to Paris with Vanderlyn. The Louvre was now in its 
 full splendor. Napoleon had a saying that every victory 
 gave him a master ; every city that fell before his tri-
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. ]3 
 
 umphant legions, surrendered up its works of Art, and 
 when the two young painters reached Paris, the chef 
 d'ouvres of the Masters and the Schools of Europe were 
 clustered in the Louvre forming a Gallery which will 
 probably never be seen again. But the Battle of Water- 
 loo gave back to nations their stolen treasures. 
 
 In writing from the Louvre, Allston says : " Titian, 
 Tintoretto, and Paul Veronese, absolutely enchanted me, 
 for they took away all sense of subject. When I stood 
 before the Peter Martyr, the Miracle of the Slave, and 
 the Marriage of Cana, I thought of nothing but of the 
 gorgeous concert of colors or rather of the indefinite 
 forms (I cannot call them sensations) of pleasure with 
 which they filled the imagination. It was the poetry of 
 color which I felt ; procreative in its nature, giving birth 
 to a thousand things which the eye cannot see, and distinct 
 from their cause. I did not, however, stop to analyze my 
 feelings perhaps at that time I could not have done so. 
 I was content with my pleasure without seeking the cause. 
 * * I am by nature, as it respects the Arts, a wide liker. 
 1 cannot honestly turn up my nose even at a piece of 
 still life, since, if well done, it gives me pleasure. This 
 remark will account for otherwise strange transitions. I 
 will mention here a picture of a totally different kind 
 which then took great hold of me, by Ludovico Carracci. 
 I do not remember the title, but the subject was the Body 
 of the Virgin borne for interment by four Apostles. 
 The figures are colossal the tone dark and of tremen- 
 dous depth of color. It seemed while I looked at it, as if 
 the ground shook under their tread, and the arr were 
 darkened by their grief. * * I may here notice a false 
 notion which is current among artists, in the interpre- 
 tation they put on the axiom, that * something should
 
 J4, WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 always be left to the imagination, viz. : that some parts 
 of a picture should be left unfinished. ,' The very state- 
 ment betrays its unsoundness ; for that which is unfin- 
 ished must necessarily be imperfect, so that according to 
 this rule, imperfection is made essential to perfection. 
 The error lies in the phrase 'left to the imagination;' it 
 has filled modern Art with random flourishes of no 
 meaning. If the axiom be intended to prevent the im- 
 pertinent obtrusion of subordinate objects, (the fault cer- 
 tainly of a mean practice), I may observe that the rem- 
 edy is no remedy, but rather a less fault substituted for 
 a greater. Works of a high order aspiring to the poet- 
 ical, cannot make good their pretensions, unless they do 
 affect the imagination, and this should be the test that 
 they set to work, not to finish what is less incomplete, but 
 to awaken images congenial to the compositions, but not 
 in them expressed an effect that never was yet real- 
 ized by misrepresenting any thing. If the objects intro- 
 duced into a picture keep their several places, as well in 
 the deepest shadow as in light, the general effect will 
 suffer nothing by their truth : but to give the whole truth 
 in the midnight as well as the daylight, belongs to a 
 master." Few passages were ever uttered which contain 
 so profound a criticism or furnish so sure a guide to the 
 student. 
 
 Allston stayed only a few months in Paris during this 
 visit (1804) but he was not idle. He painted some 
 compositions of his own, and made a copy from Rubens. 
 He then turned his face to the sweet South, and jour- 
 neyed leisurely on to Italy, crossing the Alps by the Pass 
 of St. Gothard. He has given a few lines to perhaps 
 the most beautiful scene on the earth. " I passed a 
 night and saw the sun rise on Lake Maggiore. Such a
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 15 
 
 sunrise ! The giant Alps seemed literally to rise from 
 their purple beds, and putting on their crowns of gold, 
 to send up hallelujahs almost audible." 
 
 Nearly four years he no^ passed in Italy, princi- 
 pally in Rome. In that sad but beautiful land, in that 
 wondrous City where Art and History have clustered their 
 treasures, with the most gifted of his own countrymen, 
 and the artists of Europe, his existence was like a blissful 
 dream. The climate, associations, the arts, and the ruins 
 around him, perfectly accorded with his intellectual wants. 
 How intensely they were appreciated is evident in his 
 story of * Monaldi,' a book which would have made- a 
 reputation for any other man. The faithfulness of de- 
 scriptions interspersed throughout the volume every one 
 will recognize who has looked upon .those scenes with 
 feeling and discernment : while his discussions on art, 
 the history of human passions, and female loveliness, are 
 dramatic and profound. 
 
 Here he met Coleridge, and we can imagine how 
 the hours passed beneath that sky, amid those ruins, 
 statues, and olive groves, winged by the fluent wisdom, 
 and noble sympathy of two such beings. He studied 
 in a private academy with Vanderlyn and with Thor- 
 valsden, whose name has since that day been inscribed 
 upon the temple of sculpture which will last for ever. 
 He passes the following high eulogium upon the author 
 of the Ancient Mariner : " To no other man whom I 
 have known do I owe so much, intellectually, as to Mr. 
 Coleridge, with whom I became acquainted in Rome, 
 and who has honored me with his friendship for more 
 than five and twenty years. He used to call Rome the 
 silent city ; but I never could think of it as such while 
 with him ; for meet him when or where I would, the
 
 ig WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 fountain of his mind was never dry ; but like the far- 
 reaching aqueducts, that once supplied this mistress of 
 the world, its living streams seemed specially to flow for 
 every classic ruin over which we wandered. And when 
 I recall some of our walks under the pines of the villa 
 Borghese, I am almost tempted to dream that I had once 
 listened to Plato in the groves of the Academy. It was 
 there he taught me this golden-rule never to judge of 
 any work of art by its defects ; a rule as wise as benev- 
 olent, and one that while it has spared me much pain, 
 has widened my sphere of pleasure." 
 
 Some kind friends have furnished me with rich chap- 
 ters in the history of Allston's Italian life, and there is 
 not a line of his own writing, which relates to that pe- 
 riod, that 1 do not omit with pain ; for it seems like 
 clouding the light which streams over one of his own 
 beautiful creations. These sketches at best will, I fear, 
 only give gleamings of light. I will not omit one pas- 
 sage where he speaks of the old masters : 
 
 " It is needless to say how I was affected by Raffaele, 
 the greatest master of the affections in our art. In 
 beauty he has often been surpassed, but in grace, the 
 native grace of character, in the expression of intellect, 
 and, above all, sanctity, he has no equal. What particu- 
 larly struck me in his works, was the genuine life (if I 
 may so call it) that seemed, without impairing the dis- 
 tinctive character, to pervade them all ; for even his 
 humblest figures have a something either in look, air, or 
 gesture, akin to the venustas of his own nature ; as if, 
 like living beings under the influence of a master spirit, 
 they had partaken, in spite of themselves, a portion of 
 the charm which swayed them. This power of infusing 
 one's own life, as it were, into that which is feigned,
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 17 
 
 appears to me the sole prerogative of genius. In a 
 work of art this is what a man may well call his own, 
 for it cannot be borrowed or imitated. Of Michael 
 Angelo I know not how to speak in adequate terms of 
 reverence. With all his faults (but who is without 
 them) even Raffaele bows before him. As I stood be- 
 neath his colossal Prophets and Sybils, still more colossal 
 in spirit, I felt as if in the presence of messengers from 
 the other world, with the destiny of man in their breath 
 in repose even terrible. I cannot agree with Sir 
 Joshua, that the Vision of Ezekiel ' of Raffaele, or 
 the ' Moses ' of Parmegiano, have any thing in common 
 with Michael Angelo. Their admiration of Michael 
 Angelo may have elevated their forms into a more digni- 
 fied and majestic race ; but still left them men whose 
 feet had never trod other than this earth. The super- 
 natural was beyond the reach of both. But no one 
 would mistake the Prophets of Michael Angelo for in- 
 habitants of our world ; yet they are true to the imagi- 
 nation as the beings about us to our senses. I am not 
 undervaluing these great Artists when I deny them a 
 kindred genius with Michael Angelo ; they had both a 
 genius of their own, and high qualities which nature had 
 denied the other." 
 
 As a proof of estimation in which Allston was held 
 in Rome, Prof. Wier of West Point, who was studying 
 in that city many years after Allston had left, says, that 
 the Artists of Rome inquired of him about an American 
 Painter, for whom they had no name but the American 
 Titian. When Wier mentioned Allston's name, they 
 exclaimed, " that's the man." I have heard celebrated 
 European artists say that they believed no Painter's col-
 
 j g WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 oring, for two hundred years, has so closely resembled 
 Titian's. 
 
 In 1809, Allston returned to America, but only to 
 remain three years. He found little to encourage Art 
 or Artists in his own land. He married a sister of the 
 lamented Channing, and in 1811 returned with his wife 
 to England, taking with him as his pupil S. F. B. Morse, 
 who has since won so bright a fame by the invention of 
 the Magnetic Telegraph. 
 
 Allston may now be said to have completed his studies, 
 if studies may be termed complete which are never done, 
 and he took up his pencil for those great pictures which 
 have given immortality to his name. He gives the best 
 account of them himself: 
 
 " My first work after returning to London with the 
 exception of the small pictures, (if they can be called 
 exceptions, which were carried on at the same time with 
 the larger ones,) was the ' Dead Man revived by Eli- 
 sha's Bones,' which is now in Philadelphia. My progress 
 in this picture was interrupted by a dangerous illness % 
 which after some months of great suffering compelled me 
 to remove to Clifton, near Bristol. My recovery, for 
 which I was indebted under Providence to one of the 
 best friends and most skillful of the Faculty, was slow 
 and painful, leaving me still an invalid when 1 returned 
 to London and indeed, as my medical friend predicted, 
 in some degree so to this day." Dunlap tells us that 
 Allston alludes to Dr. King, (who married a sister ol 
 Mrs. Edgeworth,) to whom he was introduced by his 
 friend Southey. " The ' Dead Man,' " continues Allston, 
 " was first exhibited at the British Institution, commonly 
 called the British Gallery an institution patronized by
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 19 
 
 the principal nobility and gentry the Prince Regent 
 then President : I there obtained the first prize of two 
 hundred guineas. As I returned to London chiefly to 
 finish this picture, that done, I went back to Bristol, where 
 I painted and left a number of pictures. Among them 
 were half-length portraits of my friend Mr. Coleridge, 
 and my medical friend Mr. King, of Clifton. I have 
 painted but few portraits, and these I think are my best. 
 My second journey to London was followed by a calamity 
 of which I cannot speak the death of my wife leaving 
 me nothing but my Art, which then seemed to me as 
 nothing. But of my domestic concerns, I shall avoid 
 speaking, as I do not consider them proper subjects for 
 living biography." 
 
 This blow fell heavily upon Allston. He had just 
 taken a house in London, and around his fire-side,' where 
 such men cluster all their treasures, gathered many of 
 the choicest spirits that have illuminated the Literature 
 and the Arts of the present century. There was Cole- 
 ridge, and Southey, and Leslie, and Morse, who had 
 been his companions in Italy ; who had walked with 
 him on the terraces of Clifton in the pure fresh air, when 
 he was recovering from a long illness ; his studio and his 
 home were by the same hearth-stone. But a few days 
 after he led his wife across the threshold of his new 
 home, she was taken from him for ever. Some men can 
 pass such scenes unscathed, but Allston was not one of 
 them. The bolt prostrated him as it fell, and the cloud 
 cast its shadow over his path for many years. 
 
 The Dead Man' won the first prize of two hun- 
 dred guineas from the British Institution, and the Painter 
 could have sold it for a large sum. But a fortunate oc- 
 currence brought it to this country. Mr. McMurtie, of
 
 2() WASHINGTON ALLSTOIf. 
 
 Philadelphia, proposed to Allston to put the picture into 
 his hands, and the Pennsylvania Academy paid for it 
 $3,500 hardly a tithe of its real value. But the reader 
 will see the noble spirit of the painter in the extract here 
 given from his letter to Mr. McMurtie. He writes from 
 London, the 13th of June, 1816: 
 
 " When you first made me the generous offer of taking 
 out my picture, you may remember with what implicit 
 confidence I submitted the entire management and dispo- 
 sal of it to yourself, and Mr. Sully. I would not have done 
 this if I had not been fully assured that, whatever might 
 be the event, I should have every reason to be grateful, 
 for even if it had wholly failed of profit, I should still 
 have felt myself indebted for every exertion that kindness 
 and liberality could make. If such would have been 
 my feelings in the event of a total failure, (an event too 
 which I had suffered myself almost to anticipate,) you 
 may well judge what I now feel at the account of this 
 most agreeable and unexpected result. I beg you both 
 to accept my warmest and most grateful acknowledg- 
 ments. The sale is in every respect highly gratifying, 
 both as affording a very seasonable pecuniary supply, 
 and on account of the flattering circumstances attending 
 it. As necessary and acceptable as the money is to me, 
 I assure you I think more of the honor conferred by the 
 Academy becoming purchasers of my work." 
 
 Allston has himself given a description of this great 
 work. The composition is founded on the following 
 passage from the Jewish Annals : " And the bands of 
 the Moabites invaded the land at the coming in of the 
 year. And it came to pass as they were burying a man, 
 that behold they spied a band of men, and they cast the 
 man into the sepulchre of Elisha : and when the man was
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 21 
 
 let down, and touched the bones of Elisha, he revived." 
 2d Kings: c. xiii., v. 20, 21. 
 
 " The Sepulchre of Elisha," says the Painter, " is 
 supposed to be in a cavern among the mountains, such 
 places being in those early ages used for the interment 
 of the dead. In the foreground is the man at the mo- 
 ment of reanimation, in which the Artist has attempted, 
 both in the action and color, to express the gradual re- 
 coiling of life upon death. Behind him in a dark recess 
 are the bones of the Prophet, the skull of which is pe- 
 culiarized by a preternatural light. At his head and feet 
 are two Slaves, bearers of the body ; the rope still in 
 their hands by which they have let it down, indicating 
 the act that moment performed : the emotion attempted 
 in the figure at the feet is that of astonishment and fear, 
 modified by doubt, as if still requiring further confirma- 
 tion of the miracle before him ; while in the figure at 
 the head, it is that of unqualified immovable terror. In the 
 most prominent group above, is a soldier in the act of 
 rushing from the scene. The violent and terrified action 
 of this figure was chosen to illustrate the miracle, by the 
 contrast it exhibits to that habitual firmness supposed to 
 belong to the military character, showing his emotion to 
 proceed from no mortal cause. The figure grasping the 
 soldier's arm, and pressing forward to look at the body, 
 is expressive of terror overcome by curiosity. The group 
 on the left, or rather behind the soldier, is composed of 
 two men of different ages, earnestly listening to the ex- 
 planation of a priest, who is directing their thoughts to 
 Heaven, as the source of the miraculous change ; the boy 
 clinging to the old man is too young to comprehend the 
 nature of the miracle, but like children of his age, uncon- 
 sciously partakes of the general impulse. The group on
 
 22 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 the right forms an episode, consisting of the wife and 
 daughter of the reviving man. The wife, unable to with- 
 stand the conflicting emotions of the past and the present, 
 has fainted, and whatever joy and astonishment may have 
 been excited in the daughter by the sudden revival of her 
 father, they are wholly absorbed in distress and solicitude 
 for her mother. The young man, with outstretched 
 arms, actuated by impulse (not motive), announces to 
 the wife, by a sudden exclamation, the revival of her 
 husband. The other youth, of a mild and devotional 
 character, is still in the attitude of one conversing the 
 conversation being abruptly broken off by his impetuous 
 companion. The Sentinels in the distance at the en- 
 trance of the cavern, mark the depth of the picture, and 
 indicate the alarm which had occasioned this tumultuary 
 burial." 
 
 Allston remained in England till 1818, and painted 
 his greatest works. Of one of his finest pieces he says : 
 " I am now engaged on * Jacob's Dream,' a subject I 
 have long had in contemplation. It has been often 
 painted before, but I have treated it in a very different way 
 from any picture I have ever seen ; for instead of one or 
 two Angels, I have introduced a vast multitude ; and in- 
 stead of a ladder or narrow steps, I have endeavored to 
 give the idea of unmeasurable flights of steps, with plat- 
 form above platform, rising and extending into space 
 immeasurable. Whether this conception will please the 
 matter of fact critics, I doubt. Nay, I am certain that 
 men without imagination will call it stuff! But if I 
 succeed at all, it will be with those whom it will be an 
 honor to please. The picture is of the same size with 
 the landscape I sent out." He here alludes to a picture 
 he sent to McMurtie, of Philadelphia, with the Mother
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 23 
 
 and the Child.' " I wish," said the Artist to his friend, 
 in speaking of this last exquisite piece, which he sent as 
 a present, " I wish you not to consider it now as ' the 
 Virgin and Child,' but simply as a mother watching her 
 sleeping offspring. A Madonna should be youthful ; but 
 my mother is a matron. * * I have a double plea- 
 sure in offering this little present, inasmuch as, since the 
 retouching, I think it one of my best works ; and as I 
 know it will be appreciated by one who can truly ap- 
 preciate whatever merit it may have. It does not always 
 happen that the possessors of pictures are also possessed 
 of taste, and therefore it is a source of no small gratifica- 
 tion to an Artist to know that his works are cherished by 
 those who will neither mistake, nor overlook their excel- 
 lencies, howe'ver subordinate." 
 
 Allston thus speaks of his most celebrated pictures, 
 omitting many of his beautiful works : " I will men- 
 tion only a few of the principal which I painted dur- 
 ing my first visit to England, viz. : The l Dead Man,' 
 &c., ' The Angel liberating St. Peter from Prison.' 
 This picture was painted for Sir George Beaumont, 
 (the figures larger than life), and is now in a church at 
 Ashby de la Zouch. * Jacob's Dream,' in the possession 
 of the Earl of Egremont. There are many figures in 
 this picture which I have always considered one of my 
 happiest efforts. * Elijah in the Desert.' This I brought 
 to America, but it has gone back, having been purchased 
 here by Mr. Labouchere, M. P. The ' Angel Uriel in 
 the Sun,' in possession of the Marquis of Stafford. 
 This is a colossal fore-shortened figure, that if standing 
 upright would be fourteen feet high, but being fore- 
 shortened, occupies a space but of nine feet. The 
 Directors of the British Gallery presented me with a
 
 24 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 hundred and fifty guineas, as a token of their approba- 
 tion of ' Uriel.' Since my return to America, I have 
 painted a number of pictures, but chiefly small ones. 1 
 shall mention only a few of the larger ones, viz. : ' Jere- 
 miah dictating his Prophecy to Baruch, the Scribe:' the 
 figures as large as life. * Saul and the Witch of Endor,' 
 and ' Spalatro's Vision of the Bloody Hand.' ' 
 
 It may not be deemed improper here to say a word 
 of what has been called Allston's " Great Picture," 
 for it has been the subject of no little misunderstanding. 
 It was unfortunate that such vague and almost boundless 
 expectations in regard to it should have been excited in 
 the public mind. It is far better that genius should 
 burst upon the world with some master-piece, than fore- 
 stall its eager reception by vast expectancy. In this case 
 we believe Allston was quite passive in the matter. His 
 injudicious friends whispered about that he was engaged 
 upon a stupendous work, and it was not long before a 
 mysterious interest became attached to the rumor. 
 Years passed, and the picture did not make its appear- 
 ance. Meantime a few individuals had been favored 
 with a glimpse of the design. The subject was known 
 to be < Belshazzar's Feast.' Delay only quickened curi- 
 osity, and inflamed expectation. At length it was said 
 the canvas was rolled up, and the great work abandoned. 
 Two reasons have been assigned for this ; one, that an 
 execution had been levied on the work, in consequence 
 of which the Artist had resigned it in disgust ; the other, 
 that the great idea of the picture, that of making the 
 light all radiate from the handwriting on the wall, had 
 been anticipated by Martin. 
 
 In 1831 Allston says, in a letter to McMurtie, " I have 
 but a few weeks since been established in my new paint-
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 25 
 
 ing-room, which I have built in this place (Cambridge- 
 port). Belshazzar has been rolled up and reposing in a 
 packing case for more than three years, in consequence of 
 my former large room in Boston passing into the hands of 
 a new owner, who has converted it into a livery stable. * * 
 Belshazzar will still remain some time in his case ; some 
 embarrassing debts, and my immediate necessities, being 
 the cause. I must be free in mind before I can finish. 
 I trust, however, that the time will not be very long." 
 
 In another letter he thus speaks of it : " I could 
 long ago have finished this, and other pictures as large, 
 had my mind been free ; for indeed I have already 
 bestowed upon it as much mental and manual labor as, 
 under another state of mind, would have completed sev- 
 eral such pictures. But to go into the subject of all the 
 obstacles and the hindrances upon my spirit, would 
 hardly be consistent with delicacy and self-respect. Nor 
 could I be far enough understood if I should do it, to 
 answer by it any essential purpose. Those feelings 
 which are most intimately blended with one's nature and 
 which most powerfully and continuously influence us, are 
 the very feelings most difficult to give any distinct ap- 
 prehension of to another." Thus far Allston lifted the 
 veil which concealed his feelings from the world it is 
 not for us to invade the sanctuary. It is enough for us 
 to know that few have been subjected to keener trials 
 than were decreed to that gifted and wounded spirit. 
 But we cannot suppress a burst of indignation when we 
 think that the sordid soul of some sordid wretch, who 
 weighed dollars against Allston's Art, and could see noth- 
 ing in Belshazzar's feast but three hundred yards of can- 
 vass, should have locked up that hall-formed vision, 
 when a few more weeks of the master's magical pencil
 
 26 
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 would have given the world a creation that our country- 
 men three hundred years hence would speak of as the 
 Italians now speak of the Last Judgment of Michael 
 Angelo. It is well known that not until a few months 
 before his death did Allston resume the work. He 
 then erased several figures, altered his plan, and in the 
 midst of these changes for ever ceased from his labors ! 
 It remains a great fragment. His power and style are, 
 however, clearly evident. To the Artist it will ever be 
 an object of veneration, for it bears the last touches of 
 the great pencil. 
 
 Perhaps the most interesting exhibition to the gen- 
 uine lover of Art ever seen in this country, was that of 
 Allstori's pictures. His friends in Boston took great 
 pains to collect them, and when arranged in the same 
 room, their number, variety, and peculiar excellence, af- 
 forded an eloquent reply to the charge of indolence some- 
 times brought against the great Artist. No idea should 
 be more strenuously urged with us, in regard to Art, than 
 that quality, and not quantity, is the test of merit Con- 
 sidering Allston's constitution, his life was one of singu- 
 lar industry. His mind was intensely active to the last 
 hour of existence, and like all men of true genius, he 
 did not covet mere fame, so much as the gratification of 
 that ideal which glowed in his soul. Consequently, he 
 often destroyed the labor of months. In this exhibition 
 were his 'Dead Man,' 'Jeremiah,' 'Alpine Scenery,' 
 ' Rosalie,' and others. Those who have seen Allston's 
 pictures can readily recall them, for they live in the im- 
 agination. He was a great Poet, although the highest 
 and purest form of the expression of his poetry was 
 through his pencil. His crowning distinction among the 
 painters of his country was the power of copying nature
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 27 
 
 with thorough fidelity. But he did not like some, even 
 great Artists, stop here. He imitated not only her de- 
 tails, but her creative power combining scattered beau- 
 ties, seizing on grand effects, and exalting the material 
 with the earnest intelligence of a lofty soul. 
 
 The personal appearance of Allston was remarkable. 
 His figure was slight, and his action ^significant of spir- 
 itual grace. His long hair hung carelessly around his 
 neck. His face was small, and actually ploughed over 
 with a kind of nervous ruggedness, finely illustrated in his 
 bust by Clevenger. His eyes were large and lustrous, 
 and the first sight of the Painter made the stranger feel 
 that he was a remarkable man. Even as he glided in 
 his unpretending way along the street, there was an ab- 
 stractive, an unearthly air about him that often made the 
 careless stop and yet there never was a gifted man so 
 utterly free from all consciousness of superiority. His 
 mind was fixed, not on his reputation, but on that exalt- 
 ed standard of excellence towards which he earnestly 
 pressed. He thirsted for a satisfaction which praise and 
 consideration never yield. And who that knew him can 
 ever forget the graces of his social character the simple 
 hospitality with which he welcomed the visitor, the unaf- 
 fected interest with which he entered into the feelings 
 and prospects of every votary of Art his sweet encour- 
 agement to the young his ardent sympathy with every 
 form of beauty and of truth his winning recognition 
 of nature under every disguise, and of honest worth, how- 
 ever unacknowledged. Add to all this a beautiful self- 
 respect and childlike frankness, and nothing is wanting 
 to win the hearts of the gifted and the generous. 
 
 The latter years of Allston's life were passed in Cam- 
 bridgeport, an unattractive village about equally distant
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 from the city of Boston anAHarvard University. Proba- 
 bly he chose this residence partly from motives of economy, 
 and partly that he might have easy access to literary 
 society. We know not indeed how far his health and 
 circumstances may have rendered seclusion necessary, 
 but it was felt by many who had no claim to the Artist's 
 acquaintance, that he was most unjustly neglected. In the 
 Old World, he would not have been suffered thus to with- 
 draw himself from the society he was fitted to adorn and 
 improve. So near any University in Europe, he would 
 have been offered a Professorship, to instruct the young 
 men of the nation in the History and Claims of Art. 
 
 A great Painter in the vicinity of so opulent and 
 refined a Metropolis, should certainly have found a wider 
 and more intimate recognition, more cordial and sponta- 
 neous sympathy. True, his humble abode was sought 
 out by the young worshipper of Art, who approached 
 it with reverence and left it with gratitude. True, his 
 presence was sometimes invoked at the table of an opu- 
 lent merchant of the neighboring city, who desired to 
 exhibit a native Lion to some curious foreigner, and it 
 is also true that Lord Morpeth's first inquiry, after the 
 British Steamer reached the Boston pier, was, " where 
 does Allston live ?" his first object being to visit his 
 Studio and give him a commission, since he had tried in 
 vain to buy one of his pictures in England. Labouchere 
 managed to hunt out his dwelling and give him gold, 
 which would buy bread, for his * Elijah in the Desert.' 
 De Tocqueville, and such men, who could not accept 
 every invitation to be lionized, took pains to go out to 
 Cambridgeport to show their veneration for the man who 
 had painted the ' Dead Man.' But as a general rule, we 
 are told he was left to his retirement and his poverty, by
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 29 
 
 those who might have been proud of doing homage to 
 the genius and sitting in the sunlight of such a spirit. 
 But it would be sad enough if any body should suppose 
 we lament this on Allston's account Oh ! no. That 
 Painter, like all real Painters, is above all such lamen- 
 tation. . 
 
 A friend of Allston tells me a hundred touching sto- 
 ries about him. Here is one : " While in England, he 
 threw off a little painting of great beauty the subject of 
 which, though perfectly free, to his own perception, from 
 all moral objection, might be perverted to evil associa- 
 tions. The idea occurred to him while sitting alone 
 the evening he had sent it to the purchaser. No sooner 
 did the impression seize him than, with conscientious 
 sensibility to the high claims of his Art, he wrote the 
 owner of the picture, stating his scruples, begging its 
 return. His desire was reluctantly granted. He sent 
 back the gold with his thanks, and burned the picture. 
 And yet the Painter was poor, and needed money in that 
 solitude of London. The Artist who knew these facts, 
 had known Allston for years. He says that when he 
 looked on him after this sublime act, notwithstanding his 
 familiarity with the Painter, he was struck with a sud- 
 den veneration. 
 
 Allston was one of the most delightful talkers of the 
 age. Like most persons of intellectual taste and nervous 
 temperament, his spirits freshened at night. For this 
 reason, he was never an early riser worked at his easel 
 till late afternoon, and gave the evenings to social enjoy- 
 ment. Then he and his companions ' took no note ot 
 time.' Through the vapory clouds of the grateful weed 
 his snowy head loomed with a kind of priestly beauty ; 
 and taste, criticism, description, anecdote, and poetry,
 
 3Q WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 streamed forth for hours together, like eloquent oracles, 
 from his lips. Some of these " better moments" will 
 never fade from the remembrance of those who knew and 
 loved the man, while they revered the Painter. 
 
 His conversation often tinged itself with the colorings 
 of the Spiritual world, and the few who were admitted into 
 the tabernacle of his faith, bear witness to its exalted 
 character. A life of earnest communion with the true 
 and the beautiful, enabled him to speak of their mysteries 
 as * one having authority.' Never, we are told, was his 
 language more significant, clear and spiritual, than on 
 the night of his death. This event was very unexpected. 
 He had painted all day, and with unusual cheerfulness 
 talked away the evening with his kindred. At a late 
 hour he complained of a pain in his breast, to which he had 
 been occasionally subject. His wife (a sister to Dana, 
 the Poet,) left the room to bring some remedy, which 
 had proved serviceable on former occasions. When she 
 returned, he was leaning back in his chair apparently in 
 a doze. She touched his shoulder ; his eyes opened with 
 a calm, sweet expression, and closed again ; he sighed 
 gently, and ceased to breathe. Thus was softly loosened 
 the tie that bound that gifted and pure spirit to mortal 
 life. He passed away in the full activity and conscious- 
 ness of his powers, without any struggle or decay. 
 
 There is probably no other Government in the world 
 but our own, that would not have called on such a man 
 to illustrate its History. While he was in the full vigor 
 of youth, and the glow of creative genius, Congress had 
 no bread to give him, and he was obliged to accept prizes 
 from British Institutions. But the Government discov- 
 ered their mistake, as they generally do, only when it was 
 too late to correct it. He was offered a valuable com-
 
 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 3| 
 
 mission too late, and he declined it, I am told, in an elo- 
 quent and affecting letter to the Secretary of State. A 
 document which will one day be pointed to by the His- 
 torian, as a sarcasm too bitter for any country but our 
 own a country which produces many great Artists, but 
 starves them all out of it a practice more cruel than 
 the vulture, for she only devours her young. 
 
 When the great Thorvalsden, the friend and compan- 
 ion of Allston, went home to Copenhagen to die, after 
 his myriad creations of grandeur and beauty, he was re- 
 ceived with the thunder of cannon along the coast, and 
 processions and gala festas bespoke the general enthu- 
 siasm. He was greeted back to his country with the 
 honors decreed to a Roman Victor, and became a compan- 
 ion of his Sovereign. When he died the King conducted 
 his funeral. He followed him to the grave uncovered, 
 as chief mourner, attended by all his Court, and with his 
 own hands he helped lay the great Sculptor in his tomb. 
 There were public demonstrations of grief, and in the 
 Court and throughout the City, there were signs of 
 mourning, which i silently told the stranger that some 
 great public calamity had fallen. 
 
 As great a man was Washington Allston : and his 
 works, although not as numerous, display as high an order 
 of talent. He was gifted with a Poetical and artistic 
 genius, Coleridge once remarked to Campbell, so the 
 latter told me, unsurpassed by any man of his age ! 
 
 When Allston died, who had had a few friends who 
 not only appreciated his genius, but showed their sym- 
 pathy in a more substantial way ; these friends, who had 
 not forsaken him while living, gathered around him when 
 he came to die : and their example was followed by a 
 numerous funeral train, as is always the case when it is
 
 32 WASHINGTON ALLSTON. 
 
 too late to do any good. And there he lies, for aught 
 I know, without a monument, or the prospect of any 
 worthy of a genius, who, when taste is improved and 
 a love of the Arts developed in our country, will gather 
 thousands to the spot where he lies ; and the foreigner 
 who looks about for the colossal pile over his dust, will, 
 in its absence , turn to the Artists of the nation as he 
 points to his resting-place, and say 
 
 " In yonder grave your Druid lies." 
 
 Allston was appreciated by the few, but any one who 
 should have suggested that his death was a national ca- 
 lamity, that called for demonstrations of national sorrow, 
 like those exhibited by the Danes of that ice-bound 
 coast to their Thorvalsden, would most likely have 
 been met with a reply not unlike the following : " Why, 
 one would suppose that the President of the United 
 States was dead ! !" Ages will roll by, and the wild 
 flower, and it may be the wild brier, grow over the 
 grave of the great Poet-Painter, and a long succession of 
 Presidents will come, and men enough will be found, 
 without hunting for them to fill that post but ages may 
 yet go by before the successor of Allston appears. 
 
 But our children will one day build the sepulchres of 
 our Prophets, though their fathers killed them.
 

 
 3 a sn A RI 
 
 J-'rvm a IJa.aue*re0tyfic.
 
 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 A PALI, of withered leaves sad fays are bearing 
 Through the long shadows of the woodland dim, 
 
 While mourning sylphs, their golden tresses tearing, 
 Weep* o'er the urn, and wail the funeral hymn. 
 
 In vain the lark her sweetest carol singeth, 
 Or blossoms woo him to the spangled shade ; 
 
 The odorous bank where laughing cascade ringeth, 
 No more the student's favorite seat is made. 
 
 O'er the gay landscape where his fancy pondered, 
 Shall dusky clouds, lamenting, close around ; 
 
 The flowerets droop, where'er his foot-prints wandered, 
 A mournful welcome to the silent mound. 
 
 For him no more shall Beauty's dark eye glisten, 
 
 The rainbow paint its colors on the sky ; 
 The spirit's fled that fondly loved to listen 
 
 The Storm King rolling in his grandeur by. 
 
 The Artist's dead ! The Gifled's task is ended 
 
 The brush and canvas lie all useless now ; 
 Life's picture's finished, light and shade are blended 
 
 By the Great Master to whom all must bow. 
 
 From a poem in the Albany Arpua
 
 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 TOWARDS the close of the last century the banks of 
 the Mohawk were deeply shaded by the luxuriant foliage 
 of our virgin forests. Along the beautiful vale from 
 which Utica has since risen, with its glittering spires, its 
 superb streets and its noble mansions, the timid deer had 
 scarcely learned to know the echo of the woodman's 
 axe. 
 
 On the green bank of that broad river, among the 
 earliest settlers, Inman's parents, who had emigrated from 
 England, had made their home. They were intelligent 
 people, and spared no pains to instruct their children. 
 Probably no very uncommon facilities could have existed 
 in so new a country for the development of artistic taste. 
 But Dunlap speaks of two circumstances in Inman's 
 early life, from which we may safely infer that, to be a 
 painter when he became a man, was the early and en- 
 thusiastic desire of the boy. Among the ' movables' of 
 this Inman family, brought from 'Merrie England,' and 
 boated up the Mohawk, probably, were the charming 
 books of the incomparable Madame de Genlis. Dunlap 
 says : " He read, as soon as he could read, a translation 
 from Madame de Genlis' ' Tales of the Castle ;' and here 
 he found food to nourish and strengthen his love. Among 
 the notes to one of the stories contained in that work, 
 are to be found brief biographies of celebrated painters 
 and sculptors. He never wearied of poring over their
 
 gg HENRY INMAN. 
 
 histories ; and the name of Raphael embodied in his 
 young mind all that could be conceived of greatness. It 
 is a proof of an extraordinary intellect, when the love of 
 facts supersedes the universal appetite for fiction. The 
 father of Inman, perceiving the bent of his son's mind, 
 thus early disclosed, kindly encouraged his inclinations." 
 An itinerant drawing-master, he says, was engaged to 
 give him lessons : but the poor man soon found it neces- 
 sary to leave his pupil and seek some other field for ac- 
 tion. 
 
 Probably the youthful aspirant, who was to be a 
 painter at another day, owed no great obligations to this 
 roving artist on the score of instruction ; and yet even 
 this is a conjecture, for we would do no injustice to any 
 man who bears the worthy name of Artist but it is not 
 difficult to imagine that this Drawing-Master may have 
 been a Perugino in the eyes of the young Raphael, since 
 he was, for aught we know, the first living illustration of 
 Art he had ever seen. To him this may have been a 
 wondrous man for at one time every thing is wondrous 
 to us all. But peace to the Drawing-Master, be he in 
 the Senate, the Backwoods, Oregon, or Texas, for his 
 last known locality dates back some six and thirty years. 
 
 But Madame de Genlis is a more certain and notable 
 personage, and good fortune threw into young Inman's 
 hands the very book he wanted. ' The Tales of the 
 Castle' gave wild, free, gorgeous range to his imagina- 
 tion. Flushed with ' the thick coming fancies' of Cas- 
 tles and Halls, and armor of Knights, he read the stories 
 of the old Painters, and clothed them in glittering robes ; 
 and after that he would be nothing but a painter. 
 
 Inman's father, from all we can learn, was a man 
 of considerable intelligence, and even of some literary
 
 HENRY 1NMAN. 37 
 
 and artistic taste. He was anxious to encourage the 
 ambition of his boy. Influenced in part perhaps by this 
 noble sentiment, he resolved to leave the ' green woods' 
 and return to New- York. " And there," says Dunlap, 
 " the study of drawing was recommenced under a compe- 
 tent teacher, who was engaged at the day school which 
 Henry attended." 
 
 The reader who likes to have his author help him to 
 facts and leave him to do his own thinking, (the very 
 best sort of readers,) may now fancy how this boy 
 thought and felt when he found himself suddenly plunged 
 into the heart of a great Capital from his frontier life. 
 He raced about, mornings and evenings and holidays, 
 wherever a picture was to be seen ; and we are told that 
 his father used to find out where there was any thing rare 
 in Art, by way of exhibitions or private pictures, and 
 take his boy there. I am informed, that about this 
 time he was sent to Mr. Halsey's school at Newburgh, 
 where he received some instruction in Latin. How long 
 he remained, I do not know. 
 
 " About the year 1814," says Dunlap, "Wertmiiler's 
 celebrated picture of Danae was exhibited at Mr. Jarvis' 
 rooms in Murray-street, and thither, as to other exhibi- 
 tions, the father of the young aspirant took him." His 
 second visit to the studio of Jarvis, he has thus described : 
 
 " On a second visit, when I went alone, I saw Mr. 
 Jarvis himself, who came up from his painting-room in to 
 the apartment in which the Danae with other works of 
 Art was placed. On observing his entrance, with maul- 
 stick in his hand and palette on his arm, I removed my 
 hat and bowed, presuming that he was the proprietor of 
 the establishment. At that time I regarded an Artist 
 with peculiar reverence. Without noticing my saluta-
 
 38 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 tion, he walked rapidly towards me, and with his sin- 
 gular look of scrutiny, peered into my face. Suddenly 
 he exclaimed, ' By Heavens ! the very head for a painter !' 
 He then put some questions to me, invited me below 
 stairs, and permitted me to examine his portfolios. He 
 shortly after called upon my father and proposed to take 
 me as a pupil. I was at this time preparing for my en- 
 trance to the West Point Institution as a Cadet, for which 
 I had already obtained a warrant. My father left the 
 matter to myself, and I gladly acceded to Mr. Jarvis' pro- 
 posal. I accordingly entered upon a seven years' ap- 
 prenticeship with him. Notwithstanding his phrenolo- 
 gical observations upon my cranium, a circumstance con- 
 nected with my first effort in oil colors would seem to 
 contradict the favorable inference it contained. Another 
 of his students and myself were set down before a small 
 tinted landscape with instructions to copy it. Palettes 
 and brushes were put into our hands, and to work we 
 went. After much anxious looking and laborious daub- 
 ing, Mr. Jarvis came up to see what progress \ve had 
 made. After regarding our work for some moments in 
 silence, he astounded us with these words : ' Get up ! 
 
 Get up ! These are the d 1 attempts I ever saw ! 
 
 Here ! Philip, (turning to a mulatto boy who was grind- 
 ing paints in another part of the room,) take the brushes 
 and finish what these gentlemen have begun so brave- 
 ly.' All this took place in the presence of several 
 strangers, who had come to look at the gallery. You 
 can imagine what a shock our self-love received. Such 
 mortifications are the most enduring of all remembrances. 
 Notwithstanding this rebuff, I managed to make other 
 and more successful efforts." 
 
 Inman was in the studio of Jarvis seven years,
 
 HENRY INMAN. QQ 
 
 u*j 
 
 under steady and thorough training. Few Artists in this 
 country are able to go through such a course. Early 
 poverty has crushed many a one who, under the genial 
 influences of a master's studio, would have perhaps 
 rivalled the great painters. But before they had gone 
 through even the rudiments of Art, they were obliged to go 
 to painting portraits to pay their board bills, or abandon 
 their career entirely. Not unfrequently, too, young artists 
 find it difficult to get access, as pupils, to the studios of 
 competent teachers ; and sometimes when fortune favors 
 them in their first steps, they become restive under the dis- 
 cipline of the master, and disgusted with the very " details 
 of the Art ;" as Haydon terms it, they set up for themselves, 
 persuaded that practice will at last render them perfect. 
 But experience demonstrates the folly of such a course. 
 The biographers of the old masters tell many touching sto- 
 ries of the prostrating toils of those wonderful men. Mi- 
 chael Angelo, in the very noon of his fame, consumed whole 
 days and nights over the most loathsome dead bodies, 
 studying anatomy. In fact, nothing has been more in- 
 contestably proved, even in natural Science, than that 
 men who have been most gifted by nature have bent their 
 muscles hardest to toil. I believe that the same train- 
 ing, the same labor, and the same encouragement in the 
 Fine Arts now, which distinguished the sixteenth century, 
 would give us another race of old masters. 
 
 Although Inman's improvement was so rapid, that 
 Jarvis used to put him " upon his own canvasses," yet 
 he inured himself to the toil of the studio, and his patience 
 did not give way for seven years. He accompanied his 
 master to many of the principal cities in the United States, 
 and at last left him in New Orleans, (I am informed,) 
 when his engagement expired (1823.)
 
 4Q HENRY INMAN. 
 
 During this seven years' apprenticeship, which he 
 used facetiously to compare with ' Jacob's seven years' 
 crusade for Rachael,' he employed his leisure hours in 
 making many a sunny little sketch, which Artists of great 
 merit have since esteemed worthy of their praises. 
 
 In 1823 he opened a studio in Vesey-street, and de- 
 voted himself almost entirely to miniatures and paper 
 sketches. He was soon applied to for vignettes for 
 illustrated works, and in bank note vignettes particu- 
 larly, he introduced the first improvements known in this 
 country. Those who are familiar with his designs of this 
 description, have assured me that in the charm of light and 
 shadow so peculiarly his own, they are very beautiful. 
 At this early period his miniatures, for which he seems 
 to have had no great fondness, occupied most of his time, 
 and Dunlap esteemed him second only to Malbone, in 
 this elegant walk of Art. I have seen some of his minia- 
 tures, but they seem to me to indicate less genius than 
 many of his portraits and landscapes. 
 
 Soon after he set up for himself, Cummings, who has 
 since become so distinguished, particularly for his minia- 
 tures, applied to him to receive him as a pupil. Inman 
 replied: "Why, I have only just escaped from pupilage 
 myself." Cummings was young in Art, but was deter- 
 mined to go through a thorough course of study ; and per- 
 ceiving the rare abilities of Inman, he sought his familiar 
 acquaintance. He entered his studio, and remained with 
 him seven years : part of the time as pupil, and the rest 
 as associate. Cummings soon displayed so much merit 
 in miniatures, that Inman from that time forward aban- 
 doned that branch of Art, seldom painting in that style, 
 except ix)r his own amusement or the gratification of a 
 particular friend. He devoted himself principally to
 
 HENRY INMAN. 4J 
 
 portraits, and from their studio in Vesey-street, some of 
 the best works in portraiture, of all sizes, were sent out, 
 which have been done in this country. 
 
 Inman painted occasionally on Bristol Board in the 
 style of the sketch of De Witt Clinton a piece which 
 now hangs in the Inman Gallery, and is said to be a fair 
 sample of that kind of work. He commenced some illus- 
 trations of the works of Washington Irving, but did not 
 continue them. Rip Van Winkle, awaking from his 
 dream, was one of them. This little composition is made 
 up with great fidelity, from the 'Sketch Book.' "On 
 waking he found himself on the green knoll, from whence 
 he had first seen the Old Man of the Glen. He rubbed his 
 eyes. It was a bright, sunny morning the birds were 
 hopping and twittering among the bushes, and the eagle 
 was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure mountain 
 breeze. He looked for his gun, but in place of the 
 clean, well-oiled fowling-piece, found an old firelock 
 lying by him, the barrel encrusted with rust, the lock 
 falling off, and the stock worm-eaten." 
 
 . His earlier pieces of this kind, which gave him reputa- 
 tion, were Rip Van Winkle, and his pencil sketches of the 
 Death of the Last of the Mohicans, and of Leather 
 Stocking. 
 
 In the year 1825, " Inman joined the Association of 
 Artists, for drawing and on the establishment of the 
 N. Y. National Academy of Design, was elected Vice 
 President, which office he filled until his removal to 
 Philadelphia : within a short distance of which city, at 
 Mount Holly, he purchased an estate, or farm and cot- 
 tage, where he could paint, surrounded by his family, 
 with the delights of rural scenes in summer, and the 
 comforts of his own fireside in winter."
 
 42 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 At this period, he amused himself occasionally in the 
 piactice of Lithography, then but recently introduced 
 into America. " His reputation in the meanwhile became 
 more and more extended by several compositions in oil, 
 illustrative of popular works of fiction, which are now 
 scattered far and wide over the country. At length, in 
 1834, he returned to New- York, and opened his studio 
 once more, in the heart of the city, with the intention of 
 devoting his whole attention to portrait painting. Or- 
 ders for pictures crowded in upon him so rapidly, that 
 even with his noted quickness and wonderful faculty of 
 execution, it was almost impossible for his pencil to 
 keep pace with the demands that were made upon it. 
 The admiration excited by his new heads gave a fresh 
 appreciation to those he had painted in former years, 
 while present approval and success warmed his canvass 
 with a richer glow. The frank and winning address of 
 Inman, united to conversational powers of a rare order, 
 always gave him an advantage with sitters, which he 
 used with ' the happiest effect. He rarely failed to be- 
 guile them by his talk of the consciousness they were 
 sitting for a portrait, when he would seize upon the 
 most natural and characteristic expression of the counte- 
 nance from which he had thus banished the formality 
 and constraint, which so few in such a position can lay 
 aside by any effort of their own." 
 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence used to tell his pupils that if 
 their portraits did not bear a good expression, however 
 ugly or stupid their sitters might be, it was their own 
 fault; for the Artist had the power of stirring their feel- 
 ings, and he must blame himself if he did not make an 
 animated and life-like picture. Inman excelled here. 
 He seldom failed in a likeness, and yet his portraits al-
 
 HENRY INMAN. 43 
 
 most always looked better than the originals. This 
 accounts in some measure for his success as a portrait 
 painter, for no American Artist has ever been so suc- 
 cessful at home. I have myself heard Inman say that, 
 in his time, no man could succeed in America except as 
 a portrait painter. "The taste of my ' customers,' says 
 he, 'is limited chiefly to portraits. They will not com- 
 mission me to execute Landscapes, which would possess 
 a much greater value, and win me an infinitely higher 
 fame. I cannot even get a chance to paint a land- 
 scape, unless I stick it into a portrait, where I some- 
 times manage to crowd in a bit of sky, or some old tree 
 or green bank. Why, I should have starved long ago on 
 any thing but portraits. But it is always so in the in- 
 fancy of the Fine Arts in all countries. People are fond 
 of their own portraits before they care a fig for a fine 
 landscape, or a noble historical piece. You see I have 
 not been able to consult my own inclinations at all. 
 People would have portraits and I must have bread, and 
 I made them pay for their own phizzes just as much as I 
 should have asked them for a phiz of Nature, or a phiz of 
 History. They did it willingly, too, as a general rule 
 and I have many a time received a commission for ,$300 
 or $500 for portraits and groups, when the very same 
 persons would not have hung up my * Mumble the Peg' 
 in their parlors. I tell you, sir, the business of a few 
 generations of Artists in this country, as in all others, is 
 to prepare the way for their successors for the time will 
 come when the rage for portraits in America will give 
 way to a higher and purer taste." 
 
 I hardly know of a more lamentable sight than to see 
 a man who has a genius, and of necessity a taste for 
 landscape and historical painting, limited to portraits.
 
 4 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 Inman's powers for many years were confined to a nar- 
 rower range than they should have been, in Art. For 
 although he continually improved, and hislast portraits are 
 the best, yet, anyone who will compare his ' October Af- 
 ternoon' or ' Rydal Falls,' or ' Mumble the Peg,' with his 
 early landscapes, will see an infinitely greater difference 
 than can be found between his early and later portraits. 
 What he might not have accomplished in Landscape and 
 History by painting in these departments for twenty years, 
 no one can say. We only know what he did when, after 
 being nearly out of practice for fifteen years, he once more 
 wielded a free pencil for ' land and sky and water.' 
 
 But let us come to the INMAN GALLERY, now open at 
 the Rooms of the Art-Union, where many of Inman's 
 best pictures are collected for the first and perhaps for 
 the last time. There is something peculiarly touching 
 in these relics of departed genius ; for each one has its 
 history known to some one of the spectators. The 
 works of an Artist never gain their real value till the hand 
 that produced them can work no more. While the great 
 Masters were living, some of their best works brought 
 less than the cost of their frames in which they are now. 
 Andrea del Sarto painted one of his great Frescos for the 
 Monks of the Church of the Annunzziata at Florence, 
 for a sack of corn ! An Italian Prince commissioned a 
 picture of him just before he died, and besought him to 
 execute it and name his price. But it was too late ; 
 and w 7 hen the news of his death went through Italy, his 
 pictures could not be commanded for any price, for the 
 Master could paint no more. The death of Allston gave 
 an immediate value to his w r orks they had never had be- 
 fore ; and those who have since sought for his pictures 
 have told me they could not get them for any price. Five
 
 HENRY INMAN. 45 
 
 thousand dollars one gentleman was willing to give for 
 the ' Rosalie,' but the owner would not let it go it was 
 painted in seven hours. Probably the owners of ' Mum- 
 ble the Peg,' * October Afternoon,' the * Portrait of Chal- 
 mers ' and others, would not part with them for five times 
 their original cost some of them would not for any price. 
 
 Sir Joshua Reynolds once said that 'there are few 
 painters who can pass the ordeal of criticism, if their 
 works are all brought together,' the reasons are obvious. 
 If the painter's merit ranks not above mediocrity, he will 
 win little admiration, for the mediocre never excites en- 
 thusiasm. If his fame is great, an exhibition draws 
 crowds, who come together with glowing expectations 
 which nothing can gratify, and they go away disappoint- 
 ed. But more than all, there is a sameness in the 
 works of nearly all Artists, which is almost sure to 
 weary the spectator, whose eye wanders round a large 
 collection, although the same beauty which characterizes 
 each work there, called forth admiration when any one 
 was seen alone. And another point of perhaps even 
 greater importance should not be overlooked. In a Gal- 
 lery made up of the works of one Artist, there is no 
 standard of comparison for common spectators, except 
 the standard of die very Artist criticised. Hence in a 
 succession of portraits in the same style and of nearly 
 equal merit, the first one the eye strikes, represents its 
 class we hurry over its fellows. This is also true to 
 a limited extent, even of Landscapes and Historical 
 pieces although the fields of Nature and History are 
 so illimitable, the same master must vary from himself 
 more widely than he ever can in portraits. This is likely 
 to diminish the interest of a large collection. 
 
 One of the first things, perhaps, that strikes the
 
 46 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 spectator who enters the Inman Gallery, is the general 
 brilliancy of coloring throughout his pictures. He de- 
 lighted in strong contrasts of warm and cold colors. 
 All his half tints are cold, for he was not what is gene- 
 rally called a florid colorist. But the pink on the cheeks 
 and lips contrasts so strongly with the cold coloring 
 around them his brightest lights and darkest shades 
 are always brought so closely together, that in nearly all 
 his works, one sees what Inman used to call ' climaxes,' 
 and which he always delighted in, and produced with un- 
 common effect. While this characteristic of his pencil, 
 which is perceptible in nearly all his works, constitutes, 
 in the estimation of many, one of the principal beauties 
 of his portraits, particularly his female heads, when they 
 are seen alone, or hanging by the side of other pictures, 
 it gives to a collection of his portraits a somewhat flushed 
 appearance. 
 
 Inman's characteristics as an Artist, were like his pe- 
 culiarities as a man. He painted because he loved his 
 art, and few have had, in this country, a higher or 
 purer ambition to elevate it in the affections of our peo- 
 ple. He carried a free pencil his pictures were like his 
 conversations gay, brilliant, and cheerful more filled 
 with fancy than imagination. They all have a social 
 home-like air about them, they look as though they 
 were just going to speak to you. Perhaps we have 
 never had a painter who could paint a better eye than 
 Inman few so well. They are all looking at you, more 
 than you at them. 
 
 Inman has occupied in this country, a position in art, 
 similar to Sir Thomas Lawrence, in England ; and for 
 that distinguished Painter, he cherished almost a blind 
 veneration. When he returned from Great Britain,
 
 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 47 
 
 where he saw many of the works of the best painters 
 of all the European schools, Vandyke, Rembrandt, Reu- 
 bens, Titian, Reynolds, and others, he told several of 
 our Artists that Lawrence's painting of Kemble as Ham- 
 let, was the best picture he saw while he was gone. He 
 always spoke of Lawrence with enthusiasm, but his re- 
 semblance to him could not have sprung from imitation, 
 for he approached him nearer in his early life, when he 
 could hardly have seen any of his works. It must have 
 arisen from accidental causes. 
 
 The spectator will also be struck with the versatility 
 of Inman's genius. Most Artists are distinguished by 
 their early and later style by success in one, or at most, 
 two different walks of art. But Inman cannot be thus 
 characterized. He excelled in heads, in busts, in half 
 lengths, in full lengths, in cabinet size, the size of life, 
 and even in miniatures in children, and in groups in 
 landscapes, and in figures in sky, clouds, trees and wa- 
 ter in vignette designs, and in pen sketches. There is 
 a striking versatility, also, in his manner of treating sim- 
 ilar subjects. The portrait of his brother, (No. 113,) is 
 said to have been his first portrait in oil. Mr. Rawle's, 
 (No. 17,) was executed about twelve years ago, (I am 
 told,) and Dr. Chalmers, during his visit to England. 
 They are esteemed to be among his best heads painted 
 at intervals of twelve years or more, and yet there is a 
 striking dissimilarity in the style of the three. Macau- 
 lay was painted the same year with Chalmers, and one 
 could easily suppose they were done by different Artists. 
 
 It being one of the objects of this work to give as 
 complete a list as possible of the principal works of Ar- 
 tists, we shall here transfer the catalogue of the Inman 
 Gallery, omitting No. 64, a picture called ' Sterne's Ma-
 
 48 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 ria,' for the reason that there seems to be no evidence 
 that it was ever painted by Inman. No one with whom 
 I have conversed, ever heard of the picture before this 
 exhibition. It certainly bears on itself no evidence of 
 authenticity. It is said to have been painted in boy- 
 hood. A celebrated Artist who has known Inman inti- 
 mately for more than twenty years, says he never heard 
 of * Sterne's Maria,' till he saw it in the Gallery. The 
 * Rip Van Winkle' was one of his earliest original pic- 
 tures; but no resemblance can be traced between the 
 two. A due regard to truth requires that such mistakes 
 be corrected. 
 
 THE INMAN GALLERY. 
 
 NO. SUBJECTS. POSSESSORS. 
 
 1. Portrait of Chief Justice Jones, . Jas. L. Graham, Esq. 
 
 2. Portrait of Mrs. Inman, " . ' . Mrs. Inman. 
 
 3. Portrait of Col. Johnson, . .: ' J. Richards, Esq. 
 
 4. Scene from the Bride of Lammermoor, Ferris Pell, Esq. 
 
 " Hardly had Miss Ashton dropped the pen, when the 
 door of the apartment flew open, and the Master of Ravens- 
 wood entered the apartment. 
 
 " Lockhard and another domestic, who had in vain 
 attempted to oppose his passage through the gallery or 
 antechamber, were seen standing on the threshold, trans- 
 fixed with surprise, which was instantly communicated to 
 the whole party in the state-room. That of Colonel Doug- 
 lass Ashton was mingled with resentment ; that of Bucklaw, 
 with haughty and affected indifference ; the rest, even Lady 
 Ashton herself, showed signs of fear, and Lucy seemed stif- 
 fened to stone, by this unexpected apparition apparition it
 
 HENRY INMAN. 49 
 
 might well be termed, for Ravenswood had more the ap- 
 pearance of one returned from the dead than a living visiter. 
 " He planted himself full in the middle of the apartment, 
 opposite to the table at which Lucy was seated, on whom, 
 as if she had been alone in the chamber, he bent his eyes, 
 with a mingled expression of deep grief and deliberate indig- 
 nation. His dark-colored riding-cloak, displaced from one 
 shoulder, hung around one side of his person in the ample 
 folds of the Spanish mantle. The rest of his rich dress 
 was travel-soiled, and deranged by hard riding. He had a 
 sword by his side and pistols at his belt. His slouched hat, 
 which he had not removed at entrance, gave an additional 
 gloom to his dark features, which, wasted by sorrow, and 
 marked by the ghastly look communicated by long illness, 
 added to a countenance naturally somewhat stern and wild, 
 a fierce and even savage expression. The matted and 
 dishevelled locks of hair which escaped from under his hat, 
 together with his fixed and unmoved posture, made his 
 head more resemble that of a marble bust than that of a 
 living man. He said not a single word, and there was a 
 deep silence in the company for more than two minutes." 
 
 Tales of My Landlord. 
 
 NO. SUBJECTS. POSSESSORS. 
 
 5. Portrait of a Lady, H. Stebbins, Esq. 
 
 6. Portrait of President Duer, . . D. Duer, Esq. 
 
 7. Birnam Wood, .... Jas. Phalen, Esq. 
 
 Siward. What wood is this before us ? 
 
 Menteth. The wood of Birnam. 
 
 Malcolm. Let every soldier hew him down a bough 
 And bear't before him ; thereby shall we shadow 
 The numbers of our host, and make discovery 
 Err in report of us. Macbeth, Act v. Sc. iv. 
 
 8. Portrait of the late Col. Fish, . Mrs. Fish. 
 
 9. Portrait of a Lady, . . . W. F. Ladd, Esq. 
 
 10. Portrait of Chief Justice Marshall, Law Library, Philad. 
 
 11. Portrait of Thomas Sully, . . T. Sully, Esq., Phila. 
 
 12. Family Portraits and Landscape, T. Wade, jr., Esq. 
 
 4
 
 50 
 
 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 NO. SUBJECTS. POSSESSORS. 
 
 13. Portrait of a Lady and Child, 1839, Geo. Buckham, Esq. 
 
 14. A Family group of Children, . E. Parmley, Esq. 
 
 15. Portrait of Rev. Dr. Chalmers, of 
 
 Scotland, .... James Lenox, Esq. 
 
 16. Portrait of Wordsworth, . . Professor H. Reed, of 
 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 Wordsworth recently assured one of our distinguished 
 countrymen, that Inman's portrait was the most faithful and 
 satisfactory of the many which have been taken of him. 
 It was painted in the summer of 1844, and the friends of 
 the poet were unanimous in praise of its excellence. 
 " There is," says a critic, " a natural tone about the flesh, 
 and an unexaggerated truth in the expression, strikingly in 
 contrast with the idealized imitation of nature, so usually 
 adopted by inferior limners in representing distinguished 
 men. A physiognomist of discrimination will be at no 
 loss to trace in this portrait both the weak and strong cha- 
 racteristics of Wordsworth's poetry." 
 
 17. Portrait of Mr. Rawle, . ' . Law Library, Philad. 
 
 18. " An October Afternoon." . . Wm. P. Jones, Esq. 
 
 One of the happiest pictures that ever came from the 
 easel of Henry Inman, is a landscape with figures which 
 he has just finished, bearing the unpretending title of " An 
 October Afternoon." The subject of the painting is an 
 " American District School -house " on the skirt of a wood, 
 with children just released from their tasks, loitering to 
 frolic on" the hill-side ere they turn their steps homeward. 
 A blithe and buoyant rout of youngsters they are, and some 
 of them beautiful withal, as ever set philo-progenitiveness a 
 yearning for the honors of paternity. The surrounding 
 scenery, characteristic of the valley of the Hudson gene- 
 rally, wears upon its features a more especially family 
 resemblance to the landscape of Chester county : and 
 indeed the name of Ichabod Crane, over the school -house 
 door, would seem to intimate that the withered ruler of 
 copy-books who is just closing it, must have wielded the 
 birchen sceptre of his authority not far from Sleepy Hollow.
 
 HENRY INMAN. 5] 
 
 From the negro who pauses to grin at the sport of the 
 children, as, axe on shoulder, he plods his up-hill way 
 homeward, to the dash of foam upon the stream that hints 
 at the mill in the hazy distance ; from the rich forest glade, 
 chequered by the level sunbeams, to the delicious autumnal 
 atmosphere that softens the distant spire beneath the moun- 
 tains the whole picture, alike in composition and handling, 
 is full of beauty and character : a thoroughly American 
 " October Afternoon." [IV. Y. Evening Gazette, Nov. 24, 
 1845.] 
 
 This admirable picture is the last that Mr. Inman ever 
 finished. When he had finished it, he remarked that he 
 had painted his last picture. < v f , . 
 
 NO. SUBJECTS. POSSESSORS. 
 
 19. Portrait of a Gentleman, . > .; . Geo. Buckham, Esq. 
 
 20. Portrait of Martin Van Buren, . J. L. Graham, Esq. 
 
 21. Portrait of a Child, . . . W. P. Jones, Esq. 
 
 22. Portrait of Lord Chan'r Cottenham, N. Y. Gal. of Arts. 
 
 23. Rydal Water, \ . . . C. M. Letipp, Esq. 
 
 " Her only Pilot the soft breeze, the boat 
 Lingers ; but fancy is well satisfied ; 
 With keen-eyed Hope, with Memory at her side, 
 All that to each is precious, as we float 
 Gently along ; regardless who shall chide 
 If the Heavens smile and leave us free to glide. 
 Happy associates ! Breathing air remote 
 From trivial cares. But, Fancy and the Muse, 
 Why have I crowded this small bark with you 
 And others of your kind. Ideal crew ? 
 While here sits one whose brightest owes its hues 
 To flesh and blood ; no goddess from above, 
 No fleeting spirit, but my own true love." Wordsworth. 
 
 " Mr. Wordsworth pointed out the view, and went with 
 me when I made the sketch." INMAN'S LETTER. 
 
 24. Portrait of a Lady, . fc . . Morris Robinson, Esq. 
 
 25. Portrait of a Lady, . '; . Wm. H. Falls. Esq. 
 
 26. The Sleep of Death, . . . R. Goelet, Esq. 
 
 " She is not dead, but sleepeth."
 
 52 
 
 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 NO. SUBJECTS. POSSESSORS. 
 
 27. Portrait of Professor Mapes, . . James J. Mapes, Esq. 
 
 28. Portrait of the late General Morton, John L. Morton, Esq. 
 
 29. Portrait of a Lady, 
 
 30. Portrait of a Lady, # w . 
 
 31. Portrait of a Gentleman, 
 
 32. Portrait of John L. Graham Esq. 
 
 33. Portrait of a Lady, . -i * 
 
 34. Family Group, . t -*fi, . 
 
 35. Portrait of the late Bishop Moore, 
 
 36. Portrait of a Gentleman, 
 
 37. The Sisters, . .'. '*^' 1 . 
 
 38. Portrait of a Lady, '.* . 
 
 39. Portrait of Colonel Crosby, 
 
 40. Portrait of a Lady, . .^ 
 
 41. Potrait of Colonel Webb. . 
 
 42. Crayon sketch of Wm. T. Porter, 
 
 43. Pen sketch of Cha's F. Hoffman, 
 
 44. The Mask, . j.' . X '. : : 
 
 45. Portrait of a Gentleman, . 
 
 46. Portrait of the late Col. Rutgers, 
 
 47. Heads of Cherubim, 
 
 48. Portrait of a Lady, , t y . .u.^ 
 
 Mrs. Leacraft. 
 Mrs. Christholm. 
 Mrs. Christholm. 
 J. L. Graham, Esq. 
 
 A. D. Patterson, Esq. 
 , Mrs. Hicks. 
 
 , A. M. Cozzens, Esq. 
 
 B. C. Buckstone, Esq. 
 Mrs. Lawrence. 
 
 , Campbell, Esq. 
 
 H. H. Stevens, Esq. 
 H. H. Stevens, Esq. 
 James W. Webb, Esq. 
 W. T. Porter, Esq. 
 H. T. Tuckerman. 
 E. L. Carey, Philad. 
 
 C. L. Livingston, Esq. 
 Wm. B. Crosby, Esq. 
 Jas. Lenox, Esq, 
 
 . Mrs. Fish. 
 
 49. The Artist's Daughter,(unfinished,) Mrs. Inman. 
 
 50. Colossal crayon Portrait of the Ar- 
 
 tist, . . ,y, *;., . :>/ ^; . Mrs. Inman. 
 
 (Copied for a friend, by Mr. Inman, from a bust of himself, by Ball 
 Hughes.) 
 
 51. Portrait of a Gentleman, . . Francis Hall, Esq. 
 
 52. Portrait of Dr. Mott, . . . New- York Hospital. 
 
 53. Portrait of the late Henry Eckford, F. R. Tillou, Esq. 
 
 54. Rydal Falls, . . . . O. Haggerty, Esq. 
 
 And mounts in spray the skies, and thence again 
 Returns in an unceasing shower, which round 
 With its unemptied cloud of gentle rain, 
 Is an eternal April to the ground, 
 Making it all one emerald : how profound
 
 HENRY INMAN. 53 
 
 The gulf ! and how the giant element 
 
 From rock to rock leaps with delirious bound ! Byron. 
 
 NO. SUBJECTS. POSSESSORS. 
 
 55. Portrait of a Lady, . . E. Dunigan, Esq. 
 
 56. Portrait of Jacob Barker, Esq., . Jacob Little, Esq. 
 
 (Executed at one sitting.) 
 
 57. Portrait of J. J. Audubon, . '. J. J. Audubon, Esq. 
 
 58. Portrait of a Gentleman, . . Wm. P. Hallet, Esq. 
 
 59. The News Boy, . ...' , y , . John Sturgis, Esq. 
 
 60. Mumble the Peg, '-...". \ " ' ".' E. L. Carey, Esq. 
 
 (Estate of the late E. L. Carey, Esq., Philadelphia.) 
 
 " The whole thing is a sort of pictorial memorandum of 
 early school-day amusements. The faces of those boys, 
 however, wherein " The Boor " and " The Patrician " were 
 so plainly written by nature, long haunted me. The game 
 at which they were playing the old accustomed look of the 
 distant school-house the whole scene of their afternoon's 
 amusement how could I account for their being so familiar 
 to me ?" Ho/man's story of Nick Ten-Vlyck, in "The 
 Gift," for 1844. 
 
 61. Portrait of the late Bishop White, Jas. McMurtrie, Esq. 
 62. -Group of three Ladies, . . H. Stebbins, Esq. 
 63. The Brothers, ** &&'* . . Chas. Edwards, Esq. 
 
 " We in one mother's arms were locked, 
 
 Long be her love repaid j 
 In the same cradle we have rocked, 
 Round the same hearth we played. 
 
 Our boyish sports were all the same, 
 
 Each little joy and woe ; 
 Let manhood keep alive the flame, 
 
 Lit up so long ago !" Sprague. 
 
 ** 
 
 65. A Woodland Scene, . .,.,,<,-' J. Q,. Jones, Esq. 
 (Staten Island, autumn of 1832.)
 
 54 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 NO. SUBJECTS. POSSESSORS. 
 
 66. Portrait of a Boy and Landscape, P. M. Wetmore, Esq. 
 
 67. The Boyhood of Washington, . C. G. Childs, Esq., 
 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 This picture, which tells its own story, illustrates a tradi- 
 tional trait of Washington's schoolboy days, when the 
 young hero was ever deferred to by his associates as the 
 umpire between angry combatants. See Sparks' Life of 
 Washington. 
 
 68. Portrait of Chief Justice Nelson, . Wm. P. Hallett, Esq. 
 
 69. Portrait of a Lady, . ' . . H. Stebbins. Esq. 
 
 70. Portrait of T. Babbington Macaulay, E. L. Carey, Esq. 
 
 71. Portrait of a Child, ,.. .*. . John Inman, Esq. 
 
 72. Landscape after Morland, . . Mrs. Inman. 
 
 73. Trout fishing in Sullivan Co., N. Y., H. Stebbins, Esq. 
 
 " We break from the tree-groups, a glade deep with grass ; 
 The white clover's breath loads the sense as we pass, 
 A sparkle a streak a broad glitter is seen, 
 The bright Callikoon through its thickets of green! 
 We rush to the banks its sweet music we hear ; 
 Its gush, dash and gurgle all blent to the ear. 
 No shadows are drawn by the cloud-cover'd sun, 
 We plunge in the crystal, our sport is begun. 
 Our line where that ripple shoots onward, we throw, 
 It sweeps to the foam-spangled eddy below. 
 A tremor a pull the trout upward is thrown, 
 He swings to our basket the prize is our own ! " Street. 
 
 74. Portrait of a Gentleman, . . H. Stebbins, Esq. 
 
 75. Portrait of a Lady, . . Mrs. Inman. 
 
 76. Portrait of a Lady, . . Francis Hall, Esq. 
 
 77. Portrait of an Infant. . . F. R. Tillou, Esq. 
 
 78. Portrait of Edmund Simpson, Esq. E. Simpson, Esq. 
 
 79. Portrait of a Lady, . . E. Simpson, Esq. 
 
 80. Portrait of Rishop Delancey, . St. James Ch., Phila. 
 
 81. Portrait of a Gentleman, . . T. Dixon, Esq. 
 
 82. Portrait of the late Stephen Price, E. Simpson, Esq.
 
 HENRY INMAN. 55 
 
 NO. SUBJECTS. POSSESSORS. 
 
 83. Portrait of J. Haviland, Esq. . J. Haviland, Esq. 
 
 84. Portrait of a Lady, . i J. Batelle, Esq. 
 
 85. Portrait of a Lady, '. . Geo. Duer, Esq. 
 
 86. Miniature of a Lady, . 4 . . R. H. J. Martin, Esq. 
 
 87. Portrait of M'le Augusta, . . Wm. T. Porter, Esq. 
 
 88. Portrait of a Gentleman, . G. E. Hoffman, Esq. 
 
 89. Portrait of Col. Childs, . . C. G. Childs, Esq. 
 
 90. Water-colored Portrait of a Boy, E. Parmley, Esq. 
 
 91. Water-colored sketch of Jarvis, the 
 
 late painter, . '.*>.';-/* Mrs. Inman. 
 
 92. Portrait of a Lady, . . Jas. McMurtrie, Esq. 
 
 93. The Young Rustic, . . Miss Julia Sands. 
 
 94. The Lake of the Dismal Swamp, John Inman, Esq. 
 
 " Away to the Dismal Swamp he speeds, 
 
 His path was rugged and sore, 
 Through tangled juniper, beds of reeds, 
 Through many a fen where the serpent feeds, 
 And man never trod before." Moore. 
 
 95. Portrait of Jas. McMurtrie, Esq., J. McMurtrie, Phila. 
 
 96. Portrait of Fitz Green Halleck, . C. P. Clinch, Esq. 
 
 97. Landscape, . &., ;..jj . C. G. Childs, Esq. 
 
 98. Pencil sketch, . .. *". ., Mrs. T. S. Patterson. 
 
 99. Pen Etching, . . . W. F. Ladd, Esq. 
 
 100. Portrait of Horace Binney, Esq., J. Cadwallader, Esq. 
 
 101. Cabinet full length of a Girl, . J. Nelson, Esq. 
 
 102. Rip Van Winkle awaking from his 
 
 dream, V; ' /.*' -.'' ..- R. S. Crittenden, Esq. 
 
 " On waking, he found himself on the green knoll from 
 whence he had first seen the Old Man of the Glen. He 
 rubbed his eyes. It was a bright, sunny morning. The 
 birds were hopping and twittering among the bushes, and 
 the eagle was wheeling aloft, and breasting the pure moun- 
 tain breeze. He looked for his gun, but, in place of the 
 clean, well-oiled fowling-piece, found an old firelock lying 
 by him, the barrel encrusted with rust, the lock falling of 
 and the stock worm-eaten." Sketch Book.
 
 56 
 
 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 vo> SUBJECTS. POSSESSORS. 
 
 103. Landscape and Figures, . . Jacob Little, Esq. 
 
 [JJ4- I Cabinet Groups, ' . " . P. M. Wetmore, Esq. 
 
 iii'). j 
 
 106. Landscape, . . Jas. McMurtrie, Esq. 
 
 107. India Ink sketch of De Witt Clin- 
 
 ton, . V V': ; -.S'" .'-.'.: . C. G. Childs, Esq. 
 
 108. Sketch of a Lady, . .'.' . J. H. Carpenter, Esq. 
 
 109. A Sepia Drawing, . . . C. G. Childs, Esq. 
 
 110. Lithographic Drawing The Page,C. G. Childs, Esq. 
 
 111. The Brigand, (a study,) . . C. G. Childs, ESQ. 
 
 112. Bank Note Vignettes, . . C. Toppan, Esq. 
 
 113. Portrait of John Inman, Esq. . John Inman, Esq. 
 
 (The Artist's first Portrait in oils.) 
 
 114. Portrait of a Lady, . . . John Nelson, Esq. 
 
 115. Portrait of a Gentleman, . . J. R. Clark, Esq. 
 
 116. Portrait of Mrs. Embury, . . D. Embury, Esq. 
 
 117. Portrait of a Gentleman, . . D. Embury, Esq. 
 
 118. Portrait of a Gentleman, . . John Nelson, Esq. 
 
 119. Portrait of Clara Fisher, . . J. Inman, Esq. 
 
 120. Portrait of a Gentleman, . . L. W. Kipp, Esq. 
 
 121. Portrait of a Gentleman, . . . John Megary, Esq. 
 
 122. Portrait of Captain Mackenzie, U. 
 
 S. N., . . '..s TV '-.' J. Bolton, Esq. 
 (The Head only by Inman.) 
 
 123. Portrait of C. J. Ingersoll, Esq., Law Library, Phila. 
 
 124. Portrait of Ex-Mayor Harper, . City of New-York. 
 
 (Unfinished.) 
 
 125. Portrait of a Lady, . . . Hubbard, Esq., 
 
 Newark. 
 
 126. Family Group, . . . J. L. O'Sullivan, Esq. 
 
 This Gallery as all are aware contains but a small 
 portion of Inman's Pictures, indeed, many of his best
 
 HENRY INMAN. 57 
 
 works are scattered over the country, and some have 
 gone to other parts of the world. 
 
 Thomas McCready as Willliam Tell was one of his 
 first large pictures that brought the Artist into notice. 
 Full length portraits of Mr. Van Buren, and Mr. Sew- 
 ard, were commissioned by the Municipal Authorities 
 while those men were Governors of the State, and 
 they now hang in the City Hall. For the Bible Soci- 
 ety he executed a full length of its President, Mr. 
 Varick. He painted one of his finest and largest groups 
 for Mr. Henry Livingston. It is composed of six 
 children distributed with great grace and beauty. He 
 received for it the liberal price of fifteen hundred dollars. 
 Another charming thing was done for the same gentle- 
 man a full length of a girl, with a fine view of the 
 Catskill, from the piazza of the Livingston house at 
 Claverack. This same family sent one of Inman's good 
 
 pictures to Italy for Mrs. T , who had presented 
 
 them a bust executed abroad. The painting was a 
 group of Mrs. Livingston, with her daughters seated 
 around a table on which the bust is standing, executed 
 with great beauty. 
 
 Inman was paid higher prices for his portraits than 
 have ever been received by an American Painter in this 
 country, and these prices he never varied from. On a 
 certain occasion he painted a group for a gentleman of 
 great wealth, who paid the $500 somewhat reluctantly. 
 Hearing that he had manifested his dissatisfaction about 
 the price, Inman requested him to send him the picture. 
 When it came he cut off all the legs, and sent it back 
 with $200, making the difference between a half and 
 full length group! 
 
 Says the Evening Post : " Henry Inman, was not
 
 53 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 less beloved as a friend, than admired as a painter. His 
 social qualities were of the richest order, and although 
 he seldom indulged in rhyme, his conversation and 
 letters were often instinct with the spirit of poetry. 
 Before he sailed for England, while suffering from the 
 depression incident to his health and embarrassments, 
 he sent the following little poem to a friend :" 
 
 " Now listless o'er time's sullen tide 
 
 My bark of life floats idly on ; 
 Youth's incense-laden breeze has died, 
 And passion's fitful gusts are flown. 
 
 While sadly round her aimless course 
 Now lowering brood the mental skies, 
 
 The past but murmurs of remorse, 
 And dim the ocean future lies. 
 
 And must this be ? My soul, arouse ! 
 
 See through the passing clouds of ill 
 How Fame's proud pharos brightly glows, 
 
 And gilds thy drooping penant still. 
 
 Stretch to thine oar, yon beam thy guide, 
 Spread to Ambition's freshening gale ; 
 
 Friendship and love are at thy side, 
 
 While glory's breathings swell thy sail." 
 
 " The allusion to his commission from Congress," 
 says the Excelsior, " to execute a picture for the Capitol, 
 in the last stanza of Inman's verses, makes it, with those 
 who know all the circumstances, one of the saddest things 
 that poet ever penned ! For after Inman's sanguine dis- 
 position had involved him irretrievably in the speculating 
 epidemic of '36, and the subsequent commercial revul- 
 sion overwhelmed him with a hopeless load of debt ; and 
 when the persuasions of the friends who saw that his
 
 HENRY INMAN. 59 
 
 health was failing under hopeless toil, could not induce 
 him to avail himself of the Bankrupt Act, he thus eager- 
 ly, when invited to connect his name with his country's 
 history in the Capitol, catches at the only gleam of hope- 
 ful aspiration that shines forth to cheer his Future, 
 
 " Stretch to thine oar, yon beam thy guide." 
 
 The public know the rest or rather, they know that 
 a portion of the money was advanced for that picture, 
 and that nothing but the " study" of it was ever put upon 
 canvass by the artist. It is only since his death that 
 they know that Inman was even then a dying man a 
 man stricken with mortal disease, a disease that permit- 
 ted him to work only a few hours a day, and by no 
 means each successive day work for a large family with 
 no resources but his genius. The murmurs of the public 
 at his deferred engagement with them could not but 
 reach his ears. It was said that he never intended to 
 complete the picture. The writer of this heard Inman 
 himself refer to the subject with a sad but forgiving spirit. 
 It was never his wont to speak harshly of others, nor did 
 he then. He seemed to regard the slander only as a 
 proof that his character had become seriously affected by 
 his unfulfilled contract with the Government, and that 
 men hesitated no longer to tamper with his good name, 
 
 ' For Folly loves the martyrdom of Fame !' 
 
 That * beam' which was to be his ' guide' was 
 henceforth a shaft of cruel light, for ever piercing his eye- 
 lids and quivering in his very brain. For he knew that 
 he must die before he could execute that picture, and the 
 star which had cheered him on, was now changed to a
 
 gQ HENRY INMAN. 
 
 fiery scourge, which was goading him to his grave. In 
 his visit to England he had looked for sufficient renewal 
 of health to finish there his great picture. There Words- 
 worth, to an eminent countryman, had pronounced him 
 the most decided man of genius he had ever seen from 
 America ; a new and European fame seemed dawning 
 upon him, with patronage in portrait painting to support 
 his family here, and leisure to finish his great picture 
 under the best advantages for a great work of art. Once 
 more his sanguine spirit saw a bright and proud future 
 widening before it. But the tone of his letters to 
 his friends changed ; his disorder again showed itself in 
 an aggravated form ; and neither he in Europe, nor his 
 family in America, could wait for that ripening recogni- 
 tion of his genius which surely awaited him in England. 
 He returned to die among his friends. Over his easel, 
 indeed, for while still working for subsistence, at broken 
 intervals, he executed some of the best things he ever 
 did, within the last year hope would again, at times, 
 cheei him as of old : for when the painting mood was 
 upon him, there was nothing that Inman would not 
 promise himself; and so miraculously rapid was he in the 
 exercise of his art at such happy moments, that even a 
 stranger might prophesy extravagantly from the brief dis- 
 play of such vigorous powers. The times favorable for 
 work, however, were only those in which his disorder 
 would permit him to take exercise. He must forego the 
 exercise, or he could not labor for his family. Why 
 should he not forego that which could only prolong, 
 without lightening a life, of whose approaching termi- 
 nation he was already but too well aware ? He now 
 ceased to speak of his great picture. His talk was of 
 dissolution, and the world to come of Nature, of Art,
 
 HENRY INMAN. g| 
 
 of the affairs of his friends, instead of his own. And, 
 thus discoursing, apparently cheerful till the last, his gal- 
 lant heart, when it had ceased to beat, was found dis- 
 tended to twice the natural size ; and the disease was 
 doubtless aggravated, as one of his medical examiners 
 declared, by aching thoughts and suffering suppressed. 
 How could it be otherwise with a man so sensitive, who 
 had been forced to feel that the highest stamp upon his 
 fame threatened, from untoward circumstances, to prove 
 a blot upon his reputation ? 
 
 Yet his funeral ! Never never have we witnessed 
 a more striking scene than that of the long and compact 
 procession, comprising some of the most prominent per- 
 sons both from this and other cities, following the bier 
 of the artist on foot, for two long miles, on a cold winter 
 evening. No splendid pageant to the memory of the 
 eminent painter could have been so balmful to his hurt 
 mind as that unerring tribute to his acknowledged worth 
 as a man ! And if his spirit still hovered near till the 
 earth closed over his mortal remains, it must have soared 
 away at last content that his name and his fame would 
 be alike shielded and cherished by his mourning coun- 
 trymen." 
 
 There has seldom been a nobler display of kind and 
 generous feeling among our citizens, than was manifest- 
 ed at the Globe Hotel, a few evenings after Inman's 
 death. A notice was published in the city journals, in- 
 viting the friends of the late Artist to assemble at that 
 place. The high character, and the number of the as- 
 sembly, bespoke the feeling his death had awakened. 
 Mr. Cummings was called to preside over the meeting, 
 and all its proceedings were characterized by the utmost 
 dignity and propriety. It was resolved that all the
 
 Q2 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 works of the late Artist, which could be conveniently 
 collected, should be brought together, and an exhibition 
 made for the benefit of the family. 
 
 The next few days furnished the most convincing 
 proofs of the sincerity of the professions that had been 
 made of respect for the citizen they lamented, and ad- 
 miration for the Artist they had lost. The day the ex- 
 hibition was to begin was anxiously waited for, and 
 when the doors were at last thrown open, the Gallery 
 was crowded. Thousands have already gone, and thou- 
 sands more will yet go to pay their tribute of admiration 
 to departed genius. To those who loved Inman, this 
 is a grateful spectacle to those who love Art, no sight 
 can be more cheering for it bespeaks a general appre- 
 ciation of the high claims of Art and Artists to the sym- 
 pathies of the nation, and a consciousness too that over 
 the early death of Inman the country has cause to mourn. 
 
 The Artist's dead : the Gifted's task is ended, 
 The brush and canvass lie all useless now : 
 
 Life's picture's finished light and shade are blended 
 By the Great Master to whom all must bow.
 
 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 P. S. " MUMBLE THE PEG." 
 
 This last ' Proof is received in time to give us an op- 
 portunity of acknowledging the courtesy of Messrs. Carey 
 and Hart, of Philadelphia, in offering us the use of their 
 exquisite engraving of Inman's ' Mumble the Peg,' for 
 the illustration of this sketch. It originally appeared in 
 the ' Gift,' and has been esteemed one of the most beau- 
 tiful illuminations of that elegant Annual. The loan of 
 this plate is only one of the many kind offices Authors 
 have experienced from those gentlemanly Publishers. 
 
 The mention of that House brings freshly to our re- 
 collection the name and the virtues of the lamented 
 Carey. Never have Arts and Artists had, or lost a better 
 friend. In his Gallery are many of the choicest works 
 of American painters and sculptors. Among others is 
 ' Mumble the Peg,' which was commissioned of Inman 
 a few years ago, and engraved for Mr. Carey's favorite 
 Annual. And although the peculiar province of this 
 work is to speak of Artists, yet we cannot omit this 
 short tribute of affection to one who appreciated them 
 so well. 
 
 Few countries have ever had so gifted and generous 
 a friend of Art in the infancy of their taste. We never 
 heard of an appeal for Art made to him in vain ; nor 
 do we know of any one who has devoted so large a portion 
 of his income to the Fine Arts. There may possibly 
 be some who have expended more, but we know of no one 
 who has expended more wisely or generously. There 
 are few works in his Gallery which were not commis- 
 sioned at the very time the Artists most needed his aid
 
 64 
 
 HENRY INMAN. 
 
 and the superior style in which they are executed, 
 shows the spirit which inspired their Authors. 
 
 I happened to be in the studio of Powers, when he 
 was giving his last touches to his Proserpine. " This," 
 said the Sculptor, " is for Edward L. Gary, of Philadel- 
 phia, and I never felt more anxious to execute a commis- 
 sion well. He is one of the most enlightened and gifted 
 men in our country, and there are few men in any coun- 
 try of more mature and refined taste "
 
 Frcr>u cv Pauiling by Lawrence/
 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 A GALAXY of glorious names had passed for ever by, 
 Before thine infant eyelids ope'd upon the new world sky ; 
 Names that will echo ever, through the dim halls of time 
 Portrayers of the beautiful, the sainted, the sublime. 
 
 Italia's Raphael and Titian, da Vinci and Guido, 
 With wild Salvator Rosa, and Michael Angelo; 
 Carracci and Correggio, whose works will ever stand, 
 Bright monuments of glory, to grace a fallen land. 
 
 Dominichino and del Sarto, (with many a lesser name 
 That never left a foot-print upon the steeps of fame,) 
 Have made thy hills and valleys, thy temples old enshrined, 
 The Milky-way of genius, the Mecca of the mind ! 
 
 Velasquez and Murillo, the pride of haughty Spain, 
 And Holland's gifted Reubens, we ne'er shall see again ; 
 Vandyk and famous Rembrant, with the grotesque Teniers, 
 Have link'd unto the present the past's uncounted years. 
 
 France, the fair land of lilies, to the Poussins gave birth, 
 And to a name unrivalled, unequalled on the earth 
 Who ever proudly triumphed, mid sorrow and in pain 
 'T was he who mirror'd nature, the gifted Claude Lorraine. 
 
 And Hogarth toiled in England, neglected many a year, 
 While on his graphic canvas dropp'd Poverty's dim tear ; 
 And then, worn out with suffering, he found repose in death. 
 Beneath an humble tomb-stone Art's Druid slumbereth. 
 
 The western world then yielded a neophyte for fame : 
 From Pennsylvania's forests a Quaker pilgrim came ; 
 The touches of his pencil gave birth to forms sublime 
 The favorite of England the Giotto of his time. 
 
 CALEB LYON OF LYONSDALE. 
 New-York, March 2, 1846. 
 
 .' . '
 
 His (West's) power at his advanced age ia beyond all example ; and my 
 visit to the continent has given me a still higher opinion of his great talents, 
 and knowledge of his Art, than I before had, and this from comparison with 
 the works of the great masters. 
 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence's Letter to Mr. Lysons, from Rome. 
 
 When we consider the determined perseverance he (West) showed to 
 persist in the high walk he had at first chosen, though there was not a grain 
 of taste for it in the country at that time, it does him the highest honor, and / 
 am ashamed of the recent ungrateful neglect of my countrymen it surprised 
 
 and grieved me. 
 
 Letter of Sir George Beaumont to Sir Thomas Lawrence-
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 THERE have been more volumes written about this 
 great Painter in England, than there have been pages 
 devoted to him in the land of his birth. This fact, how- 
 ever tame it may seem to us now, will one day make a 
 chapter in the ' Curiosities of Art,' when her D'Israeli 
 writes her history. I have been advised by almost every 
 body but Artists to pass over in silence West, and Trum- 
 bull, and Stuart. I am told that sketches of these old 
 Painters will carry with them little interest for general 
 readers, and hang like a dead weight upon a series which 
 would otherwise be buoyed up with the names of living 
 men. Well, let it be so. I had rather my design in 
 this work should never be completed, than to leave for 
 coming times a History of the ' Artists of America ' in 
 which the Restorer of Historical Painting in England 
 the man who painted a Battle Piece which Goethe gazed 
 on with astonishment and delight, and the man whose 
 portrait of Washington hangs over our fireside altars, can 
 have no place. I must then call these sketches by 
 another name for if the Fathers of Painting in this 
 country are not ' Artists of America,' I know not who 
 are. 
 
 I have been taught from my childhood to venerate 
 these men. Among my earliest recollections are Stu- 
 art's portrait of Washington, with its benign and earnest 
 expression, and I remember there was so much of the pa-
 
 gg BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 ternal in it, it looked like a father, and there was so much 
 venerableness and grandeur and dignity, it looked like 
 the Father of a Nation. And I saw the ' Declaration of 
 Independence,' and those long rows of gray heads, and 
 those old costumes, and Hancock in the chair, and 
 Franklin standing by him. And I never read of those 
 stormy days, nor of those honest, earnest, iron men, with- 
 out thinking of Trumbull, and the mysteries of his Art. 
 And I remember well how old people talked about the 
 great picture of ' Death on the Pale Horse.' I saw some 
 print of it about that time, and when I heard the ven- 
 erable old parish minister speak of that ' Apocalyptic 
 vision,' I never forgot ' Death on the Pale Horse.' 
 
 And so at last these old Painters became to me ven- 
 erable personages men whose names made me think of 
 Plymouth Rock, which always brought back the wild 
 vision of the Mayflower rocking in Massachusetts Bay, 
 her icy deck covered with old men, and females, and 
 young children, all kneeling in solemn covenant with 
 God. Indeed, there was something more to me in these 
 painters, than Pilgrims they were mysterious men, for 
 they seemed to have a kind of incomprehensible relation 
 with the old Heroes of Revolutionary Senates and Bat- 
 tle-fields. This impression was not done away with 
 even after Trumbull and Stuart were guests at our house, 
 and I sat on their knee. I am quite willing that portion 
 of the world which knows no better, should simper a 
 little to hear me talk so about Pilgrims and Painters, 
 but the day is coming as surely as another eclipse of the 
 sun, when the men of this country will pile up everlast- 
 ing bronze to our early Painters, as they have already 
 piled up Massachusetts granite to the Pilgrims, and God 
 will give us a Webster to speak when the foundation is
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 laid. So it is evident enough I cannot talk about living 
 Artists till I have spoken of the dead, who have rested 
 from their labours. 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST was born in Chester county, Penn- 
 sylvania, Oct. 10, in the year 1738, just ten years after 
 Smybert landed in America. His father was born in 
 England, where his ancestors had distinguished them- 
 selves. Col. James West had done some fighting on the 
 right side with John Hampden, and Cunningham carries 
 the painter's ancestry back to Lord Delaware, renowned 
 in the wars of Edward the Third and the Black Prince. 
 But I believe West himself was always willing to stop 
 when he got to John Hampden, and he was wise for do- 
 ing it, for the man who traces back his ancestry too far 
 is in infinite danger of stumbling over both kings and 
 beggars. Cunningham relates several prodigies that at- 
 tended the birth of Benjamin, but we fancy they are 
 somewhat apocryphal. The only extraordinary cir- 
 cumstances I have been able to learn are, that he was the 
 youngest of nine children, and that he went with all due 
 gravity becoming a Quaker baby, through the mysteries 
 of swaddling clothes, teeth cutting and short clothes, till 
 he came to his first ' pants and jacket,' that memorable 
 day of boyhood. 
 
 When Benjamin was seven years old he " was placed 
 with a fly-trap in his hand to watch the sleeping infant 
 of his eldest sister." " As he sat by the cradle the child 
 smiled in sleep he was struck with its beauty, and 
 seeking some paper, drew its portrait in red and black
 
 70 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 ink. His mother returned, and snatching the paper, 
 which he sought to conceal, exclaimed to her daughter, 
 * I declare, he has made a likeness of little Sally !' She 
 took him in her arms and kissed him fondly." His sober 
 parents encouraged this new taste, and in no great space 
 of time the quiet Quaker home was filled with works of 
 art, such as they were. " When he was some eight 
 years old, a party of roaming Indians paid their summer 
 visit to Springfield, and were much pleased with the rude 
 sketches which the boy had made of birds and fruits and 
 flowers, for in such drawings many of the wild Ameri- 
 cans (Indians, we suppose Mr. Cunningham means to 
 say) have both taste and skill. They showed him some 
 of their own workmanship, and taught him how to pre- 
 pare the red and yellow colours with which they stained 
 their weapons. They taught him archery too." 
 
 Lewis, his American biographer, says his colours 
 were " charcoal and chalk mixed with the juice of ber- 
 ries," and he laid them on with brushes made of the hair 
 of a cat drawn through a goose quill. He got " from the , 
 Mohawk or Delaware Indians red and yellow earths used 
 by them at their toilets ; Mrs. West's indigo pot supplied 
 blue, and the urchin thus gained possession of those 
 primitive colours he afterwards knew to be the materials 
 whose combined minglings, in their various gradations, 
 gave all the tints of the rainbow." It is said that the 
 cat in this process lost so much of her fur, that a general 
 solicitude was felt for the poor creature throughout the 
 family, until Benjamin honestly told them that the fur had 
 not fallen by disease or age, but had been picked off for 
 artistic purposes. It was then agreed that Tabby should 
 have a respite, while the young painter drew from the 
 geese.
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 7J 
 
 A neighbor of the Wests, General Wayne's father, 
 " took a liking," says Dunlap, " to six heads in chalk 
 drawn by him (Benjamin), and presented him with six 
 dollars for them. These chalk productions were among 
 Mr. West's first performances, and he was so much 
 pleased with their producing so large a price, as to be 
 thereby chiefly induced to adopt for his means of sup- 
 port the profession t>f a painter. This anecdote Mr. 
 West told me in London 1785." Such was the com- 
 mencement of Benjamin West's drawing. 
 
 A Mr. Pennington, a merchant of Philadelphia, 
 made a visit to Chester county, where he saw some of 
 the sketches of the boy-artist, and when he returned 
 home he sent him a present worth more to him than a 
 kingdom ' a box of paints and brushes and several 
 pieces of canvas prepared, and six engravings by Gre- 
 veling.' These were the first works or implements of 
 Art the boy had ever seen. Cunningham and Gait tell 
 us how he used them " West placed the box on a chair 
 at his bed-side, and he was unable to sleep. He rose 
 with the dawn, carried his canvas and colours to the 
 garret, hung up the engravings, prepared a palette, and 
 commenced copying. So completely was he under the 
 control of this species of enchantment that he absented 
 himself from school, laboured secretly and incessantly for 
 several days, when the anxious inquiries of the school- 
 master introduced his mother to his studio with no plea- 
 sure in her looks, but her anger subsided as she looked 
 upon his performance. He had avoided copyism, and 
 made a picture composed from two of the engravings, 
 telling a new story and coloured with a skill and effect 
 which was in her sight surprising. ' She kissed him,' says 
 Gait, who had the story from the Artist, ' with trans-
 
 72 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 ports of affection, and assured him that she would not 
 only intercede with his father to pardon him for having 
 absented himself from school, but would go herself to 
 the master and beg that he might not be punished.' 
 Sixty-seven years afterward, the writer of these Memoirs 
 had the gratification to see this piece in the same room 
 with the sublime painting of ' Christ Rejected,' on which 
 occasion the Painter declared to him that there were 
 inventive touches of art in his first and juvenile essay, 
 which, with all his subsequent knowledge and experi- 
 ence, he had not been able to surpass." Two of these 
 sketches are still to be seen in Philadelphia, 
 
 Pennington took West to Philadelphia in his ninth 
 year, where he executed a landscape of the Delaware, 
 which so much delighted Williams, a portrait painter, 
 that he warmly encouraged him to prosecute his studies. 
 West's education had hitherto been chiefly confined to 
 the simple rudiments of learning he had read nothing 
 but the Bible History. Williams may have painted good 
 or bad portraits, but he did one thing worth remember- 
 ing. He put into West's hands two books, " Du Fres- 
 noy and Richardson, with an invitation to call whenever 
 he pleased and see his pictures. The books and the 
 pictures made the love of Art overcome all other feelings, 
 and he returned home resolved to become a painter. 
 Williams's pictures, which were " the first specimens of 
 true Art the boy had seen, affected West so much that 
 he burst into tears." 
 
 How long he remained in Philadelphia this first visit, 
 I do not know, ^/story well authenticated is told by 
 all his biographer's, which goes to show that Benjamin 
 was quite an ambitious little fellow for a Quaker. " One 
 of his school-fellows allured him on a half-holiday from
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 trap and ball, by promising him a ride to a neighboring 
 plantation. ' Here is the horse, bridled and saddled,' said 
 his friend, ' so come, get up behind me.' ' Behind you,* 
 said Benjamin ; ' I will ride behind nobody.' ' Oh ! 
 very well,' replied the other, ' I will ride behind you ; 
 so mount.' He mounted accordingly, and away they 
 rode. i This is the last ride I shall have,' said his com- 
 panion, ' for some time. To-morrow I am to be appren- 
 ticed to a tailor.' ' A tailor !' exclaimed West ; ' you 
 will surely never be a tailor.' ' Indeed, but I shall,' 
 replied the other ; ' it is a good trade. What do you 
 intend to be, Benjamin ?' ' A painter.' ' A painter ! 
 What sort of a trade is a painter ? I never heard of it 
 before.' ' A painter,' said this humble son of a Philadel- 
 phia Quaker, ' is the companion of kings and emperors.' 
 ' You are surely mad,' said the embryo tailor ; ' there 
 are neither kings nor emperors in America.' ' Aye, but 
 there are plenty in other parts of the world. And do 
 you really intend to be a tailor ?' ' Indeed I do ; there 
 is nothing surer.' * Then you may ride alone,' said the 
 future companion of kings and emperors, leaping down ; 
 ' I will not ride with one willing to be a tailor !' This 
 incident, it is said, together with his skill in drawing,, 
 which now began to be talked of, drove the schoolboys 
 of Springfield to walls and boards, with chalk and ochre. 
 This was only a temporary enthusiasm, and soon sub- 
 sided ; yet many of these drawings, West afterwards 
 said, were worthy of the students of a regular academy." 
 A gentleman by the name of Flower, who lived in a 
 neighboring town, happening to see some of West's first 
 essays in Art, was so much pleased with the boy, that he 
 obtained permission from his father to take him on a 
 visit to his house. " A young English lady," says Cun-
 
 74 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 ningham, " was governess to his daughter. She was 
 well acquainted with Art, and was also intimate with the 
 Greek and Latin Poets, and loved to point out to the 
 young Artist the most picturesque passages. He had 
 never before heard of Greece or of Rome, or of the he- 
 roes, philosophers, poets, painters and historians, whom 
 they had produced, and he listened while the lady spoke 
 of them, with an enthusiasm which, after an experience 
 of near seventy years in the world, he loved to live over 
 again." 
 
 His fame soon spread to Lancaster, a neighboring 
 village, where he was invited by a gentleman by the 
 name of Ross, to paint the portrait of his lady, who was 
 1 eminently beautiful.' He executed his task so well, he 
 was soon applied to from all quarters of the village. But 
 of all the characters who had any thing to do with West's 
 early career as an Artist, we have always been most in- 
 terested in the Lancaster gunsmith, who commissioned 
 him to paint the ' Death of Socrates.' The Artist knew 
 none too much about the personage he was going to 
 paint, and the gunsmith read to him a few passages 
 which spoke about Hemlock and the Philosopher. Once 
 possessed of the idea, he began to work it out on can- 
 vas. The gunsmith gave him one of his men to stand 
 for a model, and in due lime this first Historical Picture 
 of Benjamin West was finished. All we know of this 
 Lancaster gunsmith is, that his name was Henry ! Pity 
 we can say no more of him. 
 
 Dr. Smith, Provost of the College at Philadelphia, 
 saw young West at Lancaster, in his fifteenth year, and 
 perceiving that his education was being neglected, pro- 
 posed to his father to send his son to the Capital, where 
 the worthy and learned Provost kindly proposed to direct
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 75 
 
 nis studies. But before this Quaker father gave up his 
 boy to the ' worldly occupation of painting,' he felt it to be 
 his duty to lay the matter before the Society of which he 
 was a member. The Society assembled and waited for 
 the moving of the Spirit. It was a serious question with 
 those serious men and women, whether they could give 
 their consent that one of their own members should wan- 
 der from the fold to pursue an Art which ' had hitherto 
 been employed to embellish life, to preserve voluptuous 
 images, and add to the sensual gratifications of man.' 
 
 There is not so much to provoke a smile in this busi- 
 ness as some persons may suppose. People that pray 
 over such matters are not always the fools the world in 
 our times takes them for. A great many men have 
 laughed at the Puritans, Cromwellians, or Round-heads, 
 as you please, but no man ever laughed at them after 
 meeting them in the halls of debate, or crossing swords 
 with them on the field of battle. 
 
 " The spirit of speech first descended on one John 
 Williamson ' To John West and Sarah Persons,' said 
 this Western Luminary, i a man-child hath been born, 
 on whom God hath conferred some remarkable gifts of 
 mind ; and you have all heard that, by something amount- 
 ing to inspiration, the youth has been induced to study 
 the art of painting. It is true that our tenets refuse to 
 own the utility of that art to mankind ; but it seemeth 
 to me that we have considered the matter too nicely. 
 God has bestowed on this youth a genius for art shall 
 we question His wisdom ? Can we believe that He gives 
 such rare gifts but for a wise and a good purpose ? I see 
 the Divine hand in this ; we shall do well to sanction 
 the art and encourage this youth.' ' 
 
 The assembly seems to have felt the Iprce of these
 
 7g BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 words, and the young painter was called in. He entered 
 and took his station in the middle of the room, his father 
 on his right hand and his mother on the left, surrounded 
 by a company of simple-hearted worshippers. A female 
 spoke for in the Society of Friends the pride of man 
 has fastened no badge of servitude upon woman. There 
 seemed to be but one opinion. If Painting had been 
 employed hitherto only "to preserve voluptuous images, in 
 wise and pure hands it may rise in the scale of moral 
 excellence, and display a loftiness of sentiment and a 
 devout dignity worthy of the contemplation of Christians. 
 Genius is given by God for some high purpose what 
 that purpose is, let us not inquire it will be manifest in 
 His own good time and way. He hath in this remote 
 wilderness endowed with the rich gifts of a superior 
 spirit this youth, who has now our consent to cultivate 
 his talents for Art. May it be demonstrated in his life 
 and works, that the gifts of God have not been bestowed 
 in vain, nor the motives of the beneficent inspiration 
 which induces us to suspend the strict operation of our 
 tenets prove barren of religious and moral effect !" 
 
 " At the conclusion of this address," says Gait, who 
 had the information from West himself, " the women 
 rose and kissed the young Artist, and the men one by one 
 laid their hands on his head." I know of nothing more 
 beautiful in the history of Art, or even of Religion. I 
 know of no scene more worthy of the pencils of our 
 painters, than this first, and, for aught I know, last con- 
 secration, in our country, of a young genius to Art. I am 
 not certain, too, if this may not have been the first meet- 
 ing ever convened in America to consider the high 
 claims of Art upon citizens and Christians, and I should 
 be inclined to doubt if any assembly has ever since been
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 gathered, which has put forth so high, lasting, and noble 
 an influence upon the Fine Arts. 
 
 It was a scene the young painter himself never for- 
 got. He assured Gait that from that hour he considered 
 himself expressly dedicated to Art and that this release 
 from the strict tenets of his religious community implied 
 a covenant on his part to employ his powers on subjects 
 holy and pure. How sacredly he regarded this covenant 
 the world knows for no painter ever painted so much 
 who always chose such pure and lofty themes. These 
 honest men decided that the Lord had made Benjamin 
 to be a painter. How well they judged their neighbors had 
 a fair opportunity of knowing when ' Christ Healing the 
 Sick ' and * Death on the Pale Horse ' were hung up in 
 Philadelphia. 
 
 Young West had his eye now fixed steadily upon the 
 fame that would gratify the dreams of his early ambition, 
 and returned with Provost Smith to Philadelphia. 
 He dedicated himself to study with earnestness and un- 
 tiring perseverance, for a considerable period, until his 
 career was interrupted by a summons from Springfield, 
 to hasten to the bedside of his dying mother. He ar- 
 rived just in time to receive the welcome of her eyes, 
 and her mute blessing. His biographers all speak of 
 the noble veneration and affection with which he always 
 mentioned his mother. " When he was old and gray," 
 says one, " he recalled her looks, and dwelt on her ex- 
 pressions of fondness and of hope, with a sadness which 
 he wished neither to subdue nor conceal." We love to 
 speak of this beautiful characteristic of West. It de- 
 clares the nobleness of his nature, that, long years after, 
 when his head was encircled with a halo of fame, more 
 brilliant than often falls to the lot of man, the idol of a
 
 73 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 British king, he used to go from scenes of splendor and 
 gaiety, and around his fireside talk to some kind friend 
 about his mother ! 
 
 Over the grave of this gifted and affectionate parent 
 he broke the ties that held him to his home, and he left 
 it to go into the great world, to win his own fame and 
 court fortune among strangers. He was eighteen years 
 old when he returned to Philadelphia to establish him- 
 self as a portrait painter. A few circumstances only- 
 are to be mentioned, and then we shall come to his 
 European life. His prices were, for a head $12 50, 
 and $25 for a half-length. His merit was great, his 
 reputation was increasing, and he found sitters enough 
 to occupy his pencil. Governor Hamilton had one pic- 
 ture in his house which had a good deal to do with 
 West's advancement. A St. Ignatius of the Murillo 
 school, captured in a Spanish prize ! It was the best 
 picture West had yet seen, and he copied it with con- 
 siderable beauty, which added to his reputation. Provost 
 Smith was anxious to have him now paint portraits in a 
 similar attitude thus blending historical and portrait 
 painting. No one, of course, in our time will bo 
 surprised to hear that such an attempt was speedily 
 abandoned. 
 
 A Mr. Cox commissioned him to paint an historical 
 composition, the * Trial of Susannah' " a work" says 
 Cunningham, " which he loved long after to talk about 
 and describe." But West, who had now only one ob- 
 ject in view to complete his studies in Europe came to 
 New-York and opened a studio. His reputation had 
 gone before him, and for eleven months he had all the 
 portraits he could execute at double the prices he re- 
 ceived in Philadelphia. Dunlap has given a very beau-
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 79 
 
 tiful and graphic account of his embarkation for Italy. 
 " He had now accumulated nearly enough by his indus- 
 try to waft him to the 'land where the orange trees 
 bloom,' and where the Fine Arts have left a lasting im- 
 pression of the time they did flourish, when he heard 
 that a ship was about to sail from his own homely coun- 
 try to carry food to the inhabitants of Italy, who have in 
 modern as well as ancient times been more abounding 
 in marble than bread. Mr. Allen, of Philadelphia, 
 was loading a ship with flour for Leghorn, and West, 
 who was painting a picture of Mr. Kelly of New- York, 
 when he heard the news mentioned it to his sitter, with 
 his intention to take advantage of this extraordinary oc- 
 currence. Kelly's portrait being finished, and the ten 
 guineas paid for it, he gave a letter in charge to the painter 
 for his agent in Philadelphia, which on delivery proved 
 an order for fifty guineas, to assist the youth in his pro- 
 jected journey, and his intended studies abroad. In the 
 mean time Mr. Allen had determined his son should 
 have the benefit of travel by accompanying the flour, 
 and West's invaluable friend, Provost Smith, had obtain- 
 ed permission for the young painter to accompany the 
 young merchant. Thus every thing seemed to conspire 
 for the furtherance of the youth's advancement in the 
 road to wealth and honor. He found friends eager to 
 assist him at every step was it not because it was seen 
 by all that every step was in the right path that his 
 mind was as deeply imbued with the love of virtue as 
 the love of his Art. Such was the character of West 
 through life, and through life his success was uniform. 
 He met in his way false friends, detractors and libellers, 
 but he never turned aside, and as he approached that 
 height at which he aimed from childhood, the hands of
 
 80 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 those who had attained or had been seated on his up- 
 ward way were stretched forth to welcome him. We 
 see the undeviating tribute paid to worth and genius in 
 his ascending progress ; whether in the homely encour- 
 agement given by Henry, the gunsmith of .Lancaster, 
 the refined and well directed friendship of Provost Smith, 
 the frank liberality of the merchants, Kelly and Allen, 
 the enlightened admiration of the men of fortune who 
 received him with open arms at Rome, as we have yet 
 to mention, or finally in the smiles of the nobles and 
 the sovereign of England, who hailed his arrival with joy 
 in the land of his fathers." 
 
 In describing his approach to Rome, Cunnningham 
 says " He had walked on while his travelling compan- 
 ion was baiting the horses, and had reached a rising 
 ground which offered him a view far and wide ; the sun 
 was newly risen, and he saw before him a spacious cam- 
 pagna, bounded by green hills and in the midst of a 
 wilderness of noble ruins, over which towered the no- 
 bler dome of St. Peter's. A broken column at his feet, 
 which served as a mile-stone, informed him that he was 
 within 8000 paces of the ancient mistress of the world ; 
 and a sluggish boor, clad in rough goat-skins, driving 
 his flock to pasture amid the ruins of a temple, told him 
 how far she had fallen." 
 
 On the morning of the 10th of July, 1760, West en- 
 tered Rome. He was in his twenty-second year, and 
 had nothing to do but to ' make his fame and his fortune.' 
 The arrival in Rome of a young Quaker from the wild 
 woods of America to study Art, excited universal wonder. 
 He was the first representative in that Ancient Seat o 
 Empire, of the Arts and Artists of the New World, and 
 his arrival was regarded as a strange event. Those who 
 
 o o
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. gj 
 
 had not seen him, supposed of course that he was a sav- 
 age. One evening, soon after his arrival, he was * exhi- 
 bited' at a soiree, by Lord Grantham. He had been 
 furnished with letters of introduction to several distin- 
 guished characters, some of whom happened to be pres- 
 ent that evening. The celebrated Cardinal Albani, 
 ' who, though old and blind, had such delicacy of touch, 
 that he was considered supreme in all matters of judg- 
 ment regarding medals and intaglios.' 'Is he black or 
 white ?' blandly inquired the venerable virtuoso, holding 
 out both hands, that he might have the satisfaction of 
 touching, at least, this new wonder. Lord Grantham 
 smiled and said : ' He is fair-r-very fair.' ' What ! as 
 fair as I am ?' exclaimed the Prelate. Now the com- 
 plexion of this churchman was a deep olive that of West 
 more than commonly fair and as they stood together, 
 the company smiled. ' As fair as the Cardinal,' became 
 for a while proverbial." 
 
 British noblemen are fond of exhibiting Lions, and it 
 was considered in Rome a superb stroke of good fortune 
 to Lord Grantham that he had fallen upon a protege so 
 rare and recherche. The Connoisseurs " wished to try 
 what effect the Apollo, the Venus, and the works of Ra- 
 phael would have upon him," and Gait says that thirty 
 of the most magnificent equipages in the Capital of 
 Christendom, and filled with some of the most erudite 
 characters in Europe, conducted the young Quaker to 
 view some of the masterpieces of Art. It was agreed 
 that the Apollo should be first submitted to his view : the 
 statue was enclosed in a case, and when the keeper threw 
 open the doors, West unconsciously exclaimed : ' My 
 God ! a young Mohawk Warrior !' The Italians were 
 
 6
 
 g2 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 surprised and mortified with the comparison of their no- 
 blest statue to a wild Savage, and West, perceiving the 
 unfortunate impression, proceeded to remove it. He de- 
 scribed the Mohawks the natural elegance and admira- 
 ble symmetry of their persons the elasticity of their 
 limbs, and their motions free and unconstrained. * I 
 have seen them often,' he continued, ' standing in the 
 very attitude of this Apollo, and pursuing with an intense 
 eye the arrow which they had just discharged from the 
 bow.' The Italians cleared their moody brows, and al- 
 lowed that a better criticism had rarely been pronounced." 
 West was no longer a barbarian. 
 
 West was now ' the Lion' of society, which was a 
 matter of no consequence except as it gave him a fine op- 
 portunity of displaying his genius for Art. His drawings 
 he had shown to Mengs, the greatest Artist then at Rome, 
 but they gave indication of no very extraordinary talent. 
 " I cannot," said West to Lord Grantham, " produce a 
 finished sketch like the other students, because 1 have 
 never been instructed in drawing, but I can paint a lit- 
 tle, and if you will do me the honor to sit for your por- 
 trait, that I may show it to Mengs, you will do me a 
 great favor." He did so, and the picture was shown to 
 a company of Amateurs and Artists in the Crespigni 
 Gallery ; the painter's name was kept secret. Some 
 thought it the work of Mengs, although it surpassed him 
 in coloring. An English Connoisseur present said : 
 ' The coloring surpasses that of Mengs, but the drawing 
 is neither so fine nor so. good.' Crespigni seized the 
 proper moment and said : ' It is not painted by Mengs.' 
 * By whom then ?' they exclaimed, ' for there is no other 
 painter in Rome capable of doing any thing so good.'
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. g 
 
 4 By that young gentleman,' said the other, turning to 
 West, who sat uneasy and agitated. The English held 
 out their hands ; the Italians ran and embraced him." 
 
 Soon after Mengs came in. " He looked at the pic- 
 ture," says Cunningham, " and spoke with great kind- 
 ness : ' Young man, you have no occasion to remain in 
 Rome to learn to paint. What I therefore recom- 
 mend to you is this : Examine every thing here wor- 
 thy of attention making drawings of some half a dozen 
 of the best statues. Go to Florence, and study in the 
 Galleries. Go to Bologna, and study the works of the 
 Carracci; and then proceed to Venice, and view the 
 productions of Tintorelli, Titian and Paul Veronese. 
 When all this is accomplished, return to Rome, paint an 
 historical picture, exhibit it publicly, and then the opin- 
 ion which will be expressed of your talents, will deter- 
 mine the line of Art which you ought to pursue.' A dan- 
 gerous illness interposed, and for a time prevented West 
 from following this common but sensible counsel. The 
 change of scene, the presence of works of first-rate excel- 
 lence, and the anxiety to distinguish himself, preyed upon 
 him ; sleep deserted his pillow, a fever followed, and by the 
 advice of his physicians, he returned to Leghorn, where, 
 after a lingering sickness of eleven months, he was com- 
 pletely cured." 
 
 " Those who befriend genius when it is struggling 
 for distinction befriend the world, and their names 
 should be held in remembrance. There is good sense 
 and right feeling in the reply of Mahomet to the insin- 
 uation of the fair Ayesha, that his first wife, Cadijah, 
 was old and unlovely, and that he had now a better in 
 her place. ' No, by Allah ! there never was a better. 
 She believed in me when men despised me : she
 
 g BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 relieved my wants when I was poor and persecuted by 
 the world.' The names of Smith, Hamilton, Kelly, 
 Allen, Jackson, Rutherford, and Lord Grantham must 
 be dear to all admirers of West : they aided him in the 
 infancy of his fame and fortune." 
 
 West's successful debut as an artist in Rome was 
 known in Philadelphia. Allen the merchant, whose 
 name has already been mentioned, was dining with 
 Governor Hamilton West was the theme of their con- 
 versation. " I regard this young man," said the mer- 
 chant, "as an honor to his country; and as he is the 
 first that America has sent out to cultivate the Fine 
 Arts, he shall not be frustrated in his studies, for I shall 
 send him whatever money he may require." " I think 
 with you, Sir," said Hamilton, " but you must not have 
 all the honor to yourself: allow me to unite with you in 
 the responsibility of the credit." Mr. Gait finishes the 
 story well. " When West," some time after, " went to 
 take up ten pounds from his agentSj the last of the sum 
 with which he had commenced his studies, one of the 
 partners opened a letter and said, * I am instructed to 
 give you unlimited credit: you will please have the 
 goodness to ask for what sum you please.' The munifi- 
 cence of the Medici was equalled by these American 
 magistrates." 
 
 This is high praise, but it was scarcely unmerited 
 their aid at that moment was all West needed. Hr 
 visited Florence, Bologna, and Venice, carefully study- 
 ing all the works of the Great Masters those beautiful 
 cities contain. At Parma he was elected a Member of 
 the Academy he painted for the Academy a copy of 
 the St. Jerome of Correggio, " of such excellence, that 
 the reigning Prince desired to see the Artist. He went
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 85 
 
 to Court, and, to the utter confusion of the attendants, 
 appeared with his hat on. The Prince was a lover of 
 William Penn, and he received the young artist with 
 complacency, and dismissed him with many expressions 
 of regard. During his visits to Florence and Bologna 
 he had also received the honors of their Academies. 
 
 When he returned to Rome, he painted a picture 
 of * Cimon and Iphigenia,' and another of * Angelica 
 and Medora.' These works established his reputation 
 in Italy. He had no rival in Italy but Mengs and Pom- 
 peo Battoni, and he soon left those painters far behind 
 him. After four years of study and triumph in that 
 unfortunate but beautiful land, he turned his face towards 
 the Alps, with a determination to visit England, and then 
 return to his native country but he little knew how 
 brilliant a career he was to run. 
 
 He arrived at London the twentieth of June, 1763. 
 " Allen, Hamilton, and Smith, his early and steadfast 
 friends, happened to be there. They welcomed him 
 with open arms, and introduced him to the many officers 
 of note who had heard of him in Pennsylvania. He 
 was introduced to Reynolds, and a letter from Mengs 
 made him acquainted with Wilson. Intercourse with 
 artists and an examination of their works awakened 
 his ambition he consulted no one, but took chambers 
 in Bedford street, Covent-Garden, and set up his easel." 
 
 He could not have arrived in London at a more aus- 
 picious period. There was hardly an historical painter 
 of genius now engaged in his Art in Great Britain. Ho- 
 garth was dying Barry had abandoned his easel to 
 carry on controversies in Rome Reynolds was devoted 
 to Portraits Wilson was neglected Gainsborough con- 
 fined himself chiefly to Landscapes West was thrown
 
 flg BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 by fortune into a path that was to lead him to fame. 
 But before he could succeed as an historical painter, he 
 had to create a new taste in Great Britain for there 
 were few countries in Europe where there was at that 
 time so little appreciation of high Art as in England. In 
 the Percy Anecdotes, a story to the point is told. West 
 exhibited his Pylades and Orestes, one of his very best 
 pictures. After speaking of the excitement it produced 
 among the higher circles of London, he proceeds : " But 
 the most wonderful part of the story is, that notwithstand- 
 ing all this, vast bustle and commendation bestowed 
 upon that justly admired picture, by which Mr. West's 
 servant gained upwards of thirty pounds for showing it, 
 no mortal ever asked the price of the work, or so much 
 as offered to give him a commission to paint any other 
 subject. Indeed, there was one gentleman who was so 
 highly delighted with the picture, and spoke of it with 
 such great praise to his father, that the latter immedi- 
 ately asked him the reason he did not purchase what he 
 so much admired when he answered, ' What could I do 
 if I had it ? You would not surely have me hang up a 
 modern English picture in my house, unless it was a 
 portrait ?' " 
 
 And this was a fair specimen of the vulgarity of En- 
 glish taste at the time. Leslie says that no Englishman 
 would have dared to hang up in his parlor or even in his 
 Library, any one of the matchless creations of Hogarth. 
 " The connoisseur," says he, " who would have ventured 
 to place the inimitable scene of the ' Marriage a la Mode ' 
 on his walls, (I mean the pictures, the prints were in 
 great request,) would have hazarded most fearfully his 
 reputation for taste. This prejudice against living genius 
 continued until the arrival of West, and it must have re-
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 87 
 
 \J 9 
 
 quired some courage in a young man at that time to 
 make his appearance in England in the character of an 
 historical painter. I know not how long his Pylades 
 and Orestes was on the Artist's hands, but when I first 
 saw it, it was in the collection of Sir George Beaumont." 
 This Beaumont did many a generous thing for Art 
 and ' poor Artists. A beautiful story is told of his kind- 
 ness to Jackson, who afterwards became celebrated 
 as a painter. He was apprenticed to a tailor. His tal- 
 ent for drawing drew the attention of Lord Mulgrave 
 and Sir George Beaumont, who " purchased the lad's 
 freedom from the shopboard and the goose, and he im- 
 mediately presented himself, as if by instinct, before 
 Beaumont in London, and expressed his wish to study 
 in the Royal Academy. 4 You have done wisely,' said 
 Sir George ; ' London is the place for talents, such as 
 yours.' He then gave him a plan of study, and conclud- 
 ed : ' To enable you to do all this, you shall have fifty 
 pounds a year while you are a student, and live in my 
 house ; you will soon require no aid.' " We shall never 
 be tired of recording such generous deeds. Cunningham 
 says, " As soon as he had finished his ' Angelica and 
 Medora,' he sent it by the advice of Reynolds to the ex- 
 hibition, together with the Cimon and Iphigenia, and a 
 portrait of General Monckton, second in command to 
 Wolfe, in the battle of Quebec. While he was employed 
 in finishing those works, he had the good fortune to be 
 introduced to Dr. Johnson and Mr. Burke. Johnson he 
 admired much, and found him civil and even kind 
 Burke also was indulgent, but our Artist conceived 
 there was an air of mystery about his demeanor. West 
 at once recognized him as the brother of the Chief of 
 the Benedictine Monks, at Parma. He painted for Dr.
 
 gg BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 Newton, the ' Parting of Hector and Andromache,' and 
 for the Bishop of Worcester, the ' Return of the Prodigal 
 Son.' His reputation rose so much with these produc- 
 tions, that Lord Rockingham tempted him with the 
 offer of a permanent engagement, and a salary of seven 
 hundred pounds a year, to embellish with Historical 
 Paintings his mansion in Yorkshire. West consulted his 
 
 o 
 
 friends concerning this alluring offer ; they were sensi- 
 ble men ; they advised him to confide in the public ; and 
 he followed for a time their salutary counsel." 
 
 But West had left his heart in America, and in all 
 his wanderings he seems to have preserved the image of 
 a fair young Quakeress in his native land. No alluring 
 prospect of immediate fame could atone for a longer 
 sacrifice of his feelings, and he made his preparations to 
 return to Philadelphia, to claim his bride. " He dis- 
 closed the state of his affections to his friends, Smith 
 and Allen ; those gentlemen took a less romantic view 
 of the matter, advised the Artist to stick to his easel, and 
 arranged the whole so prudently, that the lady came to 
 London, accompanied by a relation whose time was 
 not so valuable as West's and they were married on 
 the 2nd of September, 1765, in the Church of St. Mar- 
 tin's-in-the-Fields." West probably never made a very 
 enthusiastic lover, but he seems to have begun no better 
 than he held out, for after something more than half a cen- 
 tury's experience, (time enough to form a tolerably cor- 
 rect opinion,) his wife said to Washington Allston of 
 her husband " Ah ! he is a good man he never had a 
 vice !" " This," says Allston, " was worth more than a vol- 
 ume of eulogy." 
 
 No one of West's Biographers seems to us to have 
 given so good an account of his progress at this period,
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 39 
 
 as Cunningham. " Dr. Drummond, the Archbishop of 
 York," says he, " a dignified and liberal prelate, and an 
 admirer of painting, invited West to his table, conversed 
 with him on the influence of Art, and on the honor which 
 the patronage of genius reflected on the rich ; and open- 
 ing Tacitus, pointed out that fine passage where Agrip- 
 pina lands with the ashes of Germanicus. He caused 
 his son to read it again and again, commented upon it 
 with taste and feeling, and requested West to make him 
 a painting of that subject. 
 
 " The Artist went home. It was then late, but before 
 closing his eyes he formed a sketch, and carried it early 
 next morning to his patron, who, glad to see that his own 
 notions were likely to be embodied in lasting colors, re- 
 quested that the full size work might be proceeded with. 
 Nor was this all that munificent prelate proposed to 
 raise three thousand pounds by subscription, to enable 
 West to relinquish likenesses and give his whole time 
 and talents to historical painting. Fifteen hundred 
 pounds were accordingly subscribed by himself and his 
 friends ; but the public refused to co-operate, and the 
 scheme was abandoned. 
 
 "The Archbishop regarded the failure of this plan as 
 a stigma on the country ; his self-love too was offended. 
 He disregarded alike the coldness of the Duke of Port- 
 land and the evasions of Lord Rockingham, to whom he 
 communicated his scheme sought and obtained an au- 
 dience of His Majesty, then young and unacquainted 
 with cares informed him that a devout American and 
 Quaker had painted, at his request, such a noble picture 
 that he was desirous to secure his talents for the throne 
 and the country. The King was much interested with 
 the story, and said, * Let me see this young painter of
 
 90 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 yours with his Agrippina, as soon as you please.' The 
 prelate retired to communicate his success to West. 
 
 " The King received West with easy frankness, as- 
 sisted him to place the Agrippina in a favorable light, 
 removed the attendants, and brought in the Queen, to 
 whom he presented our Quaker. He related to Her 
 Majesty the history of the picture, and bade her notice 
 the simplicity of the design and the beauty of the color- 
 ing. * There is another noble Roman subject,' observed 
 His Majesty, ' the departure of Regulus from Rome 
 would it not make a fine picture ?' * It is a magnifi- 
 cent subject,' said the painter. * Then,' said the King, 
 ' you shall paint it for me.' He turned with a smile to 
 the Queen, and said, ' The Archbishop made one of 
 his sons read Tacitus to Mr. West, but I will read Livy 
 to him myself that part where he describes the depart- 
 ure of Regulus.' So saying, he read the passage very 
 gracefully, and then repeated his command that the 
 picture should be painted." 
 
 " The Departure of Regulus," Dunlap says with 
 truth, " placed West on the throne of English Art." 
 While he was engaged on that piece, the plan of the 
 present Royal Academy at London, which is now the 
 pride of Great Britain, was projected. " The Society 
 of Incorporated Artists, of which West was a member, 
 had grown rich by yearly exhibitions, and how to lay out 
 this money became the subject of vehement debate." 
 " Indecent bickerings " followed, and West and Rey- 
 nolds withdrew from the Society, and formed a plan for a 
 new institution, which might put forth a higher and more 
 beneficent influence upon the cause of Art. The King 
 approved the plan, corrected it, and drew up some ad- 
 ditional articles with his own hand. " Meanwhile the
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 91 
 
 Incorporated Artists continued their debates, in total 
 ignorance that their dissenting brethren were laying the 
 foundation of a surer structure than their own. Kirby, 
 teacher of perspective to the King, had been chosen 
 President ; so secretly was all managed, that he had 
 never heard a whisper in the palace concerning the new 
 Academy, and in his inaugural address from the chair 
 he assured his companions that His Majesty would not 
 countenance the schismatics. While West was one day 
 busy with his * Regulus,' the King and Queen looking 
 on, Kirby was announced, and His Majesty, having con- 
 sulted his consort in German, admitted him and intro- 
 duced him to West, to whose person he was a stranger. 
 He looked at the picture, praised it warmly, and con- 
 gratulated the Artist ; then, turning to the King, said, 
 1 Your Majesty never mentioned any thing of this work 
 to me : who made the frame ? It is not made by one of 
 your Majesty's workmen : it ought to have been made 
 by the royal carver and gilder.' To this impertinence 
 the King answered, with great calmness, ' Kirby, when- 
 ever you are able to paint me such a picture as this, 
 your friend shall make the frame.' * I hope, Mr. West,' 
 said Kirby, * that you intend to exhibit this picture.' * It 
 is painted for the palace,' said West, ' and its exhibition 
 must depend upon His Majesty's pleasure.' * Assuredly,' 
 said the King, * I shall be very happy to let the work 
 be shown to the public.' l Then, Mr. West,' said Kirby, 
 * you will send it to my exhibition.' ' No !' interrupted 
 His Majesty, * it must go to my exhibition to that of 
 the Royal Academy.' The President of the Associated 
 Artists bowed with much humility, and retired. He did 
 not long survive this mortification. The Royal Academy
 
 92 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 was founded, and in its first exhibition appeared the 
 1 Regulus.' " 
 
 This first great effort of West, which won him so 
 much reputation, was one of the largest and perhaps the 
 best historical picture which had for a long time been 
 painted in England. A fine engraving was made from 
 if, the only copy of which I have ever seen in this coun- 
 try is in the possession of Dr. J. H. Foster, Warren-street, 
 New- York, who has also a copy of ' Young Hannibal 
 swearing eternal enmity to the Romans,' engraved by 
 the same hand. 
 
 We now come to the most interesting crisis in the 
 Artistic Life of West. 
 
 " A change was now to be effected," remarks Cun- 
 ningham, " in the character of British Art ; hitherto his- 
 torical painting had appeared in a masked habit ; the 
 actions of Englishmen seemed all to have been performed, 
 if costume were to be believed, by Greeks or by Romans. 
 West dismissed at once this pedantry, and restored na- 
 ture and propriety in his noble work of l The Death of 
 Wolfe.' The multitude acknowledged its excellence at 
 once. The lovers of old art, the manufacturers of com- 
 positions called by courtesy classical, complained of the 
 barbarism of boots, and buttons, and blunderbusses, and 
 cried out for naked warriors, with bows, bucklers, and 
 battering rams. Lord Grosvenor, disregarding the frowns 
 of the amateurs, and the, at best, cold approbation of the 
 Academy, purchased this work, which, in spite of laced 
 coats and cocked hats, is one of the best of our historical 
 pictures. The Indian warrior, watching the dying hero, 
 to see if he equalled in fortitude the children of the des- 
 erts, is a fine stroke of nature and poetry."
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 The King questioned West concerning the picture, 
 and put him on his defence of this new heresy in art. 
 To the curiosity of Gait we owe the sensible answer of 
 West: "When it was understood," said the artist, 
 " that I intended to paint the characters as they had ac- 
 tually appeared on the scene, the Archbishop of York 
 called on Reynolds, and asked his opinion ; they both 
 came to my house to dissuade me from running so great 
 a risk. Reynolds began a very ingenious and elegant 
 dissertation on the state of the public taste in this coun- 
 try, and the danger which every innovation incurred of 
 contempt and ridicule, and concluded by urging me ear- 
 nestly to adopt the costume of antiquity, as more becom- 
 ing the greatness of my subject than the modern garb of 
 European warriors. I answered that the event to be 
 commemorated happened in the year 1758, in a region 
 of the world unknown to the Greeks and Romans, and 
 at a period of time when no warriors who wore such cos- 
 tume existed. The subject I have to represent is a great 
 battle fought and won, and the same truth which gives 
 law to the historian should rule the painter. If instead 
 of the facts of the action I introduce fictions, how shall 
 I be understood by posterity? The classic dress is cer- 
 tainly picturesque, but by using it I shall lose in senti- 
 ment what I gain in external grace. I want to mark the 
 place, the time, and the people, and to do this I must 
 abide by truth. They went away then, and returned 
 again when I had the painting finished. Reynolds seated 
 himself before the picture, examined it with deep and 
 minute attention for half an hour ; then rising, said to 
 Drummond, * West has conquered ; he has treated his 
 subject as it ought to be treated ; I retract my objec- 
 tions. I foresee that this picture will not only become
 
 94 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 one of the most popular, but will oscasion a revolution 
 in art.'" " I wish," said the King, " that I had known 
 all this before, for the objection has been the means of 
 Lord Grosvenor's getting the picture, but you shall make 
 a copy for me." 
 
 " West had now obtained the personal confidence of 
 the King, and the favor of the public ; his commissions 
 were numerous, but of course the works for the palace 
 had precedence. His Majesty employed him to paint 
 the ' Death of Epaminondas,' as a companion to that of 
 Wolfe, the death of the l Chevalier Bayard,' ' Cyrus lib- 
 erating the King of Armenia,' and ' Segestes and his 
 daughter brought before Germanicus.' He suggested 
 to the King a series of pictures on the Progress of Re- 
 vealed Religion : a splendid oratory was projected for 
 their reception. He divided his subject into Four Dis- 
 pensations the Antediluvian, the Patriarchal, the Mo- 
 saical, and the Prophetical ; they contained in all, thirty- 
 six subjects, eighteen of which belonged to the Old Tes- 
 tament, the rest to the New. They were all sketched, 
 and twenty-eight were executed, for which West receiv- 
 ed in all, twenty-one thousand seven hundred and five 
 pounds. A work so varied, so extensive, and so noble 
 in its nature, was never before undertaken by any 
 painter." 
 
 * The Battle of La Hogue ' is one of West's finest 
 pictures. While he was painting this noble piece, a 
 British Admiral took him to Spithead, and sent a squad- 
 ron out to sea and put them into action, firing broadsides, 
 to give the painter an idea of smoke rolling off from a 
 naval engagement. 
 
 West expressed on a certain occasion his regret that 
 " the Italians had dipped their pencils in the Monkish
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 95 
 
 miracles and incredible legends of the church, to the al- 
 most total neglect of the national history. The King 
 instantly bethought him of the victorious reign of our 
 Third Edward, and of St. George's Hall in Windsor 
 Castle. West had a ready hand ; he sketched out the 
 following subjects seven of which are from real, and 
 one from fabulous history : 
 
 " 1. Edward theThird embracing the Black Prince, 
 after the Battle of Cressy. 2. The Installation of the 
 Order of the Garter. 3. The Black Prince receiving the 
 King of France and his son prisoners, at Poictiers. 4. 
 St. George vanquishing the Dragon. 5. Queen Phillipa 
 defeating David of Scotland, in the battle of Neville's 
 Cross. 6. Queen Phillipa interceding with Edward for 
 the Burgesses of Calais. 7. King Edward forcing the 
 passage of the Somme. 8. King Edward crowning Sir 
 Eustace de Ribaumont at Calais. These works are 
 very large. They were the fruit of long study and much 
 labor, and with the exception of the Death of Wolfe 
 and the Battle of La Hogue, they are the best of all the 
 numerous works of this Artist." 
 
 The Prince of Wales, afterwards George IV., was 
 called the ' finest gentleman in Europe.' Leslie tells 
 one fact to show it. While this ' gentleman ' was 
 making some alterations in Windsor Castle, he came to 
 a room filled with these noble paintings. They were 
 the most valuable pictures in England. But what cared 
 he for works of art for the history of Edward ? Just 
 about as much as the Repudiator himself for his debts. 
 He ordered the pictures to be all thrown into a lumber 
 room to be eaten by palace rats, which are larger and 
 consequently more voracious than the rats of the people.
 
 96 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence, who always had a great admira- 
 tion for West's historical pieces, told this * gentleman ' 
 that he could do as he pleased, to be sure, but no living 
 artist could supply their places. The ' gentleman ' 
 thought it might be an evidence of bad taste to give 
 them to the rats, and they were saved. 
 
 Professor Morse told Dunlap an interesting anecdote 
 about West and George III. The Professor found West 
 engaged one day in copying a portrait of the King. 
 " This picture," said the old painter, " is remarkable for 
 one circumstance : the King was sitting to me for it 
 when a messenger brought him the ' Declaration of 
 Independence.' ' It may be supposed that the question, 
 " How did he receive the news ?" was asked. " He was 
 agitated at first," said West; "then sat silent and 
 thoughtful. At length he said, ' Well, if they cannot 
 be happy under my government, I hope they may not 
 change it for a worse. I wish them no ill.' ' " If such 
 was George the Third," says Dunlap, " we find no dif- 
 ficulty in reconciling his attachment to Benjamin West 
 with the American's honest love of his native land." 
 
 When Sir Joshua Reynolds died, the choice of the 
 Royal Academy fell on West, and he was elected Pres- 
 ident with the 'ready assent of the King.' British 
 writers seem to have had but one opinion on the propri- 
 ety of this choice there was no man in Great Britain 
 whose title to the honor was so clear. The King offered 
 him on this occasion the honor of knighthood. " Every 
 American," says Dunlap, " will rejoice that he rejected 
 the nick-name." It had been the custom to confer this 
 honor on the most distinguished painter in England. 
 West was the only man who declined the title. Eng-
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 97 
 
 lishmen still call this American ' Sir Benjamin.' Well, 
 as long as they do not know how such a ' nick-name ' 
 belittles a man like West, we must overlook it. 
 
 Leslie, in one of his letters to Dunlap, says, " Mr. 
 West was, as you know, at all times delighted to receive 
 Americans, and no subject of conversation interested 
 him more than the present greatness and future prospects 
 of the United States. His political opinions were 
 known to be too liberal for the party who governed 
 England during the regency and the reign of George IV. 
 Whether owing to this cause or not, he was certainly 
 out of favor with the Court during all the time of George 
 the Third's long seclusion from the world. It was to 
 the credit of that monarch, that he never allowed the 
 political opinions of Mr. West to interfere with his ad- 
 miration of him as an Artist, and his friendship for him 
 as a man. The King died while Mr. West was confined 
 to his bed with his last illness. Raphael West endeav- 
 ored to keep the newspaper from him, but he guessed 
 the reason, and said, " I am sure the King is dead, and 
 I have lost the best friend I ever had in my life." 
 
 When the good old Sovereign, George III., "lost 
 his senses," a cloud began to overshadow the path of 
 the great painter for the first time. Hitherto intrigues 
 had been planned ; ministers and courtiers, the Prince 
 of Wales, his parasites and his mistresses, had all plotted 
 against the American painter in vain. But the very 
 moment George III. was taken from public life, West's 
 career was for a while arrested. From 1769 to 1801 
 he had enjoyed the confidence of his Royal friend, and 
 " received all orders for pictures from His Majesty in 
 person. They had settled the subject and price between 
 them without the intervention of others, and in addition 
 
 7
 
 gg BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 to this one thousand pounds a year paid on account, he 
 had received whatever more, and it was not much, might 
 be due upon the pictures actually painted. A great 
 change was near. A mental cloud fell upon the King, 
 and the Artist was the first to be made sensible that the 
 sceptre was departed from his hand." 
 
 Here Cunningham has given a touching description. 
 " The doors of the palace which had hitherto opened 
 spontaneously, like those of Milton's Paradise, no longer 
 flew wide at his approach, but turned on their hinges 
 grating, and reluctantly." Mr. Wyatt, the royal archi- 
 tect, informed West that the painting of the chapel at 
 Windsor was suspended. " This extraordinary pro- 
 ceeding," says Gait, " rendered the studies of the best 
 part of the artist's life useless, and deprived him of that 
 honorable provision, the fruit of his talents and industry, 
 on which he had counted for the repose of his declining 
 years. For some time it affected him deeply, and he was 
 at a loss what steps to take. At last, however, on reflect- 
 ing on the marked friendship and favor which the King 
 had always shown him, he addressed to his Majesty a 
 letter, of which the following is a copy of the rough 
 draught, being the only one preserved." After mention- 
 ing the message to suspend the paintings of the chapel, 
 it proceeds 
 
 " Since 1797 I have finished three pictures, begun 
 several others, and composed the remainder of the sub- 
 jects for the chapel, on the progress of Revealed Religion. 
 Those are subjects so replete with dignity of character 
 and expression, as demanded the historian, the commen- 
 tator, and the accomplished painter to bring them into 
 view. Your Majesty's gracious commands for my pencil 
 on that extensive subject stimulated rny humble abilities,
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. gg 
 
 and I commenced the work with zeal aud enthusiasm. 
 Animated by your commands, I burned my midnight 
 lamp to attain that polish which marks my scriptural 
 pictures. Your Majesty's zeal for religion and love for 
 the elegant arts are known over the civilized world, and 
 your protection of my pencil had given it celebrity, and 
 made mankind anxiously look for the completion of the 
 great work on Revealed Religion. In the station which 
 I fill in the Academy I have been zealous in promoting 
 merit ; ingenious artists have received my ready aid, and 
 my galleries and my purse have been opened to their 
 studies and their distresses. The breath of envy or the 
 whisper of detraction never defiled my lips, nor the want 
 of morality my character ; and your Majesty's virtues 
 and those of her Majesty have been the theme of my 
 admiration for many years. 
 
 " I feel with great concern the suspension of the work 
 on Revealed Religion ; if it is meant to be permanent, 
 myself and the fine arts have much to lament. To me 
 it will be ruinous and it will damp the hope of patronage 
 in the more refined departments of painting. I have 
 this consolation, that in the thirty-five years during which 
 my pencil has been honored with your commands, a great 
 body of historical and scriptural works have been placed 
 in the churches and palaces of the kingdom. Their 
 professional claims may be humble, but similar works 
 have not been executed before by any of your Majesty's 
 subjects. And this I will assert, that your commands 
 and patronage were not laid on a lazy or an ungrateful 
 man, or an undutiful subject." 
 
 This letter was sent to Court the 26th September, 
 1801, but West received no answer. 
 
 " On his Majesty's recovery, he sought and obtained
 
 100 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 a private audience. The King had not been made ac- 
 quainted with the order for suspending the works, nor had 
 he received the letter. * Go on with your work, West,' 
 said the King, kindly, ' go on with the pictures, and I 
 will take care of you.' He shook him by the hand and 
 dismissed him. * And this,' says Gait, ' was the last in- 
 terview he was permitted to have with his early and con- 
 stant, and to him truly royal, patron. But he continued 
 to execute the pictures, and, in the usual quarterly pay- 
 ments, received his 1000 per annum till his Majesty's 
 final superannuation, when, without any intimation what- 
 ever, on calling to receive it, he was told that it had been 
 stopped, and that the paintings for the Chapel of Re- 
 vealed Religion had been suspended. He submitted in 
 silence. 
 
 " The story of his dismissal from Court was spread 
 with many exaggerations ; and the malevolence of ene- 
 mies which his success had created there are always 
 such reptiles was gratified by the circulation of papers 
 detailing an account of the prices which the fortunate 
 painter had received for his works from the King. The 
 hand which had drawn up this injurious document, neg- 
 lected to state that the sum of thirty-four thousand one 
 hundred and eighty-seven pounds, was earned in the 
 course of thirty-three laborious years, and the public, 
 looking only to the sum at the bottom of the page, 
 imagined that West must have amassed a fortune. This 
 notion was dispelled by an accurate statement of work 
 done and money received with day and date, signed with 
 the artist's name, and accompanied by a formal declara- 
 tion of its truth ; a needless addition, for all who knew 
 any thing of West, knew him to be one of the most 
 honorable of men."
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. JQJ 
 
 If all sovereigns were as amiable, as firm and as 
 generous as George the Third, Royal patronage would 
 be sometimes worth having. But there is little doubt 
 West would have won a higher fame, and been a richer 
 man, if he had confided in the British people. No one 
 probably would have given him a thousand guineas for 
 4 Regulus,' before it was exhibited in the Royal Gallery. 
 But he would never have imprisoned himself more than a 
 quarter of a century in the most exhausting and labori- 
 ous toil, over the execution of a series of great Historical 
 pieces that men of his own times never would have ap- 
 preciated ; for men of taste would have given him com- 
 missions for smaller, but more varied and popular works, 
 which would have made him beloved by the million, as 
 Sir Thomas Lawrence has been since. He would then 
 have known how firm was his foundation : a King might 
 have lost his senses,' but the painter would still have 
 had friends, whose attachment would have been lasting, 
 and whose favors would neither have excited the envy 
 of rivals, nor been purchased at the sacrifice of a feeling 
 of personal independence. 
 
 The history of Artists and Scholars abounds in sad 
 and touching incidents, which show how fatal the pa- 
 tronage of the powerful has generally been. The fickle- 
 ness of royal favor can be illustrated only by the caprice 
 of fortune. Long waiting in antechambers, cold neg- 
 lect, cutting sarcasms, dictations, instructions, hope de- 
 ferred, and then, to crown it all, the close of life embit- 
 tered with mortifying, biting recollections, as the aban- 
 doned favorite goes darkling down to the grave. The 
 Artist or the Scholar who borrows hope from the smiles 
 of men in power, will find that his fruit, be its colors 
 never so beautiful, will crumble to ashes when it touches
 
 102 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 his lips. ' Great men ' never bestow their favors upon 
 any but those who are ready to part with their indepen- 
 dence, and generally with their principles. Frederick 
 of Prussia, who wrote so humanely and so piously his 
 * Anti-Machiavelli,' while he was Crown Prince, had not 
 worn a crown twelve months, before he insulted one of 
 his best ministers, who said his ' principles and his feel- 
 ings could not allow him to follow royal instructions.' 
 " What has a Secretary," replied his royal patron, " to 
 do with principles or feelings ? " 
 
 This was the only misfortune, the only false step in 
 the life of West. 1 have dwelt upon it longer than may 
 seem necessary to the reader, but it seems to me to 
 teach an impressive lesson worth remembering. The 
 Painter ' withdrew from the torrent of calumny,' to use 
 the fine language of Alfieri, ' and let it foam angrily 
 against the pillar of his fame.' The Peace of Amiens 
 had silenced for a time the roar of hostile cannon over 
 Europe, and he went over to Paris, where Napoleon 
 had gathered the chef d'oeuvres of the world. The 
 best Artists, the most exquisite connoisseurs of Eu- 
 rope were there. West was received with enthusiasm 
 and invited to an audience with the First Consul. He 
 had the simple independence to recommend Napoleon to 
 follow the example of Washington. How much that 
 great man would have saved the world and himself, had 
 he regarded this counsel ! 
 
 Fox and Baring met West one day in the Louvre, 
 where conversations took place on the importance of na- 
 tions encouraging the higher departments of Art. Fox 
 seemed to be struck with West's views, and replied with 
 much frankness, and with that sincerity which lasts at 
 least for the moment, " I have been rocked in the cradle
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. JQ3 
 
 of politics, and never before was so much struck 
 the advantages, even in a political bearing, of the Fine 
 Arts, to the prosperity as well as to the renown of a 
 kingdom ; and I do assure you, Mr. West, if ever I have 
 it in my power to influence our government to promote 
 the Arts, the conversation which we have had to-day 
 shall not be forgotten." They parted, and West return- 
 ed to England. 
 
 " Old age was now coming on him ; but his gray 
 hairs were denied the repose which a life of virtue and 
 labor deserved. He took it into his head that he was 
 looked upon coldly by the government for his admiration 
 of Buonaparte ; and, assailed in the Academy by an op- 
 position strong in numbers and in eloquence, in which 
 Shee distinguished himself, he was induced to retire from 
 the President's chair, and Wyatt was elected in his 
 stead. This distinction the court architect had merited 
 by no works which could be weighed in the balance with 
 the worst of his predecessor's." 
 
 But the triumph of his enemies was transient. " In 
 a short time the Academy became weary of Wyatt, dis- 
 placed him and^ restored the painter, by a Vote which 
 may be called unanimous ; since there was only one dis- 
 senting member." It appears that Fuseli put in the 
 name of Mrs. Moser, for President; poor Fuseli thought 
 he had done quite a funny thing ! 
 
 " Restored to a prouder eminence now than he had 
 ever held before, West devoted himself with earnestness 
 to the advancement of High Art in England. He en- 
 deavored ' to form a National Association, for the en- 
 couragement of works of dignity and importance, and 
 was cheered with the assurance of ministerial, if not
 
 ' % J04 BENJAMIN WEST, 
 
 v^ 
 
 royal patronage.' But all such reliance was vain. Mr. 
 Pitt was busy enough in his great experiment of 
 
 ' Piloting the ship through the storm 
 By putting her head under water.' 
 
 " Mr. Fox, who succeeded him, declared, ' as soon as 
 I am firmly seated in the saddle, I shall redeem the pro- 
 mise I made in the Louvre ;' but he also was soon lost 
 to his country. This pistol of an assassin prevented 
 Percival from taking into consideration a third memorial 
 which West had drawn up, and the President at last 
 relinquished the project in despair. Yet his efforts were 
 not unavailing, as the British institution was formed out 
 of the wreck of his magnificent plan" This was the 
 second Institution for Art which England owed to West ! 
 
 The veteran painter was now in his sixty-fifth year. 
 Martin Arthur Shee mentions it to the discredit of. Great 
 Britain, that * the unremitting exertions of this distin- 
 guished artist in the higher department of painting dur- 
 ing the period of forty-eight years had not, exclusive of 
 His Majesty's patronage, produced him the sum of six 
 thousand pounds ! ! !' But he determined to try what 
 could be done by relying upon the British people. He 
 commenced a series of great subjects of which he was 
 always so fond. The first was ' Christ Healing the 
 Sick,' designed 'as a present to the Hospital of the 
 Metropolis of Pennsylvania, his native State. A noble 
 memorial of his love to the country of his birth, and her 
 institutions.' This work was exhibited in London 
 ' the rush to see it was very great the praise it obtained 
 was high, and the British Institution offered him three 
 thousand guineas for it. West accepted the offer, for he
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. ]Q5 
 
 was far from being rich, but on condition he should be 
 allowed to make a copy, with alterations, for his native 
 place.' The proposition was accepted and alterations 
 were not only made, but an additional group embraced 
 in the copy with no manifest improvement, it is thought. 
 
 Durilap complains bitterly, and with great justice too, 
 if he is right in his facts, of the ungenerous conduct of 
 the managers of the Pennsylvania Hospital, in regard to 
 this picture. West had expressed his wish and intention 
 to the managers, that it might be free to Students and 
 Artists to copy. It is the only exhibition,' says Dunlap, 
 * where money is received from the Artist or Student.' 
 
 West felt encouraged by the success of the Heal- 
 ing in the Temple, and he " produced in rapid succes- 
 sion, the ' Descent of the Holy Ghost at the Jordan,' ten 
 feet by fourteen ' The Crucifixion,' sixteen feet by 
 twenty-eight * The Ascension,' twelve feet by eighteen 
 and ' The Inspiration of St. Peter,' of corresponding 
 extent the great painting of * Christ Rejected,' and 
 the still more sublime ' Death on the Pale Horse,' en- 
 larged and altered from the picture which he had carried 
 to Paris in 1802." 
 
 " As old age benumbed his faculties, and began to 
 freeze up the well-spring of original thought, the daring 
 intrepidity of the man seemed but to grow and augment. 
 Immense pictures, embracing topics which would have 
 alarmed loftier spirits, came crowding thick upon his 
 fancy, and he was the only person who appeared insen- 
 sible that such were too weighty for his handling." 
 
 " Domestic sorrow mingled with professional disap- 
 pointment. Elizabeth Shewell for more than fifty 
 years his kind and tender companion died on the 6th 
 of December, 1817, and West, seventy-nine years old,
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 felt that he was soon to follow. His wife and he had 
 loved each other some sixty years had seen their chil- 
 dren's children and the world had no compensation to 
 offer. He began to sink, and though still to be found at 
 his easel, his hand had lost its early alacrity. It was 
 evident that all this was to cease soon ; that he was suf- 
 fering a slow, and a general, and easy decay. The 
 venerable old man sat in his study among his favorite 
 pictures, a breathing image of piety and contentment, 
 awaiting calmly the hour of his dissolution. Without 
 any fixed complaint, his mental faculties unimpaired, his 
 cheerfulness uneclipsed, and with looks serene and be- 
 nevolent, he expired llth March, 1820, in tfce eighty- 
 second year of his age. He was buried beside Reynolds, 
 Opie, and Barry, in St. Paul's Cathedral. The pall was 
 borne by noblemen, ambassadors, and academicians ; his 
 two sons and grandson were chief mourners ; and sixty 
 coaches brought up the splendid procession." 
 
 It would be nearly a useless labor to enumerate all 
 West's historical pictures. Blackwood's Magazine says 
 he painted more than three thousand pictures, and Dun- 
 lap says, it was ascertained that to contain all West's 
 pictures, a gallery would be necessary four hundred feet 
 long, fifty broad, and forty high !" or a wall ten feet 
 high, and three quarters of a mile long ! One of his 
 Biographers in speaking of the subjects he chose, says, 
 " He considered himself worthy to follow in the sublim- 
 est flights of the prophets, and dared to limn the efful- 
 gence of God's glory, and the terrors of the Day of 
 Judgment. The mere list of his works makes us shud- 
 der at human presumption. Moses receiving the Law 
 on Sinai the Descent of the Holy Ghost on the Savior 
 in the Jordan the Opening of the Seventh Seal in the
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 Revelations Saint Michael and his Angels casting out 
 the Great Dragon the mighty Angel with one foot on 
 sea and the other on earth the Resurrection ! and 
 there are many others of the same class ! With such 
 magnificence and sublimity who but a Michael Angelo 
 could cope ?" 
 
 " In all his works the human form was exhibited in 
 conformity to academic precepts his figures were ar- 
 ranged with skill the coloring was varied and harmo- 
 nious the eye rested pleased on the performance, and 
 the Artist seemed, to the ordinary spectator, to have 
 done his task like one of the highest of the sons of 
 genius. But below all this splendor there was little of 
 the true vitality there was a monotony, too, of human 
 character the groupings were unlike the happy and 
 careless combinations of nature, and the figures seemed 
 distributed over the canvas by line and measure, like 
 trees in a plantation. He wanted fire and imagination 
 to be the true restorer of that grand style which bewil- 
 dered Barry and was talked of by Reynolds. Most of 
 his works cold, formal, bloodless, and passionless, may 
 remind the spectator of the sublime vision of the valley 
 of dry bones, when the flesh and skin had come upon 
 the skeletons, and before the breath of God had inform- 
 ed them with life and feeling." 
 
 " Though such is the general impression which the 
 works of West make, it cannot be denied that many are 
 distinguished by great excellence. In his Death on the 
 Pale Horse, and more particularly in the sketch of that 
 picture, he has more than approached the masters and 
 princes of the calling. It is, indeed, irresistibly fearful 
 to see the triumphant march of the terrific phantom, and 
 the dissolution of all that earth is proud of beneath his
 
 ]Qg BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 tread. War and peace,, sorrow and joy, youth and age, 
 all who love, and all who hate, seem planet-struck. The 
 Death of Wolfe, too, is natural and noble, and the In- 
 dian chief, like the Oneida warrior of Campbell, 
 
 A stoic of the woods, a man without a tear, 
 
 was a happy thought. The battle of La Hogue I have 
 heard praised as the best historic picture of the British 
 school, by one not likely to be mistaken, and who would 
 not say what he did not feel. Many of his single figures, 
 also, are of a high order. There is a natural grace in 
 the looks of some of his women which few painters have 
 ever excelled. 
 
 Nearly one hundred of his pictures were exhibited in 
 'a Gallery, erected by his heirs.' There are some of 
 his beautiful works of which his biographers have said 
 little, which seem to me to have merited more attention. 
 I shall briefly enumerate some of them : ' Thetis bring- 
 ing the Armor to Achilles,' is a work of great beauty, 
 in the possession of Thomas Hope, Esq., England. 
 The scene is taken from the 12th Book of the Iliad. 
 " In this picture," says Haydon, " the eyes behold what 
 the imagination has often fancied with enthusiasm ; such 
 is the impression here made by the graceful form of 
 Thetis, as she bends with sympathetic respect and ma- 
 ternal tenderness over her son, and such is the effect 
 produced by the energetic graces of Achilles, by his deep 
 dejection at the death of his friend, his inflexible resent- 
 ment, the pathetic prostration of Patroclus, and by the 
 pervading truth, beauty and animation of the entire 
 piece." 
 
 4 The Captive ' is a mournful, but impressive piece, 
 drawn from * Sterne's Sentimental Journey.' " I took a
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. ]Q9 
 
 single captive, and having first shut him up in his dun- 
 geon, I then looked through the twilight of his grand 
 door to take his picture." And there leans the haggard 
 wretch, loaded with ponderous chains, chafing away 
 time. He has marked nine sticks. You see the notches 
 as they lean against the damp wall four others lay 
 before him, which he will mark over, for he has taken 
 one in his hand : and yet he does not see the stick his 
 hands lean and bony, are working at it, mechanically, 
 while his mind is riveted with iron grasp upon vacu- 
 ity. You see the horror-stricken face of the gazer 
 through the grate. The Captive's finger and toe nails 
 are grown long and half curled down, and his snaky 
 tangled locks make you think of the head of Medusa. 
 " What particularly strikes the feelings," says Haydon, 
 " while it tells in the most complete manner the story of 
 the prisoner's former condition and present misery, is the 
 size of the bones, contrasted with the shrinking and 
 daily waste of the muscles : the living flesh is departing, 
 and the skeleton already anticipating the grave." Such 
 is * The Captive,' and if it be not well done, Byron must 
 write over once morg The Prisoner of Chillon.' 
 
 *The Despair of Venus over the dead body of 
 Adonis.' Shakspeare gave him the picture, where he 
 
 says 
 
 ' Franticly she doteth ; 
 She thinks he could not die, he is not dead,' etc. 
 
 " Mr. West has chosen the time when the Goddess has 
 just discovered her loss, and bursts out into a despairing 
 lamentation at the sight. The eye follows with delight 
 the elegantly flowing lines of all the figures, in their 
 continuity, contrast, and delicate variation. * The 
 agony of Venus finishes the climax. It is character-
 
 110 
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 ized with an energy that absorbs every other thought, 
 but without deteriorating in the slightest degree that 
 winding elegance and native sweetness of air which 
 are the inseparable charms of the Queen of Beauty and 
 of Love. The picture is altogether a lovely one, busy 
 without confusion, and impassioned without affectation." 
 No man who had gazed on this piece would ever repeat 
 the old charge, that West never dreamed of such a 
 thing as ideal beauty and grace.' 
 
 1 Priam Petitioning Achilles for the body of Hector ' 
 is a bold and noble delineation of even the coloring of 
 
 o 
 
 Homer's fancy, when he describes, in his twenty-fourth 
 Book of the Iliad, this impressive scene. " Priam had 
 entered the inner tent of Achilles unseen by the attend- 
 ants, and, prostrating himself before the hero, embraced 
 his knees, kissed his hands, and commenced a petition 
 which softened the vindictive soul of Achilles with pity 
 for the miseries of the aged monarch, who was reduced 
 thus lowly to sue his enemy, and to kiss ' those terrible 
 murderous hands that had robbed him of so many sons 
 that had slain his subjects and ruined his family and 
 kingdom.' The painter has expressed, to the extent 
 that the pencil is competent to portray, this humiliating 
 and pathetic imploring of an aged father for a favor from 
 his greatest enemy." 
 
 * Alexander's Confidence in the Integrity of his 
 Physician.' This is a noble work ; filled with the dig- 
 nity of the theme the painter chose but we have not 
 space for a description of it. 
 
 ' The Cave of Despaire ' is one of West's most original 
 works. He drew his subject and arrangement from the 
 masterly description of Spencer in his Faerie Queene. 
 " A deprivation," says Haydon again, " of all hope, a
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. ] ] ] 
 
 horror and loathing of existence, bows the * man of hell ' 
 to the ground. Nothing is wanting to complete the 
 picture of Despaire in its most direful effects." 
 
 4 The Alarm of Nestor at the Lightning which pre- 
 cedes Hector.' Iliad, eighth Book. 
 
 ' Thus said the chief; and Nestor, skilled in war, 
 Approves his counsel and ascends the car,' etc. 
 
 This solemn incident, which has furnished Homer one 
 of his finest themes, is portrayed by West's pencil in 
 a masterly manner. ' Leaving the plebeian war in the 
 background, the Chieftains, Diornede and Hector, are 
 advancing toward each other, in the consciousness of 
 being able to settle the day's combat without wasting 
 their strength on inferior objects. It was, however, one 
 of the days of Hector's glory, and Diomede was des- 
 tined to advance in vain.' For he had something more 
 than mortal strength to contend with. Across his path 
 the lightnings of Heaven are gleaming. This is the 
 moment the painter has chosen. Diomede becomes the 
 hero of the piece, for he is not only struggling against 
 Horner's great hero, who finds no vanquisher at last but 
 Achilles, but he is struggling against supernatural fire ! 
 The thunder is shaking the field of battle, and " the 
 horses are rearing at the flames that dart in their faces : 
 old Nestor, whom, at the approach of Hector, Diomede 
 had taken into his chariot, and who had undertaken to 
 manage the reins, finds the task impossible, and is seized 
 with a sacred dread,' and, in fine, Hector by these 
 awful signs is coming up to sweep every thing before 
 him ; yet Diomede for the moment still remains unap- 
 palled, and, lifting his shield over his head, as if to meet
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 all the terrors that might assail him, grasps the javelin 
 with a double energy for the combat." 
 
 1 Venus Rising from the Sea ' is a chaste and beauti- 
 ful production, and has been declared by many good 
 critics to be equal to almost any thing of a similar kind 
 by the best masters. 
 
 In Adonis going to the Chase,' the painter has su- 
 perbly embodied the words of Shakspeare : 
 
 ' Even as the Sun, with purple colored face, 
 Had ta'en his last leave of the weeping morn, 
 Rose-cheeked Adonis hied him to the chase ; 
 
 Hunting he loved, but love he laughed to scorn.' 
 
 
 
 ' It was no ordinary advantage to Mr. West, as an artist, 
 that his early years had been passed among the glades 
 and forests of America; a circumstance to which we 
 are perhaps indebted for many of the most spirited and 
 poetical of his delineations of classic character. The 
 red men of the wilderness were, in fact, his earliest 
 patrons, and in his intercourse with them he was fur- 
 nished with opportunities such as few other artists have 
 possessed, of observing the habits and passions of men 
 in a state of society nearly resembling that of the my- 
 thological ages of Greece and Rome. The lives of the 
 Aborigines of both hemispheres were chiefly occupied 
 in war and sylvan sports ; pursuits eminently calculated 
 to impart to their followers vigor and elasticity of limb, 
 and gracefulness of motion, together with that noble 
 simplicity of demeanor and singleness of heart which 
 constitute the greatest charm of poetic heroism. 7 
 
 This work has been overlooked in a great measure 
 by West's biographers, and yet we think it ought to be 
 regarded as one of the most superb pictures of its
 
 BENJAMIN WEST. 
 
 113 
 
 kind. The face and form of Adonis are among the 
 most exquisite models of manly beauty, and in color- 
 ing, in symmetry, in the earnestness of actual life and 
 unstudied elegance, it seems to us to surpass nearly all 
 West's productions. We believe this picture would in 
 cur times establish the fame of any painter. 
 
 We have dwelt upon these works because they are 
 less known/ and we have devoted so large a space to 
 West because he merits it. He was the pioneer and 
 the father of American Artists the sober criticism of 
 three generations has concurred in assigning him the 
 first rank as an historical painter during the eighteenth 
 century. It has been the fashion in this country to speak 
 slightingly of West, but this is owing to the fact that 
 so few of his great pictures are known to his countrymen, 
 and it is more than doubtful if any historical painter of 
 merit who has yet asked for our suffrages has ever been 
 properly appreciated. 
 
 8

 
 ** 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 A GRATEFUL nation guards thy lasting fame, 
 
 Thou faithful limner of His form sublime ; 
 Whose deeds transcendent left a godlike name 
 
 The noblest written in the book of time ! 
 Unfading on thy canvas live the forms 
 
 Our fathers wore, now resting in the grave ; 
 They battled bravely, 'mid the wildest storms 
 
 That dark oppression e'er fair freedom gave. 
 Maidens most beautiful, and matrons chaste, 
 
 Bright relics of thy toil through restless years, 
 We proudly gaze on by the same hand traced, 
 
 That often wiped away earth's bitter tears. 
 Crowned in the Capitol, thy laurelled triumphs stand, 
 Revered, admired, a glorious patriot band ! 
 
 CALEB LYON OF LYONSDALE. 
 New- York, March S, 1848.

 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 A FEW years before his death, Longacre and Nea- 
 gle visited Stuart at his residence in Boston, to receive 
 instruction from the veteran Painter. " While sitting 
 with him on one occasion," says Dunlap, " Mr. Neagle 
 asked him for a pinch of snuff from his ample box, out 
 of which he was profusely supplying his own nostrils. 
 ' I will give it to you,' said Stuart, but I advise you not 
 to take it. Snuff taking is a pernicious, vile, dirty habit, 
 and like all bad habits, to be carefully avoided.' ' Your 
 practice contradicts your precept, Mr. Stuart.' ' Sir, / 
 can't help it. Shall I tell you a story ? You were nei- 
 ther of you ever in England, so I must describe an Eng- 
 lish stage-coach of my time. It was a large vehicle of 
 the coach kind, with a railing round the top, to secure 
 outside passengers, and a basket behind for luggage, 
 and such travellers as could not be elsewhere accommo- 
 dated. In such a carriage, full within and loaded on the 
 top, and an additional unfortunate stowed with the stuff 
 in the basket, I happened to be travelling in a dark 
 night, when coachee contrived to overturn us all or as 
 they say in New- York, dump us in a ditch. We 
 scrambled up, felt our legs and arms, to be convinced they 
 were not broken, and finding on examination, that in- 
 side and outside passengers were tolerably whole (on the 
 whole), some one thought of the poor devil shut up with 
 the baggage in the basket. He was found apparently
 
 JJg GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 senseless, and his neck twisted awry. One of the pas- 
 sengers, who had heard that any dislocation might he 
 remedied, if promptly attended to, seized on the corpse 
 with a determination to untwist the man's neck, and set 
 his head straight on his shoulders. Accordingly, with an 
 iron grasp he clutched him by the head, and began pull- 
 ing and twisting by main force. He appeared to have 
 succeeded miraculously in restoring life, for the dead man 
 no sooner experienced the first, wrench, than he roared 
 vociferously, ' Let me alone ! let me alone. I am not 
 hurt ; I was born so.' ' Gentlemen,' added Stuart, ' I 
 was born so ' and taking an enormous pinch of snuff 
 * I was born in a snuff-mill.' " 
 
 This was true, in part. His father was a Scotch- 
 man, who came over to Nantucket, at the invitation of 
 Dr. Thomas Moffat, to build a snuff-mill. This Doctor 
 was a learned man, but not succeeding in his profession 
 as he wished, he resolved to establish a manufactory of 
 snuff ' to supply the place of the great quantity that was 
 every year imported from Glasgow. The mill-wright 
 ' married a beautiful woman, daughter of a substantial 
 yeoman, the cultivator of his own soil, by name Antho- 
 ny. Of this happy .couple was born Gilbert Charles 
 Stuart,' in the year 1754. 
 
 Dr. Waterhouse was a school companion of Stuart. 
 He says 'he was a very capable, self-willed boy, who, 
 perhaps on that account, was indulged in every thing, 
 being an only son, handsome and forward, and habitua- 
 ted at home to have his own way in every thing, with 
 little or no control from the easy good-natured father. 
 He was about thirteen years old when he began to copy 
 pictures, and at length attempted likenesses in black 
 lead, in which he succeeded.'
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 Another Scotchman, it appears, happened along 
 Newport,' who called himself an Artist, and ' painted 
 up ' most of the ' upper ten thousand ' of Rhode Island. 
 He was pleased with young Stuart, and enticed him 
 off with him to Scotland, where the Scot died, leav- 
 ing the painter in the hands of somebody who treated 
 him pretty roughly. He was put aboard a 'collier 
 bound to Nova-Scotia,' and worked his passage home. 
 He was now about twenty years old, and he had some 
 experience to begin the world with. Such * hard fare ' 
 in early life never hurts men like Stuart. There was a 
 moral in the custom of the Scandinavians, who greeted 
 the new-born child with a cold bath on his first entrance 
 into the world. If he could stand that experiment, they 
 thought his chance was pretty good for the hard knocks 
 of life and it probably was. 
 
 He got on a new suit of clothes, washed oflf the * coal 
 dust,' and went to painting. Dr. Waterhouse says * he 
 was fully aware of the great importance of the art of 
 drawing with anatomical exactness, and took vast pains 
 to attain it.' The two who studied together, prevailed 
 on a * strong-muscled blacksmith ' to sit for them in their 
 studio, as a model, and they gave the Cyclop half a 
 dollar an evening. 
 
 One of his first portraits, after his return in the 'col- 
 lier,' was of his mother, who had died some ten years 
 before, when he was in his eleventh year. It was painted 
 from recollection, and yet so striking was the likeness, 
 his uncle from Philadelphia recognized it the moment 
 he entered the room. This extraordinary circumstance 
 brings into view some of Stuart's characteristics : power 
 of observation, keenness of perception, rapidity of exe-
 
 120 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 cution, and generous social feelings, all of which distin- 
 guished him through life, were now in their vigor. 
 
 Mr. Anthony, his uncle, 'was proud,' says Water- 
 house, ' of patronizing his ingenious nephew, after a cir- 
 cumstance which greatly surprised and affected him, 
 and he employed the young painter to make portraits of 
 himself, his wife and two children. Another gentleman 
 followed his example, and several others sat for their 
 single portraits, so that our aspiring Artist had as much 
 business as he could turn his hands to, and the buoyancy 
 of his spirits kept pace with his good fortune. He never 
 had, however, that evenness of spirits which marked and 
 dignified the characters of our countrymen, Benjamin 
 West, and John Singleton Copley. With Stuart, it was 
 either high-tide or low-tide. In London he w T ould some- 
 times lay a-bed for weeks waiting for the tide to lead 
 him on to fortune, while Copley and West had the 
 industry of ants before they attained the treasure of 
 bees.' 
 
 The Redwood Library of Newport, sent their com- 
 mittee to Stuart to commission ' a full-length portrait of 
 its generous founder, Abraham Redwood ; then living 
 next door to the painter, for which the Artist would have 
 had a generous reward.' But Stuart would not paint 
 Abraham Redwood, for reasons best known to himself! 
 
 Stuart's love for painting was the love of an enthusi- 
 ast, but his early friend says that " music divided his af- 
 fection so equally with his sister, that it was difficult to 
 say which was the ruling passion. He became enam- 
 oured with music, in which he made remarkable progress 
 without any other master than his own superior genius. 
 He once attempted to enrapture me by a newly studied
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 classical composition of his own ; I exerted all the kind 
 attention I could muster up for the occasion, until his 
 sharp eye detected by my physiognomy that I did not 
 much relish it. He colored, sprang up in a rage, and 
 striding back and forth the floor, vociferated : You have 
 no more taste for music than a jackass ! and it is all ' 
 owing to your stupid Quaker education.' 
 
 Stuart's fondness for music made him a proficient on 
 a variety of instruments, and he also composed pieces 
 himself. He seems to have been gifted with the loftiest 
 and best impulses of genius whole days he passed in 
 reading to his sister, in walking with her in the fields ; 
 whole nights in playing the flute under her window 
 he never came home from his rambles in the country 
 without bringing her wild flowers. He had a kind of 
 wild, wayward life, made up of gleams of light and 
 thick clouds, of shadows and sunshine ; and yet he 
 loved music, and it soothed him when he was sad and 
 when he was half forsaken he used to think and talk of 
 that sister ; and when all was bright around him, for he 
 was sometimes as happy as we ever can be in a 
 ' naughty world,' he took up his pencil and dashed away 
 * like Jehu ;' and when such men as Reynolds looked at 
 his pictures painted in this mood, they said the lines 
 were ' gleams of sunshine, all light, in the midst of deep 
 shadows.' 
 
 Stuart exhausted all there, was of the Newport 
 patronage he cared for, in a short time, and then made 
 up his mind he would go to London and see if he could 
 not be a painter, as West had become, with some hope, 
 vague enough, perhaps, about the future, with dreams 
 of Whittington cats and other things ; for Stuart always
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 said he should be rich some day, in spite of spunging 
 houses. 
 
 Dr. Waterhouse says that ' Stuart was shut up in 
 Boston when the first blood was spilt at Lexington, 
 April 19th, 1775, and escaped from it about ten days 
 before the battle of Bunker Hill.' He seems to have 
 made his escape from Boston to Norfolk first, where it 
 is likely he remained some weeks, for, ' leaving Boston 
 the seventh or eighth of June, he certainly did not need 
 all the time till the last of November in sailing to Lon- 
 don. He seems to have taken with him a full stock of 
 poverty, enthusiasm, and hope a painter's capital ! 
 Poor fellow ! He expected to find Waterhouse in 
 London, who would have helped him, but he was gone 
 off* to Edinburgh, and so he found himself one day, 
 when his money was all gone, wandering around the 
 ' dreary solitude ' of London, as Johnson delighted to 
 characterize the dreadful hum of that crowded city. He 
 went by a church door in Foster Lane, where he heard 
 an organ playing. He stepped upon the threshold, and 
 the ' pew-woman ' told him, in answer to a question 
 what was going on, that the vestry were together testing 
 the candidates for the post of organist. He went in 
 boldly asked if he might try. He was told he could 
 he did. He succeeded ; got the place, and a salary 
 of one hundred and fifty dollars a year ! So much for 
 his musical genius he had cultivated in America when 
 wise people were telling him he had better leave off 
 serenading girls at night, (for he -used to do such things 
 the lady of a British officer in Newport told Trumbull, 
 that he spent his last night he passed in Newport under 
 the window of a friend of hers, playing the flute,) and
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. ]<23 
 
 go to work. It gave him bread now in the swarming 
 wilderness of London, where he needed nothing else. 
 
 Dr. Waterhouse, a true man, came down to London, 
 and found lodgings for Stuart near the house of some 
 Quaker relations, and the Doctor ' managed to keep him 
 even with his landlord and washerwoman, which was 
 doing better than he had done.' Stuart was not very 
 thoughtful or provident. His friends had to hunt for him 
 occasionally in the spunging house ! All this time, for 
 some unknown reason, he never once sought the ac- 
 quaintance of West, but the moment a friend called on the 
 latter (1778), and told him of Stuart's circumstances, 
 he sent a messenger to him with three or four guineas, 
 and an invitation for him to call at his house. ' Such 
 was Stuart's first introduction to the man from whose in- 
 struction he derived the most important advantages from 
 that time forward ; whose character he always justly ap- 
 preciated, but whose example he could not or would not 
 follow.' 
 
 Stuart was twenty-four years old when he entered 
 the studio of West. He had painted, before this, his 
 own portrait, (the only one he ever made of himself,) in 
 very superior style. * It is painted,' says Waterhouse, 
 'in his freest manner, with a Rubens hat, and Stuart, 
 in his best days, was not ashamed of it.' Stuart says, 
 4 on application to West to receive me as a pupil, I was 
 welcomed with true benevolence, encouraged and taken 
 into the family, and nothing could exceed the attentions 
 of the Artist to me they were paternal.' 
 
 Stuart was an inimitable story-teller. " Mr. West," 
 says he, " treated me very cavalierly on one occasion, 
 but I had my revenge. My old master, who was always 
 called on to paint a portrait of his Majesty for every
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 Governor General sent out to India, received an order 
 
 for one of Lord . He was busily employed upon 
 
 one of his ten-acre pictures, in company with prophets 
 and apostles, and thought he would turn over the King 
 to me. He never could paint a portrait. ' Stuart,' said 
 he, < it is a pity to make his Majesty sit again for his pic- 
 ture ; there is the portrait of him that you painted ; let 
 
 me have it for Lord . I will re-touch it, and it 
 
 will do well enough.' * Well enough ! very pretty,' 
 thought I ; ' you might be civil, when you ask a favor.' 
 So I thought, but I said, ' Very well, Sir.' So the pic- 
 ture was carried down to his room, and at it he went. 
 
 I saw he was puzzled. He worked at it all that day. 
 The next morning, < Stuart,' says he, * have you got your 
 pallet set ?' ' Yes, Sir.' Well, you can soon set another ; 
 let me have it ; I can't satisfy myself with that head.' I 
 gave him my pallet, and he worked the greater part of 
 that day. In the afternoon I went into his room, and 
 he was hard at it. I saw that he had got up to the knees 
 in mud. Stuart,' says he, ' I don't know how it is, but 
 you have a way of managing your tints unlike every 
 body else here, take the pallet and finish the head.' 
 
 I 1 can't, Sir.' You can't ?' I can't, indeed, Sir, as it 
 is ; but let it stand till to-morrow morning and get dry, 
 and I will go over it with all my heart.' The picture 
 was to go away the day after the morrow, so he made 
 me promise to do it early next morning. He never came 
 down into the painting room until about ten o'clock. 
 I went into his room bright and early, and by half-past 
 nine I had finished the head. That done, Rafe (Ra- 
 phael West, the master's son), and I began to fence ; I 
 with my maul-stick, and he with his father's. I had just 
 driven Rafe up to the wall, with his back to one of his
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. ]<25 
 
 father's best pictures, when the old gentleman, as neat 
 as a lad of wax, with his hair powdered, his white silk 
 stockings and yellow morocco slippers, popped into the 
 room, looking as if he had stepped out of a band-box. 
 We had made so much noise that we did not hear him 
 come down the gallery, or open the door. ' There, you 
 dog,' says I to Rafe, * there I have you, and nothing but 
 your back-ground relieves you.' The old gentleman 
 could not help smiling at my technical joke, but soon 
 looking very stern, ' Mr. Stuart,' says he, for he always 
 mistered me when he was angry, as a man's wife calls 
 him my dear, when she wishes him at the dev 7 il ' Mr. 
 Stuart, is this the way you use me ? ' * Why ! what's the 
 matter, Sir ? I have neither hurt the boy, nor the back- 
 ground.' ' Sir, when you knew I had promised that the 
 picture of his Majesty should be finished to-day, ready 
 to be sent away to-morrow, thus to be neglecting me 
 and your promise ! How can you answer it to me or to 
 yourself?' Sir,' said I, ' do not condemn me without 
 examining the easel. I have finished the picture ; please 
 to look at it.' He did so ; complimented me highly, and 
 I had ample revenge for his ' It will do well enough.' ' 
 
 There are a hundred fine stories told of this eccentric, 
 witty, improvident, but noble Stuart. He was full of 
 genius, but he would not brook the requisite toil, or he 
 would have made himself one of the first painters of any 
 age. One day the blunt Dr. Johnson came into West's 
 Studio and addressed something to Stuart ' Why ! you 
 speak very good English, Sir,' said the Lexicographer 
 ' where did you learn it ?' * Sir,' replied Stuart, I can 
 better tell you where I did not learn it it was not from 
 your dictionary.' Dr. Johnson had too much sense to 
 be offended.
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 Just before Stuart left West's Studio, he painted a 
 full length of his master, which was exhibited at Somer- 
 
 o ' ~ ** 
 
 set House, where it attracted great attention and elicit- 
 ed high praise. 
 
 West soon saw that Stuart could paint a better por- 
 trait than he, and he recommended him to take rooms 
 and set up for himself. He did so, and visitors flocked 
 to his studio. " He had his full share of the best business 
 in London, and prices equal to any, except Sir Joshua 
 Reynolds and Gainsborough." Stuart related an anec- 
 dote of himself to Mr. Frazer, worth preserving. " Lord 
 St. Vincent, the Duke of Northumberland, and Colonel 
 Barre, came unexpectedly one morning into my room, 
 locked the door, and then explained the intention oi 
 their visit ; this was shortly after my setting up an in- 
 dependent easel. They understood that I was under 
 pecuniary embarrassments, and offered me assistance 
 which I declined. They then said they would sit for 
 their portraits, of course I was ready to serve them. 
 They then advised that I should make it a rule that half- 
 price must be paid at the first sitting. They insisted on 
 setting the example, and I followed the practice ever 
 after this delicate mode of their showing their friendship. 
 
 All who have written about Stuart, speak of his won- 
 derful powers of conversation. * In this respect,' says 
 Waterhouse, ' he was inferior to no man amongst us. He 
 made it a point to keep those talking who were sitting 
 to him for their portraits, each in their own way, free 
 and easy. This called up all his resources of judgment. 
 To military men he spoke of battles by sea and land ; 
 with the statesman on Hume's and Gibbon's History ; 
 with the lawyer on jurisprudence or remarkable criminal 
 trials ; with the merchant in his way ; with the man of
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 leisure, in his way, and with the ladies in all ways. 
 When putting the rich farmer on the canvas, he would 
 go along with him from seed-time to harvest-time he 
 would descant on the nice points of the horse, ox, cow, 
 sheep, or pig, and surprise him with his just remarks in 
 the process of making cheese and butter, or astonish 
 him with his profound knowledge of manures or the 
 food of plants. As to national and individual character, 
 few men could say more to the purpose, as far as history 
 and acute personal observation would carry him. He 
 had wit at will always ample, sometimes redundant.' 
 
 Stuart read men's characters as easily as he read 
 newspapers. Lord Mulgrave employed him to paint his 
 brother, General Phipps, who was going out to India. 
 When the picture was done, and the General had sailed, 
 the Earl came for the piece. ' This picture looks strange, 
 Sir,' said the disturbed nobleman ! How is it? I see, 
 I think I see insanity in that face.' ' It may be so,' re- 
 plied Stuart, ' but I painted your brother as I saw him.' 
 The first account Lord Mulgrave had from his brother, 
 was that his insanity, unknown and unapprehended by 
 any of his friends, had driven him into suicide ! 
 
 Stuart was now a fashionable and leading artist in 
 London. His pictures occupied the best lights and the 
 most conspicuous places at the exhibitions of the Royal 
 Academy. He was every where received with attention, 
 and he might easily have won a fame which few portrait 
 painters have had in any times. But ' he lived in splen- 
 dor, and was the gayest of the gay ;' and his indulgen- 
 ces and improvidence wearied out his friends and good 
 fortune itself. With Stuart it was alwavs a feast or a 
 
 */ 
 
 famine. Ordinary luck was no luck to him, and he 
 was poor on money that would have made other men
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 rich. With a hundred guineas in his pocket, he was 
 a lord while it lasted, and when it was gone he was a 
 devil. One day he was dining with Earls, Dukes, and 
 Princes, the star of a brilliant saloon, in twenty-four 
 hours he was cracking jokes to his companions in a 
 debtor's prison ! 
 
 The Duke of Rutland invited him to his house in 
 Dublin. Stuart ' got money enough together somehow/ 
 to pay his passage to Ireland ; but when he got there he 
 found the Duke had died the day before. If any body 
 else had gone there, the Duke would have been just as 
 sure to live, for something extraordinary must happen 
 to Stuart, of course. He soon got into the debtor's 
 prison again ; but he was a star still. He would not 
 let people give him money. Rich people and nobles 
 would be painted by him, and they had to ' go to jail ' 
 to find the painter. There he held his court ; flashing 
 equipages of Lords and Ladies came dashing up to 
 prison, while their exquisite proprietors waited for their 
 first sitting. * He began,' says Dunlap, ' the pictures 
 of a great many nobles and men of wealth and fashion, 
 received half-price at the first sitting, accumulated 
 enough to enfranchise himself, and left their Irish lord- 
 ships and gentry imprisoned in effigy. Having thus 
 liberated himself, and there being no law that would 
 justify the jailer in holding half-finished peers in prison, 
 the painter fulfilled his engagement more at his ease in 
 his own house and in the bosom of his own family : and 
 it is probable that the Irish gentlemen laughed heartily 
 at the trick, and willingly paid the remainder of the 
 price.' 
 
 Stuart married a daughter of Dr. Coates, in 1786. 
 Miss Stuart says ' he arrived in Dublin in 1788, and,
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. J29 
 
 notwithstanding the loss of his friendly inviter, he met 
 with great success; painted most of the nobility, and 
 lived in a good deal of splendor. The love for his own 
 country and his admiration of General Washington, and 
 the very great desire he had to paint his portrait, was 
 his only inducement to turn his back on his good fortune 
 in Europe.' 
 
 In 1794 he returned to America, and for some 
 months kept a studio in ' Stone street, near William, in 
 New- York, where all who admired the Art, or wished 
 to avail themselves of the Artist's talents, daily resorted. 
 It appeared to me,' says Dunlap, 'as if I had never 
 seen portraits before, so decidedly was form and mind 
 conveyed to canvas ; and yet Stuart's portraits were 
 incomparably better ten, twenty, and thirty years after.' 
 Some of his best portraits at this period, (for he 
 painted poor ones enough when he painted only for 
 money,) were of Sir John Temple, John Jay, General 
 Matthew Clarkson, John R. Murray, and Colonel Giles. 
 
 With a letter to Washington from John Jay, he went 
 on to Philadelphia, where he was courteously and fa- 
 miliarly received by the man whom Botta used to call 
 ' the Father of Freedom.' Stuart had been familiar with 
 the highest society of England, but he was embarrassed 
 when he entered the room where WASHINGTON was, 
 and he said it was the first time he had ever felt awe 
 in the presence of a fellow man. 
 
 Stuart was now gratified in the accomplishment and 
 the hope of years. Washington was standing on the 
 highest eminence of glory any man had yet stood on 
 the gaze of the world was fixed steadily upon Him. To 
 leave for posterity a faithful portrait of Him, and thus 
 link his name forever with that Great Man's, had now 
 
 9
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 become the most earnest wish of Stuart's life. Wash- 
 ington sat for His portrait Stuart was not pleased 
 with his first attempt. It may easily be imagined 
 with what feelings the painter was stirred when he 
 gazed with the full clear earnest eye of the Artist upon 
 that face which Guizot has declared more than half di- 
 vine. It is a matter of little surprise that he failed on 
 the first trial. He destroyed the picture. Washington 
 sat again, and then he painted as good a portrait as ever 
 was or can be painted. There have been more beauti- 
 ful pictures brighter lights and darker shades have been 
 thrown in more gorgeous coloring and * tricks of art ' 
 have been thrown around them but so completely did 
 the Artist transfuse the features, the form, and the very 
 soul of Washington to the canvas, in all the simplicity 
 of nature, that I am not afraid to say, it is the best por- 
 trait ever painted in this country, and that it has never 
 been surpassed by any Artist whose works have come 
 down to our times. 'He offered it,' says Dunlap, 'to 
 the State of Massachusetts for one thousand dollars, 
 which they refused to give !!!!!!!!! Those entrusted 
 with our National Government passed by the opportu- 
 nity of doing honor to themselves during the life of a 
 man they could not honor, and the only portrait of 
 Washington was neglected in the painter's work-shop, 
 until the Boston Athenaeum purchased it of his widow. 
 It is now, together with its companion, the portrait 
 of Mrs. Washington, adorning one of the rooms of that 
 Institution.' 
 
 When this statement is read by men of coming 
 times, they cannot, they will not believe it. Then let 
 it be forever recorded to the honor of Gilbert Charles 
 Stuart, that to the patriotism or the ambition, (and I care
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 131 
 
 not which,) of one man, a poor painter, the people of 
 this country owe the portrait of their Hero and Father. 
 Tell me that the fame of every living statesman will 
 grow dim, and that the time will come when men will 
 tear down Bunker Hill Monument, as men tore down 
 the Monument on Beacon Hill, ' to make way for a 
 State House,' and I can believe it. But no man can 
 believe that a generation will ever live in this country 
 who will not feel gratitude to Stuart, and preserve his 
 name. 
 
 The head of this great portrait was the only portion 
 finished but this rather increased its value. All Stu- 
 art's Washingtons were copied from it. We have been 
 equally fortunate, too, in the engraver, for Durand's 
 print is worthy both of the Hero and the Painter. 
 
 Here I must end Stuart's life, although there are 
 lying before me materials rich enough for an entire 
 volume. After this the Artist lived thirty-four years, 
 and his powers of mind and the magic of his pencil 
 were undimmed to the very last. The last head he ever 
 painted was that of John Quincy Adams. He began it 
 as a full-length ; but he was now an old man in his 
 seventy-fifth year and death laid his hand on the great 
 painter before his work was done. The head he finished. 
 He died in July, 1828, and was buried in the cemetery 
 of the Episcopal Church, which he attended during his 
 long residence in Boston. 
 
 He painted a great number of portraits, and they 
 are scattered over the country. They have stirred the 
 first ambition of many an early painter, and they have 
 been visited by our best Artists from a distance, as men 
 go to see the works of Italian Masters. 
 
 When an English Ambassador was leaving England
 
 132 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 
 
 for America, he called on West, and asked him to recom- 
 mend a portrait painter. * Where are you going ?' < To 
 the United States.' ' There, Sir,' said West, ' you will find 
 the best portrait painter in the world, and his name is 
 Gilbert Stuart.' 
 
 When Sully was in Boston, he requested Allston to 
 accompany him to see a portrait of Mr. Gibbs, by Stu- 
 art. * Well,' says Allston, ' what is your opinion ? ' The 
 reply was, < I may commit myself and expose my igno- 
 rance : but in my opinion, I never saw a Rembrandt, 
 Rubens, Vandyke or Titian equal to it. What say you ?' 
 ' 1 say,' replied Allston, that all combined could not 
 have equalled it.' 
 
 Allston wrote Stuart's obituary notice in the Boston 
 Daily Advertiser. We have space for only a few lines 
 of this classic and touching eulogium. Speaking of Stu- 
 art's portrait of Washington, he says : * And well is his 
 ambition justified in the sublime head he has left us; a 
 nobler personification of wisdom and goodness, reposing 
 in the majesty of a serene conscience, is not to be found 
 on canvas. * * During the last ten years of his life he 
 had to struggle with many infirmities, yet such was the 
 vigor of his mind, that it seemed to triumph over the 
 decays of nature, and to give to some of his last produc- 
 tions all the truth and splendor of his prime. * * He 
 animated his canvas, not with the appearances of mere 
 general life, but with that peculiar distinctive life which 
 separates the humblest individual from his kind. He 
 seemed to dive into the thoughts of men, for they were 
 made to rise and to speak on the surface. * * In a word, 
 Gilbert Stuart was, in its widest sense, a philosopher in 
 his art ; he thoroughly understood its principles, as his 
 works bear witness, whether as to the harmony of col-
 
 GILBERT CHARLES STUART. 133 
 
 ors, or of lines, or of light and shadow, showing that ex- 
 quisite sense of a whole, which only a man of genius can 
 realize and embody. * * * In the world of Art Mr. 
 Stuart has left a void that will not soon be filled. And 
 well may his country say a great man has passed from 
 amongst us. But Gilbert Stuart has bequeathed her 
 what is paramount to power since no power can com- 
 mand it the rich inheritance of his fame.' A higher 
 eulogy never has been pronounced over the grave of an 
 American painter.
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 [LETTER FROM GEN. WASHINGTON TO THE MARQUIS DE LAFAYETTE.] 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, Nov. 21st, 1791. 
 
 MY DEAR SIR Mr. John Trumbull, with whom you are acquainted, is 
 engaged in painting a series of pictures of the most important events of the 
 Revolution in this country, from which he proposes to have plati s engraved. 
 
 I have taken peculiar satisfaction in giving every proper aid in my power, 
 to a subscription here supporting this work, which likewise has been patron- 
 ized by the principal people in this country. 
 
 In the hope of meeting the patronage of the French nation, to whose honor 
 as well as that of America, this plan is directed, Mr. Trumbull informs me 
 that he has ordered a subscription to be opened in Paris ; and the object of this 
 letter is, to engage you to support the subscription in that city, and in other 
 parts of the nation, where it may be offered. 
 
 I should not, however, do justice to Mr. Trumbull's talents and merits, 
 were I not to mention his views and wishes on this occasion. His pieces, so far 
 as they are executed, meet the applause of all who have seen them ; the great- 
 ness of the design, and the masterly execution of the work, equally interest the 
 man of capacious mind, as the approving eye of the connoisseur. He has 
 spared no pains in obtaining from the life, the likenesses of those characters, 
 French as well as American, who bore a conspicuous part in our Revolution ; 
 and the success with which his efforts have been crowned, will form no small 
 part of the value of his pieces. 
 
 To you, my dear sir, who know Mr. Trumbull as a man and as an artist, 
 it would perhaps have been hardly necessary to say so much as I have done 
 on this occasion ; but I could not in justice say less of him, when I believe 
 that in his profession he will do much honor to the liberal art of painting, as 
 well as to this his native country. * 
 
 GEORGE WASHINGTON.
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 IN reading the other day the correspondence between 
 Schiller and Goethe I came to the following passage. 
 It is Goethe who writes under date of Stuttgart, 30th 
 August, 1797. 
 
 " I found Professor Mueller at the portrait of Graff, 
 which Graff painted himself. He is also busy with the 
 death of a general, and that an American a young man 
 who fell at Bunker Hill. The picture is by an American, 
 Trumbull, and has merits of the Artist, and faults of the 
 Amateur. The merits are very characteristic and ad- 
 mirably handled portrait faces the faults, disproportion 
 between the different bodies and between their parts. 
 It is composed relatively to the subject right well, and for 
 a picture in which there must be so many red uniforms, 
 very judiciously colored ; yet at first view it makes a glar- 
 ing impression, until one gets reconciled to it, on account 
 of its merits. The engraving makes a very good whole 
 and is in its parts excellently done." 
 
 Praise of this kind from the great German Poet, Critic, 
 Philosopher and Connoisseur, will pretty nearly upset 
 all Mr. Dunlap thought proper to say about Trumbull's 
 merit as a painter the Letter of Washington just given 
 is about as good testimony as we now stand in need of, for 
 Trumbull's patriotism and public services. Since too the 
 Painter has left a very voluminous autobiography, we 
 shall leave Mr. Dunlap's account of him entirely out of 
 the question, and thus be saved the trouble of showing
 
 138 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 directly how far he allowed his private passion to trans- 
 port him beyond the limits of honest truth.' 
 
 Trumbull was descended from Puritans on his father's 
 and mother's side. His father, Jonathan Trumbull, was 
 born in Lebanon in 1710, "and at a very early age 
 he was placed at Harvard College, where he became 
 a distinguished scholar, acquiring a sound knowledge of 
 the Hebrew, as well as of the Greek and Latin langua- 
 ges, and of all the other studies of that day. He was 
 graduated with honor in 1727. He died in 1785, having 
 been governor of the state of Connecticut, by annual 
 election, during the entire war of the Revolution ; and 
 was the only person who, being first magistrate of a col- 
 ony in America, before the separation from Great Britain, 
 retained the confidence of his countrymen through the 
 Revolution, and was annually reflected governor to the 
 end of that eventful period. 
 
 " My mother, Faith Robinson, daughter of John Rob- 
 inson, minister of Duxbury in Massachusetts, was under- 
 stood to be great granddaughter of John Robinson, the 
 father of the Pilgrims, who led our Puritan ancestors (his 
 parishioners) out of England in the reign of James V, and 
 resided with them some years at Leyden in Holland, until 
 in 1620 they emigrated to Plymouth in Massachusetts, and 
 there, among other acts of wisdom and piety, laid the foun- 
 dations of that system of education in town schools, which 
 has since been extended so widely over the northern and 
 western parts of the United States, forming the glory and 
 the defence, the decus atque tutamen of our country." 
 
 The Painter was born in Lebanon the 6th of June, 
 1756, the youngest child. He was attacked with con- 
 vulsive fits, caused by a compression of the brain, owing 
 to the suture bones being lapped over. He was saved
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 from idiocy or death, by the timely advice of Dr. Terry 
 of Suffield, and the unremitting attentions of an affection- 
 ate mother. His education was cared for most effectual- 
 ly. Opposite his father's house, across a beautiful green, 
 Nathan Tisdale, a graduate of Harvard, kept for thirty 
 years one of the best schools ever kept in this country, and 
 here Trumbull was thoroughly trained. He read Greek 
 (in a certain way) when he was only six years old. He 
 also plunged headlong down the stairs, which so nearly de- 
 stroyed the sight of his left eye that he could ' never after- 
 ward read a single word with the left eye alone.' 
 
 He gives the following account of the first develop- 
 ment of his taste for art. 
 
 "My taste for drawing began to dawn early. It is com- 
 mon to talk of natural genius ; but I am disposed to doubt 
 the existence of such a principle in the human mind; at 
 least, in my own case, I can clearly trace it to mere imita- 
 tion. My two sisters, Faith and Mary, had completed 
 their education at an excellent school in Boston, where 
 they both had been taught embroidery ; and the eldest, 
 Faith, had acquired some knowledge of drawing, and had 
 even painted in oil two heads and a landscape. These 
 wonders were hung in my mother's parlor, and were 
 among the first objects that caught my infant eye. I en- 
 deavored to imitate them, and for several years the nicely 
 sanded floors (for carpets were then unknown in Leba- 
 non) were constantly scrawled with my rude attempts 
 at drawing." 
 
 He speaks also of Music and in his old age wrote 
 the following passage about Jews-harps, which nobody 
 has any right to criticise but Connecticut Yankees, for it 
 is well known that this wonderful instrument never sound- 
 ed any where else as in Connecticut.
 
 140 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 " About the same time music first caught my attention. 
 I heard a Jews-harp, delicious sound ! which no time can 
 drive from my enchanted memory ! I have since been 
 present at a commemoration of Handel, in Westminster 
 Abbey, and have often listened with rapture to the celes- 
 tial warblings of Catalan) I have heard the finest music 
 of the age in London and in Paris but nothing can ob- 
 literate the magic charm of that Jews-harp, and even at 
 this late moment, its sweet vibrations seem to tingle on 
 my ear." 
 
 Trumbull painted and studied till his 16th year, when 
 he was entered at Harvard, (1772,) in the Junior class, 
 * the best educated boy of his age in New England ' 
 said the Greek Professor. 
 
 "My fondness for painting had. grown with my 
 growth, and in reading of the arts of antiquity I had be- 
 come familiar with the names of Phidias and Praxiteles, 
 of Zeuxis and Apelles. These names had come down 
 through a series of more than two thousand years, with 
 a celebrity and applause which accompanied few of 
 those who had been devoted to the more noisy and turbu- 
 lent scenes of politics or war. The tranquillity of the 
 art seemed better suited to me than the more bustling 
 scenes of life." 
 
 Trumbull tried to prevail on his father to let him 
 become a pupil of Copley but in vain. 
 
 His superiority of scholarship left him much leisure 
 time, which he wisely improved in learning French, from 
 Pere Robichaud, a knowledge of which 'in after life was 
 of eminent utility.' 
 
 " In the mean time I searched the library of the col- 
 lege for works relating to the arts, and among a few others 
 of less importance, I found the 'Jesuit's Prospective
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 141 
 
 made easy, by Brooke Taylor.' This I studied careful- 
 ly, and still possess a book into which I copied most of the 
 diagrams of the work. I found also, and read with at- 
 tention, * Hogarth's Analysis of Beauty.' The library 
 contained further a few fine engravings, and a set of Pi- 
 renezi's prints of Roman ruins ; in the philosophical cham- 
 ber were several of Mr. Copley's finest portraits, and a 
 view of an eruption of Mount Vesuvius, painted in Italy. 
 * * * * At the same time I copied the painting 
 of Vesuvius twice ; first with water colors on vellum, 
 small ; and afterwards in oil, the size of the original. 
 One of these I presented to Professor Winthrop." 
 
 In July 1773, he was ' graduated without applause,' 
 for, says he, " I was not a speaker, and returned to Leba- 
 non, where I resumed the pencil, and painted the death 
 of Paulus Emilius at the battle of Cannae, a passage of 
 Roman history which I had always admired. 
 
 c AnimaequjE raagnre, 
 Prodigum Paalutn, superante Poeno,' Horace. 
 
 This was effected by selecting from various engravings 
 such figures as suited my purpose, combining them into 
 groups, and coloring them from my own imagination. 
 One thing I attempted which I should now hardly ven- 
 ture upon the clouds of dust by which the distant ob- 
 jects are obscured. This picture is in the gallery at 
 New-Haven." 
 
 The winter after he left college, he conducted the 
 school of Master Tisdale, who ' had a stroke of paralysis.' 
 
 " In the summer and autumn of 1774, the angry dis- 
 cussions between Great Britain and her colonies began 
 to assume a very serious tone. As the low growling of 
 distant thunder announces the approach of the natural
 
 142 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 tempest, so did these discussions give evident notice that 
 a moral storm was at hand, and men began to fear that 
 the decision of these angry questions must ere long be 
 referred to the ultima ratio. 
 
 " 1 caught the growing enthusiasm ; the characters of 
 Brutus, of Paulus Emilius, of the Scipios, were fresh in 
 my remembrance, and their devoted patriotism always 
 before my eye ; besides, my father was now governor of 
 the colony, and a patriot, of course surrounded by 
 patriots, to whose ardent conversations 1 listened daily 
 it would have been strange if all this had failed to pro- 
 duce its natural effect. I sought for military informa- 
 tion ; acquired what knowledge I could, soon formed a 
 small company from among the young men of the school 
 and the village, taught them, or more properly we taught 
 each other, to use the musket and to march, and mili- 
 tary exercises and studies became the favorite occupation 
 of the day." 
 
 On the 19th of April, 1775, the blood of our fathers 
 began to flow on the plains of Lexington. Before the 
 first of May a regiment of troops 'started into view as 
 by magic,' and were on their march for Bunker's Hill. 
 Young Trumbull was adjutant of the regiment. He 
 was the best draughtsman in the army, and his draw- 
 ings of battle-fields, forts, and fortifications, brought him 
 
 O ' ' ' o 
 
 to the notice of the Commander-in-Chief, who appoint- 
 ed the young painter his second aid-de-camp. He was 
 afterwards detached from Washington's staff and made 
 a major of brigade at Roxbury. When General Gates 
 took command of the ' Northern Department,' he offered 
 Trumbull the appointment of adjutant, and he attended 
 him on his northern expedition, where he distinguished 
 himself in the service of the Colonies.
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 143 
 
 On the 22nd of Feb. 1777, terminated TrumbulPs 
 { regular military career.' The cause of his resignation he 
 explained in a letter to the President of Congress. His 
 commission as Deputy Adjutant General, was dated the 
 12th of September, 1776 he had served in that office 
 since the 28th of June, by the appointment of Major 
 General Gates, who was authorized to make the appoint- 
 ment by particular instructions from Congress. Trumbull 
 was right in principle, but the manner of his resignation 
 offended the Congress. He would not yield a point of 
 honor, and his course has been justified by some of the 
 most distinguished officers of the Revolution. 
 
 " Thus ended my regular military service, to my deep 
 regret, for my mind was at this time full of lofty military 
 aspirations. 
 
 " I returned to Lebanon, resumed my pencil, and 
 after some time went to Boston, where I thought I could 
 pursue my studies to more advantage. There I hired 
 the room which had been built by Mr. Smybert, the pa- 
 triarch of painting in America, and found in it several 
 copies by him from celebrated pictures in Europe, which 
 were very useful to me, especially a copy from Van- 
 dyck's celebrated head of Cardinal Bentivoglio, one 
 from the Continence of Scipio, by Nicolo Poussin, and 
 one which I afterwards learned to be from the Madonna 
 della Sedia, by Raphael. Mr. Copley was gone to Eu- 
 rope, and there remained in Boston no artist from whom 
 I could gain oral instruction ; but these copies supplied 
 the place, and 1 made some progress. 
 
 " The war was a period little favorable to regular study 
 and deliberate pursuits ; mine were often desultory. A 
 deep and settled regret of the military career from which 
 I had been driven, and to which there appeared to be no
 
 144 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 possibility of an honorable return, preyed upon my spirits; 
 and the sound of a drum frequently called an involuntary 
 tear to my eye. 
 
 " In the year 1778, a plan was formed for the recov- 
 ery of Rhode Island from the hands of the British, by 
 the cooperation of a French fleet of twelve sail of the 
 line, commanded by the Count D'Estaing, and a body 
 of American troops, commanded by General Sullivan. 
 The fleet arrived off New- York early in' July, and in Au- 
 gust sailed for Rhode Island. I seized this occasion to 
 gratify my slumbering love of military life, and offered 
 my services to General Sullivan, as a volunteer aid-de- 
 camp. My offer was accepted, and I attended him 
 during the enterprise. 
 
 "I soon recovered, and resumed the pencil, pursuing 
 the study of painting with great assiduity during the fol- 
 lowing year. My friends, however, were not satisfied 
 with my pursuit, and at length succeeded in persuading 
 me to undertake the management of a considerable 
 speculation, which required a voyage to Europe, and 
 promised (upon paper) great results. They were to fur- 
 nish the funds, I to execute the plan, and share with them 
 expected profits. Accordingly, in the autumn of 1779, I 
 gave up my studies in Boston, and returned to my fath- 
 er's house in Lebanon, to prepare for the voyage." 
 
 In the mean time Trumbull had received through Mr. 
 Temple, information that "he had seen Lord George 
 Germaine, the British secretary of state had represent- 
 ed to him my wish to study painting under Mr. West ; 
 had explained my connexions, my past military pursuits, 
 &c.. concealing nothing and had received for answer, 
 * that if I chose to visit London for the purpose of stu- 
 dying the fine arts, no notice would be taken by the
 
 JOHN TRU5IBULL. 
 
 145 
 
 government of my past life ; but that I must remem- 
 ber that the eye of precaution would be constantly 
 upon me, and I must therefore avoid the smallest in- 
 discretion, but that s< long as I avoided all political 
 intervention, and pursued the study of the arts with 
 assiduity, I might rely upon being unmolested. 
 
 " Thus, in the event of failure of my mercantile pro- 
 ject, the road was open for pursuing my study of the 
 arts, with increased advantages." 
 
 He gives a list of sixty-eight pictures, executed be- 
 fore his visit abroad, when he had received no instruction 
 except from the books and works of art he had seen. 
 They exhibit a wide range of fancy, and some of them 
 indicate extraordinary genius for art. 
 
 In May, 1780, he sailed from New London for 
 France, in La Negresse, a French ship of 28 guns dri- 
 ven on our coast in distress, from Hispaniola. In five 
 weeks he landed in Nantes, and journied on to Paris, 
 where he saw Dr. Franklin, John Adams, and the boy 
 J. Q. Adams, who was then busily engaged at school, 
 in stuffing his brain fuller of information than any man's 
 ever was before or since. Me soon saw his speculation 
 was likely to fail, and he left for London, with a letter 
 of introduction from Franklin to West, who was then in 
 his glory. The Painter to George III. received Trnrn- 
 bull kindly, and at once offered him his services. His 
 first attempt was a copy of the Madonna della Sedula. 
 When West saw it, he said : " Mr. Ti umbnll, I have now 
 no hesitation to say that nature intended you for a 
 painter. You possess the essential qualities ; nothing 
 more is necessary but careful'and assiduous cultivation." 
 "With this stimulant, I devoted myself assiduously to the 
 
 10
 
 J46 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 study of the art, allowing little time to make myself ac- 
 quainted with the curiosities and amusements of the city." 
 
 A movement was set on foot against Trumbull by some 
 American Loyalist, and he was arrested for ' high treason, 7 
 and taken off at eleven o'clock at night to a lock-up 
 house in Drury Lane. Examined the next morning by 
 three police magistrates, who seemed to desire to know 
 something about the traitor, he thus addressed them : 
 " You appear to have been much more habituated to the 
 society of highwaymen and pickpockets, than to that of 
 gentlemen. I will put an end to all this insolent folly, 
 by telling you frankly who and what I am. I am an 
 American my name is Trumbull ; I am a son of him 
 whom you call the rebel governor of Connecticut; I have 
 served in the rebel American army ; I have had the honor 
 of being an aid-de-camp to him whom you call the rebel 
 General Washington. These two have always in their 
 power a greater number of your friends, prisoners, than 
 you have of theirs. Lord George Germaine knows un- 
 der what circumstances I came to London, and what has 
 been my conduct here. I am entirely in your power ; 
 and, after the hint which I have given you, treat me as 
 you please, always remembering, that as I may be treated, 
 so will your friends in America be treated by mine." 
 
 The painter's commitment was made out for a loath- 
 some prison the only one the Gordon riots had left stand- 
 ing in London and the first night the son of the governor 
 of Connecticut slept with a highwayman. Lord George 
 Germaine was appealed to, and although he could not ' in- 
 terrupt the course of justice,' he offered the young rebel 
 a lodging in the Tower where Raleigh and some other 
 very distinguished men had lodged centuries before,-
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 any prison in England Trumbull had no money to waste 
 and he declined the Tower, and chose Tithill-fields Bride- 
 well, behind Buckingham House. Here the painter had a 
 parlor on the ground floor, a garden to walk in, and other 
 etceteras which made him 'quite comfortable.' 
 
 Death was the only probable or apparently possible 
 termination to this affair. The moment West heard 
 what had befallen his pupil, he ' hurried to Buckingham 
 House, asked an audience of the king, and was admit- 
 ted.' ' I am sorry for the young man,' said the king, 
 * but he is in the hands of the law, and must abide the 
 result ; I cannot interpose. Do you know whether his 
 parents are living ? ' 'I think I have heard him say that 
 he has very lately received news of the death of his 
 mother ; I believe his father is living.' 
 
 * I pity him, from my soul ! ' He mused a few mo- 
 ments, and then added : 'But, West, go to Mr. Trumbull 
 immediately, and pledge to him my royal promise, that, 
 in the worst possible event of the law, his life shall be 
 safe.' With this kind answer, West hurried away to 
 the prison. " I had now," says Trumbull, " nothing more 
 to apprehend than a tedious confinement, and that might 
 be softened by books and my pencil. I therefore begged 
 Mr. West to permit me to have his beautiful little Correg- 
 gio and my tools ; 1 proceeded with the copy, which was 
 finished in prison during the winter of 1780-81, and is 
 now deposited in the Gallery at New Haven. In the 
 course of the winter, I received kind visits from many 
 distinguished men, among whom were John Lee, lately 
 attorney general, Charles J. Fox, and others. Mr. Fox 
 was very kind ; he recommended a direct application to 
 ministers, on the ground of impolicy, and added, ' I 
 would undertake it myself, if I thought I could have any
 
 148 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 influence with them ; but such is the hostility between 
 us, that we are not even on speaking terms. Mr. Burke 
 has not lost all influence has not thrown away the 
 scabbard, as I have ; I will converse with him, and desire 
 him to visit you.' A few days after, Mr. Burke came 
 to see me, and readily and kindly undertook the negoti- 
 ation, which, after some unavoidable delay, ended in the 
 order of the king in council to admit me to bail, with the 
 condition that I should leave the kingdom in thirty days, 
 and not return until after peace should be restored. Mr. 
 West and Mr. Copley became my sureties, and I was 
 liberated in the beginning of June, after a close confine- 
 ment of seven months. 
 
 I remained in London a few days, and then deter- 
 mined to return to America by the shortest route, Am- 
 sterdam." 
 
 Trumbull had a long and boisterous passage home, 
 where he remained till the peace of '83, when he sailed 
 for England once more. He was now 28 years old. 
 
 He arrived at London in January, 1784, and 'went 
 immediately to Mr. West.' His father had written a 
 letter of thanks to Edmund Burke for his ' kindness to 
 his son when in prison.' Burke strongly recommended 
 the Painter to study Architecture. " You must be 
 aware," said he, "that you belong to a young nation, 
 which will soon want public buildings ; these must be 
 erected before the decorations of painting and sculpture 
 will be required. I would therefore strongly advise you 
 to study architecture thoroughly and scientifically, in or- 
 der to qualify yourself to superintend the erection of these 
 national buildings ; decorate them also, if you will." 
 
 " This," says Trumbull, " was wise and kind advice, 
 and I had afterwards sufficient evidence of my own
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 149 
 
 want of wisdom in neglecting to follow it ; a few of the 
 hours of evenings, which, with all my fancied industry, 
 were trifled away, would have sufficed for the acquisi- 
 tion of thorough architectural knowledge." 
 
 He studied with West, and spent his evenings in 
 drawing at the Academy, where he * frequently sat by 
 the side of Lawrence, * * whose works were not 
 unfrequently out of drawing,' which may readily be be- 
 lieved, by those who have seen his later performances. 
 
 " in the summer of 1785, I finished for Mr. West a 
 copy of his glorious picture of the battle of La Hogue, 
 on cloth, a few inches larger on every side than the ori- 
 ginal. This work was of inestimable importance to me, 
 and soon after, 1 composed and painted the picture of 
 1 Priam returning to his family with the dead body of 
 Hector,' which is now in the Athenaeum at Boston. 
 
 "In the autumn of the same year, I was invited by 
 the Rev. Mr. Preston, of Chevening, in Kent, to pass a 
 week at his house, in company with Mr. West's eldest 
 son. The library of Mr. Preston, (which at his death 
 he bequeathed to the library of Philadelphia, where it 
 now is,) was rich in works relating to the arts, and 
 among others, were the Trajan, Antonine, and other col- 
 umns, the triumphal arches, bas-reliefs, &c. &c., of 
 Rome ; these I studied attentively. Here, also, I made 
 my first attempt at the composition of a military scene, 
 taken from the war of the Revolution ; it was a small 
 sketch in Indian Ink, on paper, of the death of General 
 Frazer, at Behmus's heights. * * * 
 
 " U pon my return to town, I resumed my studies 
 with Mr. West, and at the Academy, with ardor ; and 
 now began to meditate seriously the subjects of national 
 history, of events of the Revolution, which have since
 
 J50 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 been the great objects of my professional life. The 
 death of General Warren at the battle of Bunker's Hill, 
 and of General Montgomery in the attack on Quebec, 
 were first decided upon. These were the earliest im- 
 portant events in point of time, and I not only regarded 
 them as highly interesting passages of history, but felt, 
 that in painting them, I should be paying a just tribute 
 of gratitude to the memory of eminent men, who had 
 given their lives for their country. These pictures (which 
 are now in the Gallery at New Haven) were both painted 
 in the room of Mr. West. 
 
 "Mr. West witnessed the progress of these two pic- 
 tures with great interest, and strongly encouraged me 
 to persevere in the work of the history of the American 
 Revolution, which I had thus commenced, and recom- 
 mended to have the series engraved." 
 
 This suggestion Trumbull followed up all through 
 life, at a great sacrifice of time, money, and tranquillity. 
 Artists and authors generally regret it when they under- 
 take to publish their own works. With a view to ac- 
 complish his object, he visited Paris in 1785, at the in- 
 vitation of Mr. Jefferson, who was a liberal and enlight- 
 ened friend of Art. The great statesman received 
 Trumbull ' most kindly at his house,' where he made it 
 his home. 
 
 "My two paintings, the first fruits of my national en- 
 terprise, met his warm approbation, and during my visit, 
 I began the composition of the Declaration of Independ- 
 ence, with the assistance of his information and advice." 
 
 John Barker Church, an opulent and elegant man, 
 treated Trumbull with great confidence and generosity. 
 With that delicacy which always distinguishes the doer 
 of a really generous deed, he said to Trumbull one day
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. J5J 
 
 without solicitation < My real business, therefore, is to 
 ask that you will consider me as your banker, and that 
 whenever you may have occasion for fifty, one hundred, 
 or five hundred pounds, you will go to no one else, but 
 apply to me, and you shall always have it, on your personal 
 security. I shall ask no guarantee or endorser your 
 simple receipt only, and five per cent, interest.' In his 
 Autobiography he mentions the circumstance, and speaks 
 of his friend in the most grateful terms. After a visit of 
 several months at Paris, where he was treated with mark- 
 ed attention, he made a journey through the countries 
 watered by the Rhine, and returned in the fall of 1786 to 
 London, " my brain half turned by the attention which 
 had been paid to my paintings in Paris, and by the mul- 
 titude of fine things which I had seen. 
 
 " I resumed my labors, however, and went on with my 
 studies of other subjects of the history of the Revolution, 
 arranged carefully the composition for the Declaration of 
 Independence, and prepared it for receiving the portraits, 
 as I might meet with the distinguished men, who were 
 present at that illustrious scene. In the course of the 
 summer of 1787, Mr. Adams took leave of the court of 
 St. James, and preparatory to the voyage to America, 
 had the powder combed out of his hair. Its color and 
 natural curl were beautiful, and I took that opportunity 
 to paint his portrait in the small Declaration of Independ- 
 ence. I also made various studies for the Surrender of 
 Lord Cornwallis, and in this found great difficulty ; the 
 scene was altogether one of utter formality the ground 
 was level military etiquette was to be scrupulously ob- 
 served, and yet the portraits of the principal officers of 
 three proud nations must be preserved, without inter- 
 rupting the general regularity of the scene. I drew it
 
 152 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 over and over again, and at last, having resolved upon 
 the present arrangement, I prepared the small picture to 
 receive the portraits. Some progress was also made in 
 the composition of some of the other subjects, especially 
 of the battles of Trenton and Princeton, for which I made 
 many studies upon paper." 
 
 " In May of this year, (1787,) M. Poggi told me the 
 story of the sortie from Gibraltar, which had taken place 
 in 1781 ; we were walking in Oxford street, in early 
 twilight I went to my lodgings, and before I slept, put 
 upon paper a small sketch of the scene, now in possession 
 of the Athenaeum, Boston." An improved copy of this 
 picture was sold to Sir T. Baring for five hundred guin- 
 eas. A third attempt he also made of the same subject, 
 which attracted a good deal of notice at the Spring 
 Garden exhibition, and was afterward purchased by the 
 Athenaeum, Boston. Horace Walpole said he 'regarded 
 as the finest picture he had seen painted on the northern 
 side of the Alps.' "Before the picture was exhibited," 
 says Trumbull, " I was offered twelve hundred guineas 
 (six thousand dollars) for it, which I refused, under the 
 persuasion that the exhibition, the print, and the ultimate 
 sale of the picture, would produce more; the event has 
 proved that I made a mistake. 
 
 " In the autumn of 1787, 1 again visited Paris, where 
 1 painted the portrait of Mr. Jefferson in the original 
 small Declaration of Independence, Major General Ross 
 in the small Sortie from Gibraltar, and the French offi- 
 cers in the Surrender of Lord Cornwallis, at Yorktown, 
 in Virginia. I regard these as the best of my small 
 portraits ; they were painted from the life, in Mr. Jef- 
 ferson's house. 
 
 " I was again in Paris in the early autumn of 1789,
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 and witnessed the commencement of the French Revo- 
 lution the destruction of the Bastile, &c." 
 
 Trumbull returned the second time to the United 
 States in November 1789. Congress met in New- York 
 early in December. " All the world was assembled 
 there, and I obtained many portraits for the Declaration 
 of Independence, Surrender of Cornwallis, and also 
 that of General Washington in the battles of Trenton 
 and Princeton." 
 
 The following summer he was commissioned by the 
 Corporation of New-York, to paint a full-length of 
 Washington. The Artist thus speaks of his work : 
 *' I represented him in full uniform, standing by a white 
 horse, leaning his arm upon the saddle ; in the back- 
 ground, a view of Broadway in ruins, as it then was, 
 the old fort at the termination ; British ships and boats 
 leaving the shore, with the last of the officers and troops 
 of the evacuating army, and Staten Island in the distance. 
 The picture is now in the Common Council room of the 
 City Hall. Every part of the detail of the dress, horse, 
 furniture, &c., as well as the scenery, was accurately 
 copied from the real objects." 
 
 He now spent a considerable time in journeying to 
 distant parts of the country, painting portraits of the 
 illustrious men he introduced into his historical pieces 
 a work which no other man of his time seemed inclined 
 to do. 
 
 "The following spring I returned to New- York, where 
 I painted for the Corporation the whole length portrait 
 of General George Clinton, which is now in the Com- 
 mon Council room of the City Hall. The back-ground 
 of this picture represents British troops storming Fort 
 Montgomery in the Highlands, (where the General
 
 154 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 commanded,) and the burning of two frigates in the 
 North River ; this back-ground is one of my favorite 
 compositions." 
 
 " In 1792 I was again in Philadelphia, and there 
 painted the portrait of General Washington which is 
 now placed in the gallery at New Haven, the best cer- 
 tainly of those which I painted, and the best, in my 
 estimation, which exists, in his heroic military character. 
 The city of Charleston, S. C., instructed William R. 
 Smith, one of the Representatives of South Carolina, 
 to employ me to paint for them a portrait of the great 
 man, and I undertook it con amore, (as the commission 
 was unlimited,) meaning to give his military character, 
 in the most sublime moment of its exertion the eve- 
 ning previous to the battle of Princeton ; when viewing 
 the vast superiority of his approaching enemy, and the 
 impossibility of again crossing the Delaware, or retreat- 
 ing down the river, he conceives the plan of returning 
 by a night march into the country from which he had 
 just been driven, thus cutting off the enemy's commu- 
 nication, and destroying his depot of stores and provis- 
 ions at Brunswick. I told the President my object ; he 
 entered into it warmly, and, as the work advanced, we 
 talked of the scene, its dangers, its almost desperation. 
 He looked the scene again, and I happily transferred to 
 the canvas the lofty expression of his animated coun- 
 tenance, the high resolve to conquer or to perish. The 
 result was, in my own opinion, eminently successful, and 
 the General was satisfied. But it did not meet the 
 views of Mr. Smith. He admired, he was personally 
 pleased, but he thought the city would be better satisfied 
 with a more matter-of-fact likeness, such as they had 
 recently seen him calm, tranquil, peaceful."
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 155 
 
 " Another was painted for Charleston, agreeable to their 
 taste a view of the city in the back-ground, a horse, 
 with scenery, and plants of the climate ; and when the 
 State Society of Cincinnati of Connecticut dissolved 
 themselves, the first picture, at the expense of some of 
 the members, was presented to Yale College." 
 
 In 1794, the 12th day of May, 'Mr. Jay embarked 
 in New- York, on his mission to Great Britain, amidst 
 the acclamations of his fellow-citizens,' Trumbull sail- 
 ing with him as his secretary. On the negotiation of 
 the Treaty with Great Britain, effected by Mr. Jay, 
 Trumbull's duties ceased, and he went to the continent 
 to see what progress had been made by Miiller, who 
 was engraving his Bunker's Hill at Stuttgard. The 
 French Revolution brought with it the ruin of many an- 
 cient and opulent families, and paintings by the old Mas- 
 ters were sold, with all those treasures which could not 
 easily be transported, for what their owners could get. 
 Trumbull, with the advice and assistance of M. Le 
 Brun, ' the most experienced judge on that subject then 
 in Europe, purchased more than one hundred valuable 
 paintings,' and sent them on to Guernsey, from whence 
 they were taken to London insured. The pictures were 
 injured, but the celebrated Erskine gave his opinion 
 the underwriters were not responsible, and the claim 
 was not prosecuted. 
 
 Trumbull, who seems always to have been fond of 
 large speculations, took an agency for three great com- 
 mercial houses in London, and in the end " gained noth- 
 ing, and had thrown away eight months of precious 
 time. I returned to London early in August, 1796, 
 having in little more than two years passed through the
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 several varieties of a political secretary, a picture dealer, 
 and a brandy merchant." 
 
 On his arrival in London, he received from Mr. Pick- 
 ering, Secretary of State, " a commission and instruc- 
 tions, appointing me agent for the relief and recovery of 
 American seamen impressed by Great Britain ; and be- 
 fore I had an opportunity of returning an answer, I re- 
 ceived notice from the commissioners who had been 
 appointed by the two nations to carry into execution the 
 seventh article of the late treaty, that they had appoint- 
 ed me the fifth commissioner. * * * 
 
 " The board of commissioners adjourned on the last 
 of July, to meet on the 1st of November, 1797. I had 
 received information from Mr. Miiller, the engraver, at 
 Stuttgard, that he had finished the engraving of the bat- 
 tle of Bunker's Hill, and waited my final criticism and 
 orders." 
 
 France was now rushing through revolutions and 
 battles to empire, and at last to political emancipation, 
 but her progress was every where marked with blood. 
 Tmmbull's journey was attended with danger, and he 
 went through scenes which demanded all his military 
 courage and boldness. He reached Stuttgart, and found 
 his plates of ' Bunker's Hill' executed to his satisfaction. 
 He returned by Paris to London to resume his duties 
 with the commissioners. When the commissioners had 
 done their work, he returned to America, landing at New- 
 York on the 27th of June, 1804. 
 
 Trumbull was now in his forty-ninth year, full of 
 vigor and enthusiasm and ripe in all sorts of experience. 
 He visited Boston with the intention of opening a studio 
 there, but hearing that Stuart had been invited there bv
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 157 
 
 Mr. Mason and his friends, Trumbull returned to New- 
 York. " Boston was then a small town, compared with 
 its present importance, and did by no means offer an 
 adequate field of success for two rival artists. I there- 
 fore immediately returned to New- York, took a furnished 
 house for the winter, and began my course as a portrait 
 painter." 
 
 He thus speaks of his success : "I was immediately 
 employed by the government of the city to paint whole 
 length portraits of Mr. Jay and of Gen. Hamilton, (from 
 the bust by Carracchi,) and to put in order those of Gen. 
 Washington and Gov. Clinton, which I had painted in 
 1791 and '92. The four now hang in the common coun- 
 cil room of the city hall. I had also a good share of 
 occupation from private families, and at this period were 
 painted two portraits which are now in the Gallery at 
 New Haven, viz. those of President Dwight and Stephen 
 Van Rensselaer ; from which may be seen what was 
 my style of portrait painting at that period. In short, 
 my success was satisfactory." 
 
 Trumbull prosecuted his art in New- York till the 
 15th of December, 1808, when he sailed once more for 
 England. The following January he met a cordial 
 greeting from his old friend West, and again commenced 
 painting. No great success seems to have attended him 
 now as an artist. This he attributes in some measure, 
 and with truth no doubt, to the suspicion the English 
 had that he was sent out as an American spy. 
 " Large pictures were not, however, the only works 
 which 1 executed during these four years. I painted 
 also a number of portraits, for which good prices were 
 paid, but not to an amount sufficient to defray my ex- 
 penses. I was thus placed under the necessity of bor-
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 rowing, and was constantly drifting upon the fatal lee- 
 shore of debt. Finding this to be unavoidable, I at 
 length gave up the fruitless struggle, and determined to 
 return to America, and had written to Liverpool to 
 engage my passage on board a ship which was about to 
 sail from that port, when we were confounded by the 
 news, that the United States had, on the 18th of May, 
 1812, declared war against Great Britain, and that all 
 mutual intercourse was at end." 
 
 On the restoration of peace, Trumbull lost no time 
 in returning to America. He arrived at New-York in 
 the autumn of 1815, and "took a house in Broadway, 
 now the Globe Hotel, at $1200 per year, and com- 
 menced his labours with good prospect of success." The 
 1st of February, the executor was offered $2,200 rent 
 for the same building, and Trumbull was turned adrift. 
 " I removed in May to Hudson Square, to a good house 
 at a reasonable rent and in a beautiful situation ; but I 
 soon found myself too far out of town for success in 
 portrait painting, and business languished. Congress 
 was in session, and my friend, Judge Nicholson, advised 
 me to go on to Washington, and there offer my great, 
 but long suspended project of National paintings of sub- 
 jects from the Revolution. Some of the studies were 
 put up in the Hall of the House, and in one of the de- 
 bates on the subject, Mr. John Randolph was ardently 
 eloquent in his commendation of the work, and insisted 
 that I should be employed to execute the whole. The 
 result was, that a resolution finally passed both houses, 
 giving authority to the president, ' to employ me to com- 
 pose and execute four paintings, commemorative of the 
 most important events of the American Revolution, to 
 be placed, when finished, in the Capitol of the United 
 States.' "
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 "The choice of the subjects, and the size of each pic- 
 ture, was left to the President, Mr. Madison. I imme- 
 diately waited upon the President to receive his orders. 
 The size was first discussed. I proposed that they 
 should be six feet high by nine long, which would give 
 to the figures half the size of life. The President at 
 once overruled me. ' Consider, sir,' said he, ' the vast 
 size of the apartment in which these works are to be 
 placed the rotunda, one hundred feet in diameter, and 
 the same in height paintings of the size which you 
 propose, will be lost in such a space ; they must be of 
 dimensions to admit the figures to be the size of life." 
 
 " This w T as so settled, and when we came to speak of 
 the subjects, the President first mentioned the battle of 
 Bunker's Hill. Observing me to be silent, Mr. Madi- 
 son asked if I did not approve that. My reply was, 
 4 that if the order had been (as I had hoped) for eight 
 paintings, I should have named that first ; but as there 
 were only four commanded, I thought otherwise. It ap- 
 peared to me that there were two military subjects par- 
 amount to all others. We had, in the course of the 
 Revolution, made prisoners of two entire armies, a cir- 
 cumstance almost without a parallel, and of course the 
 surrender of General Burgoyne at Saratoga, and that of 
 Lord Cornwallis at Yorktown, seemed to me indispensa- 
 ble.' ' True,' replied he, ' you are right ; and what for the 
 civil subjects ? ' ' The Declaration of Independence, of 
 course.' ' What would you have for the fourth ? ' ' Sir,' 
 I replied, ' I have thought that one of the highest moral 
 lessons ever given to the world, was that presented by 
 the conduct of the Commander-in-chief, in resigning his 
 power and commission as he did, when the army, per- 
 haps, would have been unanimously with him, and few
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 of the people disposed to resist his retaining the power 
 which he had used with such happy success, and such 
 irreproachable moderation. I would recommend, then, 
 the resignation of Washington.' After a momentary si- 
 lent reflection, the President said, ' I believe you are 
 right; it was a glorious action." 1 
 
 The price was settled at eight thousand dollars for 
 each painting. 
 
 The work w r ent on without interruption, and was 
 finished in 1824. The following is a copy of the final 
 settlement of my account at the treasury of the United 
 States : 
 
 Declaration of Independence, . ,' '. t - . $8,000 
 Surrender of Lord Cornwallis, . . 8,000 
 
 Surrender of General Burgoyne, . . . ' . 8,000 
 Resignation of General Washington of his Com- 
 mission to Congress, . . ">,: .. 8,000 
 
 $32,000 
 
 " The last picture was scarcely finished in April, 
 1824, when I had the misfortune to lose my wife, who 
 had been the faithful and beloved companion of all the 
 vicissitudes of twenty-four years. She was the perfect 
 personification of truth and sincerity wise to counsel, 
 kind to console by far the more important and better 
 moral half of me, and withal, beautiful beyond the usual 
 beauty of women ! And as if this calamity was not 
 sufficient, the friend who had kindly advanced money 
 for me during my last unfortunate residence in Europe, 
 found it necessary from the state of his own affairs, to 
 ask a settlement. It was made, and it required all my 
 means to meet the demand. Every thing, however,
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. Jgj 
 
 which could be converted into money was disposed of, 
 at whatever sacrifice, and among other things, land was 
 placed in the account at ten thousand dollars, which 
 would now sell for one hundred thousand." 
 
 These great national pieces, which without refer- 
 ence to their artistic merit, will always be esteemed the 
 most valuable pictures ever executed in this country, 
 were nearly destroyed by neglect, the great opening 
 in the centre of the Rotunda rendered the atmosphere 
 equally damp and cold as the weather in the open 
 square. The painter remonstrated but he says, " my 
 remonstrances, however, were all in vain ; and in this 
 situation the four paintings were placed and remained, 
 until, in 1828, the change on their surfaces became ob- 
 vious and conspicuous to all who saw them, and occa- 
 sioned the resolution of the House of Representatives, 
 alluded to in the report following, which I addressed 
 to the Speaker of the House on the 9th of December, 
 1 828. At last the Commissioner of Public Buildings was 
 instructed ' to take proper measures for securing the 
 paintings in the Rotunda from the effect of dampness ' 
 under the direction of the painter. Several things 
 were done. 1 . All the paintings were taken down and 
 perfectly dried, for mildew on the backs was rapidly 
 rotting the canvas. 2. Common bees-wax was melted 
 over a fire with an equal quantity (in bulk) of oil of 
 turpentine, and the mixture applied to the back of each 
 canvas, and rubbed in with hot irons until the cloths 
 were perfectly saturated. 3. The nitches in the solid 
 wall were carefully plastered with hydraulic cement, to 
 prevent the possible exudation of any moisture from the 
 wall. 4. Communication made for the external air with 
 the vacant spaces, behind the pictures to preserve an 
 
 11
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 even temperature. 5. The cloths were finally strained 
 upon panels, for the purpose of guarding against injury 
 from careless or intentional blows of sticks, canes, &c. 
 The whole being then restored to their places, were 
 finally cleaned with care, and slightly re-varnished. 6. 
 Curtains were hung before the pictures. 7. The crypt, 
 which admitted the damp air below, was closed, and 
 an alteration made in the sky-light. 8. Self-closing 
 baize doors were hung at the entrances. The Artist re- 
 grets that he was not authorized to provide against the 
 danger of damage by violence, whether intended or 
 accidental. " One of the paintings testifies to the pos- 
 sibility of their being approached for the very purpose of 
 doing injury ; the right foot of General Morgan, in the 
 picture of Saratoga, was cut off with a sharp instrument, 
 apparently a penknife. I have repaired the wound, but 
 the scar remains visible." 
 
 " My contract with the government was thus honora- 
 bly fulfilled ; the paintings were placed in the Capitol, 
 and so far as my skill extended, they were secured from 
 ruin by dampness. My debts were paid, but I had the 
 world before me to begin anew. I had passed the term 
 of three-score years and ten, the allotted period of hu- 
 man life. My best friend was removed from me, and I 
 had no child. A sense of loneliness began to creep over 
 my mind, yet my hand was steady, and my sight good, 
 and I felt the vis vitce strong within me. Why then sink 
 down into premature imbecility ? 
 
 " I resolved, therefore, to begin a new series of my 
 paintings of revolutionary subjects, of a smaller size 
 than those in the Capitol, and to solace my heavy hours 
 by working on them. I chose the size of six feet by 
 nine, and began. Funds, however, began to diminish,
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 163 
 
 and I sold scraps of furniture, fragments of plate, &c. 
 My pictures remained on my hands unsold, and to all 
 appearances unsaleable. At length the thought oc- 
 curred to me, that although the hope of a sale to a na- 
 tion or to a state became more and more desperate from 
 day to day, yet in an age of speculation, it might be pos- 
 sible that some society might be willing to possess these 
 paintings, on condition of paying me a life annuity. I first 
 thought of Harvard College, my alma mater, but she was 
 rich, and amply endowed. I then thought of Yale 
 although not my alma, yet she was within my native 
 state, and poor. I hinted this idea to a friend, (Mr. Al- 
 fred Smith, of Hartford,) it took was followed up, 
 and resulted in a contract." 
 
 A gallery, fire-proof, was erected by the College 
 his pictures arranged under the direction of the Artist, 
 and an annuity of one thousand dollars settled upon him 
 for the remainder of his life. Trumbull also made one 
 noble condition in this final disposition of his Works 
 which would alone give immortality to his name. After 
 his -death, the entire proceeds of the exhibition of the 
 Gallery were to be * perpetually appropriated towards 
 defraying the expense of educating poor scholars in Yale 
 College.' He says in the close of his autobiography : 
 
 " Thus I derive present subsistence principally from 
 this source, and have besides the happy reflection, that 
 when I shall have gone to my rest, these works will re- 
 main a source of good to many a poor, perhaps merit- 
 orious and excellent man." 
 
 Yes, good old man ! Thou hast gone to thy rest, and 
 the world will not forget thee. Thou hast secured to 
 thyself the power to do good to thousands of brave, 
 noble spirits, that will yet eat the bread earned by thy
 
 ] (54 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 pencil. And when the names of all thy detractors have 
 one by one moved silently and sullenly down to oblivion, 
 the unfortunate but lofty-spirited men thou hast cared 
 for, will generation after generation offer incense to thy 
 memory and write their gratitude upon thy monument. 
 I see going forth from that University which has been 
 and shall be a nursery of gifted minds, a long line of 
 men who will be the teachers, the statesmen, the artists, 
 and the writers of their times. They will transmit the 
 name of their common benefactor from age to age, as 
 the poets of the world have the name of the Father of 
 Poets, the blind old man who sang at the gates of cities 
 for his bread ! 
 
 This was true wisdom, and God has so ordered the 
 course of human affairs, that no means more certain 
 could be resorted to for perpetuating a name. Fortunes 
 accumulated by the toils and savings of a long life, 
 are often scattered in an hour by those who inherit them, 
 and they are the last men to preserve the names of their 
 benefactors. Fortunes are often given away to be ex- 
 pended upon frail, transient enterprises that leave no trace 
 of themselves on the waste of time a single column may 
 be left standing, only to perpetuate the dishonor of the 
 founder. Girard's name will live while that stately 
 edifice which overlooks his city shall stand but no future 
 generation will gaze on it without recalling the impious 
 attempt of its founder to shut out from its marble halls 
 the holy image of the Founder of the Christian Religion. 
 He is the wise man, who makes a legacy to posterity 
 which ages only make more valuable as they pass on 
 and that is above all the most enlightened ambition 
 which educates for itself a line of grateful eulogists.
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 We give below a catalogue of the Trumbull Gallery, 
 as it was when the artist arranged his pictures : 
 
 No. 1. The Duke of Wellington. 
 
 No. 2. Five Heads, Oil Miniatures, 1792. 
 
 No. 3. The Battle of Bunker's Hill, June 17, 1777. 
 
 No. 4. Five Heads, Oil Miniatures, 1792. 
 
 No. 5. The Death of General Montgomery, in the attack of Que- 
 bec, December 31, 1775. 
 
 No. 6. Five Heads, Oil Miniatures, 1791. 
 
 No. 7. Battle of Princeton. 
 
 No. 8. Five Heads of Ladies, Oil Miniatures, 1792. 
 
 No. 9. Declaration of Independence, July 4, 1776. 
 
 No. 10. Five Heads, Oil Miniatures, 1792. 
 
 No. 11. Capture of the Hessians at Trenton, December 26, 1776. 
 
 No. 12. Four Heads, Oil Miniatures, 1791. 
 
 No. 13. Copy of the Transfiguration, the celebrated master-piece 
 of Raphael. 
 
 No. 14. Copy of Correggio's celebrated picture, called the St. Je- 
 rome at Parma, painted in Tothill-fields prison. 
 
 No. 15. Copy of Raphael's Madonna Delia Sedula. 
 
 No. 16. Copy of the Communion of St. Jerome, the master-piece 
 of Dominichino. 
 
 No. 17. Portrait of Col. Trumbull, by Waldo & Jewitt. 
 
 No. -18. Portrait of Mrs. Trumbull. 
 
 No. 19. Preparing the Body of Christ for the Tomb. 
 
 No. 20. Copy of the Madonna au Corset Rouge, by Raphael. Lon- 
 don, 1801. 
 
 No. 21. Our Saviour bearing the Cross, and sinking under its 
 weight. New- York, 1826. 
 
 No. 22. Four Heads, Oil Miniatures, 1791. 
 
 No. 23. Death of General Mercer, at the Battle of Princeton, Jan. 
 3, 1777. 
 
 No. 24. Five Heads of Ladies, Oil Miniatures, 1792. 
 
 No. 25. Surrender of General Burgoyne, Oct. 16, 1777. 
 
 No. 26. Five Heads, Oil Miniatures, 1791. 
 
 No. 27. The Death of Paulus Emilius, at the battle of Cannae. 
 The earliest composition of the Artist. 
 
 No. 28. Five Heads, Oil Miniatures, 1793. 
 
 No. 29. Surrender of Lord Cornwallis, Oct. 19, 1781.
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 No. 30. Five Heads, Oil Miniatures, 1827. 
 
 No. 31. Resignation of General Washington, Dec. 23, 1783. 
 Washington, 1827. 
 
 No. 32. Five Heads, Oil Miniatures, 1790. 
 
 No. 33. Hon. Stephen Van Rensselaer. 
 
 No. 34. The Woman Accused of Adultery, St. John, viii. 2 11. 
 London, 1811. 
 
 No. 35. St. John and Lamb. From Memory of an exquisite pic- 
 ture by Murillo, in possession of the Emperor of Russia. Lon- 
 don, 1800. 
 
 No. 36. Portrait of President Washington head the size of life. 
 Philadelphia, May, 1793. 
 
 No. 37. Earl of Angus Conferring Knighthood on De Wilton a 
 scene from Scott's Marmion. London, 1810. 
 
 No. 38. Portrait of Alexander Hamilton, copied in 1832, from Trum- 
 bull's original, in the possession of Gov. Wolcott. 
 
 No. 39. Holy Family. London, 1802. 
 
 No. 40. President Dvvight. 
 
 No. 41. Portrait of General Washington whole length, the size of 
 life painted in Philadelphia in 1792, for the city of Charleston. 
 
 No. 42. Gov. Trumbull, Sen. 
 
 No. 43. Infant Saviour and St. John. London, 1801. 
 
 No. 44. Portrait of Rufus King London, during his mission, 1800. 
 
 No. 45. Lamderg and Gelchossa. From Ossian's poems. London, 
 1809. 
 
 No. 46. Portrait of Gov. Gore London. Both were Commission- 
 ers for the execution of 9th article of Jay's Treaty, 1800. 
 
 No. 47. Maternal Tenderness. London, 1809. 
 
 No. 48. Our Saviour with Little Children. London, 1812. 
 
 No. 49. Peter the Great at the Capture of Narva. London, 1811. 
 
 No. 50. The Holy Family. 
 
 No. 51. Joshua at the Battle of Ai, attended by Death. 
 
 No. 52. The Last Family which Perished in the Deluge. 
 
 No. 53. " I was in Prison, and ye visited me." Matt. xxx. 36. 
 
 No. 54. Copy of the Transfiguration . 
 
 No. 55. The Communion of St. Jerome. Copied from Domini- 
 chino.
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 167 
 
 Here we are obliged to leave Trumbull's autobiogra- 
 phy, which has thus far been our guide, and from other 
 sources draw the sketch of his few remaining years. 
 
 An Association had been early formed in New- York, 
 for Promoting the Fine Arts, and Chancellor Livingston 
 elected President. For a considerable period the Insti- 
 tution was sustained with some vigor, but it finally lost 
 its vitality, and in 1816 it had nearly ceased to exist. 
 During that year, De Witt Clinton, who was then Pre- 
 sident of the Association, moved by those lofty motives 
 by which he was always guided, originated and perfected 
 a plan by which the Association was revived under the 
 name of the American Academy of Fine Arts. He 
 felt that delicacy required him to resign the Presidency, 
 and at his nomination, Trumbull was elected President. 
 Dunlap, who seems to have owed this celebrated Painter 
 a very malignant grudge, and who has often gone out of 
 his way to gratify it in his work, would have us believe 
 that the election of Trumbull gave general dissatisfac- 
 tion to the Artists of the country, and was fatal to the 
 Academy itself. But I cannot find in the history of 
 those times, nor from the testimony of living Artists, 
 any thing to corroborate such an idea. Trumbull 
 was almost universally appreciated, and very generally 
 beloved. He continued to occupy the President's chair, 
 I believe, until the formation of the National Academy 
 of Design, which went into operation in 1825, with 
 Samuel F. B. Morse for President. 
 
 During this period probably no artist in this country 
 gave instruction to so many scholars, and certainly no one 
 displayed a warmer zeal in the cause of Art. In a future 
 number we intend to give the History of American 
 Academies for the Promotion of the Fine Arts since a
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 knowledge of the history of such Institutions is deemed 
 necessary to a proper appreciation of our living Artists. 
 It will then become necessary to give some passages 
 from the history of Col. Trumbull, which are here 
 omitted. 
 
 With the hope of receiving some valuable informa- 
 tion about the last days of Col. Trumbull, I addressed a 
 note a few days ago to Prof. Silliman of New Haven, 
 who has courteously forwarded me the following reply : 
 
 NEW HAVEN, March 17th, 1846. 
 DEAR SIR : 
 
 I fear I am now too late to do you any good, but absence from 
 home, and some indisposition since my return on Saturday night, 
 have prevented my replying sooner. Col. Trumbull wrote most of 
 his autobiography in my house, to which he was invited by Mrs. 
 Silliman who was his niece, and myself. He came to us in 1837, 
 and remained four years in our family. He then returned to New- 
 York, to be near his favorite physician, Dr. Washington, and there 
 remained until his death, Nov. 10, 1843. By his own request, his 
 remains were brought to my house, whence his funeral proceeded, 
 Saturday, Nov. 13. 
 
 His remains were borne to the College Chapel, where an appro- 
 priate and feeling historical discourse was delivered by the Rev. 
 Prof. Fitch, from Gen. xxv. 8, 9, 10. Eight of our principal citi- 
 zens were bearers the students and citizens formed a procession 
 to the stone tomb, beneath the Trumbull Gallery, where his remains 
 were laid beside those of his wife. 
 
 His pictures he called his children, and the Gallery he wished to 
 be his monument. The vault was left open under a proper guard, 
 through the night and the next day, that the citizens might have the 
 opportunity of looking into it. After the massy lid a single stone 
 eight feet by five was let down, the following inscription was placed 
 upon it in deeply cut letters : 
 
 The Tomb of * JOHN TRUMBULL, and of SARAH, HIS WIFE, 
 Closed Nov. 13, 1843. 
 
 -patriot Artist an* tlie jFrientt of Washington. 
 
 * On the coffin-lids: John Trumbull, died Nov. 10, 1843, aged 87 years, 5 
 months and 4 days. Sarah, the wife of John Trumbull, died April 12, 1824, 
 aged 51 years.
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 169 
 
 As this stone is four or five feet below the level of the ground, 
 and is covered by the floor of the room, I caused a tablet of black 
 marble to be placed as a pannel beneath the portraits of the Artist 
 and of his wife ; and the full length of Washington, which hangs above 
 them in the Gallery, and a trophy sword taken by Trumbull in the 
 battle of Pike Island with a pallet and pencil are to hang between the 
 two lower portraits. 
 
 You will then observe the appropriateness of the following In- 
 scription. He said to me, place me at the foot of my great master. 
 
 G. W. 
 
 COL. JOHN TRUMBULL, 
 
 Painter and Artist, friend and Aid of WASHINGTON, died in New- York, 
 Nov. 10, 1843, aged 88. 
 
 He repoaee in a Sepulchre built by himself, beneath this Monumental Gallery, 
 
 where he deposited the remains of SARAH, his wife, who 
 
 died in New- York, April 12, 1824. 
 
 To his Country he gave his Sword and his Pencil.
 
 (70 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 He retained the love of his art almost to the last. The Gallery 
 contains several very good pictures painted after he was seventy - 
 eight years old, and some after he was eighty. The copies of the 
 Transfiguration, and of the Death of St. Jerome, were the last the 
 latter the very last and he found some difficulty in following out the 
 minutite of the drapery, owing to the decay of his vision, but both 
 these pictures are surprising productions for an artist of eighty-two to 
 eighty-three years of age, with only one useful eye. The social 
 feelings of Col. T. were vivid, and his conversational powers extra- 
 ordinary. His long and varied life, abounding in changes, and 
 passed among the great men of the age, furnished him with a rich 
 fund of historical anecdote, which he was accustomed to communicate 
 to his friends in his familiar conversations. 
 
 With these he could, had he chosen to do so, have enriched his au- 
 tobiography, and probably many of his readers would have preferred 
 them to the grave details of important events. He used to mention 
 that in the composition of the sortie of Gibraltar, he wanted a sub- 
 ject for his dying Spanish Cavalier, Don Jos. Barboza who appears 
 fallen in the front of the picture, with the hilt of his broken sword 
 still grasped in his hand, and refusing the succor offered him by Gen. 
 Elliott. At this crisis of the picture, who should come into the paint- 
 ing room, but the afterwards celebrated Sir Thomas Lawrence, then 
 a rising young artist. Trumbull familiarly accosted him, " Come, 
 Lawrence, lie down for my dying Spaniard" which he promptly 
 did ; and this is the origin of that fine figure, not, however, intended 
 for a portrait. He left some very beautiful pictures, not the property 
 of the Gallery. Many of them were sold for the payment of his 
 debts, or for the payment of the two residuary legacies and not a 
 small number were in the like manner distributed. 
 
 Five copies, nine feet by six, of historical pictures were purchased 
 by the Wadsworth Atheneum, at Hartford, and now adorn that fine and 
 growing Institution. 
 
 A large number of first rate engravings of some of his principal 
 historical pictures are still unsold, and remain in the hands of his heirs, 
 or legatees. The neglect of these prints executed at a vast expense, 
 and in a very superior style, was a subject of much painful reflec- 
 tion and severe remark from the venerable Artist. A bosom pin r 
 surrounded by pearls, and containing a braided lock of Washington's* 
 
 * Given to him by Washington's own hand, in consequence of his having 
 painted Mrs. Washington.
 
 JOHN TRUMBULL. 
 
 hair, is now in the possession of Dr. Washington, of New- York, to 
 whom he presented it, instead of leaving it in his own Picture Gallery, 
 which he had originally intended. His veneration of Washington 
 was very great ; he regarded him as the greatest and best of men. 
 Many letters of Washington, some of them long, and all of them 
 parental and affectionate, are among his papers. 
 
 I forbear to add other things, supposing that I may already have 
 exceeded your limits of time and space, and remain, dear friend, 
 Yours, very respectfully and truly, 
 
 B. SILLIMAN. 
 
 C. EDWARDS LESTER, ESQ. 
 
 We have had artists perhaps who surpassed Trumbull 
 in genius. West was a greater painter. Stuart and 
 Copely executed better portraits, and Allston moved in a 
 higher field of Art. But to no one of them does the coun- 
 try owe so much as to Trumbull. Congress paid grudg- 
 ingly $8000 a piece for his four great Paintings in the 
 Rotunda but what Representative of the American peo- 
 ple would dare now to rise in his place and propose to 
 sell the DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE, I care not what 
 sum were offered for it ? It is the only Picture in the 
 world which has prerseved the forms and expressions of the 
 great fathers of American Liberty and it would be sa- 
 crilege to ruin it, because it is above all price. As ages 
 roll by, the wonderful events those Pictures commemo- 
 rate will be graven more deeply in the minds of men, and 
 to each successive generation they will become more in- 
 valuable. The early historical Painters of Nations have 
 always ranked among their early Historians they stand 
 side by side at the fountains of History, to rescue those 
 sacred forms and relics which but for their holy vigilance 
 would have passed away forever.
 
 FROM A PORTRAIT 3r HIMSELF..
 
 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 SOUTH CAROLINA has had the honor of producing one of our greatest 
 1 lights of fame,' who but recently died at Cambridge, full of years and 
 of honors ; and well might she also mourn the untimely fate of another less 
 fortunate son, cut off prematurely at the very dawning of his fame, who, had 
 he lived, would have earned a name in the annals of his art as proud as 
 that of Allston ; the gifted, generous, lost De Veaux ! 
 
 DE LEON'S ADDRESS.
 
 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 OUR sketches of Artists who have 'rested from their 
 labors,' will be closed by a brief account of the gifted, 
 but unfortunate De Veaux, who fell a victim to Tyranny 
 in Rome two years ago. 
 
 These records, which must otherwise have been in- 
 complete, will now be enriched from the valuable materi- 
 als preserved in a beautiful Memoir of the Artist, just pub- 
 lished in Columbia, S. C., by the learned Dr. Robert W. 
 Gibbs, who has kindly furnished me an early copy. 
 
 Captain De Veaux, the grandfather of the Artist, was 
 a Frenchman, who held a commission in the army of the 
 Revolution. He distinguished himself at the siege of 
 Savannah, and died in the service of the United States, at 
 Fort Johnson, in Charleston Harbor. The Artist's father 
 was a seaman, and died at the hands of pirates, in 1 822. 
 
 " In childhood," says the Memoir, " James had but 
 few opportunities, and received the rudiments of an Eng- 
 lish education at a free school, kept on the Lancasterian 
 system. His worthy mother, whose five children were 
 early deprived of their principal support, having them 
 dependent on her personal labor, could not afford that 
 he should remain at school, and at the age of thirteen 
 he was placed as a clerk in the bookstore of Edwin 
 Gibbes. Here he remained several years, discharging 
 the drudgery of a shop-boy, but attracting the notice of 
 visitors by his quickness in attendance and good humor
 
 176 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 and propriety of behaviour. He was fond of books, and 
 employed his intervals of business in reading biography 
 and works of fiction. His perception of the ludicrous was 
 acute in a remarkable degree. His imagination was 
 vivid, and his amusing sketches of men and things with 
 his boyish pencil, first attracted the notice of that genius 
 which exhibited itself so prominently in maturer years. 
 The late William Hasell Gibbes observed with a lively 
 feeling the indications of a talent for drawing in the 
 young clerk, and the late Major A. Garden took a sim- 
 ilar interest in him, and encouraged him to new efforts by 
 carrying to the store drawings and engravings for his use 
 in copying. Among the earliest of his pencil sketches 
 is a truthful likeness of the venerable Major now in my 
 possession." 
 
 " Mr. Gibbes forwarded to his connection and friend, 
 the eminent Washington Allston, a Sketch of ' Joseph 
 and his Brethren,' for an opinion as to its merits. He 
 expressed much satisfaction with it, and earnestly advised 
 the education of the youth who had given such an indi- 
 cation of genius for Art. Upon this Mr. Gibbes applied 
 to Allston to take him as a pupil ; but, as he was not in 
 the habit of receiving students, he advised that he should 
 be placed with Mr. Harding, then in Washington, or 
 sent to Philadelphia." 
 
 " The earliest notice I have of him, in the letters of 
 my late father, is one of March, 1 829, where he says : 
 
 ' It will gratify you and your brother to learn that I 
 am using my most strenuous efforts to raise a subscrip- 
 tion among my friends for James De Veaux, either to 
 go to Washington, to a particular friend of Washington 
 Allston's, an artist of very high character, for instruction 
 and qualification as such, or to place him under the di-
 
 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 177 
 
 rection of Mr. Bowman, also a painter of reputation, who 
 is taking portraits next door to us, and has taken a pre- 
 possession in favor of the poor boy. I have collected 
 two hundred dollars for him, but must strive to get 
 more. He improves daily, and is delighted and grateful 
 for what we are doing for him.' ' 
 
 This appeal seems to have been responded to by a 
 few generous men; and he soon after went to Philadel- 
 phia, where " he remained some time under the instruc- 
 tion of John R. Smith, the veteran teacher of drawing. 
 He became a private pupil of Inman, and enjoyed also 
 the kind advice and assistance of Sully. From these 
 distinguished Artists he derived his first knowledge of 
 color. While with Mr. Inman he improved very much, 
 and his early pictures show the faithfulness of study of 
 his style they are much after the manner of his pre- 
 ceptor." 
 
 In the fall of 1 832, when he was at the age of twenty, 
 " I induced him," says his Biographer, " to commence 
 his public career as a portrait painter, in Columbia, S. 
 C., where, at the moderate charge of thirty dollars, he 
 was successful in procuring full employment, and in giv- 
 ing satisfaction to most of his patrons. During the ses- 
 sion of the Convention for Nullification, soon after his 
 arrival in November, he had among his sitters the Hon. 
 Geo. McDurfie, Hon. Henry Deas, Dr. Thomas Cooper, 
 F. W. Pickens, Esq., Gen. J. B. Earle, Hon. W. D. 
 Martin, and other distinguished men, whose portraits are 
 still valued as correct likenesses. He painted, during 
 the year following, about thirty portraits, when his in- 
 creasing reputation enabled him to advance to forty dol- 
 lars, and the year after he received fifty dollars. With 
 
 the exception of a short visit to the neighboring town 
 
 12
 
 ] 78 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 of Camden, where he was kindly received and liberally 
 patronized, he continued at Columbia until the fall of 
 1835, when he made a visit to his native city of 
 Charleston. He remained the winter here, and painted 
 a fine portrait of the late Dr. Wm. Read, one of Rev. 
 Wm. Capers, Dr. Philip G. Prioleau, Dr. Thomas G. 
 Prioleau, W. Ogilby, Esq., R. Barnwell Smith, Esq., 
 and a few others ; but artists with less merit and no claims 
 on the community, were more successful, and he returned 
 soon after to Columbia. In Charleston he enjoyed the 
 friendship and kind consideration of the gifted and 
 highly accomplished FRAZER. * * * The worthy and 
 distinguished WHITE took much concern for his welfare." 
 
 " For a long time subsequently he gave way to feel- 
 ings of great despondency, became spiritless and gloomy, 
 and could not divest himself of the idea that he was 
 doomed to failure in his profession. In fact he seriously 
 requested me to look about for some other employment, 
 in which he might earn a support for his family. He 
 had an excitable temperament and a morbid sensibility, 
 and while a little encouragement was a strong stimulus 
 to his efforts, the slightest depressing effect instantly 
 prostrated his exertions. It was painful to witness the 
 deep suffering he underwent, when some fancied slight 
 or ill-natured criticism of his works came to his sensitive 
 ear. At times there was strong reason to fear that his 
 fits of abstraction and gloom would end in a permanent 
 darkness of his fine luminous intellect." 
 
 He had many generous friends. Col. W. Hampton 
 had the honor of placing at his disposal the " means of 
 visiting the collections of art in England and the Galle- 
 ries of the Louvre. Overwhelmed with emotion at the 
 unexpected and noble liberality of his friend, De Veaux's
 
 JAMES DE VEATJX. 
 
 179 
 
 grateful feelings were excessive, and his delight at the 
 prospect of the personal examination and study of the 
 old Masters of his Art excited him to an enthusiasm which 
 gave buoyancy to his spirits and sparkled in his conver- 
 sation. His earnings he freely contributed to the support 
 of his mother and family, and his whole desire for money 
 seemed to be on their account. His purse was always 
 open to the needy, and while a dollar was left, the ap- 
 plicant for charity was never refused." 
 
 " Feeling sensibly the wants of his own condition and 
 that of his family, he had a heart to appreciate the ne- 
 cessities of others. I well remember, that when he re- 
 ceived the first fruits of his pencil, and was in possession 
 of one hundred and twenty-five dollars, he forwarded 
 one hundred of it to save from ruin a young engraver 
 in Philadelphia, who had married before he had means 
 of support for a family, and become deeply involved in 
 debt." 
 
 Dr. Gibbes gives a touching description of the pecu- 
 liar traits of feeling De Veaux's sensitive spirit had to 
 pass. He draws a striking parallel between the encour- 
 agement extended to art in Europe and America. 
 
 "In Europe, Sir Joshua Reynolds died, leaving sixty 
 thousand pounds, and Sir Thomas Lawrence accumula- 
 ted wealth, though his generous liberality made him 
 squander it. George III. gave Benjamin West an an- 
 nual allowance of one thousand pounds for the sake of 
 art, and Louis Philippe has another worthy American 
 artist permanently employed in his service. Our coun- 
 try is highly honored in having furnished to England 
 and France her sons of genius, who are more apprecia- 
 ted there than in their own land ! In the United States, 
 who of our artists, from Gilbert Stuart to the present
 
 180 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 day, has earned more than a bare support ? And how 
 many have failed to do that ? Too often is want the 
 accompaniment of merit here, where the fine arts are 
 appreciated only on utilitarian principles, and paintings 
 are valued for the beauty of their frames, or as a neces- 
 sary relief to the monotony of a parlor wall." 
 
 " In Charleston an effort was once made to establish 
 an Academy of Fine Arts, and we find in history a com- 
 plimentary notice of it, 
 
 . i. k . 'but e'en the spot 
 
 Where it once stood is now forgot.' '' 
 
 In the summer of 1836, De Veaux sailed for Europe, 
 in company with Miss Martineau, Lieut. Wilkes, and a 
 brother Artist, who has given a lively description of his 
 friend's history at this time. He says, " He was fond of 
 fun of the burlesque and with me familiar enough, but 
 his manner was cold and dignified to strangers. I was 
 highly amused with his account of an interview with a 
 good old Liverpool merchant, Mr. Forde, upon whom he 
 had a letter of credit from Col. H. 'But,' said Mr. F., 
 * Col. H. does not limit your credit in this letter.' ' I did 
 not expect he would, sir,' or 'Certainly not, sir,' was 
 the calm reply of our dignified friend." They journeyed 
 leisurely up to London, visiting all the charming or me- 
 morable spots on their way. Rodgers the Poet had the 
 best collection of Reynolds' pictures in England, and he 
 received De Veaux with great kindness and hospitality. 
 He had every facility for visiting the galleries of England, 
 and received attention from many distinguished men. 
 During his residence in Great Britain, however, he paint- 
 ed nothing. Much of the time he was the prey of mel- 
 ancholy.
 
 JAMES DE VEAUX. . JgJ 
 
 " He used to be, while in Europe, depressed in spirits. 
 He sate the picture of gloom could not be roused took 
 no interest in objects of curiosity or amusement, with 
 which all Paris abounded, and wished to return at once 
 to America. This was in the winter of '36 and '37." * * * 
 
 " He copied chiefly heads from Rubens and Vandyke 
 in the Louvre, and did so with great facility, preserving 
 a general and beautiful resemblance, only perhaps some- 
 times making the copy more effeminate as well as prettier 
 than the original, this he inclined always to do in his 
 portraits. He disliked to see a homely portrait of an 
 original. In the evening he drew at the Life-school in 
 crayon, and his drawings were among the most elegant 
 of the number, fifty to seventy in the school. He paint- 
 ed but two or three portraits in Paris, of myself, his 
 French teacher, and a friend. After the close of the 
 Louvre to prepare for a modern exhibition, De Veaux 
 and I hired an atelier, and painted together, but he seemed 
 to feel the value of drawing the human figure, and often 
 attended the day Academy also." 
 
 Says Dr. Gibbes, " While in Paris, De Veaux painted 
 a fine copy of ' Vandyke by himself? which he present- 
 ed to James H. Hammond, Esq. a copy of ' Titiarfs 
 Mistress? purchased by Doctor Arrott of Philadelphia, 
 and a copy of ' The Marriage of St. Catherine,' by 
 Correggio. This was sold to the Hon. A. Stevenson, 
 then our Minister to England. He carried it to London, 
 where it was greatly admired, and WILKIE told Mr. 
 Stevenson he considered it the best copy he had ever seen, 
 of a picture frequently copied. It also attracted the 
 notice of LANDSEER, who passed a high encomium on its 
 merits." 
 
 The following extracts we make from the Painter's 
 Journal.
 
 ] 82 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 "21st May. Arrived in Antwerp. Cathedral 
 Citadel St. Jaques Rubens' tomb, prepared by him- 
 self fifteen years before his death a picture placed over 
 it by him two years before he died pictures by Vandyke 
 in the same place dead Christ and two profiles on the 
 same canvas. Cathedral five hundred English feet in 
 height went to the top, the most gorgeous steeple in 
 the world saw Ireland in the distance." 
 
 " St. Jaques, the dead figure of Christ by Vandyke I 
 prefer to all the other dead Christs I have ever seen 
 there is but little in it, but all perfect the flesh, white dra- 
 pery, solemn sky, are in most perfect harmony; two 
 heads by him in the same church in one canvas, profiles " 
 I think two of his best. At Mount Calvary or Church of 
 St. Luke, the ' Christ Scourged,'' painted by Rubens, is 
 my favorite the figure of the Saviour is just as we ex- 
 pect to find it enduring the whip without a murmur 
 the figure on the left is a little strained in posture, the 
 right leg rather affectedly disposed ; but one on the right 
 with one foot braced against the leg of Christ, is bursting 
 with hatred, and throws his whole force into each blow 
 the color is glowing. There are several others here by 
 Rubens, very excellent." 
 
 With occasional journeys to neighboring capitals, 
 he remained at Paris till the spring of 1838. " Left 
 Havre 9th May, 1838, and after a delightful voyage of 
 twenty-seven days, arrived at New- York. Here is an 
 end to my voyage and absence of twenty-one months, 
 and though delighted to see my native land, yet I confess 
 I am sighing after that I have left behind me. God 
 grant I may go eastward once more before I die." 
 
 He spent the summer in New- York, and " painted in 
 the rooms of Mr. Shegogue a fine portrait of his friend 
 Col. John S. Manning, of S. C., and was invited by him
 
 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 to his residence in Clarendon to take the likenesses of 
 several of his family." 
 
 " In Clarendon he remained until the winter of 
 1839, fully occupied, and turning off from his easel many 
 of his best portraits, enjoying himself in a delightful 
 society, which appreciated him highly, and having every 
 thing to encourage him in the prospects of his profes- 
 sion. Having completed his engagements, he returned 
 to Columbia, and spent the winter and spring in dis- 
 charging some obligations there. The summer of 1840 
 was passed chiefly in Abingdon, Va., where he was 
 invited to paint portraits for the family of the late Gen. 
 Preston. He made a short visit to New- York, and 
 returned to Columbia in November." 
 
 He continued the practice of his profession at Colum- 
 bia till the summer of 1841. He now ranked high as a 
 painter, and received $100 for his portraits, with full 
 occupation. During his visit to America, he executed 
 forty-three portraits he had before this time painted two 
 hundred. But he was anxious to return to Europe and 
 prosecute his studies in Italy. " Mrs. Gen. Hampton, 
 Col. Wade Hampton, John L. Manning, and John S. 
 Preston, Esquires, made arrangements with him to pro- 
 ceed to Italy." 
 
 He left Columbia the last time in August, 1841, and 
 sailed in September from New- York for Liverpool. 
 In a letter he says : " I'll not treat of my * various acci- 
 dents by flood and field ;' that is a treat in reserve for a 
 future occasion. Let this suffice, that leaving New- 
 York the 1st Sept., I landed at Liverpool on the 26th, and 
 pursued * the even tenor of my way' thence to London, 
 Dover, Boulogne and Paris, halting of course at each 
 world to draw breath not pictures. At Paris I re- 
 mained six or seven weeks, sketching at the Louvre, and
 
 J 34 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 studying Italian. At the end of that time I flung myself 
 into a French ' diligence,' gave the word * go,' and during 
 ten days and nights was continually en route ; and here 
 have I been in old Florence nearly a month, painting at 
 the Gallery the six hours, drawing at night from the 
 living model, and the rest of the time rambling about 
 among the old churches, palaces, prisons, gardens, etc., 
 etc. Oh ! pack your trunk, and leave the sand-hills 
 for a season a walk along the Arno, or a peep at the 
 frescoes in old Santa Croce, is worth the jaunt ; besides 
 fruit season is in, and always is, and how you would 
 enjoy the juice of the grape ! Though I am among the 
 marvels (marbles ?) of the earth, and in the world's 
 garden, let me not refuse to France its praise. I love 
 its smiling enthusiastic populace, its good and wise citizen 
 king, its gorgeous restaurants and splendid cafife. * * * 
 At any rate I left it, Paris, the world with a heavy 
 heart and moistened lids, and trusting to the tender mer- 
 cies of a French coach, was drawn and quartered in 
 
 Italy. * * * . Inman has more natural talent 
 
 perhaps, but Sully has the learning, all that application, 
 enthusiasm, experiment and experience could do, aided 
 too by good natural taste, and a nice perception of grace 
 and elegance, almost of beauty, Mr. S. has accomplished. 
 Mr. I. has natural ability, a quick eye and ready hand, 
 hard study has always been irksome to him from 
 ill health, but he does wonders for all that. SULLY is 
 our REYNOLDS, and ALLSTON our wonder, I would not 
 give him for less than Michael Angelo ! He is as fine as 
 all the old masters together !" 
 
 He now began in Florence his first original Histo- 
 rical piece * Christ administered to by Angels.' He 
 says : " Models for pictures are the heaviest items oi 
 expense here, since I have been engaged on my angels,
 
 JAMES DE VEAUX. J35 
 
 I have had models enough for inspection to people a 
 small village, angels, Italian angels ! from three years 
 up to thirty ; women and children, male and female. I 
 wish you could see me hauling up one little fellow with 
 a belly-band and rope and tackle, and when I get him 
 in the air and say ' fly, sir,' he curls all his limbs into a 
 heap and falls to crying !"' 
 
 He speaks with enthusiasm of Italy. "Think of 
 making a man forget his home, and desiring to nestle 
 with strangers ! But the people enter not into my calcu- 
 lations the climate, the scenery and the arts make the 
 chief of its charms. Oh ! leave cob-webs and dust and 
 politics and pines and scrub oaks, and all other dirty 
 things, and come here and breathe in Italy, quit the 
 damp, dank, suffocating air of sand-hills, and the leaden 
 exhalations of those eternal swamps, and come stand at 
 my side at sunrise or sunset, and let me hear you say, 
 * this is life,' one day in the city of the Medici, is belter 
 than a thousand within the walls of Gotham, it is better 
 to be a doorkeeper in the palace of the Grand Duke, than 
 dwell in the White House forever. Throw a few things 
 into an old trunk borrow a few dollars, and come and 
 let me l cicerone' you about 
 
 * no description, written or 
 
 pictured, can give more than a glimmer of the landscape, 
 or the faintest idea of the climate, the atmosphere, 
 the sunsets, olive groves, vineyards, chateaux, towers, 
 mountains, all atone glance ; and each cloud that inter- 
 venes throws a huge shadow over some object and 
 changes the whole character of the picture. From min- 
 ute to minute thus there are constant changes, and the 
 rapt spectator becomes drunk with beauty.' Oh ! come 
 and let me teach you to enjoy nature and art in tlu'ir 
 magnificence !
 
 1 86 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 " I am studying hard but with what success you shall 
 shortly judge. The subject I have chosen for my debut 
 in history-painting is ' Christ administered to by the 
 AngelsS Painting it under the eye of the best works of 
 dead masters, and having now and then the scrutinizing 
 eyes of living judges to contend against, I have been 
 floundering about in true whale fashion for several months. 
 It has been a good study for me, it has kept me always 
 busily thinking and fretting, and they are apt to leave 
 impressions firmly graven. Tell me what you think of 
 it candidly for an original. Before my funds give out, I 
 shall have one such, at least, for each of my good friends. 
 There are American painters and sculptors here of all 
 sorts. I find nothing in their society to please me, and so 
 keep to myself. Strange that so much venom should exist 
 among professors of a liberal art, but the truth is, that 
 envy and jealousy are our (painters') besetting sins, and 
 the first thing I heard of here was a flare up at Rome 
 amongst the American artists, and now they are all in 
 Florence for the summer, so I keep housed. Except 
 religious sects, I think we are the warmest and best haters, 
 and the most malignant devils the sun ever deigned to 
 shine upon. Except the French, I find artists the most 
 disagreeable associates, so can't expect to make many 
 friends among them, though 1 make some small sacrifices 
 to avoid making them enemies. The few friends I have 
 among them are exceptions to the general rule. 
 
 " I have been on a foot excursion of ten days, in the 
 most picturesque part of this lower world, visited Siena, 
 and the two celebrated Convents of ' La Verna' and 
 4 Vallombrosa, where the Etruscan shade high over arch 
 embowers,' lived two days with the old fathers of Val- 
 lombrosa, and as many at the other. We ate, we drank,
 
 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 187 
 
 we snuffed, and made merry with these cloistered men, 
 and never have I seen more hospitality and kindness be- 
 stowed. They chatted with us about Columbus, their 
 countryman America the Indians and wondered and 
 gaped at the cannibal stories we told them. These good 
 men feed and lodge all visitors, and receive in recom- 
 pense only what your charity suggests ; no charge is 
 made, but, of course, each traveller, after being feasted 
 and caressed, and hugged in the arms of these old an- 
 chorites, feels a bigness of soul that tempts him into a 
 ruinous liberality, and thus the sweet placid mildness of 
 the old coveys procures them ample means to support 
 their institution. If I were not Devo, I would be the 
 prior of a convent ! How I love the quiet holy seclusion 
 of their dwellings ! 
 
 " I have many sketches made from Nature as I jour- 
 neyed we were four in number, Virginia, Boston, 
 New-Haven and myself, and a jolly time we had with 
 all the loafers of each small town we strolled through, 
 (armed with knapsacks, etc.,) following at our heels and 
 uttering witticisms (an Italian privilege) at the expense 
 offorestieri strangers. * May I ask the way to Poppi,' 
 said I. ' Yes,' said a smart sharp-eyed beauty (just for 
 fun I did it,) ' Yes, you may.' ' Then where is it ?' I 
 asked. ' I don't know,' she laughing replied." 
 
 It is said De Veaux was sensitive about his early ed- 
 ucation. One can scarcely tell why, in reading so charm- 
 ing a sketch of Florence, as seen from the neighbour- 
 ing hills : " A run up to the top of one of the hundreds 
 of v ilia-capped hills (that actually encircle this old walled 
 city of eighty thousand inhabitants), at sunset, is a per- 
 fect view of Paradise before the fall. Oh ! what chiaro 
 scuro the city at your feet, with towers and steeples
 
 183 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 toned by time, and fresh varnished by the rays of an Ital- 
 ian sun ! the Arno, one sheet of silver valley, stretching 
 far and wide the immense spreading of plains shadowed 
 by a mountain cloud, and cut into by a broad sheet of sun- 
 light ! such things I have never seen, and will never tire 
 of each second brings a change and a new picture. 
 In all this lavish sport of hot and cold, light and shade, 
 the eye rests soothingly upon the old white-headed Apen- 
 nines, that seem to be stretching their necks to get a 
 look at the old Cathedral's huge comfortable looking 
 knob, and so warm themselves in imagination." 
 
 Speaking of the old churches, he says : " The dim 
 religious light that is so studiously prepared in these 
 churches, adds of course to the well painted illusions, and 
 one loves to sit in the solemn silence and gaze himself into 
 a state of joyous entrancement that nothing earthly 
 equals. Shall I become a Catholic ? No, 1 can have 
 these sweet dreams and be a Protestant * for a' that' 
 the heretics are not shut out from heaven on earth at 
 least." 
 
 We remember nowhere to have seen a more satis- 
 factory account given for the decline of the arts in Italy, 
 than in the following passage : 
 
 " Of the present Italian school, it requires not that 1 
 should tell you aught ; that it has been declining rapidly 
 for nearly two centuries, and has ceased to be named 
 with the French or English, you are well aware. This 
 is not surprising, many causes have aided to hasten its 
 decay, but chief among them, the fall of the Repub- 
 lic and the pride and-independence of the States, the 
 commercial wealth transplanted to more favored situa- 
 tions, the churches (the chief supporters of the Artist) 
 overstocked with pictures, and the constant demand for
 
 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 189 
 
 copies by foreigners travelling in this country, which has 
 made (and kept) copyists of men, who, with the patron- 
 age that Raphael and others received, might have been 
 their equals. If other causes exist, it must be in the 
 general degeneracy of the race, the climate is I suppose 
 the same as then the models the same, the pictures 
 finer than they had to study but the incentives are 
 wanting ' money, money, and again money.' The 
 adoration of the old masters has done its share of harm, 
 for persons who for the last century have travelled here 
 have been unwilling to pay for aught but copies from 
 them, and the government and church are too poor, or 
 have more pictures than they need, so modern artists of 
 course dwindle into mere copyists and poor miserable 
 devils they are cramped and disappointed in their first 
 aspirings, who can wonder at their failures ?" 
 
 During his residence in Florence, he executed his 
 ' Christ fed by Angels,' which he thus describes to the 
 friend in South Carolina, in whose house he wished it to 
 hang ' till he should paint something better.' 
 
 " The moment I have chosen is the arrival of the 
 angels with food and drink, and of the SAVIOUR'S 
 thanksgiving. The angels are disposed in acts and pos- 
 tures that chanced to strike most pleasingly on my fancy, 
 all blemishes and beauties (are there such ?) are iny 
 own it is strictly original. 
 
 " Beginning on the right of the picture, (the left of the 
 observer,) is a figure partly obscured by the shadows that 
 fall from a cluster of foliage this is the wine-bearer, the 
 Hebe of the company, next a small figure adjoining, is 
 one presenting a cup of wine, but waiting religiously the 
 cessation of grace, behind the kneeling figure, and some 
 distance back in the picture, is one coming forward, with
 
 190 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 hands clasped and eyes heavenward, as if in gratefulness 
 for the relief sent to the Christ, then comes the person 
 of JESUS ; immediately on his left an angel is anxiously 
 directing his attention to another just alighted, bearing 
 bread and fruit, whilst a third is seen eagerly urging the 
 food-bearer forward ; an angel has taken the hand of the 
 Lord, and is reverently embracing it, the foreground 
 occupant kneels in silent worship. 
 
 ' ; Action in some of the figures became necessary, to 
 give life and animation to the picture, which might oth- 
 erwise have appeared tame, spiritless and monotonous. 
 This movement I have affected by the supposed inquiet- 
 ude of two or three of the younger urchins. I think I 
 have avoided any thing like too much bustle and confu- 
 sion in the group, by the sacredness of air, bent heads, 
 and prayerful aspects of the majority, particularly the 
 elder forms, and have left all infringement of etiquette 
 to the younger branches of the family." 
 
 This work has been spoken of in exalted terms, by 
 some of the best artists it established the reputation of 
 the Painter. He passed on to Rome where he began 
 his artistic life in earnest. He made several beautiful 
 copies, and executed ' The Bandit at Home ' ' The 
 Beggar Girl,' and 'A Pilgrim asleep, in sight of St. 
 Peter's Dome.' Says Dr. Gibbes, 
 
 " ' The Bandit at Home,' in the possession of J. S. 
 Preston, Esq., is a noble work. The conception is fine, 
 a sweet and lovely child is brought by the fond mother, to 
 win from his rugged life the fierce Brigand, his innocent 
 gambols have touched the heart of the bold outlaw, and 
 a gentle and mournful interest exhibits itself in his coun- 
 tenance as he sports with his boy. The calm and soft- 
 ening influence of an Italian sky on the hard features of
 
 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 191 
 
 the rocky landscape, and the soothing effect of twilight 
 like the mother's anxious love, are admirably arranged 
 in keeping with the, character of the scene. The gentler 
 feelings of the father have displaced for the time the in- 
 fluence of * hatred and malice and all uncharitableness,' 
 and the parent feels the power of innocence over his 
 heart, and. of conscious guilt on his mind. The figures 
 are all the size of life, and considering the difficulty of 
 drawing the large figure correctly, this will be considered 
 his greatest work. The drawing is admirably correct, 
 the coloring elaborately rich, and the general effect very 
 striking ; the story is well and pleasingly told, and as a 
 work of art, this picture will bear comparison with any 
 that we know as the offspring of American genius. The 
 finish in detail of ' Christ and the Angels,' is only here 
 surpassed by the boldness in composition and complete- 
 ness of effect of the full sized figures. These two ori- 
 ginals are all the memorials of any size, of that gifted 
 spirit, which has gained, we hope, instead of the immor- 
 tality of earth, that which is eternal in the heavens!" 
 
 ' The Roman Beggar Girl ' is rich and sunny as her 
 own native clime ; he found the original of this picture 
 in a state of great destitution on the steps of a church ; 
 from his own scanty store he clothed and placed her 
 above immediate want." 
 
 He now prepared to leave for Venice. Of his object 
 he thus speaks. For this season my labors are closed at 
 Rome. I hope nothing will prevent my return here, 
 all my future hopes are pending upon the use I make of 
 next winter, to draw incessantly is my fixed, firmly- 
 rooted determination, which nothing ought to dislodge. 
 May I be firm in obeying the dictates of reason and pure; 
 conviction !
 
 J92 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 He went to Bologna, and then on to Venice Dr. 
 Gibbes has published his Journal during the entire jour- 
 ney. We regret that we have no space for it it is full of 
 genius, bright with hope for the future which was so soon 
 to be clouded. He has himself given the history of the ty- 
 rannical treatment which cost him his life. He was now 
 on his way back to Rome full of hope, enthusiasm and 
 ambition. For several years he had been communing 
 with the masters of his art, and he had drank in their spirit. 
 Unlike most scholars who visit Italy, he had made few 
 copies. He spent most of his time in studying those 
 wonderful creations which have stirred or crushed the 
 ambition of every man who ever gazed on them. With 
 him art was a spiritual idea his soul yearned to com- 
 mune with the great teachers who were dead, and it is 
 said that he passed many hours before each of those works 
 which attracted his attention, in rapt silence which could 
 not be broken. He had now nearly finished his journey- 
 ings, and with a mind stored with the richest associations, 
 an improved eye and practised hand, and above all a 
 wakeful and a creative genius, with the vision of fame 
 in the future, and those who loved him to beckon him on 
 he would have won a name few men have borne in our 
 times. Let us see to whom we owe it that our country 
 and the world have lost such a man. 
 
 " I left Parma for Bologna, where I had previously 
 spent some time, and now comes an epoch in my life. 
 Arrived within fifteen miles of Bologna, my passport was 
 carefully examined and found to be. wanting the signature 
 of the Pope's representative at Venice, to pass through this 
 part of his dominions (at present in a state of insurrec- 
 tion). I was suspected of being some wild republican 
 spirit, hastening to join the revolutionists, and was not
 
 JAMES DE VEATJX. 
 
 193 
 
 only not allowed to proceed, but not permitted to remain 
 at the point I had already reached ; the police ordered 
 me immediately out of town ; there was nothing left for 
 me but obedience. I was then but one day's journey 
 from my destination, Florence ; by this sad misfortune, I 
 was obliged to take a one-horse conveyance, and to avoid 
 the Pope's possessions, was forced to cross one of the 
 worst ranges of the Apennines, at this season a terrible 
 undertaking, and for four days amidst rain, wind, snow 
 and hail I plied my way ; it lost me so many precious 
 days, and the exposure has fixed a cold on my lungs, 
 which I fear will cost me more. This is a small inkling 
 of the sweets of this form of government, and the Poetry 
 of Italy." 
 
 The unfortunate De Veaux reached Rome a dying 
 man and in a short time he was carried to the grave. 
 Many kind familiar faces were around his bedside in 
 that far off land of strangers and for two months the 
 sufferer calmly and cheerfully waited for his release. 
 His death was worthy of the Huguenots whose blood 
 flowed in his veins. " The last week of his illness he sent 
 for two of his American friends who were about return- 
 ing home, they feared agitating him, but he said he must 
 see them, they came, he talked long and earnestly 
 to them on the subject of religion they were both over- 
 come. One threw himself on the bed, and kissing and 
 bathing poor De Veaux's hands with his tears, assured 
 him that he should never forget his counsels. 
 * * Of his kind friends here, I must not forget to 
 mention particularly Mr. Huntingdon, from New- York, 
 to whom De Veaux was very much attached ; sometimes 
 he would send for Mr. H.'s pictures, admiring his talents 
 very much, a few days before his death he sent for one,
 
 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 after looking at it some time, and expressing his pleas- 
 ure at seeing it, he said, ' take it away, I wish to see no 
 more paintings, I am going to a better place,' pointing to 
 the blue sky, * my home will soon be beyond that.' ' 
 
 A few days before his death he wrote two letters 
 to his mother and his friend who became his biographer. 
 In the latter he says : 
 
 " I have resigned myself to God, who in His good- 
 ness has given me three months for prayer and repent- 
 ance, and I feel a strong hope that when life is past I 
 shall go to dwell with Christ forever. 
 
 " And to you, my dear friend, I must now bid adieu. 
 God's will be done. May God bless you for your bro- 
 therly conduct always towards me, enabling me to do much 
 for my poor family. I always hoped to be able to make 
 some small return, but who can say what a day may bring 
 forth ? Let me beseech you, my dear friend, with wife 
 and children, to devote yourselves to the service of God, 
 taking no peace, night or day, until your sins are all 
 washed, and you are sure that God has blessed you, 
 live for heaven only, and after a few years of toil and 
 pain, I trust you and I and all of us may meet around 
 God's throne, never to part again ; shut in with Christ 
 together, we will spend together the long ages of eter- 
 nity farewell. - Farewell till heaven unites us, which 
 God in his mercy grant." 
 
 The following touching account of poor De Veaux's 
 funeral, is from the pen of a kindred spirit his friend 
 Rossiter, the Artist : 
 
 "It was on Monday, April the 29th, that his friends 
 and all the Americans at Rome, assembled to pay the 
 last tribute of regard to all that this world claimed of poor 
 De Veaux. Towards the close of the afternoon the
 
 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 hearse, followed by a line of carriages, took its mournful 
 course through the crowded streets to the Protestant 
 burial ground. The genial temperature of early spring 
 was awakening in the trees, herbage and flowers a re- 
 newed existence, reminding us of the new state of being 
 into which our friend had passed, and after the solemn 
 service of the church had been read over his remains, we 
 consigned them to their narrow house, as the sun was 
 sinking below the Mediterranean horizon. The hour 
 was impressive, and the place where we laid him is fit- 
 ting for the long sleep of death. About him are the clus- 
 tering mounds of others of his countrymen, cut off like 
 himself in the pride of their youth or manhood, fresh 
 flowers were blooming over their graves, above, the tall 
 cypress and pines moan in the evening wind, and the 
 venerable walls of Rome and the lofty pyramidal mauso- 
 leums of Caius Sextus throw their deep shadows over 
 the sacred enclosure. Shelley, Keats, and many a gifted 
 mind from other nations slumber here ; the multitude of 
 the dead, the crumbling mould of centuries, the decaying 
 particles of the earliest ages of the world, mingle alone 
 with his dust, and are the only spirits that pervade the 
 spot. Rome with its living pulsations is far removed. 
 And here let him repose, like the spring and summer 
 flowers that wave over his grave, his memory will ever 
 bloom in the hearts of those who knew him, who, cut 
 off in the youth of a promising career, left a name for 
 nobleness of character, gentleness of heart, and strength 
 of feeling, more to be envied than the renown of gifted 
 talents alone, or the proud blazonry of professiona 1 
 elevation.' 1 
 
 His brother Artists erected a plain marble stone over 
 his dust under his profile in basso relievo, are these 
 words :
 
 196 JAMES DE VEAUX. 
 
 SACRED 
 To the memory of 
 
 PAINTER: 
 
 Who was born in Charleston, S. C., America, 
 
 AND 
 
 Died in Rome, April 28, 1844, 
 
 Aged 31 years, and 6 months. 
 
 This Monument has been erected to the Deceased 
 
 by his friends, as a token of their 
 
 high regard and esteem 
 
 for him. 
 
 Over the resting-place of this gifted and early lost 
 painter, Americans will stand and weep. 
 
 Nor can I forbear to say, that if De Veaux had been 
 a citizen of any other great nation, the Court of Rome 
 would long ago have been summoned before a tribunal 
 which even Infallibility itself must respect, to tell why 
 it was that a young Artist from a distant country, must 
 be treated like an Italian bandit, when he is on his way 
 to the shrines of Art.
 
 From a Painting by himself .
 
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE.
 
 i HAVE thought of no name that has graced the 
 annals of American Art, with which I could with more 
 propriety introduce the line of our living Artists, than 
 that of the veteran Peale, who is the oldest American 
 Painter. 
 
 In reply to a letter of mine, requesting this Artist to 
 furnish the materials for writing his life, I received with 
 a masterly portrait, executed by his own hand, the fol- 
 lowing beautiful note, a part of which I cannot deny the 
 reader the pleasure of perusing : 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, March 8th, 1846. 
 
 It is equally difficult for an Artist to paint his own portrait, or to 
 write his own memoirs to avoid the seduction of self- approbation, 
 and yet to exhibit the true formation and course of character. If, 
 however, he will not assist in doing this, some one else may falsify 
 and exaggerate it, as was the case with Mr. West, whose neglect 
 of writing was unfortunately supplied by Mr. Gait, with tales of 
 error and romance this I know from my recollection of facts. 
 Even of myself I have heard the most ridiculous stories, which are 
 so readily metamorphosed by the tongues of gossips, who deal in the 
 wonderful. It requires much vanity to spin out a volume of one's- 
 self and yet there is some vanity and indolence in forbearing. 
 There are few Franklins in Autobiography, and it requires the sa- 
 cred veil of death to be interposed against the criticisms of those 
 who betray their own vanity by censuring that of others. 
 
 In the sketches which I send you, I have, according to your re- 
 commendation, concentrated them in reference to my pictorial career 
 and have avoided making any effort to interest the reader by nar- 
 ratives of the perils I have encountered by sea and land, and amus-
 
 200 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 ing incidents of travel notwithstanding the mental epidemic of 
 romance which prevails, to the injury of simplicity and truth. 
 
 I have lived long enough to witness the entire growth of the Fine 
 Arts in our country, and I cannot help thinking, with you, that the 
 time has now arrived, when the expansion of knowledge, and the re- 
 finements of society are rapidly developing a corresponding taste and 
 patronage of the Fine Arts, whose cause you have boldly and zeal- 
 ously undertaken to advocate. 
 
 I remain respectfully yours, 
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 The difficulties to which the Artist alludes in the first 
 paragraph of his letter, have been so entirely overcome, 
 in the Autobiographical sketch he sent me, that I could 
 not prevail upon myself to substitute for it one entirely 
 my own. It. has been esteemed an uncommonly chaste 
 and beautiful account, by those who have read it in MS., 
 and they have, without exception, recommended me to 
 publish it as it is : 
 
 It was intended that I should be born in Philadel- 
 phia, but my father had raised a volunteer company, of 
 which he was made captain, and being under Washing- 
 ton's command with the army, my mother, alarmed by 
 the approach of the British troops, sought refuge at a 
 farm-house twenty miles from the city, where I was born 
 on the 22d of February, 1778. 
 
 From my father's mechanical propensities, an indis- 
 pensable part of his domicil was the carpenter's shop ; 
 in which, after many cut fingers, I early learned the use 
 of the saw, plane, and chisel, and made myself a writing- 
 desk, easel and paint-box, into which I stored up, though 
 useless, all the old brushes and bladders of paint my fa- 
 ther threw away. This same paint-box, made of 
 common pine, served me during many years of my pro- 
 fessional life, with an occasional fresh coat of paint.
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 201 
 
 At this time it was my great delight to arrange and 
 examine a curious collection of old engravings, which 
 my father had bought of itinerant Italians, at that early 
 day in the history of our art, the only venders of such 
 articles. Extended on the floor, winter and summer, I 
 pored over them for hours, smoothed and mended them, 
 and read the lives of their authors in the Painter's Dic- 
 tionary. It was a fortunate accident that my first at- 
 tempt to draw was from the letters of the Roman capitals, 
 enlarging them from title-pages and handbills. This 
 proved the best exercise that could be given for the ed- 
 ucation of my eye, and, at a more mature age, led to the 
 development of the system of graphics. 
 
 A sister, older than myself, was regularly advancing 
 in a course of drawing that excited my admiration. 
 Daily, as I was liberated from school, I rushed to her 
 room and watched every movement of her pencil, which 
 I comprehended as preliminary to drawing with the 
 brush. When she chanced to be otherwise engaged, I 
 sedulously, but unseen, copied the drawings she had 
 made. It was the work of many days. But when she 
 saw them, nothing could induce her to continue, errone- 
 ously supposing that I had drawn, without any effort, 
 what had cost her so much pains. In my subsequent 
 studies, from an impression it was best to leave me to my 
 own impulses, my father only gave me a passing remark, 
 or some general direction, but with this special advice 
 to acquire correctness in drawing before 1 should attempt 
 the use of the brush. This I endeavored to accomplish 
 by the aid of anatomical engravings and plaster casts. 
 
 The first collection of Italian Pictures sent to this 
 country was consigned to John Swan wick, then our most 
 distinguished merchant, who deposited them for sale in
 
 202 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 my father's Gallery, where they remained for two year's 
 unsold, until they were sacrificed and scattered under the 
 hammer of the auctioneer. It was this collection of old 
 heads, Scripture histories and landscapes, that confirmed 
 my desire to become a Painter, which was further 
 strengthened by a visit, with my father, to the painting- 
 rooms of Mr. Pine. He was a pupil of Sir Joshua Rey- 
 nolds, and coming from England highly recommended, 
 Robert Morris built him a dwelling-house, with a large 
 exhibition-room and a suitable painting-room. In this 
 mysterious sky-lighted hall, the walls of which were 
 covered with large paintings his own works in history 
 and portrait and many copies from Reynolds, especially 
 the noble whole length of Mrs._Siddons as the Tragic 
 Muse my imagination pictured a giant of art, but when 
 we entered his private study, I was astonished to find 
 that so small a man could produce such mighty works ! 
 He seemed a little conjurer, with his maul-stick for a 
 wand, and palette of colored incantations. 
 
 My first attempt to paint in oil was, as usual, a por- 
 trait of myself, in which I could blunder unseen, and not 
 fatigue the sitter sooner than the painter. This I thought 
 a good beginning, as every body knew the likeness of 
 the little boy only thirteen years old. 1 have often shown 
 this portrait to young beginners, to encourage them to go 
 on from bad to better. My next attempt was a candle- 
 light portrait of myself, painted at night the candle 
 partially hidden behind a letter in my hand. The nov- 
 elty of this effort gave me praise and confidence, and I 
 hastened to represent the conflagration of the German 
 Lutheran Church, which had just occurred ; and then 
 from a print, a blacksmith's shop, colored according to 
 my ocular experience in a blacksmith's shop in the neigh-
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 203 
 
 hood, where I loved to study the glowing lights and mid- 
 night shades. But such pictures were not in demand, 
 though they attracted the attention of a shoe-maker and 
 flute-maker, whose wives I painted, to be paid in kind : 
 but, being even less of a merchant than an artist, I was a 
 little mortified to receive only one pair of shoes for the first 
 portrait, although better pleased with a flute for the 
 second. The study to play on this flute, and soon after, 
 the guitar, served to occupy every moment that I could 
 spare from painting, and often reminds me of the moral 
 benefits that result from an early attention to some mu- 
 sical attainment. 
 
 When I was about fifteen years old, recollecting how 
 rapidly I had learned to write after being somewhat 
 proficient in drawing, I was desirous of trying with 
 another person, whether writing could not be better ac- 
 quired after a short course of drawing ; and made my 
 first experiment with Thomas, now Judge Sergeant, then 
 eleven years old, who was totally deficient in writing and 
 knew nothing of drawing. A few minutes' instruction 
 other day, made him in six weeks a good writer 
 
 and draughtsman. 
 
 After those fire-light attempts, I studied the effects 
 of day-light by copying my father's Portraits, Historical 
 Prints and Landscapes ; and at seventeen years was 
 flattered by having to paint a portrait of the Senator 
 Sedgwick, and a rich West-India lady, bedizened with 
 rings and jewels. I had painted the back of her watch, 
 as it hung at her side, but to gratify her, I painted a 
 duplicate of it lying on the table, with its face richly 
 studded with diamonds. This gave me a surfeit of or- 
 naments, which I never afterwards introduced into any 
 portraits.
 
 204 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 About the year 1794 my father and I attempted 
 to get up a School of Design, which was commenced at 
 our dwelling, and finding it difficult to procure a model, 
 as an Academy figure, my father volunteered himself to 
 begin with. Efforts were then made to collect Pictures, 
 and the first Exhibition in America was opened in the 
 HALL of INDEPENDENCE. The harmony of the Society, 
 however, was disturbed by the turbulent spirit of the 
 Italian Carachi, known by his Bust of Washington, and 
 as a conspirator against Buonaparte, Barralet, Groom- 
 bridge and other Artists, and it soon ceased to exist. 
 
 When I was but a school-boy I knew no other who 
 was born on the birthday of Washington, and it was this 
 childish motive which impelled me to seek every occasion 
 of seeing him. This was necessarily followed by the 
 greatest veneration for his character as well as his sublime 
 aspect. My post had been behind my father's chair 
 when he painted him in 1786 I was the bearer of every 
 message from my father to him I met him every Sunday, 
 as he went to church crossed the street, returned, and 
 met him again, to glance at his countenance ; and when 
 he, sometimes, putting his hand on my head, asked me 
 "How is your good father?" I loved him the more. At 
 public parades, I studied him in military guise ; and after- 
 wards, saw him when he resigned his seat to Adams. 
 It will not be difficult, therefore, to believe that I longed 
 
 ' > O 
 
 for no greater honor than to paint his portrait. Thfe 
 privilege He kindly granted me in September, 1795, by 
 giving three sittings, of three hours each. 
 
 Young in the world, and inexperienced in conversa- 
 tion, I induced my father also to begin a portrait, along- 
 side of me, keeping him in familiar conversation. From 
 this study I executed ten copies in Charleston, S. C.,
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 205 
 
 where 1 spent the winter in professional business 
 among other portraits painting Gen. Gadsden, Gen. 
 Sumpter, and Dr. Ramsay, for my father's gallery. 
 
 On my return to Philadelphia in the spring, in com- 
 pany with my father and uncle, I saw Stuart's portrait 
 of Washington. We were of one opinion, that it was 
 most beautifully painted. I subsequently made many 
 studies in efforts to combine my own and my father's 
 portraits, but never satisfied myself, nor my father, (than 
 whom no man knew Washington better,) till many years 
 after, in the seventeenth attempt, which is in the Senate 
 Chamber at Washington. 
 
 In the habits of domestic life, contrary to Dufres- 
 noy's precept to the painter, only to marry his Art, I 
 married before I was twenty-one, and resided some time 
 in Baltimore. In the autumn of 1801, I joined my 
 father in his laborious enterprise of disinterring two 
 skeletons of the Mastodon, in Ulster and Orange coun- 
 ties, N. Y. I made a drawing of the scene of our ope- 
 rations, which especially astonished one of our young 
 visitors, of unusual taste in the fine arts, who reported 
 that he had seen " a great hemlock, (meaning a Lim- 
 ner,) that took off every thing on the ground." I have 
 often smiled at the recollection, thinking that many a 
 young Limner in America might as well be a hemlock. 
 In Philadelphia I assisted my father in the task of put- 
 ting these skeletons together, which required some of 
 the deficient members to be carved in counterpart imi- 
 tation in which operation I became expert. 
 
 As a preparatory step to my artistic studies, I went 
 through a course of chemistry, under Dr. Woodhouse, 
 to become acquainted with the chemical qualities of pig- 
 ments for it was determined that the second skeleton/
 
 206 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 should go to London a younger brother having charge 
 of it, and I to have charge of him, whilst my studies 
 should be pursued in the Royal Academy. My father 
 had been a favorite pupil, and was a correspondent of Mr. 
 West, who received me affectionately, and kindly di- 
 rected my studies in his gallery introducing me to Law- 
 rence and Allston. I exhibited two portraits in the 
 Royal Academy, which brought me an applicant, the 
 Bishop of Lambeth ; but I foolishly declined the honor 
 of painting his portrait, considering myself in London 
 only as a student. I painted for my father's gallery, por- 
 traits of the Poet Bloomfield, whom I taught to draw, 
 and Sir Joseph Banks, to whom I dedicated my first 
 publication on the Mammoth.* Sir Joseph introduced 
 me to many scientific characters, who were wont to as- 
 semble at his library breakfasts, assisted by the learned 
 Dr. Solander, who had accompanied him with Captain 
 Cook round the world. 
 
 When Mr. West consulted me on his purpose of re- 
 turning with me to America, I did not suppress my con- 
 viction that he could not find encouragement for the em- 
 ployment of his pencil in History, except by the exhibi- 
 tion of his works, and recommended him to enlarge his 
 spirited composition of Death on the Pate Horse. It is 
 worth recording that he expressed himself mortified with 
 the idea of descending to such means of getting money, 
 which had not then been the practice of any distin- 
 guished Artists ; and, with a flushed countenance, begged 
 that I would never mention the subject to him again. 
 Mrs. West's illness prevented his intended voyage and 
 a few years afterwards, the extraordinary attraction at 
 
 * Cuvier speaks with approbation of this little brochure in hia Systemc df 
 la Jfature.
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 207 
 
 the British Institution, of his " Christ Healing the Sick 
 and the Lame," for which they paid him three thousand 
 guineas, nearly fifteen thousand dollars, induced him to 
 produce expressly for popular exhibition, his great picture 
 of " Christ before Pilate ;" and afterwards, " Death on 
 the Pale Horse," though disadvantageously altered from 
 the original study, which was much admired in Paris. 
 
 Returning to America in 1803, 1 found sufficient oc- 
 cupation in Savannah, Charleston, New-York, and Phil- 
 adelphia there being no capital city in America, as 
 New- York is now becoming; but Philadelphia was the 
 city of promise, and I was zealous in the establishment 
 of an Academy of Fine Arts. A Holland merchant, 
 Mr. Lichleightner, arrived with a choice little collection 
 of pictures for sale. I purchased some of him, and we 
 became intimate. He offered to build a Gallery, send 
 me pictures to keep it always full, and to share with him 
 equally in the profits. This I agreed to do, if I could 
 not induce Mr. Joseph Hopkinson to co-operate with me 
 in the plan of an Academy. He repeatedly refused, 
 until I assured him that otherwise I should confine my 
 efforts to my individual interest. His influence raised 
 the money, a building was erected, plaster casts import- 
 ed, which I mended and mounted : Fulton's and other 
 pictures procured, and the exhibition of the Pennsylva- 
 nia Academy of Fine Arts successfully opened. 
 
 But my spirit was with the Galleries of Europe, and 
 in 1807, and again in 1809, 1 visited France to enjoy the 
 magnificent assemblage of the works of art, which 
 formed a part of Napoleon's ambition. On the second 
 visit I took my family and lived two years in Paris, near 
 the National Gallery of the Louvre, in which I studied 
 daily, and was assiduous in procuring the portraits of
 
 208 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 distinguished characters for my father's gallery. Noth- 
 ing could be more interesting than this intercourse with 
 the minds and talents of great men Humboldt, Cuvier, 
 Bertholet, Chaptal, Saint Pierre, &c. Among the Art- 
 ists I also painted Houdon, Gerard, and David.* Mr. 
 Denon was especially kind and serviceable to me, allow- 
 ing me privileges in the Louvre that he extended to no 
 one else ; and when I was preparing to return to Ame- 
 rica, pressed me to remain, saying that as Gerard had 
 commenced history, and could paint no more portraits, 
 he would give me all the Imperial portraits to paint ; 
 candidly adding, " I prefer Gerard to you, but I prefer 
 your portraits to any others here." Domestic consider- 
 ations induced me to decline this offer. On my return 
 to Paris in 1830, Denon being dead, his nephew pre- 
 sented me with a little gold medal, as a memorial of his 
 uncle's regard for me. 
 
 On my return to America, with improved knowledge 
 and facilities in my art, I was abundantly patronized in 
 portrait painting, but could not suppress an increasing 
 desire to engage in greater works ; I therefore built a 
 Gallery, and painted a large picture of Napoleon on 
 Horseback, the Ascent of Elijah, the Roman Daughter, 
 the Death of Virginia, and Lysippa on the Rock with 
 landscapes, and other pictures. I was tempted to trans- 
 fer this Gallery to Baltimore, in conection with a Mu- 
 seum which I bought. Here I formed a company to 
 light the city with gas devoted a year of my time to 
 the enterprise, to the injury of my private business ; and 
 though I have the honor of being the first to light a 
 city in America, I was defrauded of my just pecuniary 
 
 The latter had refused to sit to any other painter.
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 209 
 
 reward, and obliged by consequent ill health, to abandon 
 my establishment there. 
 
 I had previously painted the " Court of Death." 
 This was a picture twenty-four feet long, consisting of 
 twenty-three figures a pictorial discourse on life and 
 death, being an attempt by personification to show the 
 reality and necessity of death, and the charms of vir- 
 tue, contrasted with vice and intemperance, and the 
 horrors of war. It was the first attempt, in modern 
 times, to produce moral impressions on the ancient 
 Greek plan, without the aid of mythology, or conven- 
 tional allegory, being as readily understood by the igno- 
 rant as the learned ; and was the first public appeal in 
 favor of temperance, before the establishment of socie- 
 ties for its promotion. It was exhibited with extraordi- 
 nary success in our principal cities, and was recom- 
 mended from several pulpits, and by the Corporation of 
 New- York. Among the poetic effusions it has elicited 
 the first stanza of one by Dr. Godman, is thus compli- 
 mentary to the Artist. Shall I quote it ? 
 
 THE COURT OF DEATH. 
 
 "Though the unsparing hand of time ' V ^ 
 
 Flings o'er earth his mantle gray ; 
 Though towns and towers though rocks sublime 
 
 Perish beneath his all-consuming sway ; 
 Man ! glorious in his strength ! man, creature of a daj. 
 
 Imparts to perishable things a charm 
 
 That doth the desolating power disarm, 
 And snatch from Glory's sun a never dying ray ! 
 
 1 had begun another composition of the same dimen- 
 sions, "Christ's Sermon on the Mount," but the difficul- 
 ties attending their exhibition at that time from the want 
 of suitable rooms induced me to give it up. 
 
 14
 
 210 
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 When Col. Trumbull, who was long President of the 
 old American Academy at New- York, retired, at his nom- 
 ination I was chosen to succeed him. Oirtaking the chair, 
 I could not forbear saying, that I could not heartily thank 
 them for the honor they did me, unless they would co- 
 operate with me to produce a friendly amalgamation with 
 the Artists' National Academy, of which I was also a 
 member. This could not then be, but was subsequently 
 effected, greatly to the satisfaction of the friends of the 
 Arts. 
 
 Again my thoughts reverted to Europe, among the 
 Galleries of which I flattered myself I should forget all 
 disappointment, with recruited health and meditated a 
 final residence in London ; the image of Washington once 
 more rose to engross my mind. I determined on another 
 attempt, not to seek approbation here, but to gratify 
 my own heart. I knew that in Europe his character was 
 justly appreciated, and 1 wished to take with me, if possi- 
 ble, a good likeness. I therefore assembled in my painting 
 room every Portrait, Bust, Medallion and Print of 
 Washington that 1 could find thus to excite and resusci- 
 tate my memory. My wife, who had always objected to 
 these absorbing studies, now entreated that I would dis- 
 turb my spirit no more with Washington, saying that she 
 thought him my evil genius, and, with tears on her cheeks, 
 wishejd that he never had been born ! I promised her 
 to make but this one trial, but it was an illusive promise, 
 for it lasted three months, to the exclusion of all other 
 thoughts. My father, too, was grieved at my infatuation 
 and waste of time saying that I ought to be satisfied 
 with what had already been done. That could not be 
 and I wrought at my task with unceasing assiduity, till one 
 day my father entered, and clapping me on the shoulder,
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 211 
 
 exclaimed, "You have it now this is indeed Wash- 
 ington." His approbation increased my excitement, and 
 1 consumed the day in retouches from my own Original, 
 as if Washington had just left me it was the fever, and 
 I feared the fatal madness of memory; but the next day, 
 with. a tranquil pulse and cool forehead, I looked on my 
 work and was satisfied I had not destroyed it. My 
 father brought Judges Tilghman and Peters to see it, and 
 they sent others, so that during five days my room was 
 crowded with persons that knew Washington. 
 
 Instead of going to England, I hastened with my 
 picture to Washington City, Congress being then in ses- 
 sion, hoping that Chief Justice Marshall, the friend and 
 biographer of Washington, might also be satisfied with 
 it.* It was put up in the .Vice President's chamber. 
 Judge Marshall recommended me to procure the written 
 testimonials of the friends of Washington, as a duty they 
 owed to their country, and himself gave the example. 1 
 therefore obtained from Judges Washington, Tilghman, 
 and Peters, Bishop White, and other cotemporaries, 
 LETTERS! repeating such expressions of their approbation 
 as they had previously made public. These letters I 
 shall deposit in the Library of Congress. 
 
 The sittings which Washington gave me were from 
 7 till 10 in the morning. He shaved himself, but at or 
 after 10 the barber dressed his hair in the formal wig-like 
 fashion usual in his other portraits of that period ; mine, 
 therefore, represents him with his hair somewhat in disha- 
 
 * When Judge Marshall saw it he exclaimed " It seems as if I were look- 
 ing on the living man ! It it is more like him than any thing I have ever seen." 
 
 t Letters of tln-ir own dictation not a certificate, as erroneously stated in 
 Dunlap's History of the Arts
 
 212 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 bille, and shows, by the whisker on his cheek, the dark 
 brown color of his hair. 
 
 This portrait I afterwards took to Europe, and it 
 afforded me the privilege of inviting to my painting room 
 the most distinguished persons. In Florence it was ex- 
 hibited in the Royal Academy.* At a later period a 
 special Committee of the U. S. Senate recommended 
 the purchase of this picture, which I parted with for 
 $2000 and the Senate, subsequently, voted 4,500 dol- 
 lars for my large Equestrian Portrait of Washington. It 
 was the last bill sent to the House, and, for want of time, 
 not acted on. It remains in my possession. 
 
 I was the first to experiment in Lithography in this 
 country, and in Boston executed a number of portraits, 
 especially a large one of Washington, for which I received 
 the silver medal of the Franklin Institute. 
 
 As previously intimated, 1 prepared for a long de- 
 sired visit to Italy, engaging to, make copies of celebra- 
 ted pictures for some gentlemen of taste in New- York. 
 Besides the enjoyment of such a visit to the seat of the 
 Arts, at the mature age of 51, I was influenced by a de- 
 sire to superintend the education of my son Angelo, who 
 manifested a talent for painting. In Paris we especially 
 visited the Galleries of Art. By the way of Lyons we 
 passed to Marseilles, where we waited the sailing of a 
 ship to Naples. Accustomed to early hours, my son and 
 
 * It elicited from the Editor of the Gazetta di Firenze the following com- 
 mendation ; "II signer Rembrandt Peale, Americano, si distinse in due Ri- 
 tratti : in quello del Liberatore dell' America, non sapremo bastamente ammir- 
 are la naturalezze. la verita, che e nella testa, e la bellezza del colorito." 
 " Mr. Rembrandt Peale, American, is distinguished by two Portraits." (One 
 of these our sculptor Grenough.) " In that of the Liberator of America, we 
 cannot sufficiently admire the naturalness and truth of his head, and the 
 beauty of the colouring."
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE c)\o 
 
 1O 
 
 I anticipated the time of dining at the table d'hote, and 
 therefore were alone, with the exception of one gentle- 
 man, who at a table near us, also eat before his hour, 
 and heard our discourse. This continued for a week, but 
 as we talked no treason, it did not annoy me. At last 
 the gentleman spoke, apologizing for his rudeness in his 
 admiration of the English language acknowledged that 
 he knew my father, and finding that we were going to 
 Naples and Rome gave me his name, and offered, as an 
 atonement for his intrusion, to give me letters of intro- 
 troduction. Perceiving that my thanks were somewhat 
 cool and ceremonious, he ventured to inform me that he 
 was in the confidence of, and corresponded with Joseph 
 Bonaparte ; and begged that I would receive and deliver 
 two letters which he gave me one to a pleasant young 
 artist, and the other to Captain Robalia, a son of Napo- 
 leon, who resided with the mother of Napoleon at Rome. 
 I found Robalia all that was promised he was indeed 
 most kindly attentive to me, and wished to introduce me 
 to the Empress Mother, which I deferred too long, as 
 her sickness afterwards prevented it. 
 
 At Naples, with the Museums of Painting and 
 Sculpture, and the antiquities of Pompeii, there was 
 much to interest us, but I was chiefly gratified in some 
 opportunities of seeing the best specimens of Fresco 
 painting ; especially those in a chapel, under the Castle 
 of St. Elmo, uninjured, unsmoked, and fresh as from 
 the hand of yesterday. Here we lingered till the melt- 
 ing of the snow permitted us to look into the crater of 
 Vesuvius then hastened to Rome to realize my dreams 
 by the glorious realities of the Vatican and St. Peters 
 and in the Borghese Palace to execute some copies 
 from Corregio and Domenichino. I could feel no ex-
 
 214 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 travagant emotions in front of the mighty ruin of Mi- 
 chael Angelo's last Judgment ; but in presence of his 
 noble statue of Moses, and his beautiful dead Christ in 
 St. Peters, my nerves thrilled with wonder and delight, 
 and the marbles still live in my imagination. 
 
 Here I painted portraits of the great historical pain- 
 ter Camucini, and of the sculptor Thorvaldsen, who in- 
 formed me that he came to Rome to study painting, the 
 difficulties in which discouraged him, and he applied 
 himself to sculpture as the easier art. This was also 
 the sentiment of Camucini, who remarked that whilst he 
 was obliged to finish all his works with his own hand, 
 his friend Thorvaldsen could walk the streets, satisfied 
 that two hundred sculptors were working for him. 
 
 At Tivoli, under an umbrella, held by a peasant boy, 
 to protect me from the sun and the spray, I painted two 
 views in oil from the Cascade, and the beautiful Casca- 
 telles. 
 
 In Florence I resided nine months, making copies in 
 the National Gallery and Ducal Palace, from Raphael, 
 Titian, Rubens, &c., and passing thence through many 
 of the cities of Italy, feasted on the treasures of ancient 
 art, and chiefly in glorious Venice, where the choicest 
 productions of Titian and Veronese, filled the measure 
 of my happiness. 
 
 It is the custom of the Artists in the Galleries of 
 Italy, when one is overlooking the work of another, to 
 say, " ditemi qualche cosa " meaning, make some re- 
 mark that I may be compensated for the interruption. 
 The studies of each are thus successively examined. 
 Being a stranger in the Palace Pitti, where I copied 
 from Rubens, Raphael, Bronzino, etc., when I was about 
 finishing a copy of Guido's Cleopatra, one of the regu-
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 215 
 
 lar copyists of the Palace asked me if I wished to know 
 the judgment they had pronounced on me ? This was, 
 that my own style must be the style of Guido. When 
 I inquired how they had come to that conclusion, he re- 
 marked that in making all the other copies, I studied, as 
 others did, with my palette knife to match the tints ; but 
 in making what they are pleased to term my best copy 
 of Guido, I mixed no tints, but with my brush rapidly 
 compounded them from the original colors. I could not 
 but smile, and informed him that this mode of proceed- 
 ing rather arose from my ignorance of Guide's method, 
 which I sought to ascertain with the materials he neces- 
 sarily used to produce his beautiful penumbral effects. 
 
 I returned by the way of Paris and London. I had 
 the satisfaction of forming the acquaintance of the Mar- 
 quis of Stafford, who owns six valuable pictures by 
 Raphael. With the exception of the Madonna della 
 Seggiola, the copies I made in Italy were mostly dis- 
 posed of in Boston. 
 
 This collection should have been kept entire, to serve 
 as a nucleus to form a NATIONAL GALLERY, or Library 
 of the Fine Arts. In forming other Libraries, it is not 
 the ambition of our projectors to acquire rare and un- 
 published manuscripts; but rather to possess the best 
 editions of those works which have been multiplied by 
 printing ; arid this for the improvement and extension 
 of human knowledge not for the gratification of a self- 
 ish and exclusive antiquarian taste. The Galleries of 
 Painting in Europe have been progressive with the 
 works of painters as they were produced, and enriched, 
 from time to time, with some choice specimens of art, 
 purchased at great prices, and valued as authentic docu-
 
 216 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 ments. At present it is rare in Europe to find any of 
 these on sale, but as common to see bad copies of them. 
 It is, therefore, most desirable, even there, to possess a 
 good copy of a celebrated original, which is not to be 
 bought at any price to be seen only in one spot and 
 liable to be destroyed by fire. Copies being generally 
 made by young students before they are able to paint 
 from nature, are often bad and discredit their authority, 
 yet are essential to the student who would learn the pro- 
 cess of art, and the styles of different masters for na- 
 ture presents an equal variety. But when copies are 
 made by able Artists, either from their own works, or 
 those of others, their merit may be nearly equal, some- 
 times superior to the originals : such were the copies by 
 Stella, from the paintings of Raphael. Every opportu- 
 nity should be taken to procure authenticated fac similes 
 of pictures of established reputation and a hundred 
 of these can be obtained for the cost of one original. 
 To show how much we are influenced by prejudice, 
 we attach great consequence to what we term an origi- 
 nal statue, which, as sculpture is now practised, is only 
 to be seen in the first studies in clay and plaster, the 
 marble being only a copy from these, and frequently 
 never touched by the inventor, who may order a score 
 of them to be made equally good. The marble statues 
 of Christ and the Apostles, which I saw at Carara, 
 wrought from the plaster studies of Thorwaldsen, he never 
 saw till they were put up in the Cathedral at Copen- 
 hagen. 
 
 But little satisfied with the usual extravagances of 
 Italian tourists, I published a volume of "Notes on Italy." 
 On this a learned friend remarked that I was not so poet-
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 217 
 
 ical and enthusiastic as he expected the fact was I 
 exaggerated nothing, and pretended to no excitement 
 that I did not feel. Mr. Allston's entire approbation 
 was more to my taste, as a lover of truth. 
 
 I used to say that I never could die till I should see 
 Rome, but the support and education of nine children 
 delayed that purpose till a late period ; and then some 
 friends advised me instead of going, to give up Painting 
 and retire into the country. The following lines, what- 
 ever be their poetic demerit, at least express my feelings 
 and love of the Arts. 
 
 LOVE OF AN ARTIST. 
 
 In early youth, with fancy bright and warm, 
 I learned to love but 'twas a mystic form 
 That only at a distance could be seen, 
 The Ocean wide and foreign lands between, 
 A maid of noble mien and moving grace, 
 * All truth resplendent in her winning face ! 
 A stranger on our soil, she could not dwell 
 So near the woodman's axe or savage yell ; 
 But just appeared to kindle an emotion, 
 Then sought her glorious home beyond the ocean. 
 At times majestic, as in Rome, she caught 
 Historic grandeur and inpassioned thought; 
 Or, gaily sporting 'mid Venetian wealth, 
 Luxurious shone in ill the bloom of health ; 
 And every form her varying aspect bore, 
 A mystic charm and fascination wore ; 
 Whether in chaste simplicity arrayed, 
 Or gorgeous in magnificent parade. 
 
 I gazed how fondly gazed ! nor ever tired ; 
 My heart and temples throbbed, my brain was fired ; 
 And naught but hope to win her gave a zest 
 To life and toil, that else had been unblest. 
 This early passion no one e'er reproved, 
 For all admired what I so deeply loved. 
 
 In riper age, in distant climes, I sought 
 The cherished object of my constant thought,
 
 218 REMBRANDT PEALK. 
 
 More lovely still as still more closely viewed ; 
 
 And, once possessed, life knew no other good. 
 
 I wooed the maid, she smiled, and in her smile 
 
 I revelled with delight ; but saw the while 
 
 That others shared her smiles more blest than I ; 
 
 They knew her long beneath a favoring sky ; 
 
 But I had not, as they, bestowed entire 
 
 My heart, while social ties allayed its fire. 
 
 Three times returning to my native land, 
 
 I strove th' enduring passion to command. 
 
 And thrice I called oblivion to my aid ; 
 
 But still the alluring vision of the maid 
 
 Returned, with heightened charms, to mock my pride, 
 
 That would renounce the wealth of such a bride ; 
 
 For through all nature mountain, valley, plain, 
 
 In air, on ocean lies her vast domain. 
 
 It could not be ; nor could I bear to die 
 
 Till her own Italy should bless my eye : 
 
 With renovated health, despondence flod, 
 
 And Rome bore witness that my soul was wed. 
 
 Forsake the object of my choice ? Forsake 
 The genial spirit that sustained me ? Break 
 The bond which bound me unto life ? O, never 
 May aught on earth the fated union sever ! 
 But, cherished to the latest breath, my heart 
 Shall glow still glow for PAINTING, peerless art ! 
 
 A fifth time 1 was induced to return to Europe, having 
 engaged to paint the Portraits of a wealthy and kind 
 family in Sheffield, and commenced a good business in 
 London, where I was joined by my family from New- 
 York ; but the death of my Son, for whose sake I chiefly- 
 desired to settle in London, where he might take the 
 course of Wilkie, induced me to relinquish every advan- 
 tage and return to America. There, in the leisure hours 
 afforded in my profession, I labored to improve my system 
 of Graphics ; and at the request of Professor BACHE, 
 joined in the reorganization of the Philadelphia High 
 School, by the introduction of Drawing as a necessary
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 219 
 
 part in the education of every scholar. As Professor of 
 GRAPHICS, with a new class of raw Students every six 
 months, I myself became a Student in the application of 
 my system, profiting by every dull learner, until the pro- 
 cess of tuition was rendered easy and certain, as it is now 
 made public in the improved form of the last Edition for 
 the use of Schools ; by means of which Drawing and 
 Writing may be taught to large as well as small classes, 
 even by those teachers or superintendents who know not 
 how to draw or write. To accomplish this great object 
 I necessarily sacrificed much of the pleasure and profit of 
 my Painting Room, during four years ; and, when I could 
 make no more improvements, I resigned my office to 
 other hands glad once more to resume the uninterrupted 
 use of the brush. 
 
 A few years ago Drawing was taught, very superfi- 
 cially, only in Boarding Schools ; but in consequence of 
 my publications and Lectures, it is getting to be consid- 
 ered as essential in almost every School. The controllers 
 of the Public Schools of the City and County of Phila- 
 delphia in 1843 passed these Resolutions 
 
 "1st. That the Board approves of the system of 
 Graphics, as containing a series of progressive exercises 
 in Drawing, well adapted as an introduction to Writing. 
 
 " 2nd. The Board recommend a continuance of the 
 course of instruction in Drawing, as taught in the High 
 School by Professor Peale. 
 
 " 3rd. The thanks of this Board, and of the commu- 
 nity, are due to Mr. Peale for his zealous efforts tending 
 to the introduction of Drawing as a branch of General 
 Education." 
 
 The system is gradually finding its way into public 
 and private Schools throughout the country.
 
 220 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 When I was but a young Student of art in my father's 
 house, I knew of only one other in the City, and heard 
 of none besides this was Jeremiah Paul, son of a School- 
 master among the Quakers, who perversely preferred 
 painting to school-keeping. He had great talents, was 
 flattered, feasted and destroyed. At that time there was 
 not a Print Shop in any of our cities. Boydell had sent 
 over, as a venture, a choice collection of Engravings for 
 sale ; some were sacrificed at auction, and the residue sent 
 back to London ; as few persons were disposed to give 
 dollars for a sheet of paper, no matter how much art was 
 displayed upon it. At that time, too, we were obliged to 
 procure our painting materials from the Apothecary's 
 Shop, and levigate and refine them ourselves. There was 
 but one Gilder, a poor Frenchman, who could scarcely get 
 a living. 
 
 Now who can count the Gilders, Print Shops, Artists' 
 repositories, Painters in every village, Exhibitions of 
 Paintings, and even competitors in Europe from the 
 American shores ? It is my conviction that the words of 
 Mr. West, spoken to me in 1802, are being realized 
 that the Arts, which have been travelling westward, were 
 about to leave the old continent to flourish in the new.
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 221 
 
 Although we have preferred publishing the chaste 
 and modest account Mr. Peale has here given of himself, 
 rather than use one entirely our own, yet it would be an 
 act of injustice to the cause of Art to close this sketch 
 without a more particular description of the Painter's 
 great work, THE COURT OF DEATH. There are many 
 reasons why this celebrated production merits a special 
 review. 
 
 The Court of Death, was the first large picture ex- 
 ecuted in this country, and we believe no other painter 
 in modern times has attempted to compose a work on the 
 model recommended by the Ancient Greek Writers. 
 Perhaps no work of art has ever been executed by an 
 American which has been the subject of so much dispute. 
 
 This we imagine can only be accounted for by sup- 
 posing that the community generally have no standard 
 by which to judge of such a work, it being the only one 
 in this country of the ancient Greek style, and are 
 not therefore prepared to recognize so immediately its 
 beauties. 
 
 Artists in America are surrounded by many inauspi- 
 cious circumstances ; not the least unfavorable of which 
 is the standard by which their merits are to be decided. 
 Here questions of art and taste are settled by the same 
 Tribunal which decides political discussions, while in 
 Europe such pretensions even from political journals 
 of the highest reputation, would only excite ridicule. 
 There questions of this kind are left to the ripe judgment 
 of men who have devoted themselves to congenial studies.
 
 222 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 An illustration occurs to me which I will allude to. 
 When Power's * Greek Slave ' was exhibited in London, 
 although almost every English journal noticed it, yet very 
 few presumed to speak critically of its merits. This 
 was the province of journals devoted exclusively to the 
 Fine Arts and to Literature. But there are few newspa- 
 pers in the United States which would not esteem them- 
 selves thoroughly competent to dispatch the ' Greek 
 Slave ' or even Michael Angelo's ' Last Judgment ' in a 
 single paragraph, after a glance of five minutes. In such 
 a state of things there are few journals from which Artists 
 and writers on the Fine Arts do not expect either flat- 
 tery, or condemnation. They are aware that their repu- 
 tation will not be finally decided by such tribunals, "but 
 for the time, they suffer from the ignorance, and prejudices 
 of those who presume to attempt to form public opinion on 
 matters they know very little about. It is not strange 
 then that Mr. Peale has suffered with other Artists of 
 the times. The opinions of a man like John Neal, which 
 ought to outweigh in such a matter the criticisms of a regi- 
 ment of politicians, are unheeded. John Neal is a 
 gentleman of exquisite taste and analytical genius but 
 his opinion about art would be treated by many persons 
 as worth just exactly as much as John Smith's. Artists 
 feel the truth of all this but they know they cannot ex- 
 press their feelings with impunity, and they are waiting 
 quietly for better days to come. 
 
 No just or intelligent opinion can be given on any 
 work of Art, unless the design of the Artist is perfectly 
 understood. It is also important to know the history of 
 such works. We shall first make some extracts from a 
 letter of Mr. Peale, in which he gives
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 223 
 
 I. A HISTORY OF THE COURT OF DEATH. 
 
 PHILADELPHIA, DECEMBER 1, 1845. 
 DEAR SIR : 
 
 In answer to your inquiry concerning the Origin of my Picture of 
 the COURT OF DEATH, I shall briefly and simply narrate the process 
 of its invention. Accidentally taking up Bishop Porteus' Poem on 
 Death, poetical as may be deemed his description of the Cavern of 
 Death, and familiar as his personifications may have been to the minds 
 of literary men, it struck me that a Picture thus representing Death 
 as a Monarch with his Ebon sceptre, seated on a Throne, and having 
 on either side, as Prime Ministers, War and Old Age, and sending 
 forth Intemperance and Disease as Agents to execute his will, would 
 unquestionably present an appalling Scene, better in the description 
 than on the Canvas. I had seen, in Westminister Abbey, ROUBILLIAC'S 
 beautiful Monumental Sculpture, representing a Noble Lady lying on 
 her couch at the close of life, and a Skeleton, wonderfully wrought 
 out of the solid marble, issuing from the Tomb, in an attitude of 
 vigor, but without Muscle, directing his lance towards the heart of the 
 Lady as his victim, and, with others, felt the absurdity of it. An 
 Angel to receive the parting soul would be better. I had seen WEST'S 
 Death on the pale Horse, a most impressive Picture, now in the 
 Academy in this City, but my veneration of the Artist could not recon- 
 cile me to his personifications ; for though he has given the figure Mus- 
 cles, they are dried up to say nothing of the fire from his mouth and 
 the lightning from his hand ; yet I had an idea that the case might be 
 more fairly stated on the canvas. I imagined how I should attempt 
 to paint a Subject founded on Porteus' Poem, and immediately began 
 to sketch with my pencil on a piece of shingle which chanced to be 
 in my hand, a figure enveloped in Drapery, which indicated form 
 and power, with a shadowy but fixed Countenance, and with extended 
 Arms, as a Judge issuing a decree. At his feet I drew a prostrate 
 Corpse, and on one side the figure of an Old Man, submissively ap- 
 proaching. I had a faint Conception of War going forth, impelled by 
 his own passions, and of Intemperance, Luxury and Disease; but 
 having no intention to paint such a Scene, I threw my board away and 
 thought no more of it. 
 
 A month afterwards one of my little daughters produced the board, 
 with my sketch upon it. I was flattered by imagining there was 
 some merit in it, and I added a few more figures, thus fixing the 
 subject in my mind, which I immediately transferred to a small piece
 
 224 REMBRANDT PEALE.' 
 
 of canvas, and consulted my father, without sending him my design, 
 whether I should paint the Picture in large. His prudent advice was 
 " No." But some months after, being on a visit to me in Baltimore, 
 I showed him my design, when he enthusiastically said, " Begin it 
 immediately !" My Painting-Room was too small, and I had to build 
 a larger one expressly for it, during which I prepared a large canvas, 
 and executed many studies from the life, of figures, heads, hands, &c. 
 My good and venerable Father stood as the representative of Old 
 Age, modified by the Antique Bust of Homer ; one of my Daughters 
 stood in the place of Virtue, Religion, Hope ; and another knelt to the 
 Attitude of Pleasure, I borrowing a Countenance from my imagin- 
 ation. My friend and critic, John Neal, of Portland, impersonated 
 the Warrior, beneath whom a friend consented to sink to the earth in 
 distress, and ihus appeared as the Mother of a Naked Child, which I 
 painted from my then youngest daughter. The Corpse was the. joint 
 result of a study from a subject in the Medical College and the assist- 
 ance of my brother Franklin, lying prostrate, with inverted head, 
 which was made a likeness of Mr. Smith, founder of the Baltimore 
 Hospital ; my brother, also, though of irreproachable temperance, stood 
 for the inebriated Youth ; my wife and others served to fill up the 
 background. It may be worth while to mention, that for the figure 
 of Famine, following in the train of War, I could find no model, 
 though I sought her in many a haunt of Misery, and therefore drew 
 her from my brain ; but strange to say, two weeks after the picture 
 was finished, a woman passed my window, who might have been sworn 
 to as the Original. 
 
 I had not employed the Mythology of the Ancients nor the symbols 
 of other Artists. It was not an Allegorical Picture, composed after 
 the examples of LEBRUN, or of any School. I had read some remarks 
 by Pliny on a style of painting which he recommended as capable of 
 embodying thought, principle and character, without the aid of Con- 
 ventional Allegory, and described one on these principles painted by 
 Apelles, and approved by the Multitude. This picture of the Court 
 of Death is an approach to that style at any rate, it was the first 
 large Picture, whatever may be its merits or its faults, that has been 
 attempted in modern times, upon the same broad and universal prin- 
 ciples. I would lay claim to some little credit for the stand I took in 
 reprobation of Intemperance, before that subject was introduced to 
 popular notice ; and the Society of Friends, at least, will give me 
 credit for my views of the Glory and Magnanimity of War ; whilst
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 225 
 
 the philosophic Christian must agree with the picture that Death has 
 no terror in the eyes of Virtuous Old Age, and of Innocence, Faith 
 and Hope. 
 
 II. THE DESIGN OF THE ARTIST. 
 
 A complete conception of the design of the painter 
 is necessary to understand any historical painting, more 
 particularly one of this style. Mr. Peale was therefore 
 wise in writing a description of his Court of Death, 
 himself. We extract enough of it to answer our pur- 
 pose : 
 
 " Deep in a murky cave's recess, 
 
 Laved by Oblivion's listless stream, and fenced 
 
 By shelving rocks and intermingled horrors, 
 
 Of yew and cypress shade, from all obtrusion 
 
 Of busy noon-tide beam, the Monarch sits 
 
 In unsubstantial majesty." PORTEUS. 
 
 The Picture of the COURT OF DEATH is an attempt to intro- 
 duce pure figurative painting, in the place of obscure personifications 
 and obsolete symbols, as hitherto employed in allegory. It is a dis- 
 course on life and death, equally interesting to all ages and classes ; 
 delivered in the universal language of nature, the silent eloquence 
 of the painter's art, which speaks not by the slow progression of 
 words, but strikes the heart at once as with an electric glance. Such 
 an exhibition is calculated to lessen the misconceptions of prejudice 
 and terror, and to render useful the rational contemplation of death. 
 
 The power of DEATH, personified as a DECREE of the Deity, is in- 
 dicated by an antique form, coeval with man. The head, therefore, 
 reminds us of the first inhabitants of Egypt, the original residence 
 of the human race. It is not a skeleton of the graveyard, as hitherto 
 painted, exhibiting action without muscle, or muscles dried up and 
 useless. It is not represented as a bugbear of the nursery, nor as 
 the king of terrors ; but as an inflexible Judge, silently superintend- 
 ing the progress of time and the inroads of disorder upon the life of 
 man. The dark curtain of obscurity is raised to impress the senti- 
 ment of awful sublimity, by a mysterious form of strength and irre- 
 sistible power, perceived beneath the folds of massive drapery, and 
 seated on a shroud. It is a countenance of intelligence, yet its 
 
 15
 
 226 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 knowledge lies within lips that speak not. The glance of his e'ye, 
 and the frown of his brow, are sufficient to arrest the proudest ca- 
 reer ; and his outstretched arm seems to limit the duration of erring 
 mortal life. 
 
 The most impressive idea of Death is excited by the appearance 
 of a DEAD BODY, which receives the strongest ray of light in the pic- 
 ture. It is the body of a man in the prime of life, by some casualty, 
 to which all are liable, rendered lifeless, prostrate as a footstool to the 
 mysterious power. His head and feet reach the waters of oblivion 
 so are his beginning and his end unknown. 
 
 On the right hand, the whole group is expressive of WAR, by 
 which the passions of man produce premature and violent death 
 The WARRIOR is depicted with a countenance agitated by ambition 
 and revenge. 
 
 His shield is held up for his own defence, but his determined 
 arm threatens the life of his fellow-man. His sword is already 
 stained its VICTIM expires behind him, no longer deceived by vis- 
 ionary glory. A naked and helpless INFANT reaches for protection 
 to its weak, and desolate, and widowed MOTHER ; who, sinking to the 
 earth, repels from her downcast eye the unnatural horror. The 
 Warrior heeds them not. His humanity seems to spare them he 
 disdains to crush them but their misery remains to reproach his 
 cruelty. WANT, with supplicating hands, follows close behind. Her 
 famished form serves to increase the unrelenting sternness of his 
 countenance. DREAD presses onward in the train, and seems to ap- 
 prehend the air as charged with pestilence. The Warrior's darken- 
 ing path is lighted by the TORCH of DESOLATION, advancing from the 
 cavern's gloomy recesses. 
 
 Beneath the outstretched arm of DEATH, stoops the alluring sem- 
 blance of PLEASURE. The smoke of her incense rises to soften and 
 obscure the countenance of Death. Her hand prepares another in- 
 toxicating draught ; and her animated features entice only to betray. 
 A YOUTH, whose interesting form might promise a more honorable 
 destiny, stands relaxed, the stupid and disappointed slave, rather than 
 the participator, of pleasure. 
 
 A companion of Intemperance lies at his feet, clasping his throb- 
 bing brain another, at his left shoulder, hiding his guilty face, ex- 
 presses the anguish of REMORSE and another, behind him, is plun- 
 ging the dagger into his heart. Like them, he must suffer the pangs 
 of FRENZY, and the burnings of REMORSE ; and were he to look back
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 227 
 
 on his own shadow, he would perceive the form of SUICIDE. The 
 hand of Intemperance is equally raised to take his own life. 
 
 A darkened group of disease and misery, the victims of luxury 
 and intemperate pleasure, fills up the left hand portion of the Grotto : 
 GOUT DROPSY APOPLEXY HYPOCHONDRIA FEVER CONSUMP- 
 TION. 
 
 " Torn immature from life's meridian joys, 
 A prey to vice, intemperance, and disease ! " 
 
 Returning to the centre of the Picture, one of the most prominent 
 objects is the figure of venerable OLD AGE, supported by VIR- 
 TUE. 
 
 " Peace, O VIRTUE ! peace is all thy own." With eyes of hope 
 upraised to heaven, she breathes the prayer of holiest resignation 
 "Father, thy will be done." OLD AGE, bending at the close of Life 
 the faded purple of his worldly power falling from his shoulders 
 his foot on the verge of oblivion, beholds the prospect without alarm, 
 and submits with cheerfulness to the divine law. VIRTUE still sup- 
 ports him, and looks the sentiments he feels. 
 
 With locks of silver, there 
 
 Ag-} gently press- s n^ar the throne : 
 'Tis not for him to P-< 1 a fear ; 
 
 Nor comes he tremblingly alone : 
 His foot is in oblivion's water; 
 But see, his lov-Ii> st, holiest daughter, 
 VIRTUE, aids him ; while upraising 
 Eyes oft turned toward heaven in praising, 
 
 Saying, Almighty ! may thy will be done. 
 
 DR. GODMAS. 
 
 III. How HAS THE ARTIST EXECUTED HIS DESIGN? 
 
 Criticism begins by making this inquiry, for the 
 Painter may consult his own taste in the choice of his 
 subject. I have visited the Court of Death repeatedly this 
 winter and endeavored to study it carefully. As every 
 spectator should do, I first read the Artist's description 
 and became familiar with his design. While I was det |) 
 ly impressed with the painting, during my first visit, I did
 
 228 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 not leave with that feeling of satisfaction I had anticipa- 
 ted, for I had heard some individuals of great taste and 
 wide observation speak of it with enthusiastic admiration. 
 On my second visit I experienced much greater 
 pleasure than at first, and a third visit explained the mys- 
 tery. The work differed so materially from any I had 
 ever seen, I could not at once become familiar with it, 
 and I am persuaded that we can never feel very high 
 admiration for any object until the mind has become in 
 some measure familiar with it. It is as true with great 
 works of art as it is with great authors, the more we 
 know them the better we love them. Homer delights 
 the scholar most the last time he reads him, and no de- 
 gree of familiarity with the creations of Raphael lessens 
 our enthusiasm. I found that every repeated visit to this 
 extraordinary picture, gave me greater satisfaction, al- 
 though what I esteem to be its faults appeared still more 
 evident. The form of Death, which at first seemed too 
 dark and obscure, gradually moved forth from the Can- 
 vas into bold relief, and I was particularly impressed with 
 the countenance, the drapery, and the form itself. The 
 Egyptian type of countenance carried my fancy back far 
 into antiquity, and I seemed to see the living form of that 
 stern power which has from the earliest ages satin judg- 
 ment upon the race, and held a steady and unquailing 
 gaze upon all the sorrows and desolations of man. He 
 was obscure only from distance and time. It was to me 
 the most appropriate and impressive portraiture of Death 
 I had ever seen ; next to the form of Death, nothing 
 struck me so forcibly as the murky atmosphere of the cave, 
 it is an atmosphere unlike that of a common cave, it is 
 not dark, it is murky ; it is not cold, although it chills 
 one to gaze on it ; it is not damp, although the waters
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 229 
 
 of oblivion are flowing by the feet of the living and the 
 dead. In this respect Peale has surpassed West, who 
 painted every thing in detail leaving nothing for the im- 
 agination. I have oever seen any mystery about West's 
 pictures ; this quality he did not possess, and yet no play 
 can be given to the imagination of the reader or specta- 
 tor, unless the author or artist conducts up to the line 
 that divides the visible from the invisible. There have 
 been few things painted more beautifully than the figures 
 of Old Age and Virtue. One would suppose they were 
 painted long after the rest of the picture ; the colouring 
 seems to belong to quite another school ; it is worthy of 
 any artist's pencil, of any school. I have never seen 
 a countenance where all that is beautiful in " the earthly 
 and the heavenly" was portrayed together with more ef- 
 fect. Critics should consider the difficulties the painter 
 had to contend with in many of his figures, for they are 
 almost insurmountable. But in the three figures we 
 have mentioned, they seem to have been successfully 
 overcome. 
 
 But not so with the countenance of the Warrior. 
 The painter wished to depict a face " agitated by ambi- 
 tion and revenge." But his countenance is too sad and 
 troubled for the face of a Warrior. There is some trace 
 of regret, of shrinking from blood and desolation, which 
 cannot be reconciled with the absorbing passions of am- 
 bition and revenge. In the smoke and desperation of 
 battle the Warrior feels no remorse, no misgivings, no 
 compassion these emotions may be felt when he walks 
 over the field of the slain, where he has laid prostrate his 
 victims. But the form of the Warrior is nobly drawn. 
 Every muscle is turned to inflexible iron, and his tramp 
 like that of the war-horse, would crush what he trod on
 
 230 REMBRANDT PEALE. 
 
 The countenance of Want is admirable, and recalled 
 to my recollection the instant I gazed on it, the central 
 figure of Michael Angelo's Parcfie. Desolation lights up 
 the path of the Warrior with her torch Dread presses 
 on behind him in the steps of Famine. The group is 
 one of the most impressive parts of the picture. 
 
 The form of Pleasure is beautiful, and a glance from 
 it to Virtue gives the best commentary upon the success 
 of the Artist. In the one there is nothing but what 
 would make us better in the other nothing that would 
 not make us worse, and yet they are both beautiful. 
 The incense which rises from Pleasure's vase floats over 
 the face of Death, and obscures him partly from the 
 sight of the victims of Seduction. I was not so well 
 pleased with the figure of the Youth standing by the side 
 of Pleasure There is " a darkened group of disease 
 and misery ; the victims of Luxury and intemperate plea- 
 sures fill up the left-hand portion of the grotto : Gout 
 Dropsy Apoplexy Hypochondria Fever Con- 
 sumption." These figures are not drawn with sufficient 
 distinctness and this part of the picture is too dark I 
 should judge that the Artist had not touched the group 
 since 1820 when the picture was finished. It is in 
 every respect an inferior style of drawing, colouring and 
 arrangement to the rest of the work. It is still in the 
 power of the painter to add infinitely to the value of the 
 piece by re-touching this group particularly the figure 
 of Consumption. This terrible disease, instead of being 
 represented in the form of an insensible, mature, gloomy 
 woman, who has passed the age of youth and feeling, 
 should be personified by a youthful creature, who is 
 fading gently and calmly away. Irving's pencil has 
 painted the scene in his Broken Heart. " She is like
 
 REMBRANDT PEALE. 231 
 
 some tender tree, the pride and the beauty of the grove 
 graceful in its form, bright in its foliage, but with the 
 worm preying at its heart. We find it suddenly wither- 
 ing when it should be most fresh and luxuriant. We see 
 it drooping its branches to the earth, and shedding leaf by 
 leaf, until wasted and perished away, it falls even in the 
 stillness of the forest : and as we muse o'er the beautiful 
 ruin, we strive in vain to recollect the blast or thunder- 
 bolt that could have smitten it with decay." Such 
 models are not wanting for the painter. In our fatal 
 climate thousands of the brightest and most beautiful fall 
 victims to that still but dreadful destroyer. The figure 
 is near the mouth of the Grotto, and a beautiful light 
 could be thrown upon it from the calm heavens beyond 
 a form could be drawn there that would recall to every 
 spectator the image of some lovely and lost being who 
 had once smiled around his fire-side altars ; and the re- 
 collection would make him weep. 
 
 But we have already said too much about this paint- 
 ing. These remarks are made with no unkind feeling 
 we have studied this noble work, and it has given us 
 pleasure. However little our tribute of admiration may 
 be worth, we cannot withhold it from the Court of Death. 
 In gazing on it we felt the truth of Neal's saying about 
 it " It is one of the greatest and best pictures of our 
 day. It is a grand poem on canvas." Those who have 
 the agency in its exhibition in different parts of the 
 country, are rendering to our people the highest ser- 
 vice. Many thousands have thus afforded them an oppor- 
 tunity of contemplating a great work of Art, which must 
 carry with it a benign influence.
 
 IF IK E) u 
 
 T rom a pencil sketch 'by IvueUer
 
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD.
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD, 
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD, who now stands among the 
 first living Sculptors, was born in New- York just thirty- 
 two years ago to-day (March 22d). We are made fami- 
 liar with his early history by those who have known him 
 from childhood, and we hazard nothing in saying that 
 there are few men who have displayed from a very early 
 age a more striking propensity for Art, or who have de- 
 voted themselves to it through youth and manhood with 
 more earnestness, perseverance and enthusiasm. 
 
 Few men accomplish much in life, who do not follow 
 up the ruling passions and impulses of boyhood. Those 
 who have to force themselves through professions or 
 pursuits uncongenial with their natural tastes, are al- 
 ways outstripped by those who follow the occupations 
 they love. Nothing but congeniality begets earnestness, 
 and earnestness alone can awaken the enthusiasm which 
 ensures success. 
 
 Like all American boys, Crawford was sent early to 
 school, and after he had gone through the ordinary rou- 
 tine of a common education, he took up the Greek and 
 Latin classics, with which he at last became very fami- 
 liar, and their spirit breathes from many of his works
 
 236 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 His after-school hours were almost always employed in 
 copying pictures in water colors, and in reading about 
 Art and Artists. He was a frequenter of auction-rooms, 
 where books and engravings were sold, and his supply 
 of pocket money was always devoted to the little pur- 
 chases he felt himself able to make, and every exhibi- 
 tion of works of art in the city he was sure to attend. 
 
 His fondness for sketching was encouraged by his 
 father, who sent him very early to a teacher of drawing, 
 where his rapid progress equally astonished and delighted 
 his friends and his master. Had he known any of the 
 Artists at this time, he would have begun the study of 
 painting. But he was acquainted with none of them, 
 and there seemed to be no particular prospect of his be- 
 ing thrown into circumstances likely to favor the devel- 
 opment of his artistic taste. 
 
 From reading about Sculptors and Painters, sketch- 
 ing heads, and coloring old castles, his father now wished 
 to direct his attention to mercantile pursuits, which in 
 this country hold out greater prospects of gain than the 
 liberal professions. But the boy clung to his paint-box- 
 es and books, and his indulgent father without a struggle 
 told him he could choose the pursuit he liked best a 
 wise and a sensible answer as the experience of any 
 father who tries to force his son to a pursuit against his 
 fixed inclination, will finally prove ! 
 
 He had often visited the work-shop of a carver in 
 wood, then doing an extensive business in the city, and 
 he looked with delight on the beautifully designed and 
 executed ornaments on which the workmen were en- 
 gaged. His choice was made he would be a carver, 
 and he entered the atelier. 
 
 Here he remained for a while, drawing and carving,
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 237 
 
 and at the same time pursuing the study of architecture. 
 But he was not yet in his element he wanted some- 
 thing higher and nobler for the exercise of his genius, 
 and now commenced a new career. 
 
 He began making a collection of casts and bas-reliefs 
 among the latter were the friezes of the Parthenon 
 and Thorvaldsen's Triumph of Alexander that great- 
 est of all modern works which was commissioned by 
 Napoleon for the Quirinal Palace, for $100,000, and 
 which is now preserved in the Villa Sommariva, on the 
 western shore of Lake Como. Like a miser who 
 adds daily to his hoards, he was continually bringing 
 home some addition to his treasures. At last he 
 bought some clay and carried a portion of it to his room, 
 and began to model. "A strange looking place was 
 it, that same room," says a lady friend of the Artist, 
 " covered with sketches in pencil, charcoal and red lead ; 
 the floor strewed with hands and feet the tables co- 
 vered with engravings and bas-reliefs, and the boy (for 
 he was then about eighteen) trying to create images of 
 beauty, such as filled his heart, from the chaotic mass 
 around him." At this time he entered the studio of Mr. 
 Frazee, and his friend and associate Mr. Launitz, where 
 he remained till he sailed for Italy. He devoted him- 
 self now for some years with the greatest earnestness to 
 Sculpture nor tried to get rid of hard work nor tried 
 to get round that ugly dismal swamp, which even genius 
 itself must cross before it can stand on the mountains. 
 He attended the Drawing School in the Academy of the 
 Arts of Design, for a considerable time, while he was in 
 the studio of Frazee and Launitz. Those students who 
 were drawing with him knew how well he worked. 
 
 O 
 
 It had long been a secretly cherished wish to gaze on
 
 238 
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 all those wonders of Art with which many descriptions, 
 and a thousand fancy dreams had made him familiar. 
 But this desire he hardly dared to express with soberness 
 for how he should accomplish his purpose, if indeed 
 he formed one of going abroad, he could not tell. But 
 he worked on with the waving outlines of a thousand 
 master-pieces of the ancient world floating before him 
 living on hope with a strength of character and stead- 
 iness of purpose, that would not yield to discouragement, 
 and yet, withal, a high and almost wild dreaming of the 
 fame he believed he could win, could he one day, if 
 not too distant, stand in that fair land which is the only 
 one on earth that does not cheat the Poet's fancy, nor 
 break the charm its name bears to the Artist struggling 
 in a distant country. 
 
 He had never been away from his home but a few 
 weeks at a time how could he, of quick sensibilities and 
 warm affections, break up the little home-circle where 
 all that he loved was clustered, and go forth alone to 
 study and to toil for fame in a land of strangers ? It 
 was a bold step to be taken by so young a man, but he 
 had never been deterred by difficulties his strength, like 
 every genuine man's, rose as they gathered around him, 
 until he finally conquered every obstacle. 
 
 His indulgent parents, perceiving that nothing else 
 would satisfy the restless and eager craving of his 
 mind, furnished him with the means of going abroad. 
 He sailed for the South of Europe in 1834, in a vessel 
 bound to Gibraltar and Leghorn, and after a long voyage 
 of seventy days he entered Rome. 
 
 He had now reached the goal of all his hopes, and 
 for some time he was like one bewildered, and could do 
 nothing but wander amongst the treasures of Art and gaze
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 239 
 
 on the glorious skies of Italy. In his first letter from 
 Rome, to a near relative at home, he says : 
 
 " I cannot find terms in which to express the beauty 
 of the skies here. There is a brilliancy about them 1 
 have never seen in America a delicate blue, so trans- 
 parent that you would suppose there was nothing be- 
 tween it and the seventh heaven. And the clouds O 
 how lovely they are, particularly after rain, or at sunset ! 
 You ought to stand with me on the Pincean Mount, and 
 see the sun bid good night to Rome ! 'Tis strange that 
 I, who have a love for every thing beautiful in nature, 
 cannot find words to express my admiration. I have 
 stood for hours on the deck of the ship at sea and watched 
 the moon as she calmly floated through the heavens 
 sunrise and sunset the magic light that danced on the 
 Mediterranean wave as it broke against the side of our 
 vessel in the silent night, have each possessed a charm 
 for me. How I have wished that you were there to share 
 the holy feeling which came over me as I looked upon 
 it. Nothing around as far as my sight could reach except 
 glistening foam on the curling waves, and sometimes 
 a solitary sail scarce visible in the distance. You may 
 have dreamt of the stillness which reigns over such a 
 scene it is awful, and to me was only broken by some 
 startling thought of home and its endearments." 
 
 But this dreamy state of existence, (and no man of 
 genius can pass through life without such feelings and 
 sometimes using such language,) could not continue long. 
 After the first bewilderment of ideas and feelings, which 
 attends the rush of a thousand new objects upon the im- 
 agination, had passed away, he began in Rome to address 
 himself soberly to the great business of being a Sculptor. 
 
 Launitz had given him a Letter to Thorvaldsen, who
 
 240 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 was then on the summit of his fame. The great Dane 
 received the young American with cordiality, and offered 
 him the instruction of his Studio. In one of his letters, 
 he thus speaks of the Sculptor : 
 
 " I am at present in one of Thorvaldsen's Studios 
 he has three. Thorvaldsen is one of nature's gentlemen 
 there is no affectation about him. When I entered the 
 Studio where he was, to give my letter, he was directing 
 some of the workmen concerning a colossal equestrian 
 statue. He insisted on my keeping on the hat which I 
 had taken from my head, and after a few minutes con- 
 ducted me through his Studios and told me that when- 
 ever 1 felt disposed I might commence modelling and 
 drawing in any of them. They are filled with casts from 
 his own works and from the best antiques. Clay and 
 every thing for modelling is brought to my hand, and with 
 such opportunities before me I was not backward in com- 
 mencing. There is but one young man besides myself 
 in the Studio he is a native of Rome. Thorvaldsen 
 visits us once a day, corrects what he sees wrong in our 
 work, and after some words of encouragement leaves us. 
 You know he is the first sculptor of the age, and has 
 produced a vast number of statues and bas-reliefs of 
 the most exquisite beauty and he is still producing, for 
 the fountain of his conceptions can only be exhausted 
 by death." 
 
 Thus began the Italian studies of Crawford, and they 
 were prosecuted for a considerable time under his illus- 
 trious master. He enjoyed the confidence and esteem 
 of the venerable Thorvaldsen, who honored him with his 
 friendship, and his instruction whenever it was solicited, 
 till he left Rome, which had so long been the field of his 
 labors and his triumphs, to return to his native country 
 to die.
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 241 
 
 He finally established his own studio. The death of 
 his father left him, about the same time, wholly dependent 
 upon his own exertions. The prices he received were 
 not very large, but he was willing to endure those priva- 
 tions which seem to be the peculiar birthright of genius. 
 He however did not lack employment. He made quite a 
 number of busts which gained him even in Rome con- 
 siderable reputation, and elicited the warmest admiration 
 of his Danish Master. Very few of his busts have come 
 to America, for like most of our distinguished Artists 
 abroad, he has been supported by foreigners. Mr. Sum- 
 ner in speaking of his busts says, "They are .remarkable 
 for the fidelity with which they portra'y the countenance, 
 and for the classic elegance and simplicity of their com- 
 position. The bust of the late gallant Commodore Hull, 
 made in Rome while he was in command of our Medi- 
 terranean squadron, is a beautiful production. We have 
 also seen the bust of Mr. Kenyon, the English poet, which 
 has great merit. That of Sir Charles Vaughan, the late 
 most popular representative of the British court at Wash- 
 ington, we have not seen ; but we have heard it men- 
 tioned in terms of high praise." 3**'" 
 
 In 1839 he designed his Orpheus, the model of which 
 was no sooner completed than he was prostrated with a 
 brain fever, the effect of over excitement and intense 
 application. For a long time his recovery was doubtful, 
 but his constitution naturally good triumphed at last over 
 disease. With half restored strength he went again to the 
 labors and excitement of his studio, and the consequence 
 was a relapse, which threatened to prove fatal. His 
 recovery was slow. 
 
 His first solicitude after these dreadful illnesses was 
 the execution of his Orpheus in marble, which had been 
 
 16
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 ordered by the Boston Anthenaeum. We quote a portion 
 of an able description of this classic work from an article 
 in the Democratic Review, understood to be from the 
 elegant pen of Charles Sumner, Esq., of Boston. 
 
 " Of all the stories of antiquity, not one is more beau- 
 tiful or touching than that of Orpheus. Strange that his 
 earnest love, and the unwonted errand on which it led 
 him, after charming successive centuries, and becoming 
 the theme of poets, should be first recorded in marble by 
 a youthful artist whose sight opened in a land far away 
 from the country of the hero beyond Ultima Thule 
 beyond the Hesperian Gardens and the Islands of the 
 Blest and beyond' that Ocean which, poured round the 
 ancient world, seemed more impassable even than the 
 sullen waters that guarded Eurydice !" 
 
 " The tale is simple, and in the memory of all. Young 
 men and maidens for ages have listened to it, and old 
 men in the chimney corner have mused over it. To Or- 
 pheus Apollo gave a lyre. Such a gift from such a god 
 was not in vain ; and the youth charmed by his music as 
 music never charmed before. The rapid rivers ceased 
 to flow, the mountains moved, and the rage of the tigers 
 was restrained, to listen to his songs. The fairest 
 nymphs were his companions ! but he heeded only Eury- 
 dicel To her he was united in marriage. But the 
 faithless Aristaeus saw her and loved her. She fled from 
 his approaches, and as she pressed the grass, in her 
 rapid flight, a serpent stung her foot, and she died. The 
 nymphs of the woods awakened the echoes of the moun- 
 tains with their sorrows ; and the rocks of Rhodope, the 
 lofty Pangaeus, the Hebrus, and the sternest parts of 
 Thrace wept. The lover was desolate :
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 " Te, dulcis conjux, te solo in littore secum, 
 Te veniente die, te dccedente canebat." 
 
 243 
 
 He resolved to regain his lost bride. With his lyre 
 in his hand, he enters the inexorable gates of the regions 
 below. The guardian dog Cerberus is lulled asleep by 
 the unaccustomed strains : 
 
 ' tenuitque inhians tria Cerberus ora.' 
 
 The gentle shades of the dead, wives and husbands, 
 magnanimous heroes, boys and unmarried girls, came 
 fonvard and wept. The grim ruler was startled. The 
 rock of Sisyphas stood still ; the wheel of Ixion ceased its 
 eternal motion ; the refreshing water once again bathed 
 the lips of Tantalus : the daughters of Danaus suspended 
 their never ending task ; the Furies, with their necks 
 clothed with snakes, ceased to rage. All listened rapt 
 to the music, and forgot their pains in sympathy with the 
 bereaved charmer. And now success has crowned his 
 efforts. The woman's heart of Proserpine is touched, 
 and Pluto yields to her intercession. Eurydice is restor- 
 ed, but with one condition. The lover shall not turn to 
 look upon her face until they are both again in the upper 
 air. Joyful he leaves behind the abode of Death, and 
 Eurydice follows unseen by him yet still she follows. 
 But who shall impose restraints upon the longings of 
 love ? Forgetful of the stern condition, thinking only of 
 her, he casts one look behind. He saw his Eurydice ; 
 but with that vision she disappeared for ever, as a wreath 
 of smoke fades into the air. He stretched forth his arms 
 to embrace her, but she was not there. He raised his 
 voice to speak to her, but she heard him not. He en- 
 deavored to retrace his steps, but the gates of Acheron 
 closed harshly against him. What shall he do ? With
 
 244 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 what words shall he seek to bend the will of the Gods ? 
 How shall he assuage his own grief? All is vain ; and 
 he soon meets with a violent death, at the hands of the 
 Thracian women, enraged at his continued fidelity to the 
 memory of his lost wife, and indifference to their living 
 charms. His head is thrown into the Hebrus, and as it 
 floats down to the sea, the cold tongue lisps the name of 
 Eurydice, and the river's banks send back the sound, 
 
 Eurydicen vox ipsa etfrigida lingua, 
 
 Ah, miseram Eurydicen, anima fugirnte, vocabat 
 Eurydicen toto referebant flumine rips." 
 
 From the sweetest poet of antiquity we draw the 
 story. Another poet of modern times, whose great fame 
 in his own age has subsided since like a flood, made it the 
 subject of a drama, which has been called the earliest of 
 the better sort of dramatic writings of which Italy can 
 boast. The drama is entitled Orfeo Tragedia ; and the 
 author is Angela Potiziano. It was written in 1472, in 
 the space of two days, at the instance of the Cardinal 
 Francesco Gonzaga, and, as it was first acted, Orpheus 
 was made to sing an ode in Latin Sapphics in honor of 
 the Cardinal. This, however, now gives place to a beau- 
 tiful chorus, in imitation of the Greeks, where the Dryads 
 lament the death of Eurydice. The history of Orpheus 
 is pictured by Poliziano with a felicity from which Virgil 
 might have mended even his exquisite verses. This is 
 his first lament as he appears at the entrance to the In- 
 fernal Shades: 
 
 ORFEO. 
 
 Pieta, pieta; del mis"ro amatore 
 Pieta vi prenda, o Spiriti Infernali : 
 Quaggiu m' lia scorto solamente amore ; 
 Volato son quaggiu con le sue ali.
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD, 246 
 
 Deh posa, Cerber, posa il tuo furore ; 
 Che quando intenderai tutti i miei mali, 
 Non solamente tu piangerai meco, 
 Ma qualunquu altru e qua nel mondo cicco. 
 Non bisogna per me, Furie, mugghiarp, 
 Non bisogna arricciar tanti serpenti : 
 Che se sapeste le rnie pene amars, 
 Compagne mi sareste ai miei lamenti, 
 Lasciate questo miserel passarp, 
 Ch' ha il ciel nemico, e tutti gli element! ; 
 E vien per impitrar mercfdo o morte. 
 Dunque mi aprite le ferrate porte. 
 
 It will be observed that both Virgil and Poliziano 
 indicate in a few words the scene to which Crawford has 
 given a new immortality by his marble. Virgil says : 
 
 " tenuitque inhianstria Cerberus ora." 
 
 And in the verse of Poliziano we have the address to 
 
 Cerberus : 
 
 " Deh posa, Cerber, posa il tuo furore." 
 
 It is the moment when Cerberus has yielded to the 
 music, and closed the eyes of his three heads in sleep, 
 that the artist has selected for his chisel. The dog lies 
 on the ground, no longer offering any impediment to the 
 passage. Orpheus steps forward with earnest action 
 reaching with his body, as it were, into the shades impen- 
 etrable to mortals. In one hand he holds the lyre, which 
 has done its first work of conquest ; and with the other 
 he shades his eyes, that he may better collect the light 
 to guide his adventurous progress. The expression of 
 the body and of the countenance are in harmony, and 
 they denote the strong resolve which inspires the heart 
 of the lover to seek his lost companion. Nothing shall 
 make him hesitate. He sees already her image he 
 catches the sound of her voice. He has left the light of
 
 246 
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 day behind him, and he knows not fear. Move on, then, 
 eager soul : such devotion shall not be without its reward. 
 
 O I 
 
 The torments of hell shall cease at your approach ; the 
 company of the damned shall bless your coming ; and at 
 least one fleeting vision of her whom you have loved so 
 well shall be yours ! 
 
 u Too much cannot be said in praise of the manner in 
 which the artist has arranged his little group. The atti- 
 tude of the principal figure, the position of the arms, and 
 the apt employment of drapery, strike the most careless 
 eye. But it is in the selection of the scene, and the 
 poetical conception of it, that Crawford challenges our 
 warmest admiration. It is not known that any other 
 sculptor we believe no other artist of any kind has 
 illustrated this scene. From the pictured urn of the past 
 our young countryman first drew it forth and invested 
 it with the light of his genius. 
 
 " It was the writer's good fortune, in the summer of 
 1839, to see this work, while under the artist's hands, in 
 his small studio in Rome. He was still engaged on the 
 plastic clay, devoting to it the daily labor of his hands, 
 and, it may be said, the daily and nightly thoughts of his 
 mind ; for his soul was absorbed by it, as by a poem. 
 The model, when completed, excited the most gratifying 
 commendation from the highest quarters. An English 
 gentleman, familiar with the works of art in all the cap- 
 itals of Europe, wrote of it in language which no American 
 could employ without exposing himself to the suggestion 
 of an undue partiality to a fellow-countryman warping 
 his better judgment. The Englishman shall speak for 
 himself : ' If Crawford is sustained in his art,' he says, 
 * and keeps his health, he will be the first of modern 
 sculptors ; nay, an American may rival Phidias. He has
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 247 
 
 completed the mould of his Orpheus, which some of the 
 best judges even in the mould compare to the Apollo. 
 Gibson, chary and cold in praise, spoke of it to me as a 
 most extraordinary promise of eminence in the art. I 
 knew that Thorvaldsen (himself the greatest of modern 
 names, not even excepting Canova) has expressed the 
 same opinion, and esteems Crawford as his successor in 
 the severe classic style of sculpture. I send you some 
 lithograph engravings, privately struck off, of the Orpheus, 
 which I brought from Rome. Here in London, at Mr. 
 Rogers', and elsewhere, I have shown the print, to the 
 great admiration of all who saw it. But Crawford is still 
 struggling. The moneyed Americans who visit Rome 
 follow names, and as yet know not the rising merit of 
 their countryman. He has bespoken the marble for the 
 statue. He has no order for the work ! New- York will 
 disgrace itself if fifty gentlemen do not club 10 each to- 
 gether, and send it to your Consul at Rome to contract 
 for such an exquisite work, that his native city may have 
 such a. first work, and first encourage such a self-taught 
 man of genius. I shall next week put a paragraph in 
 our papers calling attention to the model. But the print 
 speaks for itself. Further, Crawford has the merit of 
 virtuous habits, and an honest independent spirit. I 
 found him just recovered from a nervous brain fever. It 
 is hard work to go up hill ; but he is up at his work 
 now. Waiting for the Carrara marble for Orpheus, 
 he is moulding an inimitable model of Washington on a 
 charger a most grand and simple design. Indeed, he 
 has formed his own style, and highly classically stored a 
 mind of great genius. We shall live to see him the most 
 eminent artist of our times. / only wish he were an 
 Englishman. How such a man can emerge from your
 
 248 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 backwoods into the eternal city I cannot imagine. But 
 it will reflect eternal disgrace on New-York, if, with 
 its opulence, he is not sustained in early life. The 
 most delightful part of his mind is the utter absence 
 of conceit the independent but mature formation of his 
 views of art his just, without idol estimate of Michael 
 Angelo his boldness of opinion, and withal his real dif- 
 fidence and desire still farther to advance his intellect and 
 powers. He is the artist who and whose works most 
 struck me in all our journeys on the Continent; and I 
 write the above as you well know, who know me, from 
 admiration of a struggling man of merit.' 
 
 " But the statue of Orpheus is not the only work by 
 which Crawford has entitled himself to the regard of the 
 friends of Art. He has produced several bas-reliefs of 
 very great merit. Among these, some from Anacreon 
 are destined to the Boston Athenaeum. He has also 
 been engaged on a large bas-relief for Mr. Tiffany, of 
 Baltimore, in illustration of the words, ' Lead us into 
 life everlasting.' It is understood that this is intended 
 for a monument. Another work by him is a small figure, 
 the Genius of Autumn, made for Mr. Paine of New- 
 York ; also, a small statue for Mr. Jonathan Phillips, of 
 Boston, a repetition of which has been ordered by Mr. 
 Tiffany of Baltimore. 
 
 " The following sentences from a letter written by 
 Crawford during the last year, will show his more recent 
 occupations, and the ardor of his soul in the pursuit of 
 excellence in his Art : ' I have commenced a small sta- 
 tue of Youth, for Mr. Hicks, of New- York. The model 
 will be completed in about a month. It is a boy of 
 seven or eight years, dancing in great glee, and tinkling a 
 pair of cymbals, the music of which seems to amuse him
 
 THOMAS CllAWFOllD. 
 
 249 
 
 exceedingly. The sentiment is joyousness throughout. 
 It is evident no thought of the future troubles his young 
 mind: and he may consider himself very fortunate in 
 being made of marble ; for thus his youth remains with- 
 out change. . ,, * ._ '.... . I intend commencing 
 seven bas-reliefs, which will contain compositions repre- 
 senting the great poets of ancient and modern times. I 
 have Homer, Virgil, Dante, Petrarch, Tasso, and Mil- 
 ton, and an ideal arrangement of Apollo with the horse 
 Pegasus. I may possibly add Shakspeare, but I think of 
 reserving hitn to place in another series intended for the 
 Tragic Poets. Soon as I have completed these, you 
 shall have outline engravings of them. I have composed 
 many other things, and I regret that I have not a hun- 
 dred hands to keep pace with the workings of the mind. 
 The most important of these will be, perhaps, illustra- 
 trations of the whole of Ovid. I intend engraving 
 these ; for to model them would require too much time, 
 unless they were ordered. They will be simple draw- 
 ings in outline, composed with a sculptural feeling in 
 such a way that they might be modelled in bas-relief, 
 and still preserve the harmony of composition so neces- 
 sary in Art. I have often thought that works such as 
 these might be ordered in plaster, if not in marble. The 
 expense would be but one-half, probably, and they 
 would answer every purpose connected with the orna- 
 ment of our literary institutions. Many persons think 
 it is absolutely necessary that all works of sculpture 
 should be in marble. If it is possible, so much the bet- 
 ter, but after all, casts give to the instructed mind quite 
 as much pleasure ; and the reputation of the Artist may 
 be placed as well upon fine impressions of his works in 
 gesso, as though they were executed in a more durable
 
 250 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 material. Witness the ' Triumph of Alexander,' the great 
 work of modern times. It was ordered to be made in 
 plaster of Paris originally. Besides, we have the im- 
 mortal casts of the antique throughout the world. I do 
 not mean to say that I should desire an order for a statue 
 in plaster, nor for a single bas-relief; but an order for a 
 series of compositions I should consider a most fortunate 
 consummation, and devoutly to be wished.' In another 
 part of his letter Crawford says : ' I look to the founda- 
 tion of a pure School of Art in our glorious country. 
 We have surpassed already the republics of Greece in 
 our political institutions, and I see no reason why we 
 should not attempt to approach their excellence in the 
 Fine Arts, which, as much as any thing else, has secured 
 undying fame to Grecian genius.' 
 . " Such a spirit is worthy of our country. New- York 
 nay, America should be proud of THOMAS CRAW- 
 FORD, for he was born in that city. It is now as many 
 as six years that he has been pursuing sculpture with an 
 earnest attention, rising almost to rapture, amidst the re- 
 mains of ancient Rome, in the long galleries of the Va- 
 tican, and that modern continuation of the Vatican, as 
 it may be called, the studio of Thorvaldsen. Here he 
 has formed that correct and classical taste, with the free- 
 dom of Canova, but without his meretricious style, which 
 manifests itself so exquisitely in all his productions. ' He 
 left his home in New- York,' says one who saw him 
 much, ' a very young man ; and few knew the immortal 
 aspirings of the enthusiast, save the one to whom he 
 came with every new model, and by whose side he sat 
 night after night, reading, drawing, poring over the 
 Musee des Antiques, and other works of Art, laughing 
 at the eccentricities of Benvenuto Cellini, forming tab-
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 251 
 
 leaux in which Homer and his heroes, Phidias and Mi- 
 chael Angelo, Guido and Raphael, Salvator Rosa and 
 Leonardo da Vinci, Flaxman and Thorvaldsen, were 
 strangely mingled with Nymphs and Baccanti, winged 
 seraphs and apostles.' A youth like this was the natu- 
 ral prelude to a noble manhood." 
 
 An interesting correspondent of the Evening Post 
 thus speaks of Crawford in a letter from Rome, dated 
 the 15th Oct. 1843: 
 
 " Here, in Rome, I have frequently seen Crawford, 
 a native of New- York; after struggling against many 
 difficulties he has now won a proud reputation. He is a 
 student, a close and diligent student, and his chisel gives 
 promise of future excellence. Several of his works are 
 already in the United States, and his name is familiar 
 among those who take an interest in the Fine Arts. The 
 venerable Thorwaldsen occasionally visits his studio, and 
 I have heard, speaks in very kind terms of our young 
 ' countryman's works. Crawford's rising fame has lately 
 brought him several orders, and he is now in a fair way 
 of overcoming all the obstacles that impeded him in his 
 earliest career. He has just completed a very fine figure, 
 which he calls the Genius of Mirth. Henry W. Hicks, 
 Esq., of New- York, who was here some time ago, pleased 
 with Crawford's genius, and desirous of encouraging him, 
 gave him an unconditional order, at a liberal price, for a 
 piece of sculpture, and the Artist has exhibited much 
 taste in the selection of the subject. The Genius of 
 Mirth, is truly a clever work it is finished, and has been 
 sent to Leghorn for shipment. 
 
 " It is unnecessary to describe this figure you will 
 doubtless see it soon, then, judge yourself, if my esti- 
 mate of Crawford's merit is too high.
 
 252 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 " By the way, as you know Mr. Hicks, I wish you 
 would whisper in his ear, to send the Genius of Mirth to 
 the first exhibition of the Academy -justice to the sculp- 
 tor, not less than the gratification of his numerous friends, 
 should persuade him to do so. There is also, in this 
 young artist's studio, a beautiful model * The Shepherd- 
 ess' which he is transferring to marble for Mr. Collis, 
 formerly of New Orleans : he is at present engaged in 
 making a copy of a Cupid for a gentleman of Baltimore, 
 whose name I forget, the original of which he designed, 
 and made for Mr. Phillips of Boston. He has also just 
 finished a bust of Sappho ; an ideal one and a beautifully 
 poetic one it is for Charles Parker, Esq., of Boston. It 
 is not necessary that I should enter into a critical exam- 
 ination of these various works. They will all be in the 
 United States by and by, when you may, most likely, 
 have an opportunity of seeing some of them. 
 
 " Crawford is very industrious, and young though he 
 be, has already produced many excellent things. He is 
 now publishing an illustration of his works ; the first 
 number lately appeared, the frontispiece to which is a bas- 
 relievo, lately furnished for Dr. Van Rensselaer of your 
 city." 
 
 A writer of taste in a Boston journal, 1 1th May, 1 844, 
 who seems perfectly to understand his subject, says that 
 Thorvaldsen said, " The Orpheus is the most classic 
 statue in the studios of Rome." The writer thus con- 
 tinues " Boston is fortunate to possess so noble a speci- 
 men of the highest classical school. Crawford is no 
 copyist ; and they who have seen the story of Orpheus 
 in marble at Versailles, can testify how completely an 
 artist may fail ; as they, who study the same story at the 
 Athenaeum, may see how perfectly our countryman has
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD 
 
 253 
 
 succeeded. At the exhibition there are other works 
 worthy of particular notice ; but, I would, in closing these 
 hasty descriptions, invite the true patrons of genius and 
 moral worth to send their words of encouragement to 
 one of the first artists of the age, and to a young man, 
 who for eight years has been struggling with poverty. 
 With a self-devotion and courage which strike dead every 
 opposing circumstance, Crawford has gone on improving 
 his head, heart and hand, until he ranks in Rome second 
 only to his great teacher Thorvaldsen. He has filled 
 his studio with models from his inventive brain ; and they 
 who want chaste and beautiful ornaments for their par- 
 lors, have only to send him an order, with a description 
 of the space to be occupied and the price to be paid. I 
 have not the slightest personal interest to serve in recom- 
 mending Crawford ; but, as I have sat hour after hour to 
 see him shape the clay to the type that was resting in his 
 mind, I feel a strong desire that such extraordinary ge- 
 nius and excellence of character should find their reward. 
 
 " I proposed to him to give me a statue of Dr. Chan- 
 ning. The next morning he presented me an impres- 
 sive figure representing the preacher in his robes, the left 
 hand pointing to a text in an open Bible, while the right 
 was raised to enforce the exposition of a truth. The 
 action and movement of the statue were in perfect ac- 
 cordance with Dr. Channing's peculiar manner, and I 
 deeply regret that this statue has not been ordered. 
 The warrior, who has given all his time and mind to de- 
 stroy mankind, lives for ever in marble , while the profound 
 Christian sage, who spake as one having authority in the 
 realms of thought, and who spent his days and nights in 
 the service of truth and philanthropy, is allowed to go to 
 his grave without any proper notice of his greatness
 
 254 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 Besides the works of Crawford already mentioned in the 
 public prints, he has moulded half-sized figures of most of 
 our patriot fathers, and illustrations of our national his- 
 tory. He has in clay a most exquisite little group re- 
 presenting an angel teaching two children to pray. His 
 busts of * Sappho,' ' Tragedy,' and a ' Vestal,' are of 
 remarkable beauty. His ' Shepherdess' represents a 
 girl of seventeen carrying home on her shoulders a little 
 lamb, while by her right hand she is dragging along a 
 wolf which has her arrow through his heart. The inno- 
 cence of the lamb, and the triumphant joy of the Shep- 
 herdess at her rescue of the flock, are beautifully con- 
 trasted with the ferocity of the wild beast. Crawford 
 is now busied on his ' Adam and Eve,' a group in heroic 
 size representing the bitter agony of our first parents at 
 the moment the gates of paradise have been closed on 
 them forever. The genius of the artist has risen to the 
 terrible sublimity of his subject, and I shall wait with 
 impatience for a sight of this great work. I hope the time 
 is not far distant when an effort will be made for an Amer- 
 ican School of Art and who can doubt of its success 
 when we have produced such painters as Copely, Allston 
 and Stuart and such sculptors as Crawford, Powers 
 and Greenough? C. B." 
 
 The following description of Crawford's Vesta ap- 
 peared in the Boston Daily Advertiser and Patriot, over 
 the signature of F. L. : 
 
 " At No. 20 Long Wharf, up stairs, winding the way 
 between cotton bales and other goods, through a door 
 with dingy, thickly-dusty panes, in an unused, unswept 
 and cobwebbed counting-house there stands, in the 
 corner, a Bust covered with a heavy brown cloth. The 
 cloth was removed, and before us stood one of the purest
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 255 
 
 and chastest, yet most original works of modern Art 
 the Vesta of Crawford a work full of repose, com- 
 plete in itself, and of noble thought and conception. 
 Like Thorvaldsen's Night, it reminds us of a brief poem 
 full of the deepest feeling, in unpretending language, and 
 thoroughly finished within itself. I have but lately re- 
 turned from a trip through Europe, and all the master- 
 works, ancient and modern, are vivid in my memory, yet 
 the image of this bust falls with freshness and delight 
 upon my mind, which I know to be, in this case, wholly 
 impartial. It seems to me, that the mantle of the great 
 Thorvaldsen has fallen upon Crawford. I do not know 
 a single work of the latter which is not like the Shep- 
 herd Boy of the former, or all he gave us from his abun- 
 dant genius, distinguished by originality, as well as an 
 entire absence of extravagance or coquetry, which mars 
 the effect of many works of Canova's chisel. 
 
 " In this bust of a Vesta, it appeared to me that the 
 whole lower part of the face was truly original without 
 any reminiscence. I remember nothing of the kind in 
 antiquity. How unlike any thing in antiquity ; ' yet how 
 antique !' The head is that of a girl of fifteen, yet in 
 advance of her age, as Raphael's babes are babes in- 
 deed, but far beyond mere infancy. The Vesta of 
 Crawford has the last remains of that fulness of cheek 
 nearest the mouth, which we find in the highest degree 
 in handsome infants, while her mouth is of the greatest 
 sweetness, and of that peculiar expression which the 
 mouths of young persons assume when they are in ear- 
 nest meditation. The mouth, on the point of being 
 opened, looks as if the ready word played already on the 
 lips. Her down-bent eyes, her slightly inclined and ex- 
 quisitely formed head all, all is beautiful, and makes us
 
 256 
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 wish all possible blessing upon him who conceived Or- 
 pheus and this Vesta, and has executed them with deli- 
 cacy, chaste self-control, genius and refinement. Ame- 
 rica ought to be proud of her Crawford." 
 
 The following list of those works of Crawford, taken 
 from sculpture and modern subjects, has been furnished 
 me by a friend : 
 
 Adam and Eve. A group illustrative of their expulsion from 
 the garden of Eden. In this work the object of the artist has been 
 to give the noblest expression of grief; Eve, overcome by shame and 
 sorrow, clings for support to the form of Adam, whose arms are 
 thrown upwards in the act of supplication, while his clasped hands 
 are indicative of the mental suffering that almost overpowers his 
 nature. His face is raised upwards, and shows a combined expres- 
 sion of grief and entreaty, as if the severity of the sentence against 
 his disobedience is insupportable. All is pervaded by the solemnity 
 that gives to grief its most touching form. The size is what is called 
 the Hevie ; in other words, about nine and a half feet for the stature 
 of Adam. Eve is, of course, in this proportion. Of this groupe a 
 gentleman, who saw it in Rome in the winter of 1844, wrote " It is 
 really conceived of Poetry and born of Sculpture, and shows the 
 imagination of the one and the power of the other more than the 
 Orpheus, or any other of his works." 
 
 A Family, suffering under the reign of fiery serpents ; there are 
 five figures in this work. 
 
 A Mother, attempting to save herself and child from the univer- 
 sal deluge ; a group. 
 
 David, as the conqueror of Goliah ; a statue. 
 
 David before Saul ; a bas relief. 
 
 The Shepherds and Wise Men, presenting their offerings to the 
 infant Jesus ; a bas relief, containing twenty-four figures. An etch- 
 ing of this has been made. 
 
 Christ, disputing with the Doctors ; a bas relief, containing twelve 
 figures. 
 
 Christ, restoring sight to the blind ; a bas relief. 
 
 Christ, discoursing with the woman of Samaria at the well j a 
 bas relief.
 
 THOMAS CRAWFORD. 
 
 267 
 
 Christ, restoring life to the daughter of Jairus ; a group of four 
 figures. 
 
 Christ, blessing little children ; a has relief, containing fourteen 
 figures. 
 
 Christ, ascending from the tomb; a has relief of five figures. 
 
 Prayer ; a statue. 
 
 An Angel, teaching infancy to pray ; a group of three figures. 
 
 " Lead us into Life Everlasting ;" a bas relief of seven figures. 
 
 The Landing of Columbus ; a group of five figures. 
 
 Three Statues of Washington, differing from each other in senti- 
 ment and costume ; one of them being a representation of Washing- 
 ton in the costume he wore. Of one of these there is a beautiful 
 engraving. 
 
 Two designs for Washington Monuments, each surmounted by 
 equestrian statues. One of these designs has four bas reliefs. The 
 subjects are, Washington receiving his commission ; the surrender 
 of Lord Cornwallis ; Washington writing his Farewell Address ; 
 Washington again upon his farm at Mount Vernon. Accompanying 
 this design are statues of History, Peace, Heroic Poetry, Victory, 
 Abundance, and Navigation. 
 
 A design for an Equestrian Statue of Washington, modelled in 
 Boston during the past winter. These three equestrian designs dif- 
 fer from each other. 
 
 Besides these, Mr. Crawford has made sketches for statues of 
 Franklin, Jefferson, Channing, Washington Allslon and Henry Clay. 
 
 Since 1844 Crawford has designed some noble works 
 which are not embraced in this enumeration. His fame 
 has long been established, and I have heard some expe- 
 rienced connoisseurs remark they thought nothing was 
 hazarded in saying that Crawford had in his Orpheus, 
 and his " Shepherds and the Wise Men," surpassed 
 nearly all the Sculptors of modern times. The etching 
 of the Shepherds seemed to me to be equal to almost an\ 
 similar bas relief of Thorvaldsen. 
 
 17


 
 <tl)t Jpnritans auft %ir JJrinnpUs. 
 
 BY REV. EDWIN HALL. 
 
 PUBLISHED BY BAKER It SCRIBNER, 145 NASSAU STREET. 
 
 OPINIONS OF THE PRESS. 
 
 From the New York Observer. 
 THE PURITANS AND THEIR PRINCIPLES. By Edwin 
 
 HalL New York: Baker & Scribner. 1846. 
 
 Mr. Hall is the able pastor of the Congregational 
 Church, in Norwalk, Ct. He writes with vigor, and in. 
 the midst of all his disquisitions, does not fail to sustain 
 the interest of the reader. The work before us is the 
 fruit of much research and thought, and will stand, in 
 1 our opinion, as a noble defence of the character and prin- 
 ciples of men whose monument is civil and religious 
 liberty in the earth. 
 
 This volume is richly worthy of a place in the library 
 of every college, and of every man who wishes to under- 
 stand the true greatness of the Puritans. We presume 
 that it will be very generally sought after and extensively 
 read. 
 
 From the N. Y. Evening Express. 
 They set forth the causes which brought the Pilgrims 
 to these shores, their principles, and vindicate them from 
 the aspersions which have been cast upon them. The 
 subject is one of the greatest interest to any person who 
 has any desire to know the history of his own country, 
 and to be acquainted with the principles and sufferings 
 of the most remarkable men that ever reached this con- 
 tinent 

 
 2 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 
 
 From the Morning News. 
 
 WORKS OP CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH. Mrs. Charlotte Eli 
 abeth Tonna is one of the most gifted, popular, and truly in- 
 structive writers of the present day. In clearness of thoughu 
 variety of topics, richness of imagery, and elegance of expres- 
 sion, it is scarcely too much to say, that she is the rival of Han- 
 nah More, or to predict that her works will be as extensive!* 
 and profitably read, as those of the most delightful female write* 
 of the last generation. All her writings are pervaded by just- 
 ness and purity of sentiment, and the highest reverence for mo- 
 rality and religion ; and may safely be commended as of the 
 highest interest and value to every family in the land. 
 
 From the Religions Spectator 
 
 If Charlotte Elizabeth were not one of the most attractive 
 uid useful writers of the age, we might perhaps be ready to 
 say that she was in danger of surfeiting the public appetite, by 
 her numerous productions ; but as it is, we are constrained to 
 say the oflener she shows herself as an author the better. Her 
 works never tire ; and we are never even in doubt in respect to 
 their useful tendency. 
 
 From the Albany Argus. 
 
 Charlotte Elizabeth's works have become so universally 
 Known, and are so highly and deservedly appreciated in this 
 country, that it has become almost superfluous to mention them. 
 We doubt exceedingly whether there has been any female wri- 
 ter since Mrs. Hannah More, whose works are likely to be so 
 extensively and so profitably read as hers. She thinks deeply 
 and accurately, is a great analysis! of the human heart, and 
 withal clothes her thoughts in most appropriate and eloquent 
 language. 
 
 From the Journal of Commerce. 
 These productions constitute a bright relief to the bad and
 
 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 
 
 3 
 
 lOtfupting literature in which our age is so prolific, full of prac- 
 ticaT instruction, illustrative of the beauty of Protestant Chris- 
 tianity, and not the less abounding in entertaining description 
 and narrative. 
 
 CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH'S WORKS. 
 
 
 cts. 
 
 cts. 
 
 Personal Recollections, 1 vol. 
 
 
 Osrlc, a Missionary Tale, 
 
 38 
 
 12mo., 
 
 50 
 
 The Convent Bell, a Tale, 
 
 33 
 
 Helen Fleetwood, 
 
 50 
 
 Glimpses of the Past, or the Mu- 
 
 
 Judah's Lion, 
 
 50 
 
 seum, 
 
 38 
 
 Judaea Capta, 
 
 50 
 
 Philip and his Garden, 
 
 38 
 
 The Siege of Derry, 
 
 50 
 
 The Flower of Innocence, 
 
 33 
 
 Letters from Ireland, 
 
 50 
 
 The Simple Flower, 
 
 38 
 
 The Rockite, 
 
 50 
 
 Alice Benden, and other Tales, 
 
 38 
 
 Floral Biography, 
 
 50 
 
 Female Martyrs, 
 
 38 
 
 Principalities and Powers, 
 
 50 
 
 Tales and Illustrations, 
 
 38 
 
 English Martyrs, 
 
 50 
 
 Dressmakers and Milliners, 
 
 25 
 
 Fhe Wrongs of Women, 
 
 50 
 
 The Forsaken Home, 
 
 25 
 
 The Church Visible in all Ages, 
 
 
 The Little Pin-Headers, 
 
 25 
 
 18mo., 
 
 50 
 
 The Lace Runners, 
 
 25 
 
 Passing Thoughts, 
 
 38 
 
 Letter Writing, 
 
 25 
 
 Falsehood and Truth, 
 
 38 
 
 Back-Biting, 
 
 25 
 
 Conformity, 
 
 38 
 
 Promising and Performing, 
 
 25 
 
 Izram, a Mexican Tale, 
 
 38 
 
 
 
 THE PEEP OF DAY, or a series of the earliest reli- 
 gious Instruction, the Infant Mind is capable of re- 
 ceiving, with verses illustrative of the subjects, 1 vol. 
 18mo. with engravings, $0 50 
 
 LINE UPON LINE, by the author of "Peep of Day," 
 a second series, 50 
 
 PRECEPT UPON PRECEPT, by the author of "Peep 
 of Day," etc., a third series, 50 

 
 4 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 
 
 This is probably the best and most popular series of Juvenile 
 Books ever published. The publishers refer with the most en- 
 tire confidence to all parents and teachers who have introduced 
 these books into their families or schools, who will testify as to 
 the useful and correct religious instruction which they con- 
 tain. 
 
 D'AUBIGNE'S HISTORY OF THE GREAT RE- 
 FORMATION, abridged by the Rev. Edward Dai- 
 ton, 1 vol. 18mo. 447 pages. Price, SO 50 
 
 Probably no book of modern date has obtained such a wide- 
 spread popularity, and been so extensively read as D'Aubigne's 
 History of the Great Reformation of the sixteenth century, in 
 Germany, Switzerland, &c. Engrossing and enduring as must 
 be the interest connected with the details of the historical inci- 
 dent of the Great Reformation, the author of this work has 
 invested them with all the charm and fascination of ro- 
 mance. 
 
 The Abridgment retains most of the attractions of the larger 
 work, and brings it within the means, as to time and expense, 
 of a still larger body of readers. Of the faithfulness with which 
 this abridgment has been made, the following testimonials 
 from the New York Observer of Oct. 21, is abundant and sat- 
 isfactory evidence. It is from the pen of a distinguished cler- 
 gyman of New York, whose opinions on such subjects are en- 
 titled to universal confidence. 
 
 " I have read the Rev. Mr. Dalton's Abridgment of D'Au- 
 bigne's History, as reprinted by Baker & Scribner, and have 
 fully compared it with Mr. Carter's edition of the original work. 
 I am free to say that I think the abridgment is made with great 
 fidelity and sound judgment. It consists almost wholly of the 
 author's own words, and embraces those parts which are of the 
 most prominent interest. Doubtless those who can command 
 the time will prefer to read the original work ; but those wh
 
 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 5 
 
 fen to have the substance of the work in less compass, will 
 Here find it faithfully condensed by one who entered into the 
 true spirit of D'Aubigne. Both editions, I believe calculated to 
 be eminently useful, and I wish to both the widest circula- 
 tion. 
 
 This work is printed on good type, contains 447 pages, and 
 is sold at the exceedingly low price of 50 cents." 
 
 From the American Protestant. 
 D'AUBIGNE'S HISTORY OF THE REFORMATION. 
 
 Cheap edition. Abridged by the REV. EDWARD DALTON. 
 
 Second edition. 
 
 This edition of D'Aubigne, abridged by a skilful hand, has 
 received the commendations of the press, and of men of talent, 
 for the rare merit it presents in the present form. It is admi- 
 rably adapted for Sunday School and Common School Libra- 
 ries, and for the family. None of the important facts of the 
 original history are omitted, or even mutilated ; while all that 
 is extraneous and common-place, has been dropped. It is use- 
 less to talk about the advantage a child will reap from the read- 
 ing of the full edition ; the same argument should hold good 
 for all purposes, and we would have to banish books wholly 
 from our School Libraries for, of the historical portion of 
 those Libraries, hardly a single volume can be found, that is 
 not an abridgment of a more voluminous work. Children 
 must have the facts, and the stirring interest of unbroken, nar- 
 rative ; their age, and their unripe minds, imperatively demand 
 them, and we might as well forbid them to study Astronomy 
 except through the barren formulas of La Place, as to forbid 
 them to read history except in the philosophic voluminousness 
 of original productions. 
 
 THE CHURCH IN THE WILDERNESS, and other 
 Fragments from the study of a Pastor, by Gardiner Spring,
 
 O CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 
 
 D.D., Pastor of the Brick Presbyterian Church, in the city 
 of New York. 
 
 The following notice of Spring's Fragments is extracted from 
 the New York Commercial Advertiser. 
 
 The first piece entitled the " Church in the Wilderness," is 
 one of the most beautiful sketches in our language. It is in 
 every respect a finished production a picture complete in all 
 its parts, that for a time captivates the affections, enchains the 
 powers of the mind, and fills the soul with the most exalted 
 conceptions. The Church is represented, under the various 
 circumstances of her earthly allotment, leaning on the arm of 
 her Beloved, and deriving all her strength from this unfailing 
 source. The chastened but glowing fancy, elegance of diction, 
 and purity of thought, conspire to give beauty to the image, 
 and make us dwell upon it with delight, 
 
 The other pieces hi the collection are scarcely of infenor 
 merit. " The Inquiring Meeting " portrays with great vivid- 
 ness some of the phases which the human heart exhibits, when 
 under the influence of religious excitement. The " Letter to 
 a Young Clergyman " abounds in instructions of inestimable 
 value. It may perhaps be doubted whether the author attaches 
 sufficient importance to pastoral visitation. " The Panorama " 
 is an affecting delineation of the employment of men as they 
 usually appear on the stage of active life. " The Useful Chris- 
 tian " contains sound practical suggestions for informing the 
 mind, regulating the heart, and inspiring energy of action. 
 
 MEMOIRS OF MRS. SARAH LOUISA TAYLOR, 
 by REV. LOT JONES, A.M. Fifth edition, 18mo., $0 50 
 
 From the Christian Mirror. 
 
 MEMOIR OF MRS. SARAH LOUISA TAYLOR: or an 
 Illustration of the work of the Holy Spirit, in awaken*
 
 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 
 
 Ing, renewing, and sanctifying the heart. By Lot 
 JONES, A.M. 
 
 Memoirs of individuals have become so common, that not a 
 few may be ready to ask, Why publish another 1 We have no 
 fears that the above question will be asked by any one afte> 
 reading this volume. If he does not feel " reproved, corrected, 
 or instructed in righteousness," it will be because he has made 
 pre-eminent attainments in scriptural knowledge, and holy, 
 Useful living ; or else because his conscience has lost its sus- 
 ceptibility. In Mrs. Taylor religion appears with dignity a* 
 well as grace, in power as well as beauty. Hers was the faitb 
 which " works by love, purifies the heart, and overcomes the 
 world." Its fruits were choice and abundant. Nor were her 
 virtues cancelled, or their influence more than destroyed by 
 gross defects and blemishes. She had uncommon symmetry 
 and harmony of character. With a uniform and controlling 
 desire to do good, she never lacked the means and opportu- 
 nity; and did much, in the best and highest sense of the ex- 
 pression. She won noi & few to righteousness. Her religion 
 was a reugion of diligence and energy, rendering her " stead- 
 fast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord r* 
 and her labor was " not in vain." 
 
 We see in Mrs. Taylor the same religion, in its essential ele- 
 ments, and in its more important developments, which glowed 
 in and beamed forth from the "great cloud of witnesses;" the 
 same faith, the same humility, the same dependence on atoning 
 blood, the same susceptibility to the constraining influence of 
 Christ's love: " We thus judge, that if Christ died for all, then 
 all were dead; and that he died for all that they who live 
 should not henceforth live unto themselves, but unto him who 
 died for them." We see deep religious experience, but no ex- 
 travagance strong feelings, but no fanaticism absorbing de 
 votion, but no cant firmness of principle, but no party bigotry. 
 We have here, not only holiness in its principle, but the beauty 
 of holiness adorning and perfecting the character.
 
 8 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 
 
 Mr. Jones was greatly favored in the subject of his- narra- 
 tive; and he has wrought up his materials with great skill and 
 judgment. Nothing has been inserted, which would have 
 been better omitted ; and nothing appears to be wanting, which 
 Was necessary to a just appreciation of her character. 
 
 We unhesitatingly commend this Memoir to all females, in 
 all ranks of society. The most refined and best educated will 
 rise from its perusal, improved in literary taste, intellectual ex- 
 pansion, and correct thinking ; and the less favored will learn 
 from it what, it is in their power to become by diligence, by 
 prayer, by studying the Scriptures, by a whole-hearted devo- 
 tedness to the duties which they owe to God and their fellow- 
 men. 
 
 From the Boston Recorder. 
 
 MEMOIR OF MRS. SARAH LOUISA TAYLOR : or an 
 Illustration of the work of the Holy Spirit, in awakening, 
 renewing, and sanctifying the heart. By LOT JONES, A.M 
 
 It is not possible to do justice to this captivating and instntc- 
 tive volume within the compass of the few lines to which our 
 notice must be confined. And perhaps it is best to desist alto- 
 gether from an attempt to convey a correct impression of it to 
 our readers ; for it must be confessed that our own emotions on 
 the perusal of it are too strong to permit the exercise of the 
 most cool and deliberate judgment as to its intrinsic merits- 
 To follow a lovely youth through the scenes of childhood and 
 ripening years ; to mark the various traits of intellectual and 
 moral character, as they are developed in the relations of the 
 child, the sister, the friend, the wife, the mother, the teacher 
 and the disciple of Jesus: and then to group the whole, and 
 contemplate the triumphs of faith over natural affection, and 
 the heart's corruptions, and the power of death itself; cannot 
 jail to excite very strong emotion in any bosom not petrified, 
 even though the execution of the work were marked with
 
 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 9 
 
 many imperfections. But Mr. Jones has not failed in the ful- 
 filment of the task he has assumed. The simplicity and clear- 
 ness of his delineations; the richness and fulness of evangeli- 
 cal sentiment diffused through the whole, and arising naturally 
 from his subject, the dignified tenderness of style, and the ac- 
 curate discrimination made between spurious and genuine reli- 
 gion in his incidental remarks, show him to be a workman that 
 needeth not to be ashamed, and leave an impress on the vol- 
 ume that will render it very precious to every evangelical reader. 
 Any Christian who desires above all things to grow in grace, 
 to learn the nature of the Christian conflict, and to use success- 
 fully the weapons that shall give him the victory over his spirit- 
 ual enemies ; or, in one word, to learn " the mind of the Spirit " 
 on these points, will do well to study this volume. 
 
 From the Episcopal Sunday School Visitor. 
 
 Sometimes the usefulness of religious biography is lessened 
 by a redundancy of ornament in the style, by too many digres- 
 sions, which are continually breaking into the interest which 
 the reader feels in the narrative, and driving away the profita- 
 ble reflections which it suggests to the mind. 
 
 It is very seldom that we meet with a book so entirely free 
 from blemishes of this kind, as the one before us. It is the 
 simple portrait of an amiable, enlightened, and devotedly pious 
 Christian, drawn by a most judicious and faithful hand. 
 
 The young Christian who is just commencing his course, 
 and whose temptations and trials are sometimes leading him to 
 despondency, will read this book with thankfulness ; and 
 those who are yet strangers to vital religion may be induced, 
 from this lovely instance of its powerful effects in sustaining 
 the soul, under the heaviest afflictions of life, and in the hour 
 of sickness and death, to seek for themselves an interest in the 
 Lord JESUS CHRIST. 
 
 Mrs. Taylor evidently possessed a fine and cultivated mind. 
 Of this the beautiful fragments of poetry which are given in
 
 10 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 
 
 the course of the book, and the extracts from her correspond- 
 ence, are evidence. Had those talents been cultivated for the 
 world and its approbation, she might, perhaps, have attained 
 ZZ that this world can give fame applause and celebrity. 
 But what would they avail her now 1 She has chosen the 
 better part, which cannot be taken from her. 
 
 It would be injustice to the publishers not to notice the beau- 
 tiful manner in which the work has been executed. The pa- 
 per and type are excellent, and the engravings good : but still 
 the matter of the book is its main recommendation. 
 
 From the Episcopal Recorder. 
 
 This is a new work just issued from the press, and well 
 worthy the attention of Christians. It describes, mainly from 
 her own writings, the character of a Christian, whose experi- 
 ence of the power of sin and of the power of grace, was 
 deeper than is usual, and whose example of usefulness to 
 others gives beautiful evidence of the reality of her own prin- 
 ciples of character. We have been much interested in looking 
 over this volume, and rejoice in recommending it to our read- 
 ers. They will find it an uncommonly interesting and instruc- 
 tive biography, worthy of its excellent author, and adapted to 
 be eminently useful to themselves. 
 
 From the Christian Intelligencer. 
 
 This is a well-written biography of an amiable and devoted 
 Christian, who pleasantly and beautifully exhibited the Chris- 
 tian character in the different relations of life and in her early 
 death. The reader will be pleased with the spirit and senti- 
 ments of her early correspondence introduced and scattered 
 throughout the volume. It is calculated to be useful and edi- 
 fying, and we freely recommend it to our readers. It is pub- 
 lished in a beautiful style.
 
 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 11 
 
 From the Christian Watchman. 
 
 The interesting subject of this memoir was born at East 
 Haddam, Conn., January 18, 1809, and died August 2, 1836. 
 Books of this description are sure to obtain readers, and there- 
 fore we sincerely wish they always combined as much solid 
 instruction with affecting and interesting narrative, as we find 
 in this volume. " He that winneth souls is wise." Every en- 
 deavor, therefore, to secure so important an object, which is not 
 at variance with the principles and the spirit of revelation, is 
 wise also. As the author fervently prays, so we sincerely hope 
 this work " may subserve the interests of our holy religion, 
 and be the means of leading many to the fountain of eternal 
 life." 
 
 It is a lamentable fact, but one we suppose no one will ven- 
 ture to deny, that there are persons who, though they cannot 
 be prevailed upon to read a few pages of a book of this kind, 
 would need no persuasion to sit down and peruse any of Bul- 
 wer's novels, from the preface to the finis, without suffering 
 their attention to be interrupted. A person can hardly read 
 this volume without feeling that, for the time at least, he is a 
 wiser and a better man. The author has produced a book 
 alike creditable to the powers of his mind and to the devotional 
 feelings of his heart ; and which, in our opinion, justly en- 
 titles him to the thanks of the religious public, among whom 
 we sincerely hope it will obtain an extensive circulation and 
 an attentive perusal. 
 
 From the New York Evangelist 
 
 In the memoir of Mrs. Taylor, the reader will see chiefly 
 M an illustration of the work of the Holy Spirit in awakening, 
 renewing, and sanctifying the heart." He will see an hum- 
 ble female, born in Connecticut, and reared under the genial 
 influence of that blessed atmosphere so prevalent in the land 
 of the Pilgrims, becoming first a teacher of youth in her native 
 tate, then in New York city. With a mind well cultivated
 
 12 CATALOGS OF BOOKS. 
 
 and of a respectable order of talent, with a heart formed for 
 friendship, and keenly alive to the purest and tenderest sensi- 
 bilities ; she was such a one as almost any one would wish 
 their daughters to be. Her piety was of a high order even 
 from the first, and no wonder ; she had been an object of the 
 prayers and exhortations of Harla.n Page. The closing scenes 
 exhibit, in no small degree, the triumphs of Christian faith. 
 The biographer has done his work well, interweaving, page by 
 page, in an easy, natural manner, delightful lessons from real life. 
 The book is a beautiful specimen of the printer's art, and 
 shows also, in the portrait prefixed and the vignette title-page, 
 the engraver's skill. The book will be read, and seldom, we 
 hope, without profit. 
 
 From the Christian Advocate and Journal. 
 
 This memoir is an illustration of the work of the Holy 
 Spirit, in awakening, renewing, and sanctifying the heart. 
 Mrs. Taylor was in many respects an extraordinary woman ; 
 and her biographer has performed his task in a style of great ex- 
 cellence. The narrative of her conviction and contrition, which 
 is here given, is deeply affecting and instructive, by reason of 
 its protracted character, as well as the circumstances which 
 kept her so long without the "joy in believing," which she af- 
 terwards found to have been her privilege. That her's was 
 the true " godly sorrow which worketh repentance unto salva- 
 tion," no one can doubt ; and yet she was for many years the 
 subject of its anguish and mental agony, before she received 
 the " spirit of adoption," or had the " witnesses in herself" of 
 which the apostle speaks. Subsequently, her enlightened 
 piety, her growth in grace, and her experience of the fulness 
 of the blessing of the Gospel of peace, made her a " burning 
 and a shining light." In these days of degeneracy, her me- 
 moir is a most, timely publication, showing, as it does, an emr 
 nent example of Christian experience and practice, unsophisti- 
 cated by any oi the dogmas of scholastic divinity.
 
 
 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 13 
 
 Mrs. Taylor was an humble, sincere, fervent, and consistent 
 Christian, in sickness and in health, living and dying, exem- 
 plifying the truth, power, and preciousness of ur holy relig- 
 ion. Intellectually, she was a woman of high order ; and her 
 early and devoted piety, her patience and resignation in afflic- 
 tion, her victory over death, all demonstrate that she was a 
 witness of the washing and regeneration, and the renewal of 
 the Holy Ghost. 
 
 Would that our young ladies would read her memoir, imbibe 
 her spirit, share her enjoyments, and participate in her blessed- 
 ness here and hereafter. 
 
 
 
 THEOPNEUSTY, or the Plenary Inspiration of the 
 Holy Scriptures, by S. R. L. Gaussen, Professor of 
 Theology in the new Theological School of Geneva, 
 Switzerland. Third American, from the second 
 French edition, revised and enlarged by the author. 
 Translated by the Rev. Edward Norris Kirk, 1 vol. 
 12mb., - - ,i-. : -;i. $0 75 
 
 AIDS TO PREACHING AND HEARING, by 
 Rev. Thos. H. Skinner, D.D., 1 vol. 12mo., - - 1 00 
 
 MEMOIR OP THE LATE REV. WM. NEVINS, 
 D.D., 1 vol. I2mo., - -' ;; .' '';-. - - 75 
 
 LECTURES ON UNIVERSALISM, by Rev. Joel 
 Parker, D.D., President of the New York Theologi- 
 cal Seminary, 12mo., ...... 75 
 
 JACOB WRESTLING WITH THE ANGEL, and 
 SOLOMON THE SHULAMITE, by Krumma- 
 cher, author of " Elijah the Tishbite," 1 vol. 12mo., 75 
 
 CORNELIUS THE CENTURION, by Krumma- 
 eher, 1 vol. I2mo., ...... - 75
 
 14 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 
 
 SERMONS ON REVIVALS, by Rev. Albert Barnes, 
 with an Introduction by Rev. Joel Parker, D.D., 
 1 vol. I8mo., $03* 
 
 A VOICE FROM ANTIQUITY, to theMenof the 
 Nineteenth Century ; or, Read the Book. By J. H. 
 Merle D'Aubigne, author of the " History of the Re- 
 formation in the Sixteenth Century," 1 vol. 18mo., SS 
 
 THE VOICE OP THE CHURCH ONE, Under 
 all the Successive Forms of Christianity; by J. H. 
 Merle D'Aubigne, D.D., 1 vol. 18mo., 25 
 
 PUSEYISM EXAMINED, by J. H. Merle D'Aubigne, 
 D.D. ; with an Introductory Notice of the Author, by 
 Robert Baird, 1 vol. 18mo., ..... 25 
 
 THE CONFESSION OF CHRIST, by J. H. Merle 
 
 D'Aubigne, D.D , 1 vol. 18mo., 25 
 
 FAITH AND KNOWLEDGE, by J. H. Merle D'Au- 
 bigne, D.D., 1 vol. 18mo., - - - - - 25 
 
 THE CHURCH IN THE WILDERNESS, and 
 other Fragments, from the Study of a Pastor, by Gar- 
 diner Spring, Pastor of the Brick Presbyterian Church 
 in the City of New York, 1 vol. 12mo., 50 
 
 THE BACKSLIDER, by Andrew Fuller, with an In- 
 troduction by John Angell James, I8mo., 31 
 
 SERMONS, by Hugh Blair, D.D., to which is prefixed 
 the Life and Character of the Author, by James Fin- 
 layson, D.D., 1 vol. 8vo., 2 00 
 
 OBLIGATIONS OF THE WORLD TO THE BI- 
 BLE, by Gardiner Spring, D.D., 1 vol. 12mo., - 1 00 
 
 A VISIT TO NORTHERN EUROPE, or Sketches, 
 Descriptive, Historical, Political, and Moral, of Den- 
 mark, Norway, Sweden, and Finland, and the Free 

 
 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 15 
 
 cities of Hamburg and Lubeck ; containing notices 
 of the Manners and Customs, Commerce, Manufac- 
 tures, Arts, and Sciences, Education, Literature, and 
 Religion of those Countries and Cities. By the Rev. 
 Robert Baird, with Maps and numerous Engravings, 
 2 vols. 12mo., $300 
 
 HEROINES OP SACRED HISTORY, by Mrs. 
 Steel, 1 vol. 18mo.,' 50 
 
 A SUMMER JOURNEY IN THE WEST, by Mrs. 
 Steel, author of " Heroines of Sacred History," 1 vol. 
 12mo., - '. ;? - : V '.' ... . . 50 
 
 EMANUEL ON THE CROSS, AND IN THE 
 GARDEN, by R. P. Buddicom, 1 vol. I2mo., 63 
 
 THE FAMILY OF BETHANY, by L. Bonnot; with 
 an Introductory Essay, by the Rev. Hugh White, 1 
 vol. I8mo., .-..-...38 
 
 THE ADOPTED CHILD, or the necessity of Early 
 Piety, by the author of " Emma, or the Lost Found," 
 1 vol. I8mo., 31 
 
 THE STORY OF GRACE, the Little Suflerer, 1 vol. 
 18mo., 31 
 
 ADOLPHUS AND JAMES, by the Rev. Napoleon 
 Roussel, translated from the French, 1 vol. 18mo., - 31 
 
 THE LILY OF THE VALLEY, by Mrs. Sherwood, 31 
 
 SHANTY, THE BLACKSMITH, by Mrs. Sherwood, 50 
 THE TRAVELLER, or the Wonders of Art, 1 vol. 
 
 18mo., if i*. - - - - 38 
 
 MEMOIR OF THE TELLSTORM, the first Swedish 
 Missionary to Lapland, with an Appendix giving an 
 account of the Stockholm Mission, by the Rev. 
 George Scott, 1 vol. 18 mo., ----- 31 

 
 16 CATALOGUE . OF BOOKS. 
 
 FLOWER FADED, by the Rev. John Angell James, 
 1 vol. I8mo., $0 38 
 
 MEMOIR OF MARTHA, by John Angell James, 1 
 vol. I8mo., ........31 
 
 MEMOIR OF CHARLES LATHROP WINSLOW, 
 1 vol. 18mo., -----... 
 
 CLOSING SCENES OF THE LIFEjOF SAMUEL 
 WISDOM, illustrating the usefulness of Tract Distri- 
 bution, and Sabbath School Instruction, 1 vol. I8mo., 25 
 
 THE SABBATH SCHOOL TEACHER'S PAT- 
 TERN, AND A WORD FOR ALL, by John An- 
 gell James, ...... - - 25 
 
 COUNSELS TO THE YOUNG, by Rev. A. Alexan- 
 der, D.D., 25 
 
 SELF CULTIVATION, by Tryon Edwards, 25 
 
 EARLY PIETY, by Rev. Jacob Abbott, 25 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN POCKET COMPANION, select- 
 ed from the works of President Edwards and others, 25 
 
 The above four vols. 32mo., in gilt edges, at 31 
 cts. each. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE SANDWICH ISLANDS, by 
 the Rev. Shelden Dibble, Missionary to those Islands, 
 1 vol. 12mo., 75 
 
 GENEVA AND ROME, by S. R. L. Gaussen, 1 vol. 
 18mo., ....25 
 
 REFLECTIONS ON FLO WERS, by Rev. James Her- 
 vey, author of " Meditations Among the Tombs," 1 
 vol. ISino., ........ 31 
 
 TRANSPLANTED FLOWERS, or Memoirs of Mrs. 
 Rumff, and the Duchesse de Broglie, with an appen- 
 dix, by the Rev. Robert Baird, 1 vol. 18mo., - - 38 

 
 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 17 
 
 HINTS FOR MOTHERS, by a Lady, 1 vol. 18mb., - $0 31 
 
 A TALE OP THE HUGUENOTS, or Memoirs of a 
 French Refugee Family ; translated from the Manu- 
 scripts of James Fontaine, by a Lady with an intro- 
 duction, by Francis L. Hawkes, D.D., 1 vol. I8mo., 50 
 
 ROCKY ISLAND, and other Parables, by Samuel Wil- 
 berforce, M.A., 1 vol. 18mo., 38 
 
 THE LITTLE WANDERERS, by Samuel Wilber- 
 force, M.A., 1 vol. I8mo., - - - - - 25 
 
 THE KING AND HIS SERVANTS, by Samuel 
 Wilberforce, M.A., 1 vol. 18mo., .... 25 
 
 THE PROPHET'S GUARD, by Samuel Wilberforce, 
 M.A., 1 vol. I8mo., , -<P y*:j : *>}!: - 25 
 
 ADVICE TO A YOUNG CHRISTIAN, by a village 
 Pastor, with an Introduction, by Rev. Dr. Alexander 
 (new edition), 1 vol. 18mo., - - - - - 3b 
 
 THE WAY OF SAFETY, bv the Rev. L. E. Lathrop, 
 D.D., 1 vol. 18mo., :<j>^ - - - - 38 
 
 BIOGRAPHY OF THE SAVIOUR AND HIS 
 APOSTLES, w*h Portraits done on Steel, 1 vol. 
 I8mo., - 60 
 
 POETRY FOR THE YOUNG, in two parts, Moral 
 and Misc'laneous, 1 vol. I8mo., 38 
 
 THE WORLD'S RELIGION, as contrasted with gen- 
 uine Christianity, by Lady Colquhoun, 1 vol. 18mo., 50 
 
 THE CHRISTIAN CITIZEN, by the Rev. A. D. 
 
 Eddy, of Newark, 1 voL 12mo., 50 
 
 THE ELEMENTS OF ASTRONOMY, designed as 
 
 an Introduction to the Study, 1 vol. l8mo., - - 25 
 MURRAY'S INTRODUCTION TO THE ENGLISH 
 
 READER, 12mo., large type, ..... 35
 
 18 CATALOGUE OF BOOKS. 
 
 MURRAY'S ENGLISH READER, I2mo., large type, $0 60 
 
 MURRAY'S SEQUEL TO THE ENGLISH READ- 
 ER, 12mo., large type, - -':,.;:*: , - :.-.- 63 
 
 THE SPIRIT OF PRAYER, Or The Soul rising out 
 of Time into the Riches of Eternity, by Wm. Law, 
 A. M., author of " Law's Serious Call," etc. 1 vol. 1 8mo. 31 
 
 A PROTESTANT MEMORIAL, Comprising a Concise 
 History of the Reformation, by Thomas Hartwell 
 Home, B. D., Author of "Introduction to the Bible," 
 etc. e>c. 1 vol. 18mo., ' - ' ' " - - - 38 
 
 DANGER AND DUTY, Or a Pew Words on Popery, 
 Puseyism, etc., by Rev. Richard Marks, author of the 
 " Retrospect," etc. etc. 1 vol. 18mo., ... 31 
 
 THE SHORTER CATECHISM of the Reverend As- 
 sembly of Divines, with proofs thereof out of the Scrip- 
 tures, in words at length, I8mo., $5 per 100. 
 
 B. & S. have on hand a choice election of Miscellaneous 
 works, suitable for Sunday School Libraries; together with 
 Theological, Classical, Moral and Religiots Books, Stationary, 
 &c., all of which they will sell at the lowest prices. 
 
 Publications of the American Tract Society, the Massachu- 
 setts Sabbath School Society, and American &nd Episcopal 
 Sunday School Unions supplied at the same prices as sold at 
 their respective Depositories. 
 
 All orders from the country will be immediately attended to, 
 and books forwarded according to directions. Should the se- 
 lection of books for Sunday Schools be left with B. & S., and 
 they should forward any which should not suit the purchaser, 
 they may be returned, and the money will be refunded, or other 
 books given in exchange.
 
 VALUABLE BOOKS, 
 
 PUBLISHED AND /OB SALE BY 
 
 BAKER & SCRIBNER, 
 
 BRICK CHURCH CHAPEL 
 
 FRONTING ON 145 NASSAU ST. AND 36 PARK ROW. 
 KEAV YORK. 
 
 CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH'S WORKS, Uniform 
 Edition, 12 vols. 12mo. $6 00 
 
 CHARLOTTE ELIZABETH'S JUVENILE WORKS, 
 (not included in the above 12 vols.), 7 vols. 18mo. 3 00 
 
 OPINIONS OP THE PRESS. 
 
 We have received numerous commendatory notices of our 
 edition of Charlotte Elizabeth's Works, from the religious par 
 pcrs of all denominations of Christians in this country, and for 
 the benefit of those who have not supplied themselves with her 
 books, we insert here a few which are believed to be a fair spe 
 cioien of the opinions of the press.
 
 20 PURITANS AND THEIR PRINCIPLES. 
 
 From the N. T. Tribune. 
 
 This is an interesting work for all who in oui day ad- 
 here to the principles of the Puritans, or rejoice in a 
 descent from the noble stock who were the champions 
 of Freedom two centuries ago. 
 
 From the New Haven Courier. 
 
 The design of the work is to set forth the causes 
 which brought the Pilgrims to these shores ; to exhibit 
 their principles ; to show what these principles are worth, 
 and what it cost to maintain them 1 , to vindicate the 
 character of the Puritans from the aspersions which 
 have been cast upon them, and to show the PURITANIC 
 SYSTEM OF CHURCH POLITY, as distinguished from the 
 Prelatic, broadly and solidly based on the word of God ; 
 inseparable from religious Purity and Religious Free- 
 dom ; and of immense permanent importance to the best 
 interests of mankind. 
 
 The publication is intended to bring together such his- 
 torical information concerning the Puritans, as is now 
 scattered through many volumes, and cannot be obtained 
 but with much labor and research, and an outlay beyond 
 the means of ordinary readers. 
 
 From the N. Y. Commercial Advertiser. 
 The author enters with considerable minuteness into 
 English ecclesiastical history prior to the persecutions of 
 the Puritans, reviews the events which more immediately 
 led to their emigration to this country, traces the effects 
 of that step on the institutions and religious character of 
 the people of both continents, and then enters into an ana- 
 lysis of both prelatical and Puritanical church polity, and 
 warmly and eloquently defends the latter. The style of the 
 work is vigorous and clothes a subject on which much 
 has been already written with new attractions, combining 
 succinctness of historical detail with elegance of diction. 
 
 From the N. Y. Courier Sf Enquirer. 
 Puritans and their Principles is the title of a very hand- 
 some octavo volume, by EDWIN HALL, which has just
 
 PURITANS AND THKIR PRINCIPLES. 21 
 
 been published by Messrs. Baker & Scribner, at 145 
 Nassau street. Its purpose is to enable the public to 
 judge concerning the character and history of the Puri- 
 tans, which, as he contends, are now so perse veringly and 
 so violently assailed ; and he has discharged the labori- 
 ous task with great zeal and ability. He says the ut- 
 most pains have been taken to caricature the principles, 
 and to blacken the history of the Puritans ; and as an 
 evidence of this he cites the fact that very many persons 
 at the present day believe that the famous code entitled 
 the " Blue Laws of Connecticut," once actually had a 
 place among the statutes of that colony ; whereas, in 
 point of fact, they were the work of a Tory clergyman, 
 and written expressly to blacken the character of the 
 rebel colonists. 
 
 The volume exhibits proof of the industry and zeal of 
 the author, no less than of his ability and devotion to the 
 principles in defence of which he writes. As to the cor- 
 rectness of these principles, of course, we are not called 
 upon to pronounce any judgment ; but all who are inter- 
 ested in the subject, as indeed nearly all intelligent per- 
 sons must of necessity be, may rely upon finding in this 
 volume much matter, of fact and of argument, that will 
 essentially guide their investigations. 
 
 The work is printed in very handsome style, and re- 
 flects great credit upon the newly established house by 
 which it is published. 
 
 From the New England Puritan. 
 
 This is a neatly printed octavo, of between 400 and 
 500 pages, from the pen of one who has proved himself a 
 master of his subject. It gives the history of the Puri- 
 tans, embracing the most of its material and interesting 
 facts ; and also makes these facts subserve a defence of 
 the character and principles of our ancestors. The work 
 is ably and thoroughly executed, and it ought to furnish 
 a part of the library of every descendant of the Puritans. 
 
 From the N. Y. Chrittian Intelligencer. 
 This is a beautiful octavo, of over 400 pp., handsomely 
 printed. As it has but just reached us. we have given it,
 
 
 22 PURITANS AND THEIR PRINCIPLES. 
 
 as yet, only a cursory examination. We regard it as a 
 very valuable book. If contains a large amount of im- 
 portant historical matter, in a condensed form ; precious 
 under all circumstances, but especially useful in our 
 times, when both Scripture and history are studiously 
 distorted to prove the inventions of men superior in ex- 
 cellence to the institutions of God. 
 
 The book shows the causes which brought the Pil- 
 grims to our shores ; exhibits their principles ; vindicates 
 their character from unjust aspersions ; and states their 
 system of church polity, as distinguished from Prelacy. 
 It enters into the history of the Puritans and their times ; 
 traces their progress from the discovery of one important 
 principle to another ; exhibits them in their sufferings, 
 wanderings, and landing on the margin of this wilder- 
 ness. The claims of Prelacy the author subjects to the 
 severe test of the Bible, reason and history. It treats 
 historically of England, before the times of Wickliffe ; of 
 Wickliffe and his times ; of the reign of Henry VIII.; of 
 Edward, Mary and Elizabeth ; of the conflict of princi- 
 ple; of Puritan sufferings; of the judicious Hooker ; of 
 James I., and the going to Holland ; of the voyage to 
 America ; of the Pilgrims at Plymouth ; of the storm 
 gathering in England; Charles I.; Archbishop Laud; 
 founding of the Puritan churches ; rise of the civil war ; 
 the Rule and Judge of Faith ; on the alleged right to im- 
 pose liturgies and ceremonies ; on schism ; the Church, 
 its officers, discipline; Episcopacy; Apostolic succes- 
 sion, &C., 
 
 from the Presbyterian. 
 
 The author presents, in his advertisement, a summary 
 of his designs in this publication, which are " to set forth 
 the causes which brought the Pilgrims to these shores ; 
 to exhibit their principles ; to show what these princi- 
 ples are worth, and what it cost to maintain them ; to 
 vindicate the character of the Puritans from the asper- 
 sions which have been cast upon them, and to show the 
 Puritanic system of church polity, as distinguished from 
 the Prelatic." All this is accomplished with both zeal 
 and knowledge, and the whole narrative, extending back
 
 PURITANS AND THEIR PRINCIPLES. 23 
 
 to the early times of the Puritans, and embracing a most 
 important period of ecclesiastical history, is full of ab- 
 sorbing interest, not merely to the descendants of the 
 Pilgrims, but to every American Christian. We have 
 met with no work, which, to our mind, presents so satis- 
 factory, and yet succinct a history of the times and events 
 to which it refers. 
 
 From the N. T. Baptist Recorder. 
 
 The work of Mr. Hall was undertaken con amort, his 
 love of the Puritans is deep and unbounded. He has col- 
 lected his facts from an extended course of reading, and 
 expressed his thoughts in a style which, if not brilliant, 
 is lucid and earnest. We hail with much pleasure all 
 such contributions to our Historical Literature. We 
 hope those who have read Dr. Coit will read Mr. Hall. 
 Their conclusion will be that though the Puritans were 
 mortal, and are justly chargeable with many inconsis- 
 tencies and errors, they were stil! a noble race, the trace 
 of whose influence is found in tb-best institutions of the 
 world. 
 
 From the N. Y. Evening Post. 
 
 The object of the work, as he states in the preface, is 
 to set forth the causes which led the Pilgrims to estab- 
 lish themselves on this continent, to exhibit the nature 
 and value of their principles, and show the sacrifices at 
 which they were maintained, to defend their character 
 against the attacks levelled against it, and to vindicate 
 thepuritanic system of Church Polity. 
 
 The work is not historical merely, but in a good 
 measure controversial, and the author wields the wea- 
 pons of controversy with no little dexterity and vigor. 
 The Puritans were a class of peculiarly strong and decid- 
 ed character a character which impressed itself upon 
 the age in which they arose, and the influence of which 
 yet survives. The author is a warm admirer of this 
 class, and defends their memory with zeal. He takes oc- 
 casion to discuss the claims of prelacy at much length, 
 not only in its historical but in its other aspects. We 
 have no doubt that the work will be favorably received by 
 the large religious denomination to whick the author 
 belongs.
 
 24 PURITANS AND THEIR PRINCIPLES. 
 
 From the Albany American Citizen. 
 We cannot forbear to express our conviction that it is 
 a work of great merit, and has no common claims, espe- 
 cially upon the regard of those who have the blood of the 
 Puritans flowing in their veins. Its historical details 
 evince the most diligent research, and its vigorous and 
 masterly discussion of important principles, shows a ju- 
 dicious, discriminating, and thoroughly trained mind. As 
 the subjects of which it treats, have, to a great extent, a 
 controversial bearing, it cannot be expected, that all wih 
 jddge in the same manner of the merits of the book, but 
 we think all who possess ordinary candor must agree 
 that it is written with no common ability, and contains a 
 great amount of useful information. 
 
 From the Hartford Christian Secretary. 
 After an Introduction, containing a glance at the con- 
 dition of England before the days of Wickliffe, we are 
 presented with a history of Wickliffe and his times, the 
 reign of Henry VIII., and the rise of the Puritans, from 
 whence we trace them in their conflicts, visit them in 
 their prisons, follow them in their wanderings, and come 
 with them to their first rude dwellings in the Ameri- 
 can wilderness. We behold the foundation here rising 
 under their hands, until the wilderness became transform- 
 ed into a fair and fruitful field. The principles of these 
 noble men are exhibited and explained. The matter of 
 Church Polity is discussed, and the claims of Prelacy are 
 brought to the test of reason, of history, and of the word 
 of God. 
 
 jo MBIA SuinBAwd aq; aq II 'ucmsanb 
 am ub AWoidsa pB 'piret mo iaAO ^apiAS. 
 s \\-IM. J3o\o9T(\ uB;unj aq; JH uo !** 
 jasqo s JBaA AWa Aq paunuuo;> ajoui ptiB ajoui si qoiqM. 
 'uonoiAUOD aqi ui aoiofai aM. pus isajdpuud pui2 qji^j 
 jiam jo 9MUHDU1 passaiq aq; iaaj <n asisao JSABU IJIAS. 
 Xiiunoo inn ~U99S suq PIJOAV ano qim; puB aouapsuoa 
 jo suduinui ^UBjaoduii jsoui aqt jo auo SB papiBSai aouis 
 Sum [ aABq BAY Xioisiq' Jiaqi -p B l u a M3 N J W}d 
 jo satdpuud aqi P'UB japBJBqo aqi a;BiauaA aw. 
 ' yip
 
 
 
 PURITANS AND THEIR PRINCIPLES. 25 
 
 Christians. We read with interest, accordingly, the ac- 
 counts of the Pilgrim Celebrations, year after year, and 
 wonder not that such enthusiasm should be manifested 
 by those who claim lineal descent from the Pilgrim 
 Fathers. That some things occur in connection with 
 these occasions, which look very unlike the Puritans, it 
 is mortifying to see. There have recently been some sad 
 incongruities enacted. What, for instance, has fiddling 
 and dancing and carousal, and all the paraphernalia of 
 the ball-room, to do with Puritanism ? If one of the 
 good old Puritans should rise from his rest, and come to 
 the door of a Pilgrims' ball would he not more readily 
 fancy that the sons of the Cavaliers were exulting in the 
 riddance of them, than that the sons of the Pilgrims were 
 celebrating the holy triumphs of a self-denying piety ? 
 There is, to our minds, very much that is wrong here. 
 And then, how comes it that Unitarianism is so ardent in 
 the Pilgrim Celebration 1 What fellowship has the 
 Puritan system with Unitarianism 1 We were inclined 
 to ask, where, on the last Pilgrim Anniversary, were the 
 Orthodox ministers the men who occupy the Puritan 
 posts of Boston 1 ? Have they given all into other 
 hands or do they seek other modes of showing their 
 regard for the principles of their fathers, which they 
 deem preferable to the formality of uncovering their 
 heads as they pass the spot of hallowed memory 1 If 
 there is any anniversary which should be kept with truly 
 religious service, it is this ; and every proper means 
 should be employed, that the descendants of the Puritans 
 should know in detail their fathers' history, and the prin- 
 ciples for which they suffered. 
 
 In this view, Mr. Hall of Norwalk has done good ser- 
 vice but his work, in its benefits, goes very far beyond 
 this. We noticed his book briefly, a few weeks ago, and 
 now, after a careful reading, are prepared to speak more 
 decidedly concerning it. We know of no work, which, 
 in the same compass, gives so clear and satisfactory a 
 view of the origin and progress of the principles of Pu- 
 ritanism. There are evidences of careful and patient re- 
 search, and a comparison of the best authorities, in every 
 chapter. The picture of the Laudcan policy is one that 
 has its counterpart only under the bloody Mary, or on the 
 opposite side of Ihe channel. We hope to be able to give 
 the whole of this, that our readers may know more of
 
 26 PURITANS ^AND THEIR PRINCIPLES. 
 
 the man, whose High Church views Puseyism sympa- 
 thizes in, and whose execution it celebrates as martyr- 
 dom. The history of the successive colonies to New 
 England is given with peculiar distinctness and from 
 the reading of it, we have derived a clearer knowledge of 
 the several localities occupied. The style of Mr. Hall is 
 vigorous, and his whole treatment of his subject manly. 
 Our country congregations cannot fail of being well in- 
 formed, with such courses of lectures as these. 
 
 As this work has grown out of the late outbreak of 
 Prelatic exclusiveness and especially in Connecticut 
 the author goes into the examination of the peculiar no- 
 tions of Episcopacy. The controversy has called out 
 several able works, and though this appears last, it loses 
 nothing in interest, and is anticipated by nothing which 
 has been published. In the chapters embraced in this 
 part of the volume, there is a series of original and con- 
 clusive reasoning. A certain Mr. Chapin, as well as 
 Bishop Brownell, comes in for his share of the showing 
 up. In the concluding chapter, a curtain is drawn, and 
 we are furnished with a view of some things worth see- 
 ing note, for instance, the topics " Episcopacy and Re- 
 publicanism" " Episcopacy in the American Revolu- 
 tion" " Reproaches against the Puritans" " The Table 
 Turned." On the subject presented in this last topic, 
 Dr. Phillips was led to say something in his late dedica- 
 tion sermon ; the detail here given is amazing. 
 
 Mr. Hall closes his volume with a review of Dr. Coit 
 on Puritanism, and exposes him fully. Every man of 
 New England origin, who possesses any of the Puritan 
 spirit, we should think, would make himself acquainted 
 with this book. We commend it to every reader. 
 
 After these remarks concerning the book in general, 
 there is one circumstance to which we would call special 
 attention. Who has not heard of " the Blue Laws of 
 Connecticut" who has not felt aggrieved that good men 
 should be concerned in their enactment ? Behold, they 
 are an absolute fiction^ a mere Munchausen affair ac- 
 cording to Mr. Hall, the work of a Rev. Mr. Peters, an 
 Episcopal clergyman, a Tory, who abandoned our coun- 
 try at the opening of the Revolution, and fled to Eng 
 land. Mr. Hall very justly expresses his amazement 
 that this man's fabrications should be brought out in a 
 recent impression, with special commendation...

 
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