healing the sick, and what are the effects which it is fitted to produce? It is doubtless skilfully and judiciously composed, and the figures are well drawn, but is not your eye immediately repelled by the want of morbidezza in the tone, by the hardness of the outlines, exhibiting the work of the pencil as distinctly as that of the brush, and destroying all illusion by the evidence thus afforded, that the personages before you were born not of women, but of the artist's hand, and by the absence of that genial glow of complexion which seems to indicate the active current of the lifestreams beneath? Is one inspiring idea excited in your mind, one powerful emotion awakened in your bosom, by the sublimity and pathos of the subject? Does the head of the Saviour prompt you to adoration, and gratitude, and love? do you commiserate the sufferings of the sick man, or rejoice in the release which he is about to obtain? do you sympathize with the distress of the mother, desiring yourself to wipe away that tear which seems not to have dropped from her eye, but to have been placed on her cheek for the occasion? do you second the father's prayer for his daughter's restoration to sight? or are you horrified by the malignant hatred and covert rage of the priests, or shocked by the contortions of the demoniac boy? Imagine the same scene depicted by Raphael. What dignity inspiring homage, what compassion inducing love, would have been blended in the person of the Redeemer-what strength and diversity of sentiment would have been imparted to the apostles, the disciples, the priests, and the gazing crowd-what depth of parental and filial love, illumined by hope and yet tempered by awe, would have been impressed upon the countenances of those soliciting his mercy for their afflicted kindred-what commingling of physical infirmity with moral elevation would have been portrayed in the expectants of divine bounty-how vividly would the whole spectacle have spoken of helpless humanity and celestial power and goodness! The group of which the demoniac boy is the chief figure, is a strong reminiscence of the one of the same nature in the Transfiguration; the woman looking at the Saviour and pointing to the possessed behind her, is almost a copy; but what a difference between her unmeaning, and we must say, rather vulgar physiognomy, and the striking countenance of Raphael's creation, so admirably contrasted with that heavenly face of the other female, who is looking upon the poor boy with such indescribable feeling!

In making these remarks, we must be understood as speaking relatively. We are far from asserting that the picture is altogether devoid of expression. It affords abundant evidence that the author knew what ought to be done. Every one of the figures indicates the right intention, but in none of them is the deed as good as the will. The impression which they are de

signed to produce is true, as far as it goes, but it is weak at the moment of reception, and liable soon to be effaced.—It is but just also to acknowledge, that although the colouring of West is usually defective, instances could be shown in some of his works of an excellence in that respect, which might be deemed worthy of Titian.

"Death on the Pale Horse" is esteemed the loftiest effort of West, and it must indeed be a noble production, in which he has surpassed himself, if what is said of it be true. In it, according to Cunningham, he has more than approached the masters and princes of the calling. The Battle of La Hogue, and the Death of Wolfe, are the best of his historic pieces, and esteemed the best of that kind of the English school; which, however, they might easily be, without possessing half their merit.

In estimating the rank of West, it should be recollected, that although he is not the first in his department of the art, that department is the first; and that to attain the distinction in it which he did, a rarer combination of qualities was requisite, than is demanded for superiority in an inferior branch. The vast number of his compositions, also, almost all of which are at least respectable, should be taken into consideration, manifesting as they do, a wonderful fertility of invention and rapidity of execution. One circumstance should be recorded to his lasting honour, that he never prostituted his pencil to a subject on which the most delicate mind could not dwell, which could have been a source of the smallest regret upon his bed of death.

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Benjamin West was not, (as his biographer has asserted,) above the middle size. He was about five feet eight inches in height. Well made and athletic. His complexion was remarkably fair. His eye was piercing. Of his manners and disposition we have already spoken, but may be allowed to relate an anecdote from one of his pupils. He had frequently a levee of young artists asking advice on their productions, and it was given always with encouraging amenity. On one occasion a Camera Lucida, then a new thing, had been left with him for inspection: it was the first he had ever seen, and Stuart coming in, West showed it to him, and explained its use. Stuart's hand was always tremulous. He took the delicate machine for examination, let it fall, and it was dashed to fragments on the hearth. Stuart stood with his back to West, looking at the wreck in despair. After a short silence, the benevolent man said, 'Well, Stuart, you may as well pick up the pieces.' This was of course in early life, but old age made no change in him. Mr. Leslie says, 'Mr. West's readiness to give advice and assistance to artists is well known. Every morning before he began to work he received all who wished to see him. A friend of mine called at his house the day after his death. His old and faithful servant, Robert, opened the door, and said, with a melancholy shake of the head, "Ah, sir! where will they go now?" And well might he say so; for although I can affirm with truth, that I know of no eminent artist in London, who is not ready to communicate instruction to any of his brethren who need it, yet at that time there was certainly no one so accessible as Mr. West, and I think I may say so admirably qualified to give advice in every branch of the art.""

The year 1738, in which West first saw the light, was also distinguished by the birth of John Singleton Copley, the next eminent painter in succession on the American list. The follow

ing short and sweet epistle from his son, Lord Lyndhurst, to Mr. Samuel F. B. Morse, in reply to a request for information respecting the artist, was communicated to our author by Mr. Morse.

"Dear Sir:-I beg you will accept my best thanks for your discourse delivered before the National Academy at New York, which has been handed to me by Mr. Ward. The tenor of my father's life was so uniform as to afford little materials for a biographer. He was entirely devoted to his art, which he pursued with unremitting assiduity to the last year of his life. The result is before the public in his works, which must speak for themselves; and considering that he was entirely selftaught, and never saw a decent picture, with the exception of his own, until he was nearly thirty years of age, the circumstance is, I think, worthy of admiration, and affords a striking proof of what natural genius, aided by determined perseverance can, under almost any circumstances, accomplish.

Mr. Dunlap contravenes his Lordship's assertions that Copley was self taught, and never saw a decent picture, except his own, until the age specified, on the ground that the works of Smybert and Blackburn, painted in Boston, his native place, were more than decent, and must have been seen by him, and have given him that instruction which is conveyed by studying the productions of others, even if he had not been a pupil of the authors themselves. Be this as it may, Copley when quite young obtained the greatest success as a portrait painter in Boston, where he continued to live until 1774, when he proceeded to England, and thence to Italy, to perfect himself in the art. Returning to England in 1775, he established himself in London, where he continued to pursue his profession until his death, in 1815, at the age of seventy-eight. He was principally devoted to portraits, they furnishing the most lucrative employment for his pencil; but he also achieved a high reputation in the historical department. His most celebrated works of this order, are "The Death of Chatham," "The Youth rescued from a Shark," "The Death of Major Pierson," a young British officer, who was killed in a skirmish on the island of Jersey, "The repulse and defeat of the Spanish floating batteries at Gibraltar," and "The Arrest of the Five Members of the Commons by Charles the First." In them he followed the example set by West, of clothing his personages in the dress of their time, instead of the costume of antiquity.

“It is a curious fact, that three Americans in succession painted successfully in this style, and led the way to Europeans. West, the founder, the inventor, the original, the master; Copley, the second, his immediate follower; and Trumbull, painting under West's eye, the third. West's Wolfe is not only the first in point of time, but the first in excellence; Copley's the second; and Trumbull's Bunker Hill' the third. Copley, in the years 1786-7, painted another picture of this class, his Eliot at Gibraltar, (if his daughter is correct, as quoted above, this picture was not finished in 1790; I saw it in progress as early as 1787,) and Trumbull followed with a picture

on a similar subject, Eliot's triumph over the French and Spanish combined forces at Gibraltar. Of these three Americans, West painted the triumph of the colonists of Great Britain and her European soldiers over France, and the establishment thereby of the Protestant religion and the liberties of the colonies; he composed the first picture of the heroic class in which modern costume was introduced, and has all the merit of original daring with perfect. success; Copley followed in his track, second in all, though displaying great talents: Trumbull followed, with both before him, in every sense."

Mr. Dunlap affirms, that Copley never adopted the severer style of historical painting, and that he was always a portrait painter. His historical compositions were laboured, polished, and finished, from the ermine and feather to the glossy shoe and boot, or glittering star and buckle-the picture called the Death of Chatham, is a collection of portraits-it is a splendid picture, and the subject was well chosen for the advancement of the painter's interest."

"We have given our opinion of the merits of Mr. Copley as a painter, and will add that of a higher authority. In a note which we are permitted to copy, Mr. Thomas Sully says,-Copley was in all respects but one equal to West; he had not so great dispatch: but then he was more correct, and did not so often repeat himself. His early portraits, which I saw at Boston, show the same style, only less finished, that he kept to the last. He had great force and breadth. He was crude in colouring, and used hard terminations.' Highly as we respect this authority, we must still think that Copley, as an historical painter, was inferior to West in very many points; in portraits he was his superior. It appears to us strange that any one who has seen the appropriate variation of style from the scripture subjects for Windsor, to the Roman pictures—the representations of English history from Edward III. to Cromwell-from the battles of the Boyne, La Hogue, and Quebec, to Telemachus, Mentor, and Calypso-can place Mr. Copley near his great countryman.

"We will give some anecdotes elucidating Copley's elaborate mode of working: and first, from Mr. Sargent:

"Stuart used to tell me, that no man ever knew how to manage paint better than Copley. I suppose he meant that firm, artist-like manner in which it was applied to the canvass; but he said he was very tedious in his practice. He once visited Copley in his painting-room, and being a good deal of a beau!!' (by these notes of admiration we suppose Mr. Sargent to allude to Stuart's slovenly, snuffy appearance when he knew him,) 'Copley asked him to stand for him, that he might paint a bit of a ruffle-shirt that stuck out of his bosom. Not thinking that it would take more than a few minutes, he complied. But after standing a long time, and growing uneasy, Copley began to apologize. No consequence at all,' said Stuart, I beg you would finish-do all you can do to it now, for this is the last time you ever get me into such a scrape.'

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'Copley's manner,' continues Mr. Sargent, though his pictures have great merit, was very mechanical. He painted a very beautiful head of my mother, who told me that she sat to him fifteen or sixteen times! six hours at a time!! and that once she had been sitting to him for many hours, when he left the room for a few minutes, but requested that she would not move from her seat during his absence. She had the curiosity, however, to peep at the picture, and, to her astonishment, she found it all rubbed out.""

"On this same subject we quote from letters in answer to our inquiries, addressed to that very distinguished artist, C. R. Leslie, Esq. R. A.

"Of Copley I can tell you very little. I saw him once in Mr. West's gallery, but he died very soon after my arrival in London. Mr. West told me he was the most tedious of all painters. When painting a portrait, he used to match with his palette-knife a tint for every part of the face, whether in light, shadow, or reflection. This occupied himself and the sitter a long time before he touched the canvass. One of the most beautiful of his portrait compositions is at Windsor Castle, and represents a group of the royal children playing in a garden with dogs and parrots. It was

painted at Windsor, and during the operation, the children, the dogs, and the parrots became equally wearied. The persons who were obliged to attend them while sitting complained to the queen; the queen complained to the king; and the king complained to Mr. West, who had obtained the commission for Copley. Mr. West satisfied his majesty that Copley must be allowed to proceed in his own way, and that any attempt to hurry him might be injurious to the picture, which would be a very fine one when done."

"The prediction of West was fully accomplished; and this graceful, splendid, and beautiful composition was seen by the writer at Somerset House, in the year 1786 or '7, and is remembered with pleasure to this day.

"On the subject of Copley, we must give our readers some further valuable and entertaining matter from the pen of Mr. Leslie. He says:

"As you ask my opinion of Copley, you shall have it, such as it is. His merits and defects resemble those of West. I know not that he was ever a regular pupil of the president, but he was certainly of his school. Correct in drawing, with a fine manner of composition, and a true eye for light and shadow, he was defective in colouring. With him it wants brilliancy and transparency. His Death of Major Pierson, I think his finest historical work-you have perhaps seen it-at any rate you know the fine engraving of it, by James Heath. Copley's largest picture is in Guildhall; the destruction of the floating batteries off Gibraltar, by General Eliot. The foreground figures are as large as life, but those in the middle distance, are either too small or deficient in aerial perspective. Instead of looking like men diminished by distance, they look less than life. With the exception of this defect the picture is a fine one. His Death of Lord Chatham is now in the National Gallery. It is the best coloured picture I have seen by him, but it has a defect frequent in large compositions made up of a number of portraits. There are too many figures to let. Too many unoccupied, and merely introduced to show the faces. His picture of Brooke Watson and the Shark, is in the large hall of the Blue Coat School. It is a good picture, but dry and bad in colour. He painted, I believe, a great many portraits, but I have seen none of any consequence excepting the group of the King's Children I described to you in my last. It is a beautiful picture. I have heard Allston say, he has seen very fine portraits, painted by Copley before he left America. I would advise you to write to Allston about it.' In another of Mr. Leslie's valuable letters we have the following:-'I know not if Allan Cunningham in his life of Copley, has told the following story of his tediousness as a painter. It is said, a gentleman employed him to paint his family in one large picture, but during its progress, the gentleman's wife died, and he married again. Copley was now obliged to obliterate all that was painted of the first wife, and place her in the clouds in the character of an angel, while her successor occupied her place on earth. But lo! she died also, and the picture proceeded so slowly as to allow the husband time enough to console himself with a third wife. When the picture was completed, therefore, the gentleman had two wives in heaven, and one on earth, with a sufficient quantity of children. The price, which was proportioned to the labour bestowed on the picture, was disputed by the employer, who alleged that the picture ought to have been completed before his domestic changes had rendered the alterations and additions necessary. Copley went to law with him; and his son, (now Lord Lyndhurst,) who was just admitted to the bar, gained his father's cause. The story was told me by a gentleman, who was old enough to remember Copley, but he did not give me his authority for it, and I fear it is too good to be true. I remember one or two of Copley's last pictures in the exhibition, but they were very poor; he had outlived his powers as an artist.'"

The obligations of art to West are almost as great on account of the instructions which he afforded to many of our distinguished painters, as in consequence of his original works. Peale, Stuart, Trumbull, Sully, Allston, Leslie, and others, were all indebted to him for the assistance which he gave them in every mode that lay in his power. The first named, Charles Wilson Peale, was a man of more versatility than strength of mind. He divided his