rolling sullenly in upon the beach the wrecks that prove its truth. The painting has all the individuality too of a portrait, and thus gains the advantage of producing one clear and instant impression, without the analysis the mind must go through in contemplating a varied composition. Besides this, the style of coloring adopted in this picture, so far as we may be allowed to judge, (and this is one of the mysteries of art, of which we ought to speak diffidently,) is superior to that of almost any of the artist's productions. In fact, the whole painting recalls Titian to our minds with singular force; the same robust and gorgeous mould of vigorous beauty, and the same transparent flesh, the same dark, rich drapery, which have made so many ages wonder, and despair to learn by what alchemy he changed his colors into molten jewels as they flowed upon the canvass. We cannot speak in the same terms of "The Witch of Endor raising the Spirit of Samuel before Saul." In regard to this picture, we feel almost compelled to retract one of our previous remarks. We do think that we see the scholar of West in these faces and attitudes, and we do feel compelled to own, that we find a little something in common between this picture and the works of that most prolific illustrator of Bibles and prayer-books, some twenty years since, who, having three or four stereotyped faces and forms, applied them like the Nuremberg Chronicle, to all the characters of sacred and profane history in succession. Sure at least we are, that the impression produced on us by this picture reminds us of Westall; but it is very possible, that we may be mistaken as to the resemblance, and at any rate we have nothing else in the works of Mr. Allston to countenance such an impression. An elaborate painting of Mr. Allston's, which came to the exhibition from the South, "Donna Mencia in the Robber's Cavern," was one of the greatest favorites in the exhibition. A woman in distress affects most minds more strongly than a suffering angel; and this scene of purely human character served as a pretty touchstone, to try the sympathies of the many who circled the gallery. The picture has great depth and richness of color, and by its brillancy, as well as its subject, arrests the attention of all. It has, independently of its merits, the interest belonging to it as a work of a different style from any of Mr. Allston's finished paintings, and may be the realization by the artist, in the maturity of his powers, of some of those conceptions of banditti advenures for which he has recorded his early fondness. The expression which characterizes Gil Blas and Donna Mencia, the charm of his ingenuous and graceful youth, and the beauty of her features, in the marble stillness of grief and horror transcending all outward show of emotion, give a tragic dignity to this melodramatic subject. Among the most remarkable and characteristic of Mr. Allston's works are a series of female heads of expression, varying in many points, but all sisters of the same family. Such are "Beatrice," "Rosalie," "A Roman Lady," "The Valentine." In other instances, he has given his subjects at full length, and, calling in the attractions of landscape to his aid, has yet contrived that nature shall so harmonize with the state of the beings he has represented, that the air, and the earth, and the heavens shall seem but as the emanation or reflection of those whom they surround. On some of these pictures we may hazard a few remarks. It strikes us that the general tournure, the outline, the attitude of Beatrice, are most graceful and happy. There is all the simple ease of Raphael in the air of this picture. But we do not think it equal in expression to Rosalie, or in coloring to the Valentine. It wants more tenderness, or more sadness; we look and ask what is the expression of the features, instead of looking and feeling what it is. Mr. Allston cannot wonder at remarks of this kind, for he knows the infinite difficulty of giving those shades of expression which have been his favorite attempts, but those who "describe their own imaginations" will wonder at it much. To represent a strong and simple emotion is a thing of comparatively little difficulty. The common drawing-books will give the learner models for hatred, scorn, wonder, grief, and even love. But to represent, as in Beatrice, the susceptibility of womanly feelings rather than their expression, or, as in "Rosalie," to attempt to write upon her lineaments what love will be rather than what it is, is more than we can hope for any art to compass. There will always be strongly imaginative minds, who will see in these fair images all that the painter could wish to have them; but the experience of all time has shown, that forcibly marked character, whether of strength or beauty, or at any rate strong expression, must be impressed upon the marble or the canvass, if they would appeal to the common taste and heart. There is more of warmth and soul in the expression of "Rosalie" than in "Beatrice." The eye in particular is of great beauty. But the effect of the foreshortened face, however admirable the drawing, is to compress the features, and perhaps take away from the first effect of the picture. In "Rosalie we see, even more than in "Beatrice," the softness of outline and haziness of atmosphere which have characterized many of Mr. Allston's later productions. The "Valentine" lady has far less of the ideal, and far more of breathing life about her than "Rosalie "; it is a real woman, and not a poetical vision. In color and costume, it appears to us admirable, and we are only disposed to ask, why the artist should not only avoid all meretricious ornaments, all affected grace, but should also somewhat neglect the commonly received notions as to beauty of features. In the expression of that vague condition of the female mind and heart, where there is tranquillity at the surface, while the elements which make up so large a share of woman's existence are lying just beneath, and, as it were, only to be suspected through any outward sign, it is obvious that the accessories of the principal figure may be made of great significance in giving meaning to the delineation. For this reason, we are more pleased with the full length paintings ; such as the "Evening Hymn" and the "Spanish Girl," than with the half-lengths. In the first of those just mentioned, for instance, the effect of the "dim religious light," which blends softly together the hard outlines of day; the character of the architecture, of which just enough is seen; the mellow shadows, in the clear depths of which a strong light will reveal new objects to the spectator; the character of holy repose, that spreads, as if from the maiden's soul, to her features and her figure, and outwardly into all the inanimate things around her; produce upon us an influence which proves the power of these harmonious combinations in suggesting images hardly to be directly delineated. More obvious if possible is the same truth in "Lorenzo and Jessica." If the atmosphere of the painting last noticed was the mysterious twilight of religion, that of the picture we now mention is glowing with the tremulous light of love. Any elaborate display of scenery would have broken the unity of the scene; the outlines of a few edifices in the horizon are quite simple and serve to relieve the bright moonlight, which seems to have borrowed a warmth not its own from the hearts of the young lovers upon whom it is smiling. We are tempted to make a few remarks upon some of Mr. Allston's landscapes, but we feel even greater difficulties in forming our opinions respecting this class of productions than with regard to others. There is so much of profound art in the composition of a landscape, so much of mysterious skill in managing the lights and tints which are spread by nature with such infinite variety over her works, so much individual truth to be combined with general harmony, that we have always felt the incompetency of any eye but an artist's to judge truly of all the merits or defects of this class of paintings. The poetical character of Mr. Allston's mind shows itself in his landscapes as much, perhaps, as in any of his productions. It is a great error to imagine, that the highest reach of the landscape painter consists in giving an accurate copy of some particular scene; as much so as to suppose, that an exact portrait of an individual is as elevated a work of art as the ideal Apollo or Venus. Sir Joshua Reynolds has contrasted the Flemish and Dutch landscape painters with Claude in this respect. Which of these masters Mr. Allston has followed cannot be doubtful. The poetical feeling which Claude, more than any other landscape painter, has thrown into his pictures, may be a dangerous gift. The best living English artist in this department, Turner, has doubtless been led away from the truth of nature, by following too ardently the seductive light of his own imagination. It may have been the good fortune of Mr. Allston to have been so long removed from the competition of academies and exhibitions, that he has avoided the temptation of soliciting the continued notice of the public by means of novelty and artificial extravagances. The habit of painting up to each other, of struggling for brilliancy and strong contrasts, in order to avoid being thrown into shadow by more ambitious artists, is doubtless one of the dangers that tends to corrupt the simplicity which belongs to genius. Without saying that Mr. Allston has ever reached the per fection of the unrivalled master who dipped his pencil in the sunshine, we must allow that his landscape paintings are among the most remarkable we have seen among those of the followers of Claude Lorraine, for their composition, their coloring, the truth of their atmospheric effects, the grace and propriety of the figures introduced, and the true poetical spirit with which they are conceived. The colder and classical style of the learned Poussin is less congenial to the mind of Mr. Allston; yet in the few landscapes we have seen of his, and there were two or three in the late exhibition which remind us of this master, his spirit was most happily preserved without any servility of imitation. - Our country has the right to claim, then, at least one great name upon the list of living artists. On him descended those nameless influences, which, in all countries and ages, have from time to time fallen upon such as Heaven has chosen, to delineate and adorn in various modes the images that fill the worlds of reality and of dreams. In the midst of the trials and fatigues of common life, from which none of us, and least of all the artist, escapes, he has been laboring for us and for our children, to combine the scattered beauties of nature, to reproduce in more permanent form the shapes that alternately are moulded and melted away among the clouds of imagination, to call back in renewed existence the creations of the past. And it is not mere natural genius to which we owe our admiration and gratitude, but genius improved by patient study, refined by still seclusion, warmed by good affections, and therefore diffusing itself in images as finished, as pure, as full of gentle feelings; even as one planet is reflected with the same light from the bosom of many waters. Born in a country where the art of painting scarcely had an existence, subjected to the same academical instructions which have been so fertile in producing mediocrity among the English painters, he seems to have followed only the purest models of the best days of Italian art. And, whether we trace in his loftiest efforts the daring of Angelo, or detect in his clear and glowing tints the pencil of Titian, or see in his soft gradations of light the delicate hand of Correggio, in all we can equally trace the influence of the painter's own mind upon the ideas transfused into it from others; showing a power which will lend to the future more than it has borrowed from |