SUCCESS IN LIFE.
THE ARTIST.
BY
MRS. L. C. TUTHILL.


" Heaven and earth, advantages and obstacles, conspire to educate genius."
Fuseli.
CINCINNATI:                      NEW     YORK:
HENRY W. DERBY. JAMES C. DERBY.
1854.





X


ENTERED, according to Act of Congress, in the year 1854, by
HENRY W. DERBY,
In the Clerk's Office of the District Court of the United States
for the District of Ohio.
DAVID HILLS & CO., STEREOTYPERS,
141 Main Street, Cincinnati.







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CONTENTS.
CHAPTER I.
Introductory............
CHAPTER II.
The Childhood of the Artist........
CHAPTER III.
The Childhood of the Artist........
CHAPTER IV.
The Youth of the Artist.........
CHAPTER V.
W arnings...............
CHAPTER VI.
Encouragement.............
CHAPTER VII.
Encouragement.......
CHAPTER VIII.
Science-General Knowledge........
CHAPTER IX.
History.............
CHAPTER X.
Study of the Best Models.........
CHAPTER XI.
Study of the Best Models.........
CHAPTER XII.
Study of Nature............... 22..... 80.....           84...... 42...... 51...... 66...... 69...... 75.....  84......90







iv                   CONTENTS.
CHAPTERZ XIII.
roetry........................................
CHAPTER XIV.
Portrait Painting...................................107
CHAPTER XV.
Morality................................118
CHAPTER XVI.
Genius Without Virtue...............................125
CHAPTER XVII.
The Manhood of the Artist--Doinestic Life.................31
CIIAPTER,, XVIII.
Reasons for Becoming an Artist........................139
CHAPTER XIX.
Incentives and Discour~agements...................14 9
CHAPTER XX.
Ifigh Aims....................................... 174







INTRODUCTORY               CHAPTER.
" One age move. onward. and the next builds up
Cities and  gorgeous  palaces, where  stood
The rude log-huot of those who tamed the wild;
Rearing from out the forests they had felled,
The goodly frame-work of a famous State."--Locell.
IN this beautiful world, so bountifully provided with all
things for man's use and comfort, it is a painful thought
that there are human beilngs who have not as much skill in
Art as the bird or the beaver.
Quite in advance of those miserable creatures who neither
build huts for shelter, clothe themselves, nor cook their food,
are the savages who construct wigwams, invent instruments
of warfare against man and beast, wear clothing, and know
the use of fire. A wide step toward civilization is taken,
when man builds himself a substantial house, changes cotton, flax, or wool into garments, and invents ways and means
to transport himself from place to place, either in the canoe
which glides over the waters, or on the back of the fleet
horse which he has tamed and domesticated.
Scarcely has he made himself comfortable in these respects,
nay, even long before this, the savage models the clay, or
shapes the stone into an image from the rude conception in
his own mind, and bows before it in dumb adoration; here
is the dark dawn of Religion and of Art.


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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


He has, moreover, an instinctive love of the beautiful.
Else, why does he paint with brilliant colors his naked body,
adorn himself with the gay plumage of birds, and hang
about his neck ocean-shells of "purest ray serene?"  Delightedly, he gazes at his decorated person in the glassy
pool or placid lake. Even in his untutored mind, there is an
earnest longing for something beyond the mere gratification
of animal appetite.
The "living soul," impressed with the divine image of
its Creator, admires and emulates His works. Lord of the
"great globe itself," man learns in time to appropriate to its
right use, all which he inherits. He renders inanimate matter vocal;-he makes it a visible exponent of his spirituality;
he gives it character, expression, beauty--everything but
life.
There is a longing of soul, a perpetual seeking for something beyond and above the perishable, the gross and "beggarly elements" of earth,-hence the necessity for the Fine
Arts--the Arts which adorn, cheer and elevate this mortal
existence.
As man advances in civilization and refinement, the Arts
which beautify life keep pace with this advancement. Poetry, music, architecture, sculpture, painting, engraving, landscape gardening, are all developed beneath the fostering care
of genius and wealth.
"Art is power. That is the original meaning of the
word. It is the creative power by which the soul of man









THE  ARTIST.


7


makes itself known through some external manifestation or
outward sign.". Poetry and its natural ally, music, are
among the loftiest "manifestations" of the soul; but we must
here dissever them from the noble fellowship of Art, leaving
it for other and abler hands to point out the "success"
which has been achieved by poets and musicians. The
painter, the sculptor, the architect and the engraver, are the
artists whose examples will here be shown as beacon-lights,
both to encourage and to warn the young who have received
the gift of genius.
In the merchant, the lawyer, and the mechanic, our own
age and country furnished the examples of successful effort,
but a wider range is taken to illustrate the success of the
artist.
The language of Art is universal. The memorials of
genius are the rich heritage of every age and every clime.
The magic fountain, from which the gifted have ever imbibed inspiration, is not exhausted; nature is still the same
bountiful mother, and the soul of man still strives for a
closer alliance with its Divine Creator. Our country is ripe
for Art. Our painters are already a goodly company.    The
materials,with which the sculptor and architect are to gain
imperishable renown are scattered with luxurious profusion
over our wide land, and our artists have made the stones
speak, and are eloquent in marble.
But are we taking the lead of all other nations, in the
most noble, as well as the most useful of arts, Architec






8                 SUCCESS       IN   LIFE.
ture? * Truth replies, we are not. Are some of our most
highly educated and most highly gifted young men earnestly
devoting themselves to Art, because they infinitely prefer
devotion to that pursuit to eminence in professional life?
Are there any philanthropists among us seeking out youthful genius, borne down and almost crushed by poverty, and
giving it the needful culture and opportunity? If so, success-to each and all, success.
* Architecture proper, naturally arranges itself under five heads:
Devotional.-Including all buildings raised for God's service or
honor.
Memorial.-Including both monuments and tombs.
Civil.-Including every edifice raised by nations or societies, for
purposes of common business or pleasure.
Military.-Including all buildings for defence.
Domestic.-Including every rank and kind of dwelling house.







C __


CHAPTER II.


THE    CHILDHOOD OF TH-E         ARTIST.
" O child! O new-born denizen
Of life's great city! On thy head
The glory of the morn is shed
Like a celestial benizon."-Longfellow.
A GLORIOUS    calling" is that of the Artist. An earnest,
genuine, truthful Artist is not to be met on every highroad and
every day in the year. Like comets, Artists seem to be out
of the common order of things, only astonishing and puzzling the world now and then. A struggle, and fierce contest they too frequently have to maintain, before they can get
a standing-place among their fellow-men " What use? What
use?" is the cry. "Away with your easel! Dont spoil that
nice block of marble!"
Yet the Artist has his lawful place in the world as truly
as the comet has in the solar system, and sooner or later, he'
will find and occupy it nobly.
The aptitude to excel in Art, which we call genius, is as
truly the gift of God, as is the beauty of the human countenance. The very plays of children indicate the talents with
which they have been entrusted.
When the shepherd-boy Giotto* amused himself with draw* Giotto, a celebrated Italian painter, born near Florence, A. D. 1276.
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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


ing upon flat stones with a piece of chalk, who was his
teacher? Nature. Why should he, more than any other
peasant, select one from the flock which he tended and draw
its figure upon the flat rock? The painter Cimabue, could
answer the question, and he did so; for finding the shepherd-boy thus employed he immediately recognized the hand
of genius; he sought Giotto's parents and gained their consent to educate the youthful painter; for even genius must
be educated; that is, whatever nature has given, must be
drawn forth and perfected.
Michel Angelo, *-the architect, sculptor and painter,was sent to a grammar school, as a preparatory step to a
learned profession. What did he there?  He studied some,
but used his pencil more. Drawing was to him a fascinating
amusement, and a study which ie could pursue with more
intensity than he could bring to bear upon the dead languages. No doubt, his classical knowledge was afterwards
eminently useful.
But he must and would be an artist, in spite of the opposition and harshness of his father and other relations, who
feared Michel would thus degrade the dignity of the family.
That circumstance alone rescued the family name from oblivion, and gave it a lasting place in the temple of fame.
The father of the immortal Raffaelle,t another architect and
painter, was a painter. He bestowed great care upon the
*Michel Angelo Buonorotti, born in Tuscany, A. D. 1474.
tRaffaelle Sanzio, born at Urbino in the Papal States, A. D. 1483.




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THE  ARTIST.


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early education of his only son. One of Raffaelle's biographers says: "with the maternal milk Raffaelle seems to have
imbibed the taste for painting. His first playthings were
the implements of his father's art. From the time the child
could walk he was made the companion and the assistant of
his father's labors."
"No man is born into the world, whose work is not born
with him; there is always work, and tools to work withal,
for those who will." So thought Benjamin West,* when he
seized pen and ink, and sketched a likeness of his baby-sister as she smiled in her cradle. So thought he, when he purloined the hair from the cat's back, and drew it through a
goose-quill to make a paint-brush. The colors Benjamin
used were charcoal and chalk, mixed with the juice of berries; truly, this ingenuity in a boy of six or seven years of
age, who had never seen either picture, brush, or pencil, was
a sufficient indication that he was born to be a painter.
" Tools to work withal!" Who else would have found them?
Even the Mohawk Indians, the neighbors of Benjamin West,
had better materials. A party of them visited Springfield;
they saw the boy's paintings, and supplied him with red and
yellow ochre, to which his mother added the gift of a piece
of indigo. And now Benjamin became a portrait-painter;
his likenesses sold for a dollar apiece, and excited the wonder and admiration of the inhabitants of Western Pennsylvania.
* Benjamin West, born at Springfield, Penn., A. D. 1738.


Is







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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


The painter Fuseli* when about ten years old "bought
with his small allowance of pocket money, candles, pencils
and paper, in order to make drawings at night." These he
sold to his companions, and the produce enabled him either to
purchase materials for the execution of other drawings, or to
add articles to his own wardrobe. The subjects he chose for
his pictures were either terrific or ludicrous scenes, in both
these, he at all periods of life excelled. While his father
was reading the son was not unfrequently employed in drawing with his left hand, and this practice gave him a free use
of that hand during his life. The father of Fuseli resolutely
determined that his son should not be an artist; he would
not even allow him to draw for amusement. He was to be
made a clergyman, nolens volens; a clergyman in spite of his
entire unfitness for that sacred office, and his decided talents
for a painter.
Thus, the benefits of an early artistic education were denied to Fuseli, and when in after years he became a painter
by profession, the deficiencies resulting from this want of
culture were evident in all his works. His biographer says:
"From this circumstance his early works have figures short
in stature, with muscular but clumsy limbs. His talents
were checked by the freaks of an ungovernable fancy, which
seldom suffered him to finish his work. Though Fuseli invented and composed with great rapidity, he never learned
the proper use of colors. He daubed them on in a dry powSHenry Fuseli was born at Zurich, in Switzerland, A. D. 1741.





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THE  ARTIST.


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dered state mixed up with a quantity of oil, spirits of turpentine and gold size, and depended for the effect of his pictures upon their spirited design, rather than their mechanical
execution." These facts are mentioned here, to show the importance to an artist of a right beginning.  Goethe says,
"color-grinding has been the first step of many eminent
artists, and that it is of immense importance that the artist
should take hold of Art by the right side. The practioe of
the imitative arts is mechanical, and the cultivation of the
Artist begins naturally, in his earliest years, with the mechanical."
Canova, * the most celebrated sculptor of modern times,
lost his father when he was only three years old. Soon
after, his mother married again, and the boy went to live
with his grandparents.  Canova's grandfather was a stonecutter, and the little boy amused himself with making
models in clay of various objects, and chiselling bits of marble and stone, with his tiny hand, into forms which were
proofs of genius. His imagination was excited by the ballads and tales which his grandmother related, and to which
it was his delight to listen.
At the age of eight, Canova was employed as a workman
in his grandfather's shop, and continued in his employment
until twelve years of age. The story has been told, of
Canova's having attracted the notice of a distinguished
nobleman, by making a butter-lion for one of his entertain* Canova was born in the Venitian Territory, A. D. 1757.





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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


ments. How    Canova came to be on the lucky spot, just
when an ornament was wanted for the nobleman's table, does
not appear; but the story goes, that the boy seized the opportunity to distinguish himself, and made such a spirited animal
in butter, that it recommended him to the notice of the
Signor Falieri, who afterwards became his patron.    This
story may be true, and it may not; it has been generally
received as a fact.
Thomas Bewick,* a celebrated wood-engraver, when very
young was accustomed to delineate animals with surprising
accuracy and spirit. He had no instruction, and what is
termed an accident, led to the discovery of his uncommon
talents. With a piece of chalk, he amused himself by
drawing bold sketches on the doors and walls of houses in
the little village of Cherryburn, where he lived. A copperplate-engraver, who was passing through the village, was so
much surprised and pleased at the genius displayed by the
young artist, that he sought him out and proposed to his
father to take the boy for an apprentice; the proposal was
gladly accepted.
The late lamented Washington Allston f has given some
exceedingly interesting reminiscences of his childhood. "To
go back as far as I can," said he, "I remember that I used
to draw before I left Carolina at six years of age, and still
*Born in Northumberland, England, in 1753; died in 1828.
t Washington Allston was born in the State of South Carolina, A. D.
1779, and died in Cambridge, Mass., A. D. 1844.





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THE  ARTIST.


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earlier, that my favorite 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 the small suckers (I think so called,) resembling miniature trees, which I
gathered in the woods. Another employment was the converting the stalks of the wild ferns into little men and women, by winding about them different colored yarn. These
were sometimes presented with pitchers 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 settingfor after life."
Dunlap remarks, that in these delights of Allston's childhood appear the germs of landscape gardening, landscape
painting, sculpture and scenic composition. Less intellectual children are content to make mud pies, and form ovens
of 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 was a poet as well as a painter, and he has
recorded the fact that his imagination was active and vivid
in early childhood. The delight which he took in sketching
and making miniature gardens, men and women, he says
1" would sometimes give way to a stronger love for the wild and
the marvellous. I delighted in being terrified by the tales of
witches and hags, which the negroes used to tell me; and I
well remember with how much pleasure I recalled these


-- ----







16


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


feelings on my return to Carolina, especially on revisitinga gigantic wild grape-vine in the wood, which had been the
favorite swing for one of these witches."
Like all persons of delicate sensibility, and a tincture of
romance, Allston looked back with intense interest to the
days of childhood. He remarks, that in after life, when the
hey-day of youth is past, "the gentler emotions are to the
man as early friends who revisit him in dreams. 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 forestspring where I used to catch minnows, and I 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 creatures 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 leaves and
flowers."
James Barry* was of humble parentage. His father was
the master of a small vessel in which he carried on a petty
trade between England and Ireland. When very young
James was taken on board this vessel as cabin-boy, a disgusting occupation to him who had received a tolerably
good education. Whenever he could find time he employed
himself in sketching upon the deck natural objects. He
* Born at Cork, in Ireland, 1741.







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THE  ARTIST.


17


possessed no better means for this than chalk or ochre.
Yet the eye of one accustomed to works of art would have
discovered upon the rough deck the talents of the childish
draftsman. His father finding that James was so passionately fond of painting that it would be useless to attempt
making him a sailor, allowed him to return home and go
again to school.
One of the earliest American sculptors, Horatio Greenough,* in "the manufacture of his playthings early manifested a love of the beauty of form." Many of his amusements were of a nature to show a decided propensity for the
profession which he finally chose.
His schoolfellows often begged of him to carve them wood
cimiters and daggers, as every one he made surpassed the
last in beauty.
His brother says, " I recollect in particular, a small pocketpistol of his manufacture, which was cast of lead, and mounted
on a very gracefully formed stock inlaid with flowers and
ornamental work of thin strips of lead, which had when new
the appearance of silver."
',I  might mention numerous instances of this kind, but
will merely speak of one more favorite amusement. This
was the manufacture of little carriages and horses, with drivers
of beeswax of different colors, which being very small, (the
wheels of the circumference of a cent, ) were the admiration of
all our visitors, for their beauty and delicacy. The carriages
* Born in Boston, 1805; died Dec. 18, 1852.


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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


were formed on exceedingly graceful models, trimmed and
lined with bits of silk and gold cord, and with the horses which
were well modelled, had quite the air of the equipages of some
Lilliputian noble.
"A small room was, by the consent of our parents, appropriated for the manufacture and preservation of these articles,
and invention soon suggested the idea of laying out, on long
pine tables, estates for the supposed proprietors of these
equipages. The houses and stables were laid out, as it were,
on a ground plan merely, the apartments being divided like
pews in a church, by partitions made of drawing paper,
and furnished with miniature articles of similar manufacture;
and in this room, and with these puppets, adventures were
dramatically gone through, with great enthusiasm, in play
hours; for nearly two years, when the system having arrived
at what seemed the ne plus ultra, was abandoned for some
new project."
The celebrated Cole, the American Landscape painter, was
" fond of drawing from his infancy, a nd passionately devoted
to the contemplation of the scenery of nature. An excessive
bashfulness, joined to this love of the combination of land,
water and sky, which the ordinary eye may be said not to
see, caused him to avoid the society not only of adults, but
of children of his own age-he sought and found in nature the
pleasure which seemed denied him elsewhere. To ramble
through the woods, or on the beautiful banks of the Ohio,
indulging in day-dreams, was the apparently idle occupation







THE  ARTIST.


19


of a most active mind of one who has proved a most persevering and industrious practitioner and student of nature's
lessons."
Thorwaldsen* the sculptor was the son of a poor woodcarver, who made figure-heads for vessels. Few ships came
to the inhospitable shores of Iceland, and the father was
scarcely able to keep his wife and children from perishing
with cold and hunger. After a fierce struggle with poverty,
he decided to remove to Copenhagen where he would find
employment enough for the support of himself and family.
After their arrival in Copenhagen another son was born,
Albert, who has since become so celebrated as a sculptor.
The father was obliged still to work very hard at his trade.
While thus employed he was frequently amused to see his
fair-haired, beautiful boy, watching him with intense interest.
As soon as Albert could handle a chisel, he began to carve
little images of various kinds from the refuse wood in his
father's shop. The poor man was not able to send his son
to school, and day after day the child sat in a corner of the
shop busy with his childish play. And yet this childish
play was truly the beginning of his apprenticeship to the
beautiful art of sculpture. The blue eyes of the fair boy
dilated with pleasure when his father at length noticed and
praised his carving. He not only praised the boy but allowed
him to assist in carving figure-heads.
It happened, when Albert was eleven years old, that his
* Born about 1775, in Copenhagen.







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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


father was seized with an illness which prevented him from
executing a figure-head which he had engaged to an old shipcaptain. Albert Thorwaldsen determined without the knowledge of his father to do the work himself. It was to represent
the head of a woman. The child worked zealously at the
rough wooden block till the head was completed. When the
father returned to his shop, lo, there, as if done by magic,
was the figure-head! Albert was alarmed lest his father
should blame his rashness, and blushing and trembling confessed the secret. The carver was delighted, and assured
the child that he could not have done it half so well himself.
The old sailor was in raptures, and declared that the boy
would one day be a great man, and he should be very proud
of having Albert Thorwaldsen's work on the ship Ulrika.
One more instance of the early development of genius remains to be mentioned, though thousands might be adduced
to prove that there is a special aptitude for the fine arts, the
indications of which cannot be mistaken.
Sir Thomas Lawrence,* without having his taste or inclination directed in any way whatever towards painting, and
consequently without the slightest instruction, at the age of
four or five years began to paint likenesses. Even at that
early age it was remarked that he excelled in the drawing of
the eye; and this was characteristic of him when he became
the most celebrated portrait painter of modern times.
At the age of seven the youthful Lawrence had excited


*Born at Bristol, England, 1769; died, 1830.





TIIE   ARTIST                    21
general attention, and his portraits were universally admired.
At ten he was so celebrated as to be noticed with strong
panegyric by the Hon. D. Barrington in his "Miscellanies."
It was about this time that the father of Lawrence removed
to Weymouth, where the youthful son continued to practice
portrait-painting and occasionally attempted original Historical pictures. Another change brought him to Bath; at the
age of thirteen, he was the most popular portrait painter in
that city, and from this time his father and all his family depended upon him for support.


- -- - -- -





CHAPTER  III.


THE    CHILDHOOD      OF  THE ARTIST.
" Men, my brothers, men the workers, ever reaping something new;
That which they have done, but earnest of the things that they shall do."
TENNYSON.
ONE of the best English landscape painters, Gainsborough,* while a young school-boy, used to steal away to a
beautiful wood, and sketch in his copy-book, flowers, trees,
and other natural objects. It is said that these infantile
sketches were strikingly like the mature performances of
after years. At the age of ten he was skillful in sketching,
and at twelve he was so decidedly a painter that no doubts
were entertained about his future destination.
"On one occasion, Gainsborough was concealed among
some bushes in his father's garden, making a sketch of an
old fantastic tree, when he observed a man looking most
wistfully over the wall at some pears, which were hanging
ripe and tempting. The slanting light of the sun happened
to throw the eager face into a highly picturesque mixture
of light and shade, and Tom immediately sketched his likeness, much to the poor man's consternation afterwards, and
much to the amusement of Tom's father when he taxed the


* Thomas Gainsborough was born in Suffolk, in 1727.
22


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THE  ARTIST.


23


peasant with the intention of plundering his garden, and
showed him how he then looked. No fine clump of trees,
no picturesque stream, nor romantic glade-no cattle grazing, nor flocks reposing, nor peasants pursuing their rural or
pastoral occupations, escaped his diligent pencil.   Those
hasty sketches were all treasured up as materials to be used
when his hand should have become more skillful. His first
drawing was a clump of trees, and one of his biographers
says it was 'a wonderful thing."'
This early development of artistic talent was not to be
mistaken.   Tom's father was persuaded to send him to London, for the benefit of instruction, and he left Ludbury for
the metropolis at the age of fourteen.
The English sculptor, Flaxman,* was a weakly child, and
slightly deformed from his birth, and yet he is described as
possessing "a serene temper and an enthusiastic mind."
His father kept a small shop in New street, Covent Garden, London, for the sale of plaster figures.
John was too feeble to join in the boisterous.plays of
healthful children, and was left to devise amusement for his
solitary hours.
The patient little boy would sit hour after hour in a little
stuffed chair by his father's counter, and draw from the
plaster models with black chalk. This amusement he mingled with reading, for which he had an early and intense
fondness.
* John Flaxman, born in York, England, A. D. 1755.







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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


The customers who frequented his father's shop noticed
with surprise the grave and cheerful manner of this sickly
child, and were pleased with his drawings. They questioned him about his reading, and listened with astonishment to his ready and appropriate answers. When they
spoke of poets and sculptors, his eye kindled and his pale
face flushed with emotion. Not contented with copying
the figures around him, he had read parts of Homer and
had attempted to design from the poet's description. One
of his biographers tells the following anecdote:
Flaxman's father was going to see the procession at the
coronation of George III, and the child begged earnestly that he would bring him one of the medals which were
to be thrown to the populace. He was not fortunate enough
to get one, but on his way home, happening to find a plated
button bearing the stamp of a horse and jockey, rather than
wholly disappoint his little boy, who was then in a very
delicate state of health, he ventured to deceive him, and
gave him the button. John took it and was thankful, but
remarked, "It is a very odd device for a coronation medal."
He was then five years old. At this age he was fond of
examining the seals of every watch he saw, and kept a bit
of soft wax to take an impression of any which pleased him.
When some one reminded Flaxman of this after he had become eminent, he replied, "Sir, we are never too young to
learn what is useful, nor too old to grow wise and good."
The Rev. Mr. Mathew relates another characteristic anec




THE  ARTIST.


25


dote: "I went," said the clergyman, "to the shop of old
Flaxman to have a figure repaired, and while I was standing
there, I heard a child cough behind the counter, I looked
over, and there I saw a little boy seated on a small chair,
with a large chair before him, on which lay a book he was
reading. His fine eyes and beautiful forehead interested
me, and I said, 'What book is that?' He raised himself
on his crutches, bowed and said, Sir, it is a Latin book,
and I am trying to learn it.' 'Aye, indeed,' I exclaimed,
'you are a fine boy; but this is not the proper book. I'll
bring you the right one to-morrow.' I did as I promised,
and the acquaintance,, thus casually begun, ripened into one
of the best friendships of my life."
Who can say that the childhood of the feeble solitary boy
was, after all, less happy than that of other apparently
favored children. The wise law of compensation, equalizes
the condition of mankind in a wonderful manner. The
infant sculptor found pleasure in modelling in plaster of
Paris, wax, and clay, while his companions in age were
building mud forts in the alley, or making sand pies in the
court-yard.
Health, however, the indispensable blessing of humanity,
had hitherto been denied him. He could not move without
crutches, and long fits of illness interrupted his studies and
his favorite pursuits. He had seldom seen the green fields
and shady groves of the country, and the blank walls of the
city shut out even the glorious canopy of heaven. But
3





26


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


when John was nine years of age, a delightful change took
place in his condition. Health flushed his thoughtful face
with her roseate hues; his limbs became strong and active.
The crutches were gladly thrown aside, never again to be
needed by the happy boy.
His enthusiasm and love of romance were strongly developed. His mind was filled with the adventures of the
heroes of chivalry, and he longed to become a knight-errant.
This romantic fervor was increased, rather than diminished,
by reading Don Quixote.
"He was so much delighted with the amiable though eccentric hero, and his account of the duties and perils of knighterrantry, that he thought he could not do better than sally
forth to right wrongs and redress grievances. Accordingly, one morning early, unknown to any one, armed
with a little French sword, he set out, without a squire,
in search of adventures-which he could not find. After
wandering about Hyde Park the m hole day without meeting
enchanter or distressed damsel, hs returned home rather
ashamed of his romantic flight, and never again sought
to emulate the exploits of him of La Mancha, though he
always retained a great admiration of his character."
And now that health and strength Teve confirmed, the
youthful Flaxman resolved to be a Sculptcr. From the
models in his father's shop, he modelled and drEr most industriously, and thus gained a knowledge of form ani4 proportion.





~_I~


THE  ARTIST.


27


In a moment of confidence the youthful artist showed
one Mortimer, a painter, a drawing of a human eye:
"Is it an oyster?" inquired Mortimer. This joke made
a deep impression upon the sensitive, enthusiastic child, and
wisely did he resolve to show no more of his attempts "to
those who consider it wisdom to humble the enthusiasm of
youthful genius."
His consciousness of power was not to be shaken by a
sneer; his determination to be an Artist was not to be
changed by a few spiteful words. "HeI had resolved to do
something by which his name might be continued to the
world."
Some time after John Flaxman had attracted the notice
of the Rev. Mr. Mathew, he became a frequent visitor at the
house of that gentleman, whose wife was the friend of Mrs.
Montague, Mrs. Chapone, and Mrs. Barbauld.
" He was eleven years old when he first saw Mrs. Mathew,
and to her house he thenceforth frequently repaired during
the evenings, to hear her read Homer and Virgil, and discourse upon sculpture and verse. Here he was encouraged
in studying the dead languages, so necessary to him in his
profession. His mode of education was very desultory; he
attended no college; he distinguished himself in no eminent
seminary; he gathered his knowledge from many sources,
and mastered what he wanted by some of those ready
methods which form part of the inspiration of genius.
"Mrs. Mathew read Homer to him, and commented upon


---





__II~ _I___




28


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


the pictorial beauty of his poetry, while Flaxman sat beside
her, sketching such passages as caught his fancy. Those
juvenile productions still exist, and are touched, and that
not slightly, with the quiet loveliness and serene vigor manifested long afterwards in his famous illustrations of the
same poet.
"The praise bestowed on those early and imperfect works,
was grateful to the young artist; friends, more merciful, or
more wise in their criticisms, than Mortimer, now foretold
his future eminence. But excellence in art, they warned
him, was not to be attained without serious study, and
assiduously working in the spirit of his own nature-by
musing on the heroic and lofty, and seeking to stamp on his
conceptions, that universal beauty acknowledged by all
nations."
In his fifteenth year, Flaxman became a student of the
Royal Academy, and the same year exhibited there a figure
of Neptune in wax. Fifty seven years after, he exhibited
at the same place, a statue of John Kemble. All this period
was devoted with intense earnestness to that pursuit, which
had been the deliberate choice of his infant mind.
One of the most remarkable instances of early development was that of George Morland.*   His father was a very
indifferent painter, and to better his pecuniary affairs, entered into speculation. Entirely failing in this attempt, he
became quite indigent. The son, George, as early as the
*Born in London, 1763.







THE    ARTIST.                   29
age of four years, began to use the pencil and crayon with
dexterity; and at the age of five and six, his drawings were
purchased with avidity by persons to whom they were exhibited. The money thus received     induced the needy
father to take a very unwise and wicked course. lie confined George to a garret, shut out from the blessed air of
heaven, and taxed both body and mind, most unmercifully.
By the time that he was fourteen, he had formed those
habits which threw a dark shadow over his after life.
There, in that lonely garret, the boy made the drawings
which his father greedily seized upon and sold. There, too,
was laid the foundation for the vice and misery of his future
life. The father pampered his appetite for food and drink,
and indulged him to excess. Think of a boy, ten years of
age, laboring from day to day for the support of his family!
The sports of childhood were denied him, and often must
he have sighed and dropped bitter tears upon his drawings,
as the joyous shouts of boys let loose from school, reached
his solitary apartment.
After a while, he learned to steal away from that garret
and mingle with low companions, in dark alleys and dirty
courts. To obtain money, he secreted some of his own
drawings and gave the remainder to his father. The money
he obtained for his clever pictures, was spent in coarse
amusement, carousing, singing and joking at the tavern.


- - Ow"P.





_. _r


CHAPTER IV.


THE YOUTH OF THE ARTIST.
" Genius without bias, is a stream without direction; it inundates all, and ends in stagnation.'"--Fseli.
THE childhood of the Artist is past. How is he so to
employ boyhood and youth that manhood may fulfil the
promise of chilhood?
"Art is long and time is fleeting;"
And the sand as it glides through the hour-glass may be
bright and golden, or dull and sombre as that of the lazy
hermit in his cheerless cell.
The "airy shapes" which Imagination bodies forth, must
have a "local habitation" upon the canvas-must become
permanent in marble, or have a firm foundation upon the
solid earth, and demonstrate to coming ages the genius and
skill of the immortal artist. In order to accomplish such
works, skill must be acquired by long and patient practice.
The hand must be taught to obey the will and to execute
what the mind conceives.
Albert Durer* had wonderful facility of hand. A brother
artist once asked him for the pencil with which lie drew hair
*Albert Durer was born in Germany, A. D. 1471.
30





THE   ARTIST.                    31
so minutely; "Durer held out to him a handful of every
kind, telling him to take any one he liked as he could do it
with them all."  Once, in a party of artists, when every one
was giving a proof of his skill, Durer took a piece of chalk
and drew quite off-hand a circle on the table, telling them
that they might bring compasses and measure it; which being
done, it was found to the astonishment of all present that he
had hit it to a hair.
This reminds one of the contest between the ancient
Grecian painters, Protogenes and Apelles, as related by Pliny.
Protogenes resided at Rhodes where Apelles went to pay
him a visit. The former was absent from home, but Apelles
requested to be shown into the atelier of the artist. Upon
a piece of canvas already stretched for a picture, Apelles
drew a line and left it, as his only card. He needed no other,
for Protogenes when he saw it, declared that no one but Apelles
could have drawn that line. With the emulation natural to
a man of genius, Portogenes drew a line more perfect, and
directed that when the stranger called again he should be
again admitted to the atelier. Apelles came, and with surprise
saw that his line had been excelled. He instantly drew a
third line, which, Protogenes, when he saw it, declared could
not be excelled. The canvas upon which these famous lines
were drawn was carefully preserved, and so highly valued
that it was long after carried to Rome and placed in the
palace of the Caesars. It is impossible now, even to conjecture in what the excellence of those lines consisted. They


-- - - -- - --







32


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


doubtless exhibited that astonishing facility of hand and
accuracy of sight, which alone can give grace, precision and
proportion, essential requisites to the production of beauty.
No line of the human figure can be produced by any known
law, like that by which a circle or a square can be drawn;
the same is true of the scroll of the Ionic capital; hence, the
perfect skill which the hand must possess to dash off the outline of what the eye sees, or the mind conceives. The
Artist is to bring to the aid of achievement the same industry and perseverance indispensable in other pursuits.
He is not to work like the poor beast in a treadmill, or the
man whose bones muscles and sinews are only a piece of
complicated mechanism for other minds to use and direct.*
The Artist, it is true, labors with the hand, but what guides
that hand to the execution of noble works? Genius, talent,
taste. Minerva sprang from the head of Jupiter armed cap-apie.   Not so with genius.    She inherits godlike power but
* Dr. Tucker, the famous Dean of Gloucester, asserted before the Society for Encouraging Commerce and Manufactures, that a pin-maker
was a more useful and valuable member of society than Raphael, the
painter. Sir Joshua Reynolds was nettled at this remark, and replied
with some asperity: " This is an observation of a very narrow mind,
a mind that is confined to the mere object of commerce-that sees with
a microscopic eye but a part of the great machine of the economy of
life, aad thinks that small part which he sees to be the whole. Commerce is the means, not the end, of happiness and pleasure; the end
is a rational enjoyment by means of arts and sciences. It is, therefore, the highest degree of folly to set the means in a higher rank of
esteem than the end. It is as much as to say, that the brick-maker
is superior to the architect."







THE  ARTIST.


33


comes by slow degrees and much toil, to the full possession
of her inheritance. The millions of movements of which the
hand is capable render it the most wonderful and most powerful of all instruments. It will not, however, obey the will
without training. The youth of the artist is the time for acquiring this perfect command of the instrument he is to employ. The eye, too, must be educated. There may be an
original, keen perception of natural harmonies in coloring,
but philosophical enquiry and constant observation will
quicken and improve this perception. "The education we
miss in youth we rarely attain in age." This adage is eminently true with regard to the education of the hand and eye.
The same faults in drawing, or the same bad coloring which
glared out from the earliest productions of the painter, too
frequently, are visible amid the richness and beauty of his
maturer works.
Patient, well directed labor in youth, will alone give that
power over the hand, and that accuracy and correctness of
eye, without which genius is like Mercury robbed of his
winged cap and talaria.*
* It will probably be remembered, that the petasus, and the talaria,
enabled the god, Mercury, to go with inconceivable swiftness to every
part of the universe, and to assume whatever shape he pleased.







CHAPTER         V.
7)AFP  N IN G-S.
"To the young and inexperienced, lessons of warning are as necessary as lessons of
encouragement."
GENIUS is oftentimes sensitive and shy; it exaggerates
difficulties from without; it places itself in opposition to the
whole world; it conjures up giants and dragons, before
whom it crouches in dismay. Then, again, it is bold and
reckless; it assumes superiority over other minds; it claims
no kindred with common sense. It defies mankind.
Disastrous has been the delusion, that genius would make
its irresistible way without the aid of good sense and moral
worth. Dark and mournful the catalogue of gifted men
whose vices and follies made them, while on earth, even
more conspicuous than their genius, and now serve as a
fearful warning. Far more noble might have been the works
of art which "live after them," had they kept the pure light
of genius unsullied by folly and sin.
The Artist lives in a world of his own. There, he reigns
a despot. When he comes into collision with the world of
reality, he does not like its men and women. They are
totally unlike the creations of his own fancy. They do not
like him. They do not acknowledge his right to stand apart
L34







THE  ARTIST.


35


from them and claim endowments in which they cannot
share. He contends for these rights, and frequently in a
manner so violent and disagreeable, as to offend and disgust.
The painter Fuseli, when in college, "discovered and exposed weak points in some of the professors and tutors who
had been held up as examples to the students. If he could
not obtain his object by satire, in which he was very powerful, he sometimes resorted to caricature, a weapon not less
formidable in his hands. The wounded pride of some of
the masters induced them to draw up a formal complaint
against him, and he was threatened with expulsion by the
president."
He afterwards got himself into difficulty with the magistrates of Zurich, and was obliged to quit his native land.
He seemed to take special pleasure in exposing the faults
and foibles of persons with whom he associated. He was
accustomed to meet Dr. Geddes, at the house of Mr. Johnson, the publisher, in London. Both Fuseli and the Doctor,
"from their natural temperament, were impatient of contradiction, and each had an opinion of his own powers, and
depreciated those of the other. It was only to meet, in
order to dispute, and the ready wit of Fuseli raised the
irritable temper of the Doctor, who, when provoked, would
burst out of the room and walk once or twice round Saint
Paul's Churchyard, before he returned to the company, to
the great amusement of Fuseli." Of course the Doctor became his enemy....





r


36


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


"When Fuseli tendered himself for the office of Keeper
of the Royal Academy, Northcote and Opie voted against
him; but they considered it right to call upon him the day
after his election, to explain their motives. After having
heard them, and in their explanation they in some degree
blamed each other, he answered, in his usual sarcastic manner: 'I am sorry you have taken this trouble, because I
shall lose my character in the neighborhood. When you
entered my house, the one must have been taken for a
little Jew creditor, the other for a bum-bailiff; so, good
morning.' "
Could there have been a more ungracious reception of
two brother artists, who came to make the amende honorable!
His irritability in one instance, nearly cost him his life.
At Lyons, when a young man, he had a dispute with a
person, which aroused his feelings to such a height, that in
a momentary fit of passion, he made use of that agility
which he possessed, and kicked his antagonist in the face.
The man coolly drew his sword, and immediately inflicted
a very severe wound upon the offending leg.     He possessed such a degree of pride and self-love, that if he
thought himself slighted, he would resent it, whatever
might be the rank or condition of the man.
Such a man as Fuseli, is a dangerous enemy and a very
unsafe friend. The painter, Barry,* affords another example in point. "His masculine energy and hardihood of
* James Barry, born at Cork, in 1741.





THE    ARTIST.                   37
nature, from having been allowed to grow up undisciplined,
very early degenerated into a species of recklessness and
ferocity, which proved the blight of his genius, and the
curse of his existence. His arrogance and infirmity of
temper, as well as his imprudence and his extraordinary
ignorance of the world, showed themselves almost in the
very commencement of his career. Scarcely had Barry set
his foot in Rome, whither he went to improve himself in
art, than he discovered (to his own satisfaction) that all
the principles and maxims there recognized with regard to
the art he came to study, were stupidly wrong, and he
forthwith not only denounced them as such, but quarreled
with everybody who chose to stand up in their defence.
From the same spirit of opposition and contumacy, he
would not, while there, pursue the same method of study
as his brother artists, but, instead of employing himself in
making drawings of the works of the great masters with his
hand, he satisfied himself with taking fac-similies of them
with an instrument. He even spent much of his time in
the investigation of subjects hardly connected, at all, with
his proper occupation. All this time he had, in his friend
Burke,* an invaluable monitor, whose counsels continued to
be tendered till the last, with a frankness, and, at the same
time, a delicacy in the manner, only equalled by the admirable wisdom of the matter.
* Edmund Burke, one of the most profound statesmen Great Britain
has ever produced.





38


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


But although Barry felt the kindness, and, at times, even
the good sense of the advice he received, it certainly produced no effect upon his conduct. On his return to England, he acted in the same manner as he had done at Rome,
attacking and quarreling with every body, insisting upon
having his own way in every thing, too often apparently out
of a spirit of selfishness, or the mere love of dispute and
opposition; and, in short, in his whole conduct, regarding
nothing save his own humors and impetuous impulses. To
deport himself after this fashion, he seems to have thought,
was a privilege he possessed as a man of genius-a weak
mistake, which, if his genius kad been of the highest kind,
he never would have fallen into. How much truer course, than
that which his own ill-regulated temper and childish notions
of dignity suggested to him, might he have found in a few
sentences of one of the letters addressed to him by Burke, a
short time before he returned from Italy:
"Believe me, my dear Barry," writes this considerate
friend, "that the arms, with which the ill dispositions of
the world are to be combated, and the qualities by which
it is to be reconciled to us, and we reconciled to it, are
moderation, gentleness, a little indulgence to others, and a
great deal of distrust of ourselves; which are not qualities
of a mean spirit, as some may possibly think them, but virtues of a great and noble kind, and such as dignify our
nature as much as they contribute to our repose and fortune; for nothing can be so unworthy of a well-composed





THE  ARTIST.


39


soul, as to pass away life in bickerings and litigations; in
snarling and scuffling with every one about us. Again and
again, my dear Barry, we must be at peace with our species,
if not for their sakes, yet very much for our own."
"Leonardo DaVinci,"* says the painter Fuseli, "broke
forth with a splendor which distanced former excellence.
Made up of all the elements that constitute the essence of
genius, favored by education and circumstances, all ear, all
eye, all grasp; painter, poet, sculptor, anatomist, architect,
engineer, chemist, machinist, musician, man of science, and
sometimes empiric, he laid hold of every beauty in the enchanted circle, but without exclusive attachment to one,
dismissed, in her turn, each. Fitter to scatter hints than
teach by example, he wasted life, insatiate, in experiment.
To a capacity which at once penetrated the principle and
real aim of art, he joined an inequality of fancy that at one
moment lent him wings for the pursuit of beauty, and the
next, flung him  on the ground to crawl after deformity.
His notions of the most elaborate finish, and his want of perseverance, were at least equal. His Last Supper in the Refectory of the Dominicans at Milano, was the only one of
Leonardo's great works which he carried to ultimate finish
through all its parts."
The youth of George Morland was such as might have
been expected from the striking indications of his childhood.
At the age of sixteen, he contrived to break loose from
*Leonardo da Vinci, is said to have died at Paris, in 1517, aged 75.





_ ___ ____ __C___


40


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


his father, and to march off, dressed in his favorite green
coat and top-boots, carrying with him his pallet, easel,
and pencils.  "He was in the very extreme of puppyism;
his head, when ornamented according to his own taste, reresembled a snowball, to which was attached a short thick
queue, not unlike a painter's brush. Thus accoutered, with
little money in his pocket, and a large conceit of himself,
George Morland made an excursion to Margate, with the
two-fold purpose of enjoying life and painting portraits.
His skill of hand was great; his facility, it is said, wondrous; while his oddity of dress, his extreme youth, and
the story of his early studies, attracted curiosity and attention. Sitters came-the wealthy and the beautiful. But the
painter loved low company; all that was polished or genteel,
was the object of his dislike.
Horse-jockeys, money-lenders, hostlers and pugilists, were
his boon companions, and with them he roamed about by
land and water. It is astonishing that his genius did not
go out in utter darkness. His subjects were such as might
have been expected from the circumstances, but they were
dashed off with spirit, and true to life; so true was his
pencil, that he drew landscapes with a "close dogged fidelity, which claims the merit of looking like some known spot,
where pigs prowl, cattle graze, or asses browse."    Pigs
and asses were indeed the favorites which he preferred to
titled ladies, and well-dressed gentlemen. Morland fell in
love and married "a young lady of beauty and modesty."





r


THE  ARTIST.


41


She believed he had reformed, for he did awhile suspend
his habits of dissipation. But very soon after marriage, in
spite of the remonstrances of his wife, his darling sins broke
loose and made him   again a captive to their relentless
tyranny.
Poverty and the jail followed.  He painted still with
facility, solely for the purpose of obtaining money, which he
squandered with the most lavish profusion.
He had at last become so well known for his genius and
his dissipation, that any story of distress about him, would
be credited, so that "anecdotes of Morland, the painter,"
are said to have been regularly manufactured for newspapers
and magazines.
"This ill-fated artist seemed to have possessed two
minds; one, the animated soul of genius, by which he rose
in his profession; and the other, that debased and grovelling propensity which condemned him to the very abyss of
dissipation. Such a man could not "live out half his days."
His constitution was ruined, and his personal character was
held in general contempt. No one would associate with
him but the meanest of mankind. His gradual descent in
society may be traced in the productions of his pencil; yet,
his wonderful skill of hand and sense of the picturesque did
not forsake him, until that hand was paralyzed by disease,
and that prolific brain darkened by the shadows of death.
He died in utter wretchedness and penury, the saddest example on record, of the abuse of genius."
4.--- - -- ------ -- I - -.- _-~ _, -.~..- _- __;_ _~ 1- -----~--- -







CHAPTER VI


ENCOURAAG-EMENT.
" Know what thou hast to do, and do it."--Turner.
" Even the hound runs himself to death after the hare, if his master only says to him,
'thou art a brave Apollo.'  So  it is also with the Artist.  These words-' thou  hast
painted a good picture '-satisfies his heart, for he ha. honestly done that which the Lord
has given him ability to do."'-Artist's Married Life.
THE sculptor, Canova, whose early developed talent introduced him to the notice of the noble Falieri family, has been
already mentioned.     Whether the incident related of the
butter-lion be true or not, it is certain, that while Canova
was industriously working in the stone-cutter's shop of his
grandfather, he became known to that family. It was ascertained, beyond the possibility of doubt, that the boy
had uncommon genius for sculpture, and Count Falieri sent
him to an artist named Toretto, to receive instruction in the
art of sculpture.   It is probable that his patron expected no
more than that Canova would be thus enabled to follow the
trade of his father and grandfather, who were stone-cutters.
If so, the boy took him by surprise, by acquiring far more
than was intended.
After Canova had worked diligently in the shop of his
master Toretto, for more than a year, he was one day seized
with a desire to accomplish what might long have been float42







THE  ARTIST.


43


ing in his busy brain. The master being absent, Canova
modeled two angels in clay. What was the surprise of Toretto on beholding these figures! He had only taught the
youthful artist the mechanical part of sculpture; under the
pupil's plastic hand two angels had been formed from clay.
The master might have shaken his head in despair, had it
been required of him to execute a similar work. Yet Canova remained with Toretto about three years, and then went
back to follow the trade of a stone-cutter in his native village.
Signor Falieri, meantime, had removed to Venice, and it
is possible that some beautiful work of art, in that splendid
city, may have reminded him of the early promise of his
protege. He sent for the boy to come to him, and Canova
obeyed. The artist was now in his sixteenth year. Earnestly
did he avail himself of the glorious opportunities now offered
him. In the academies and galleries of Venice he passed his
mornings studying the works of art; the evenings he devoted
to the general improvement of his mind; but, in the afternoon, he was daily found plying the mallet and chisel in the
workshop of a sculptor. He resided in the palace of Signor
Falieri, but he did not wish to be entirely dependent upon
his patron.
"I labored for a mere pittance," said Canova, in a letter
to a friend written years afterwards; "I labored for a mere
pittance, but it was sufficient. It was the fruit of my own
resolution; and as I then thought, the foretaste of more
honorable rewards, for I never thought of wealth."





i






44


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


His earliest performances in sculpture may still be seen in
Venice.
Canova after a while set up his own shop. It was a
small cell under the monastery of the Augustine Friars. For
four years Canova labored indefatigably in that obscure place.
There, though little noticed, he was rapidly advancing in his
chosen art.
There "he first began to perceive the necessity of founding the study of art upon the study of nature, in opposition
to the notion which then prevailed, that certain assumed principles and rules of operation were alone to be attended to."
As soon as this new view dawned upon his mind he hastened
to regulate his studies in conformity to it.
Instead of merely examining and copying the works of
other sculptors, he resorted, for every part of his art, to the
works of nature.
He studied anatomy. He attended the public spectacles and
the theatres, that he might catch the finest attitudes of the
human figure from the living exhibition.
In walking the streets, in like manner, his eye was constantly on the watch, to catch new forms of grace and power
from the life around him. His art now became, more than
ever, the sole object for which he lived. He laid down a rule
for himself, which he strictly observed, never to pass a day
without making some progress, or retire to rest till he had
produced some design.
In the mean time he also pursued with ardor his studies




- 0 - t - _ - - -A   _ -   -- - _  -  -- -   --  -   __  -  -





_ _


TIHE ARTIST.


45


in general knowledge, especially in those branches which he
conceived to be most important to him in his profession;
such as poetry, antiquities, and the Greek and Roman classics,
which, however, he could only read through the medium of
translations. He also studied the French and Spanish languages.
There, in that humble cell, did the great sculptor go
through with the true apprenticeship for life. Very little
known to the busy world, was he, who was thus preparing
to become one of the most celebrated men of modern times.
In 1776, (at the age of nineteen,) he exhibited his finished
group of Orpheus and Eurydice, and from that time orders
for statuary flowed in from various quarters.
He soon after removed from his cell to a more appropriate
studio. Thus had he accomplished childhood and youth;
his manhood will bear ample testimony to the excellence of
fruit produced from such blossoming and ripening.
When Benjamin West was a small school-boy he drew a
ship on the smooth sand which delighted and astonished his
school-fellows. One of them exclaimed "time and chance
happen to all, and you will be a great man yet."
This prediction made a deep impression upon the mind of
West. He resolved that it should be accomplished, yet well
he knew that not chance, but application, must make him
the predicted great man. The goose quill, with its brush of
cat's hair, the charcoal, chalk, juice of berries, and indigo,
which the child had used, were thrown aside by the boy; for


-- ___ __ _ _ _ _- ___~







46


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


a kind friend sent him a box of paints and brushes, and
canvas stretched upon frames, ready for the youthful artist.
Moreover, the kind friend had sent him six engravings.
These the boy studied with intense pleasure, and soon attempted to imitate. In a retired garret he spread upon the
floor these engravings and the canvas upon which he was
to copy them, and day after day he stole away and was entirely absorbed in composing a picture from the designs before him. "He had not condescended to copy a single engraving, but had selected the most striking features from a
number, and by combining them with wonderful taste and
accuracy, had composed a picture as complete in the arrangement of the several parts, and coloring of the whole, as the
most skillful artist could have painted under the direction of
a finished master."
"Sixty-seven years afterwards, Mr. West had the gratification of seeing this piece in the same room with his sublime painting of ' Christ Rejected,' on which occasion he
declared that there were inventive strokes of art in his first
juvenile essay, which, with all the knowledge and experience
he afterwards acquired, he had never been able to surpass."
The success of these efforts excited the wonder of the
primitive people among whom he resided. His parents
were Quakers, whose principles were opposed to the cultivation of the fine arts, yet they were proud of the genius
of little Benjamin. They allowed him to go to Philadelphia
with Mr. Pennington, the friend who had given him the box





I _ _


THE  ARTIST.


47


of paints, and there, for the first time, he saw an oil-painting
not his own. At this time Benjamin had read no books but
the Bible and a few school books. Profane history and poetry now opened their treasures to him; but little time had
he for reading.
The first money that the boy received for artistic labor,
was from Dr. Wayne, for some drawings upon poplar boards.
At Lancaster, in Pennsylvania, he made his debut as a
portrait painter, and gained not empty praise alone, but
substantial remuneration. Here, too, he painted a historical
picture. He was employed by one Henry, a gunsmith, to
paint the "Death of Socrates." This thrilling incident, which
he had never before heard, was read to him by his patron, the
gunsmith, and a stalwart workman stood as a model for one of
the figures. When Benjamin was about fourteen years old,
Dr. Smith, Provost of the College at Philadelphia, visited
Lancaster. The boy's pictures were shown to him, and immediately he interested himself in his welfare, and proposed
taking him under his own instruction. Gladly did Benjamin
avail himself of this opportunity for receiving information.
With Dr. Smith he studied history and classical literature, and
enjoyed every facility that the city at that time could afford
for the pursuit of his favorite art. He remained for two
years under the special charge of the Provost, and now at
the age of sixteen, it was to be decided whether Benjamin
should follow painting as his profession.
John West, and Sarah, his wife, called a meeting of the







48


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


Friends in Springfield to decide upon their son's future
career. They came to the meeting-house, and gravely deliberated, consulted, and debated upon the subject.
" It was finally concluded that as God had evidently bestowed upon the youth extraordinary genius for the art of
painting, it would be presumption in them to attempt to
counteract the designs of Omniscience, or to say that these
peculiar talents ought not to be cultivated." This conclusion,
so liberal, and at the same time so rational, is alike honorable
to the youth who was the object of it, and to the assembled
elders of a sect whose prejudices and peculiar views were
opposed to the occupation to which West seemed destined.
Another meeting was appointed at the house of his father.
There, the youthful painter received the blessing of the
venerable men and women who were leaders in the Society.
In after years, in the midst of his brilliant career, it was a
pleasing recollection, and a cause for gratitude, that he had
thus received the sanction of the Society to which his family
belonged.
After this, Benjamin returned to Philadelphia and diligently pursued his art, as a portrait-painter. " As his mind
strengthened and the powers of discrimination increased-as
his eyes became open to the beauties of nature, and the power
of imitating those beauties increased, the perception of his
deficiencies likewise increased. He longed to behold the wonders of art which could at that time only be seen by visiting
Italy. This desire stimulated the industry and added to the


- --,~,,,-~~---- --------~t- 6~4---LI-~ -----I--~~-LUI L~LLLL11~61





__


THE    ARTIST.                   49
self-denying frugality of the virtuous and gifted youth. IHe
looked forward to the time when the product of his industry
would enable him to transport himself to the land of the
fine arts."
After painting portraits awhile in Philadelphia, at two
guineas and a half a head, and five guineas for a half length,
Benjamin removed to New-York and there increased his
prices.
For eleven months he labored day and night to accomplish
the end he had in view. Hearing that a vessel, laden with
flour, was to sail from Philadelphia to Leghorn, he was exceedingly anxious to avail himself of this opportunity to
reach the land of promise. A Mr. Kelly, of New York, was
then sitting to him for his portrait, and Benjamin told him
the joyful news. The portrait was speedily finished and ten
guineas paid for it. The young- painter started for Philadelphia, and was the bearer of a letter from  Mr. Kelly. This
proved to be an order on his agent for fifty guineas, "to assist the youth in his projected journey and intended studies
abroad."
Provost Smith secured the passage of Benjamin West in
the vessel, and the son of the owner, Mr. Allen, accompanied
him to Leghorn.
Thus everything seemed to conspire for his advancement.
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
5


- --







50


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


virtue as the love of his art? Such was the character of West
through life, and through life his success was unform.
"His father was a man of sense, his mother affectionate
and exemplary. He was not spoiled by indulgence, nor
soured by thwartings. The most precious part of his education was not entrusted to ignorant and vicious menials;
and all who surrounded him were temperate, pure, and
happy. The sordid sufferings of poverty were unknown to
him, neither was he pampered in the lap of luxury. His
physical advantages were great from nature, and the occupations of rural life in childhood tended to strengthen and
perfect them. He was taught in the school of realities. He
became acquainted with things as they are. His genins was
developed by the friends his manners and his virtues gained
him. We see the undeviating tribute paid to worth and
genius in its ascending progress, in the homely encouragements given by Henry, the gunsmith, the refined and welldirected friendship of Provost Smith, and the frank liberality
of the merchants Kelly and Allen."
While West was waiting in Philadelphia for the sailing of
the ship, he met with his friend, the gunsmith, and gratefully
acknowledged his obligations to Henry for introducing him
to the knowledge of history, and for aid in painting the
Death of Socrates.
Benjamin West was at the age of twenty-one, when he
embarked on his v:yage to Italy.









CHAPTER  VII.


EN COUT A GEMENT.
" Go breathe it in the car
Of all who doubt and fear.
And say to them, Be of good cheer.-Longfellow.
THE bright promise of John Flaxman's childhood, how
was it fulfilled in his boyhood?
Having in his fifteenth year, gainel the silver medal at
the Royal Academy, Flaxman became in due time, a candidate for the gold one, the reward of the highest merit. He
is described at this period, by one who knew him well, as
follows:" Though little, and apparently weak of body, he was
both active and strong-a match for most of his companions
in feats of agility, and more than a match in all that regarded
genius. He had an earnest, enthusiastic look, and the uncommon brig'htness of his eyes and fineness of his forehead
were not soon to be forgotten. His fellow-students perceived
his merit-the grave, the mild and the proud boy was generally respected; and when he became, in opposition to Engleheart, a candidate for the gold medal, all the probationers
and students cried, Flaxman! Flaxman!
But owing to some misunderstanding or false julgment on the part of the presilent and members of the Academy, the goll medal was given to his opponent.
51





__


52


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


Afterwards, in speaking of his disappointment, Flaxman
said: " I gave in my model and believed the medal was my
own. I knew what Engleheart could do, and did not dread
him. I had made up my mind that I was to win, and even
invited some friends to cheer themselves at my table till I
should return from the Academy with my prize. It was
given to Engleheart.-I burst into tears. I determined to
redouble my exertions, and put it, if possible, beyond the
power of any one to make mistakes for the future."
Flaxman now studied more laboriously than ever, but it
became necessary that he should relieve his father as far as
possible from the expense of his maintenance. " ie was
obliged during the day to lay aside his Homer, and seek
bread where it could be found."  It is as well, perhaps, for
men of imaginative genius, that they are obliged to serve a
rough apprenticeship in that great workshop, the world; it
acquaints them as Milton wished, with seemly arts and affairs,
instructs them in the ways of men, and points out the true
path to fame if not to fortune. There is some fear indeed
of crushing down the spirit by the weight of the yoke; but
with minds of great natural vigor the discipline is wholesome.
Ben Jonson laid bricks-Burns held the plough-Gifford
made shoes, and all were, probably, the better for it. These
were tasks less akin to poetry than the models which Flaxman made for the Wedgewoods* were to sculpture.       In
* The Wedgewoods still own the porcelain factory where so many
beautiful specimens of pottery have been manufactured.





THE    ARTIST.                    53
truth, his sketches for those enterprizing and liberal potters
were all of a kind with his early studies. They consisted
chiefly of small groups in very low relief, the subjects from
ancient verse and history. Before those days, the porcelain
of England had little external beauty to recommend it in the
market. The Etruscan vases and the architectural ornaments
of Greece supplied Flaxman with the finest shapes; these he
embellished with his own inventions, and a taste for forms of
elegance began to be diffused over the land. Rude and
unseemly shapes were no longer tolerated. Flaxman loved
to allude, even when his name was established, to those
humble labors, and since his death, the original models have
been eagerly sought after. His labors for the Wedgewoods
were so far profitable that they maintained him, but then he
was a frugal person, no lover of strong drink, or of jovial
circles, and indeed abstemious in all things, save a hungering
and thirsting after knowledge.
The seclusion to which illness in early youth confined
him, had caused him to seek for company in himself, and
when grown up to manhood, and full of health and spirits,
he still preferred his own studies to public haunts, and casts
from the antique, and the poets of Greece and England, to
the society of the gay, the witty, and the beautiful. From
boyhood to old age he lived the same quiet, simple, secluded
sort of life, working by day, and sketching and reading during
the evenings. Occasionally, when his daily task was over,
he would work at the bust of a friend; but it was his chief


-







54


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


delight to make designs from the poets, from the Bible, ar:d
from  the Pilgrim's Progress.    Such attempts, for so he
called drawings of no common beauty, were only shown to
favorites or to friends. They were arranged in portfolios according to the date of composition, and preserved as memoranda of his early notions, and increasing skill."
The artist is now fairly embarked on the stormy sea of life.
Storms he must encounter; calms he must endure; perilous
rocks are beneath a smiling surface. His life is, in a measure,
committed to his own keeping; his true life, that of his spirit,
as well as that of his physical nature, and it is his duty to
keep both in perfect health. This he cannot do, if he conform his life to what is merely customary and conventional.
The artist's childhood has been full of interest and
promise:
"Trailing clouds of beauty do we come
From God who is our home:
Heaven lies about us in our infancy."
Shall it be said that,
"Shades of the prison-house begin to close
Upon the growing boy?"
The "vision splendid," that gladdened his early life,
must
"The man perceive it die away,
And fade into the light of common day?"
Not so-God forbid. Hope and action will keep alive the
fire of genius; progress, and a high aim, give it energy and
continuity.
_-.'





THE   ARTIST.                    55
There is delight in his work; why then should the artist
complain?  Having fool and raiment, let him be content.
He is not seeking wealth-he has a nobler aim. If there
be no discordance between his outer and his inner life, no
shuddering fear, now that he has come into the thickest of
the strife, no paralyzing influence from the scoffs and sneers
of men, no stings of conscience-then, onward, onward"Heart within and God o'er head."


-.. I_ r







CHAPTER VIII.


SCIENCE.
GENERAL        KNOWLEDGE.
" Genius of any kind, or in any age, is a being of an extremely tender and susceptible
nature; it may be stifled in its birth, enervated in its nonage, or curtailed of its fair proportions. by defect ofeducation; it has no irresistible tendency towards maturity; it has no
indefeasable claim upon immortality. It is not merely a tree. the fruits of which may be
sweet or sour according to the measure of its cultivation; it is also not unfrequently a
flower which dies or blooms, as it is visited with blight or fostered by the dews and gales
of Heaven.' '-Henry Nelson Coleridge.
"A LITTLE learning" is as dangerous a thing for the artist
as for the professional man.      The artist is not a mere handicraftsman, bound to the labor of the workshop.           True, his
hands must shape the thoughts which his brain originates,
but poor indeed will be his work, without the aid of science.
He has to deal with sturdy facts.        Ignorance, with regard
to facts, may render his productions ridiculous. A poet
wrote very prettily of "the little four-leafed rose," and we
pass lightly over the mistake; but if the painter, in representing the flower, denied it the five leaves which Nature
has given it, the eye would be offended by the palpable
error.
The artist who never saw a palm tree, or a correct delineation of one, would be presumptuous to undertake to
ornament his landscape with it; it may not be needful for
him to enter into minute detail and finish of each separate


56





I


THE  ARTIST.


leaf and fibre, but he must be so far correct, that the most
casual observer would know that it was intended for a
palm tree.
The landscape painter, must not only know what vegetation belongs to each country, that he may clothe his landscape in an appropriate garb, but he must understand well,
physical geography and geology. If he adorns his landscape with animal life, he must know something of natural
history; if with human beings, he must know the customs,
manners, costume and characteristics of the people whom
he represents; if buildings enter into his composition, he
must possess a knowledge of architecture, or he may present the anomaly of a Chinese edifice on a Grecian landscape. In historical painting, he has as wide a field to explore.
The artist must not only paint or sculpture the beautiful,
but also the true. The monsters with two heads and five tails,
the griffins and dragons, the grinning, long-eared demons,
and wide-mouthed satyrs, whose grotesque forms adorned
ancient edifices, will not be tolerated by modern civilization.
The people of those olden times were, like children, willing
to be amused with efforts of art resembling the literature,
of which Jack the Giant Killer, and
"Heigh! diddle, diddle I
The cat's in the fiddle;
The cow jump'd over the moon,"
are fair specimens.





mm d ý -  - -   _  _


53


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


But the people, especially in our own country, are no
longer dwarfed in intellect and juvenile in taste. The artist
must not calculate upon their ignorance, or their vulgarity.
He cannot be a charlatan in art, without detection, for
"figures" on canvas, and in marble, "will not lie."  Moreover, a man of honest purpose, and of true genius, will not
resort to trickery and sham. He will acquire knowledge,
that he may maintain self-respect; he will be exact, because
he is a lover of truth. Michel Angelo, who was almost
idolized in the age in which he lived, and is still considered
one of the greatest artists the world has ever produced,
was a man of learning and science.
"In the early part of his life, he not only applied himself
to sculpture and painting, but to every branch of knowledge connected in any way with those arts, and gave himself so much up to application, that he in a great degree
withdrew from society. From this ruling passion-to cultivate his mind-he became habituated to solitude, and happy
in his pursuits; he was more content to be alone than in
company. When his mind was matured, he attached himself to men of learning and judgment, and in the number of
his most intimate friends, were ranked the highest dignitaries of the church, and the most eminent literary characters
of his time."
In his professional labors, Michel Angelo continued to
study till the end of his life, and was never perfectly satisfied
with his own. performances. "There is still remaining a







TIHE ARTIST.


design by him, of an old man with a long beard in a
child's go-cart, and an hour-glass before him, emblematical of the last stage of life; on a scroll over his head,
ANCIIORA   INPARO, in Roman capitals, denoting that no
state of bodily decay or approximation to death was incompatible with intellectual improvement."  He established
it as a principle, that to live in credit was enough, if life
was virtuously and honorably employed for the good of
others and the benefit of posterity; and thus he laid up the
most profitable treasure for his old age, and calculated upon
its best resources; for he whose wealth serves only to enrich himself, is insulated as life declines, or surrounded by
dependents; but he who has cultivated his mind with useful knowledge, and devoted himself to the practice of virtue,
makes all mankind interested in the length of his days.
One of Michel Angelo's biographers says, "His knowledge of the anatomy of man and of other animals, was so
correct, that those who had all their lives studied it as their
profession, hardly understood it so well." When Michel
Angelo first visited the dissecting room, he was so disgusted with the offensiveness of the study, that he lost his
appetite, and conceiving that his powers of digestion were
impaired; for a time he desisted, but was soon dissatisfied
with himself for not being able to do what was every day
done by others without inconvenience; he therefore resumed the study, and pursued it to the fullest extent necessary to his profession.









60


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


Michel Angelo was as ardently devoted to literature as he
was to science. He could repeat, from memory, nearly all the
poems of Dante* and Petrarch.       "He also studied with equal
attention the sacred writings of the Old and NVew Testaments."
A general improvement in taste followed as a consequence from     the productions of Michel Angelo.         Fuseli
says, "if the labors of that wonderful man had perished
with him, the change which they effected in the opinions
and the works of his cotemporaries would still have eptitled
him to the first honors of art."
Fuseli, himself, affords another example of profound learning.   "He studied the classics in early life, in order to attain a knowledge of what are called the learned languages;
taste led him to continue this study, in which he afterwards
proved so eminent. He wrote Latin and Greek accurately.
He was not ignorant of Hebrew. In modern languages,
he was deeply skilled; for he wrote French, Italian, Ger* Michel Angelo, besides being a sculptor, architect and painter,
was a poet, as the following sonnet on Dante will show:
"He from the world into the blind abyss
Descended and beheld the realms of woe;
Then to the seat of everlasting bliss
And God's own throne, led by his thought sublime,
Alive he soared, and to our nether clime
Bringing a steady light to us below,
Revealed the secrets of eternity.
11 did his thankless countrymen repay
The fine desire; that which the good and great
So often from the insensate many meet,
That evil guerdon did our Dante find.
But gladly would I, to be such as he,
For his hard exile and calamity,
Forego the happiest fortunes of mankind."









THE  ARTIST.


61


man, and English with equal facility. For the pleasure of
reading Lepp's work on "Insects," he gained, late in life,
a competent knowledge of Dutch.
Fuseli's acquaintance with English poetry and literature
was very extensive; few men recollected more of the text,
or understood better the works of Chaucer, Spencer, Shakspeare, Milton and Dryden. How else than by the close
study and intense appreciation of a poet, can a painter give
life to "illustrations."
Fuseli's knowledge of history and chronology, was accurate and extensive, and few men understood and remembered better, heathen mythology, and ancient and modern
geography. He was not ignorant of natural history; but
that branch which was cultivated by him with the greatest
ardor, was entomology; and in acquiring a knowledge of
the habits of insects, he was naturally led into the consideration of their food; hence he was not unlearned in botany.
Fuseli was fully sensible of his various acquirements, and
sometimes showed, too evidently, that he despised some of
his brother artists, "because they were unacquainted with
literature and even deficient in orthography.'  He said of
them, "I feel humbled, as if I were one of them."
Every one knows, who is acquainted with Art, the
powers which Northcote displays in his paintings of the
brute creation. When that artist's picture of "Balaam and
the Ass" was exhibited at the Macklin Gallery, Northcote
asked Fuseli's opinion of its merits; he replied, with more







062


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


wit than politeness, "My friend, you are an angel at an
ass, but an ass at an angel."  One of Fuseli's friends, who
was fully aware of the faults in Fuseli's character, said to
him, with caustic candor like his own, "I hate to see that
reptile, Vanity, sliming over the noble qualities of your
heart."
Some of his cotemporaries whom    he despised, were
superior to him in mathematics and the pure physical
sciences. To show how important knowledge of all science
is to the artist, the following anecdote will be apposite:
In a picture of Lycidas, which Fuseli was executing for
Mr. Carrick Moore, he introduced the sun just rising above
the horizon, with a full moon, not in opposition to the sun
but upon the same side. Mr. Moore attempted to convince
Fuseli that the moon never appeared full but when she was
diametrically opposite to the sun; but failing to convince
him, he advised him to consult his friend, Bonnycastle, the
astronomer, on the point. Sometime after, Mr. Moore saw
the picture again, and found that the full moon was changed
to a crescent.
As a proof, that an artist required but little knowledge in
order to be successful, the example of Hogarth has been adduced; but his biographers, some of them, were such as
" considered all as uninformed who had fnot received a university education; and all human beings as gross in conversation, who were unacquainted with the conventional
courtesies of fashionable life."





_ _


THE  ARTIST.


63


"If Hogarth showed little bias towards learning, it was
because his powerful mind was directed to studies where the
knowledge of actual life, in all its varieties, was chiefly
essential; where an eye for the sarcastic and ludicrous, and
a mind to penetrate motives and weigh character, were worth
all the lights of either school or college. But there is no
proof that Hogarth was a man gross and uninformed, or
that he thought lightly of learning. He was, indeed, a zealous worshiper of knowledge, but he loved to pick the fruit
fresh from the tree. Of want of learning no man of Hogarth's
pitch of mind will boast. Learning is the open sesame which
clears up the mysteries of ancient lore, and acquaints us with
the lofty souls and social sympathies of the great worthies
of the world. Hogarth had not time for everything; he
could not, circumstanced as he was, have been both a scholar
of eminence, and the first man in a new walk of art. But it
is unjust to set him down as despising in the abstract what
his own great natural genius enabled him to do without."
In a measure to do without; it cannot be doubted that
Hogarth would have risen far higher as an artist with the
knowledge which circumstances prevented him from attaining. No man should be so presumptuous as to rely entirely
upon his own "great natural genius" even though it were
equal to that of Michel Angelo, Raffaelle and Thorwaldsen,
centered in his single self. Sir Christopher Wren,* the architect was equally celebrated as a mathematician and natural
* Christopher Wren, born in Wiltshire, England, 1632.







64


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


philosopher. At the age of thirteen he invented an astronomical instrument, and wrote an account of it, which he
dedicated to his father, in Latin. His father, a clergyman
of the church of England, educated his talented son till he
was fourteen years of age, and then sent him to the university of Oxford.
At the age of sixteen, he had acquired such a knowledge
of mathematics and natural philosophy as gave promise of
his future distinction.
So skilled was Wren in anatomy, that at the age of fifteen,
he was appointed demonstrating assistant to Sir Charles
Scarborough. At the age of twenty-five he was elected
Professor of Astronomy in Gresham College; and some years
before that,he had solved the celebrated problem of Pascal,
which had been given as a challenge to English mathematicians; and proposed one to the French mathematicians which
was never answered.
He invented a method for projecting solar eclipses; a lunar
globe for representing the surface of the moon, with its
various mountains and cavities. He wrote a history of the
seasons as to temperature, weather, &c., and invented and improved many meteorological instruments. He also made and
improved astronomical instruments. He made many improvements in optics. His suggestions and experiments on
navigation and practical seamanship were exceedingly ingenious and useful. He invented the art of mezzotinto engraving, and executed all the drawings for Dr. Willis' Treatise







THE  ARTIST.


65


on the Brain. Many other useful inventions owe their origin
to Christopher Wren.
In 1661, (at the age of twenty-nine,) Wren was elected
Professor of Astronomy, at Oxford, and the same year was
made Doctor of Laws. While at Oxford he was employed by
the king to make drawings of animalcule seen by the microscope, and Dr. Hook who followed in the footsteps of Dr.
Wren in microscopic experiments and drawings says, "I
must affirm of Dr.Wren, that since the time of Archimedes,
there scarce were met in one man so great a perfection-such
a mechanical head and so philosophical a mind."
Sir Isaac Newton, named Sir Christopher Wren, with
Wallis and Huygens, as one of the first mathematicians of
the age. Yet, he is now better known as the architect of
St. Paul's, London. When his mind was directed principally to the art through which he became so famous, he did
not entirely abandon his early studies. After London had
been nearly destroyed by the great fire, in 1666, Wren drew
the plan of a new city, which was submitted to the king, but
rejected by the Parliament.
lie designed and executed many splendid edifices, but St.
Paul's is by far the most famous.
He was President of the Royal Society, and twice sat in
Parliament.
By a wretched court intrigue, this ornament of his country
was displaced at the age of ninety from an office he had held
under government, but his religious principles and the nat6


- --







66


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


ural vivacity of his mind enabled him to bear this unmerited
insult.
The last years of his life were spent in perfect serenity,
ani his faculties were unclouded to the very close of his existence. iH  was found deal in his chair on the 25th of
February, 1723, in the 91st year of his age.
A splendid funeral was decreed to him, and his remains
were deposited in the crypt under the southernmost window
of St. Paul's. A plain black slab lies above his coffin, but
no monument ha; been reared to his name. On the western
jamb of the window of the crypt is a tablet, with the following appropriate and sublime inscription:
Subtus Conditur
Hujus Ecclesize et Urbis Conditor
CH. WREN,
Qui vixit annos ultra nonaginta
non sibi bono publico.
* Lector, si monumentum quaeris
Circumspice.
Sir Joshua Reynolds was the intimate friend of Elmund
Burke and Dr. Johnson; and of the benefit, w'ich he derived from intercourse with the latter, he thus speaks in one
of his discourses on Art:
"Whatever merit these Discourses may have, must be
imputed, in a great measure, to the education I may be said
* Reader, if you ask for his monument, look around.





___


THE  ARTIST.


)7


to have had under Dr. Johnson. I do not mean to say that
he contributed even a single sentiment to them, but he
qualified me to think justly. No man had like him the art
of teaching inferior minds the art of thinking. The observations which he made on poetry, on life, and on every
thing about us, I applied to Art-with what success others
must judge."
Sir Joshua's advice to Barry was in accordance with lis
practice. "Whoever," says he, "is resolved to excel in
painting, or indeed in any other art, must bring all his mind
to bear upon that one object from the moment that he rises
till he goes to bed; the effect of every object that meets a
painter's eye, may give him a lesson, provided his mind is
calm, unembarrassed with other objects, and open to instruction. This general attention, with other studies connected
with the art, which must employ the artist in his closet, will
be found sufficient to fill up life. Were I in your place, I
would consider myself as playing a great game, and never
suffer the little malice and envy of my rivals to draw off my
attention from the main object."
The whole wide circle of human knowledge is not too
wide for the artist; but as he can grasp but a small part during his life, it is all important for him to know well what it
most concerns him to know. The human figure with all its
wonderful machinery cannot be perfectly represented, without an accurate knowledge of anatomy and physiology.
Phrenology and physiognomy are essential to the painter and
__ _1me"







68


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


sculptor.  Geometry and mechanical philosophy must be understood to enable the artist to draw correctly, and to determine proportions and motion.      Natural philosophy, more
particularly everything concerning light and color, he will
find to be indispensable.    Chemistry, should by no means
be neglected.
Every branch of natural history, may be useful to him.
Botany* he can scarcely dispense with.
Geology and geography, how can he do without them?
Meteorology, how can he paint sky and clouds, if in entire
ignorance of this branch of science?
He must know the costume, manners, customs, and peculiarities of nations, ancient and modern.
Mental and moral philosophy lie cannot dispense with,
even if he does not aspire beyond portrait painting.
*" The great masters of Italy, almost withlout exception, and Titian
perhaps more than any, (for he had the highest knowledge of landscape,) are in the constant habit of rendering every detail of their foregrounds with the most laborious botanical fidelity; witness the
Bacchus and Ariadne,' in which the foreground is occupied with the
common blue iris, the aquilegia, and the wild rose; eiry stamen of
which latter is given, while the blossoms and leaves of the columbine, (a difficult flower to draw,) have been studied with the most
exquisite accuracy. The foreground of Raffaelle's two cartoons'The Miraculous Draught of Fishes'-'The charge to Peter'--are
covered with plants of the common sea colewort, of which the sinuated leaves and clustered blossoms would have exhausted the patience
of any other artist, but have appeared worthy of prolonged and thoughtful labor to the great mind of Raffaelle."-Ruskin.







CHAPTER IX.


HISTORY.
"A significance
Of individual life and passionate ends,
Which overcomes us,gazing."
THE history of the human race is spread out like a
boundless ocean, for the noble use of the artist. From
that "misty deep," he summons up the mighty spirits of
the past, and they come at his bidding, for the pencil and
the chisel in his hands are more potent than the wand of
Glendower.
The great, the wise, the good, of all ages, when marshalled before him, will not glide by like visionary shadows;
his vivifying imagination will clothe them with the habiliments of life. For him they breathe, they think, they "act
in the living present."  le gives permanency to them     in
material forms.  From ancient profane history, many noble
examples of heroism, and of virtue, have been perpetuated
by genius. But the Christian Artist has a far nobler
"chamber of imagery," from whence to select his inspiring subjects; the history of the Old and New Testament
with its inexhaustible treasure.
Sir Joshua Reynolds said of the sculptor, Banks, "His
69





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70


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


mind was ever dwelling on subjects worthy of an ancient
Greek;" infinitely higher praise would it be to say of an
artist, "His mind is ever dwelling on subjects worthy of a
Christian." One cause, undoubtedly, of the superiority of
the old masters, was their choice of subjects from that sacred
source.  The Bible was the well-spring of the genius of
Michel Angelo, Raffaelle, and Albrecht Durer.
"It is a fact, by no means to be overlooked, that each
great master of the old school, not only found full scope for
imagination and originality in the sphere of Christian Art,
but willingly confining himself within its limits, never grew
weary of varying subjects, which might, at first sight, appear to be barren and unfruitful."
" The poets of Greece sung, her philosophers wrote, and
her sculptors carved, in the spirit and meaning of their
religion-it was addressed chiefly to the eye.      In this
the heathen differed from  the Christian; the former worshiped external beauty, the latter adored the mental and
divine."   The very architecture   became    Christian and
symbolical in the hands of those old artists. They devoted
their grandest and noblest works to their Divine Master.*
SSymbolism was the grand motive and object of the early artists,
and it was undoubtedly their intention to make the visible structure
of the material church, in all its various parts and proportions, symbolic of the spiritual church of Christ as it exists upon earth, sometimes militant, and sometimes triumphant.-Schlegel.
Ruskin, in writing of the Campanile at Florence, of which Giotto
was the architect, breaks out into the following glowing and beautiful





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THE    ARTIST.                       71
They wrought with the spirit of apostles and the zeal of
martyrs.   The chief end of their labor was, indeed, to
"glorify God."    Worthy opportunities and glorious themes
still remain for lofty spirits to luxuriate in, while pursuing
the silent path of deeply rooted, serious, devotional beauty.
What more, then, is needed, to enable the painter to
reach the perfection to which he aspires?    I reply, that it
is most essential, in the first place, that the beautiful truths
of the Christian faith and religion, should not be receiyed
into the mind as merely lifeless forms, in passive acquiescence to the teachings of others; they must be embraced
with an earnest conviction of their truth and reality, and
bound up with each individual feeling of the painter's soul.
Still, even the influence of devotion is not alone sufficient;
period: The Campanile-that bright, smoh, sunny surface of glowing jasper; those spiral shafts and fairy traceries, so white, so faint, so
crystalline, that their slight shapes are hardly traced in darkness on
the pallor of the eastern sky; that serene height of mountain alabaster,
colored like a morning cloud, and chased like a sea-shell. And if
this be, as I believe it, the model and mirror of perfect architecture,
is there not something to be learned by lookilngl back to the early life
of him who raised it? Not within the walls of Florence, but among
the far-away fields of her lilies, was the child trained, who was to
raise that headstone of Beauty above the towers of watch and war.
Remember all that lie became; count the sacred thoughts with which
lie filled the heart of Italy; ask those who followed him, what they
learned at his feet; and when you have numbered his labors, and received their testimony, if it seem to you, that God had verily poured
out upon this his servant no common nor restrained portion of his
spirit, and that Giotto was indeed a king among the children of men;
remember, also, that the legend upon his crown was that of David's:
SI took thee from the sheepcote, and from following the,heep."


- ___ --~---~~------ - _ _____ __ ---





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RTI CCESS  IN  LIFE.


for however entirely religion may be felt to compensate for
our earthly happiness, much more is required to form a
painter. I know not how better to designate that other
element, without which, mere technical skill and even correct ideas will be unavailing, than by styling it the unborn
light of inspiration. It is something quite distinct from
fertility of invention, or magic of coloring, rare and valuable
as is the latter feature in painting. It is no less distinct
from  skill in the lofty technicalities of design, and the
natural feeling for beauty inherent in some susceptible
minds.
This indwelling light of the soul should be recognized in
every creation of his pencil, expressive as a spoken word;
and in this lies the peculiar vitality of Christian beauty,
and the cause of the remarkable difference between classical
and Christian Art. Even in the choice of subjects for
painting, this ray of inborn inspiration, this divine enthusiasm, must guide and govern the painter's decision.
There are also, it is true, old historical and even mythological subjects, which are not only susceptible of the deeper
meaning which the soul demands, but even naturally suggest
and give birth to it. Such themes certainly need not be excluded from the circle of Christian Art. It does not, by any
means, require an arbitrary restriction to certain exterior
forms and given subjects, nor does its beauty depend upon
the observance of particular rules, but rather springs from
the all-pervading influence of a pure and holy devotion.







THE ARTIST.


73


But especially should the American artist be intimately
acquainted with the history of his own country. He is to
be her chronicler for ages yet unborn. He is to send down
to the latest generations, the evidence that such men and
such deeds have been, though all written records of them
may have perished forever.* And in the moral grandeur
of American history, he has the highest "motive" for his
artistic efforts. He need not stoop to meaner themes, while
the daring deeds of our own sages and heroes are yet unportrayed. The Colonies of Roanoke and Plymouth may
yet call forth more soul-thrilling sympathy than was ever
elicited by Rome or Carthage.        The time may-it will
come-when that granite obelisk, the Bunker Hill Monument, t will call forth deeper emotions than the pyramids of
Egypt, and the mouldering walls of the Capitol far sublimer
*How cold is all history, how lifeless all imagery, compared to
that which the living nature writes, and the uncorrupted marble
bears. How many pages of doubtful record might we often spare,
for a few stones left one upon another. The ambition of the old
Babel builders was well directed for this world. There are but two
strong conquerors of the forgetfulness of men, Poetry and Architecture;
and the latter, in some sort, includes the former, and is mightier in
its reality; it is well to have not only what men have thought and
felt, but what their hands have handled, and their strength wrought,
and their eyes beheld all the days of their life. The day is coming,
when we shall confess, that we have learned more of Greece out of
the crumbled fragments of her sculpture, than even from her sweet
singers or soldier historians.-Seven Lamps of Architecture.
t The Bunker Hill Monument was designed by the Architect,
Robert Mills, who was born in Charleston, South Carolina. It was,
however, originally suggested by Greenough.
7


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74               SUCCESS     IN   LIFE.
sentiments than the Acropolis at Athens. The architects
of our country must now have reference to posterity. In
this land of freedom from all but wholesome restraint, they
can build such edifices as the condition of the country requires, in any style best adapted for the purpose. They
have not to choose between the Classical or the Gothic, the
Chinese or the Romanesque; but in our architecture,
domestic, civil and ecclesiastical, to make a free use of each
and all, and, at the same time, be careful that there is fitness,
adaptation and national character impressed upon every edifice. It is only by thus doing, that they can be true to
themselves and their country, give dignity to the Art, and
render their works enduring monuments of our artistic, civil
and religious freedom.







_ ~ __


CHAPTER X.


STUDY OF THE BEST MODELS.
"The artist is born projressire, not complete.  If, therefore, he feels no inclination to
learn from the complete artists of the past and present time, that which he is in want of,
to become a proper artist, he will fall short of his own powers, in the false idea of guarding his originality." -Goethe.
IN the Academy of Fine Arts, in one of our large cities,
there is a painting, representing an angel conveying- the
murdered Abel to Heaven-a stout angel it is, yet the heavy
body of Abel seems far more likely to drag an angel down,
than to be borne upward by angels' wings. But this is not
all; the unfortunate angel is arrayed in a tight-fitting
yoked night-gown, fastened at the throat with a tawdry bit
of jewelry-a turquoise broach!      Verily, the artist must
have had a meagre wardrobe for the lay-figure* from which
he painted the angel! What other model could he have
studied?    Ancient paintings were frequently       grotesque,
ridiculous, and for aught we know, painters arrayed their
angels after the fashion of their day, in a ball-dress, instead
of a yoked night-gown; and far more picturesque would the
angel be, in the antique garb, whatever it might have been,
than in this modern, every-night fashion.     This picture is
* A lay-figure, is the wooden figure, or large jointed-doll, used by
artists.


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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


quite on a par with a piece of embroidery once executed at
a boarding-school, representing the parting of Hector and
Andromache; the sorrowful wife is holding a green, fringed
parasol over her head, and the young Astyanax lustily kicking his papa with a pair of new,red morocco boots.
"(Study the great works of the great masters forever!"
was the enthusiastic advice of Sir Joshua Reynolds to his
students.  "Study, " he continued, "as nearly as you can,
in the order, in the manner, on the principles which they
studied. Study nature attentively, but always with those
masters in your company; consider them as models which
you are to imitate, and   at the same time, as rivals which
you are to combat."
This last consideration would prevent servile imitation
and give scope to originality. It is a noble emulation, unlike that between two young artists who are only striving
to excel each other.
There is a great deal of twaddle about self-taught genius;
it has been the boast of many a dunce, puffed up with selfconceit, that he was self-taught. Self-reliant, self-controlled
a man may be, but not self-taught. Teaching, as everybody knows, implies instruction that comes from without.
For a knowledge of one's own character and capabilities,
there must be close introspection; but, after all, the best
way of determining both, is by action. If a man believes
himself to be a sculptor, or a painter, materials are always
at hand by which he can demonstrate the fact. A piece of





___. 1~ __


THE  ARTIST.


charcoal or of chalk, would be sufficient for a Michel Angelo to prove withal his aptness for art, and, at the same time,
the necessity for his being taught from without. Because a
child learns his alphabet in one and the first lesson, does it
prove that he has no need of books? Though not exactly
a parallel case, it may illustrate the absurdity of those who
rely upon their natural quickness of eye, or expertness of
hand, or brilliant imagination; who think they are above all
teaching as completely as the tree which springs up, bears
its leaves, its flowers, and its fruit, because it has an internal principle of life and growth, which will bring it to perfection.
Men boast of being self-taught, when, if they have had
other means of teaching and have not employed them, thus
to boast, is to glory in their shame. More than one American artist has been ruined by this false notion. Naturetaught, a man may be, when he has elevated himself to
the real, earnest contemplation and imitation of her varied
charms.
But the study of nature, however loving and constant it
may have been, is not sufficient to form the noble artist.
He must learn what others have achieved. He must
compare his own crude conceptions with the realized, the
embodied conceptions of others. He must exalt the standard of excellence, and keep it ever in advance:
r' Perfection ever at kind distance stands,
To tempt the onward chase."
--- "- i~... --....  , -_.:: _





--.r _i


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


If a young artist has formed a correct estimate of his own
power, he will soon make it evident to others. He will, if
possible, place himself under the best masters in his own
country; he will study the best models, and prepare himself
for a wider field of improvement than his own country affords.
By thus proving his own capability at home, he will not be
liable to fall into the error of which some artists have been
guilty-going abroad before they were sufficiently prepared to apprecaite the chefs-d 'euvres of art. By too early
entering into the presence of the mighty ones of by-gone
times, he may be intimidated-disheartened; unless, indeed,
he be gifted with genius equal to that of Correggio, and
like him, exclaim with the pride of conscious power, "I, too,
am a painter."
But the artist has, not seldom, "to banish preconceived
false notions; to dismiss idolized and merely conventional
beauties, and strip himself of the absurdities with which he
had been bedecking himself from his infancy. He has to rise
out of false art into true nature, and this is not to be done
in a day."  " The man of true genius," says Sir Joshua Reynolds, "instead of spending all his hours, as many artists do
while they are at Rome, in measuring statues and copying
pictures, soon begins to think for himself, and endeavors to
do something like what he sees. I consider general copying a kind of delusive industry; the student satisfies himself with the appearance of doing something; he falls into
the dangerous habit of imitating without selecting, and of









THE  ARTIST.


79


laboring without any determinate object; as it requires no
effort of the mind, he sleeps over his work, and those powers
of invention and disposition, which ought particularly to be
called out and put in action, lie torpid and lose their energy
for want of exercise."
This was not the way in which Sir Joshua himself passed
his time at Rome. Northcote, a brother artist, and a friend
of Reynolds, thus commends the use he made of his opportunities for improvement: "When arrived in that garden
of the world-that great temple of the arts-his time was
diligently and judiciously employed in such a manner as
might have been expected from one of his talents and virtue. He contemplated, with unwearied attention and ardent
zeal, the various beauties which marked the style of different schools and different ages. It was with no common
eye, that he beheld the productions of the great masters.
He copied and sketched, in the Vatican, such parts of the
works of Raphael and Michel Angelo, as he thought would
be most conducive to his future excellence, and by his welldirected study, acquired, while he contemplated the best
works of the best masters, that grace of thinking, to which
he was principally indebted for his subsequent reputation as
a portrait painter."
Our own lamented Cole,* not contented with being self* The late Thomas Cole was born in England, but in his childhood
his father removed to the U. States, and so strong was the painter's attachment to his foster mother, that he was once heard to say, with the







80


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


taught, went abroad to study, and writes as follows: "A
great deal might be said on the subject of England and
Italy. I did not find England so delightful as I had anticipated. The gloom of the climate, the coldness of the artists,
together with the kind of art in fashion, threw a tone of
melancholy over my mind that lasted for months, even after
I had arrived in sunny Italy. Perhaps my vanity sufered.
I found myself a nameless, noteless individual, in the midst
of an immense, selfish multitude. I did not expect much,
scarcely anything more than to have an opportunity of
studying, and showing some of my pictures in the public
exhibitions, and to a few individuals of taste in my own
room. I did study; but the pictures I sent two seasons,
both to the Royal Academy and the British Gallery, were
hung in the worst places without exception, so that my acquaintances had difficulty in knowing them.
"At the Gallery of the British Artists I exhibited once,
and was better treated. My picture of a 'Tornado in an
American Forest' was placed in a good situation, and was
praised exceedingly in several of the most fashionable
papers. Although, in many respects, I was delighted with
the English school of painting, yet on the whole I was disappointed. The standard by which I form my judgment
is, beautiful nature; and if I am astray it is on a path
which I have taken for truth. In May, 1831, I left Engezaggeration of enthusiasm, "I would give my left hand to identify
myself with this country, by being able to say, I was born her I "


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THE  ARTIST.


81


land for the continent. Modern French painting pleased
me even less than English. In landscape they are poor-in
portrait, much inferior to the English, and in history, cold
and affected. In design they are much superior to the English; but in expression, false.
"The melancholy which I experienced in England continued with me for several months after I had arrived
in Italy. I looked upon the beautiful scenery, and knew
it to be beautiful but did not feel it to be so. Previous to
going to Rome I passed nine months in Florence, which I
spent in studying the magnificent collections there, and in
painting several pictures, among which was a ' Sunset on the
Arno,' and a wild scene for Mr. Gilmor of Baltimore. The
'Arno' was exhibited in the Academy, and seemed to attract
attention. I studied and drew from the life at the Academy.
"Florence to me was a delightful residence. The magnificent works of art, the quietness and seclusion in which
a man can live, make it a painter's paradise. Indeed, to
speak of Italy is to recall the desire to return to it.
"In Rome I was about three months, where I had a studio
in the very house in which Claude lived,
"From   Rome I went to Naples. I visited Pompeii,
Vesuvius, and Paestum, and at the last place made sketches,
from which I have painted, since my return, a view of those
magnificent temples.
"I returned to Florence and painted there more pictures


- - - - --





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82


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


in three months than I have ever done in twice the time
before or since. I was in the spirit of it; and 1 now grieve
that information of the sickness of my parents, with their
desire for my return, should have broken in upon me. 0,
that I was there again, and in the same spirit!
"The pictures of the great Italian masters gave me the
greatest delight, and I labored to make their principles my
own; for these, which have stood the criticism of ages,
are produced on principles of truth, and are no abstract
notion of the sublime or beautiful. The artists were gifted
with a keen perception of the beautiful of nature, and
imitated it in simplicity and single-heartedness. They did
not sit down, as the modern artist too often does, with a
preconceived notion of what is or what ought to be beautiful, but their beau ideal was the choicest of nature; they
often introduced absurdities and things of bad taste in their
pictures, but they were honest-there was no affectation. I
do not believe that they theorized as we do; they loved the
beauty that they saw around them-and painted."
The beautiful pictures painted by Cole while in Italy,
and after his return, demonstrate the advantage he had derived from his intense and loving appreciation of those
ancient masters. That he admired his own country, his
glowing landscapes prove; and they go far to prove, moreover, his favorite theory, that landscape painting is as high
a branch of art as historical painting. He says, "there are
certainly fewer good landscape pictures in the world, in







THE    ARTIST.                    83
proportion to their number, than of historical. In landscape there is a greater variety of objects, textures and phenomena to imitate.   It has expression also, not of passion,
to be sure, but of sentiment-whether it shall be tranquil or
spirit-stirring. Its seasons, sunrise, sunset, the storm, the
calm, various kinds of trees, herbage, waters, mountains,
skies; and whatevei' scene is chosen, one spirit pervades the
whole-light and darkness tremble in the atmosphere, and
each change transmutes. If the talent of Raphael had been
applied to landscape, his productions would be as great as
those he really did produce."


- -- --







CHAPTER XI.


STUDY OF THE BEST MODELS.
"Houses are built by rule, and commonwealths.
Entice the sun, if that you can,
From his ecliptic line-beckon the sky.
Who lives by rule, then, keeps good company."- Geoge Herbert.
IN Architecture, a close study of models is still more
necessary, than in either painting or sculpture, since Nature
here cannot be the only guide. Architecture is not so
much an imitative as an inventive art, and in order to know
what can be done, it is well for every architect to know
first what has been done.*
*Much of the value, both of construction and decoration, in the edifices
of men, depend upon our being led by the thing produced or adorned,
to some contemplation of the powers of mind concerned in its creation
or adornment. I wish the reader to note this especially; we take
pleasure, or should take pleasure, in architectural construction altogether as the manifestation of an admirable human intelligence; it is
not the strength, not the size, not the finish of the work which we
are to venerate; rocks are always stronger, mountains always larger,
all natural objects more finished; but it is the intelligence, and resolution of man, in overcoming physical difficulty, which are to be the
source of our pleasure, and subject of our praise; and again, in decoration or beauty, it is less the actual loveliness of the thing produced,
than the choice and invention concerned in the production, which are
to delight us; the love and the thoughts of the workman, more than
his work; his work must always be imperfect, but his thoughts and
affections may be true and deep."-RusKIN. Stones of Venice.
84







THE  ARTIST.


85


From a few simple principles in architecture, are worked
out the endless varieties of buildings for man's use. So
widely differing are the conditions of the human race, that
nearly every individual needs a dwelling just suited to himself. Every community of human beings needs public
buildings with the same special application to their religion,
civil condition, their amusements and education. Hence
arises a boundless field for invention and adaptation. The
architect must make himself familiar with all the forms
and rules of his art, and then apply them with his own additions and alterations, to suit every individual edifice. He
cannot be wholly original, neither should he be cramped
and fettered by precedents. He is not obliged to build a
Greek edifice in the frozen North, nor Gothic gables in the
sunny South. The shady palm, with its broad sheltering
leaves, would not be in keeping among the rustling pines of
New England, and our graceful elm, with its light foliage,
would make but a poor figure amid the luxuriant groves of a
tropical clime.
Hence, may be inferred the necessity for a close investigation of the rules and conditions of ancient art; and the
causes for the gradual changes which, from time to time,
have been developed among different nations.
For the purpose of studying the most celebrated models
abroad, Ithiel Town, a native of New England, and, for
many years a resident of New Haven, Conn., traveled in
Europe for some time, and "examined the works of art with







I~


86


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


a learned eye and judgment."  He collected a "truly magnificent" library, rich in engravings, and as illustrative of
Art, "unrivaled," says Dunlap, "by anything of the kind
in America; perhaps no private library in Europe is its
equal. This splendid library* is open to the inspection of
the curious, and freely offered for the instruction of the
student."
Our own sculptor, Horatio Greenough, left Harvard College, Cambridge, at the close of his senior year, by permission from the faculty, and went to Rome. There, "his
mornings were devoted to making careful drawings cf the
antique; his afternoons, to modeling from the life some
subject of his own composition, which enabled him to exert
his invention, and bring into play the practice of the morning; and his evenings, to drawing from the Nudo at the
Academy. Having letters to Thorwaldsen, he was enabled
to profit by the visits of that distinguished artist."  This
was in 1825. In consequence of illness, he was obliged to
return before the completion of a single year. Scarcely
another year had passed, before the enthusiastic young
sculptor was again in Italy. He remained for some months
at Carrara, "for the purpose of making himself thoroughly
acquainted with all the details of preparing and finishing
works of sculpture, for which Carrara, being the grand
SAt New Haven, most unfortunately, since the death of the
lamented architect, this library has been sold and dispersed. Was
there no Institution to purchase it?







.~ _ __


THE  ARTIST.


87


work-shop of the Italian sculptors, gave him every opportunity.   His next remove was to Florence, which he fixed
upon as his head-quarters, on account of the advantages in
the study of its art, and its healthiness."*
Of the effect produced on the mind of Washington Allston, by the works of the old masters, we may judge by the
following extract from his own letters:
"It is needless to say how I was affected by Raffaelle,
the greatest master of the affections in art.     In beauty he
*A correspondent of the Newark Daily Advertiser, dating at
"Florence, January 20th, 1851," writes as follows: "For study and
improvement in the fine arts, no city in the world can compare with
'Florence the Fair.' "
"It is most gratifying to know that, in sculpture, our American
artists here are prieminent. The country that gave a discoverer of
the New World, degenerated though she be, is rich in the works
of the old Titans of Art. Italy hoards these treasures as the miser
does his gold-she will not part with them--but, with princely generosity, she opens her bosom to receive and educate the men of genius
born on our vigorous soil. As a journal writer, comparisons of our
artists' works would be unbecoming, and we confine ourselves to impressions made by frequent visits to the various studios. Greenough
has nearly completed his group of the PIONEER, designed for one of
the pedestals of the Capitol at Washington. He has been six years at
work on this. The figures are colossal. A frontier man, in huntingcoat, cap, and fringed leggins, is rescuing his wife and child from
the murderous ferocity of a North American Indian. The white man
stands nearly erect, with all that grandeur of expression which resolution, determination and manly strength can give. He is behind
the savage, who appears in the act of smothering both mother and
child with his blanket. Grasping him with Herculean strength, his
right hand holds the Indian's wrist with a tension and gripe of iron,
whilst his left arm, doubled around the Indian's shoulder, has forced
the savage on one knee, his face thrown upwards, one hand clutching





_ _


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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


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 particularly struck me in his works, was, the
genuine life (if I may so call it,) that seemed, without impairing the distinctive character, to pervade them all; for
even his humblest figures have a something either in air,
look or gesture, 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 into that which is feigned, appears to me the sole prerogative of genius."
a tomahawk, and the other enveloped in the folds of his blanket.
The firm, compressed lip of the pioneer, the rugged angry brow, the
chin, the pose of the head, half-bent over the savage, and the masterly
development of muscular strength, render the figure one of surprising
excellence. It awes you with the sense of conscious power. It
seems to recite the story of our Western progress, the story of the
Anglo Saxon superiority over the Red Man. The figure of the
Indian, in war-plume and feathers, is admirable in idea of truthfulness. His up-turned, cowering face, acknowledges the power of
the pioneer; his whole frame is already relaxed by the (to him) deadly
struggle. In front of this group are the wife and child. The mother
is seated, clasping the infant to her bosom-her hair, in disarray, floats
upon her bared neck and shoulders-her dress falling from her. The
fond wife's horror struck look, forgetful of self and regardful only of
her child, cannot be written. Fear, love, anguish-all are there-the
gaze fixed upon the infant, who seems struggling in the mother's
arms, unconscious of its danger. The group is a national, historical
one-it will appeal to the hearts of all Americans-and we have no
hesitancy in saying that public opinion at home will pronounce it a
sublime conception, grandly executed. The name of Greenough is
worthy to stand side by side with Canova's and Thorwaldsen's."


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THE   ARTIST.                   89
"One must be something, in order to make something,"
said Goethe. "Dante seems to us great, but he had the
culture of centuries behind him. The house of Rothschild
is rich, but it has taken more than one century to accumulate such treasures. All these things lie deeper than is
thought. Our artists who imitate the 'old German school,'
begin, while weak as men, and uninformed as artists, to
copy from nature, and think they become something. They
stand beneath nature. But he who wishes to do anything
great, must be, like the Greeks, so highly cultivated that he
will know how to raise up the realities of nature to the
height of his own mind; and to realize that, which in nature, whether from internal weakness or external hindrance,
has remained an intention merely."
8.. -- - ---~.- - -~r- ---





_ _


CHAPTER XII.


STUDY OF NATURE.
"Nature never did betray
The heart that loved her.''-Word.sworth.
" Many beauties stand isolated in the world. To discover modes of bringing them together, and thus produce works of art-this is the office of the mind. The flower derives a
charm from the insect that rests upon it-the drops of dew that moisten it-the vase from
which it draws its last nourishment. There is no bush. no tree, to which the neighborhood
of a rock, or spring, does not impart significance, or which does not borrow an added charm
from a simple appropriate distance."-Goethe.
To advise an artist to study nature seems equivalent to
telling him to go about with his eyes open. Yet he, probably, in his boyhood has read the story of "Eyes and no
Eyes," and is fully aware that eyes do not always see. True,
nature is ever before us, but the sense of the beautiful is not
wide awake in all who look upon her loveliness; and in
many it seems to be entirely wanting. To study nature,
therefore, in all her multitudinous phases, is a very different thing from giving her a casual glance, or going into momentary rhapsodies. There never was a great artist who
did not bestow intense study upon natural objects.
The artists who paint landscapes in their studios without
ever visiting the waving woods and the living fields, come
no nearer to nature on the canvas than they do in their
city-bound walks. Their green-baize trees, their solid-lead
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THE  ARTIST.


91


clouds, their doughy, lumpy foregrounds, prove it. Their
zeal, as painters, is not according to knowledge. "He who
walks humbly with nature will seldom be in danger of losing
sight of Art. He will commonly find in all that is truly
great of man's works, something of their original, for which
he will regard them with gratitude, and sometimes follow
them with respect; while he who takes Art for his authority
may entirely lose sight of all that it interprets, and sink at
once into the sin of an idolater, and the degradation of a
slave. '
An admirer of Gainsborough said of him: "Nature sat
to him in all her attractive attitudes of beauty, and his pencil
traced, with peculiar and matchless felicity, her finest and
most delicate lineaments; whether it was the sturdy oak,
the twisted eglantine, the mower whetting his scythe, the
whistling ploughboy, or the shepherd under the hawthorn
in the dale, all came forth equally chaste from his inimitable
and fanciful pencil." *
How the poet and painter, Allston, exults in the sublime
*A recent writer confirms the above opinion, as follows: "Gainsborough's power of color is capable of taking rank beside that of Rubens; he is the purest colorist of the whole English school; with him
in fact, the art of painting did in great part die, and exists not now in
Europe. Gainsborough's hand is as light as the sweep of a cloud, as
swift as the flash of a sunbeam. His masses are as broad as the first
division in heaven of light from darkness; his forms are grand, simple, and ideal; he never loses sight of his picture as a whole. In a
word, Gainsborough is an immortal painter; his excellence is based
on principles of art, long acknowledged, and facts of nature universally conceded."-Modern Painters.
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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


and beautiful of nature! He says in one of his letters, " The
impressions left by the sublime scenery of Switzerland, are
still fresh to this day. A new world has been opened to
me, nor have I met with anything like it since. The
scenery of the Appenines is quite of a different character.
By the by, I was particularly struck, in this journey, with
the truth of Turner's Swiss Scenes-the poetic truth, which
none before or since has given, with the exception of my
friend Brokeden's magnificent work on the Passes of the
Alps. I passed at night and saw the sun rise on the lake
Maggiore.   Such a sunrise! The giant Alps seemed to rise
from their purple beds, and putting on their crowns of gold,
to send up a hallelujah almost audible."
The rules of Art are deduced from a study of nature.
The ancients did not copy from one model,* and thus only
imitate one individual; but they, from     a close study of
many, worked out what nature, unthwarted, could accomplish-the ideal of the species.t
When Gilbert Stuart,f was studying at Somerset House,
in the school of the antique, it was proposed by his fellowstudents, that each one present should disclose his inten*He who depends for all upon his model, should treat no subject
but his model.
t Dive in the crowd, meet beauty, follow vigor, compare character,
snatch the feature that moves unobserved and the sudden burst of
passion, and you are at the school of nature with Lysippus.-Fuseli.
t Gilbert Charles Stuart, born at Newport, Rhode Island, A. D. 1754.





TIE   ARTIST.                    93
tions, as to what walk in art, and what master he would
follow. The proposal was agreed to. One said he preferred the gigantic Michel Angelo. Another would follow
in the steps of the gentle but divine Raffaelle, the prince of
painters, and catch, if possible, his art of composition, his
expression and profound knowledge of human passion. A
third wished to emulate the glow and sunshine of Titian's
coloring. Another had determined to keep Rembrandt in
his eye, and like him eclipse all other artists in the chiaro
scuro. Each was enthusiastic in the praise of his favorite
school or master. Stuart's opinion being demanded, he said,
"I will not follow any master. I wish to find out nature
for myself, and see her with my own eyes. This appears to
me the true road to excellence. Nature may be seen through
different media. Rembrandt saw with a different eye from
Raffaelle, yet they are both oxcellent, but for dissimilar qualities. They had nothing in common, but both followed nature. Neither followed in the steps of a master. I will
do in that as they did, and only study nature."  While he
was speaking, G.insborough came in unobserved by him,
and as soon as Stuart ceased, though then a stranger to him,
stepped up and patting him on the shloulder said,  That's
right, my lad, adhere to that and you'll be an artist,"
Hogarth* considered copying other men's works like
"pouring wine out of one vessel into another, there was no
increase of quantity, and the flavor of the vintage was liable


*William Hogarth, born in London, A. D. 1697.





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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


to evaporate. He wished to gather in the fruit, press the
grapes, and pour out the wine for himself."
Hogarth seldom copied on the spot the object which
attracted his notice, but trusted them to a faithful memory.
Occasionaly, he made a sketch on his thumb-nail of any
remarkable form, face, or feature which came in his way,
and thus carried it home to transfer to his sketch-book, or
canvas.
He says, "Instead of burthening the memory with musty
rules or tiring the eye with copying dry or damaged pictures, I have ever found studying from nature the shortest
and safest way of obtaining knowledge of my art. Nature
is simple, plain, and true, in all her works, and those who
strictly adhere to her laws, and closely attend to her appearances in all their infinite varieties, are guarded against any
prejudicial bias from truth."
"Every master-spirit," says Allan Cunningham, "every
master-spirit that appears on the earth goes to work in
his owin peculiar way; and though the structures which he
raises are founded in nature, yet they differ in the exterior
effect and internal arrangement from what has preceded
them, as the Gothic architecture differs from the Grecian.
The rules for composition are overthrown by another who
forms his own laws; and these again are swept away by the
next succeeding spirit, as readily as a wave of the sea obliterates words written on the sands. Men, whose feelings were
imbued with nature, wrought by a kind of instinctive inspira






THE  ARTIST.


95


tion in the right way, when they executed those statues and
paintings which continue to astonish the earth."  What is
the merit of a painter?  Ask the biographer of Hogarth:*
To represent life; to give us an image of man; to exhibit
the workings of his heart; to record the good and evil of
his nature; to set in motion before us the very beings with
whom earth is peopled; to shake us with mirth; to sadden
us with woful reflection; to please us with natural grouping,
vivid action, and vigorous coloring-if he that has done so be
not a painter who will show us one? I claim a signification,
as wide for the word painter as for the word poet. But there
seems a disposition to limit the former to those who have
been formed under some peculiar course of study, and produce works in the fashion of such and such great masters.
This I take to be mere pedantry; as well might all men be
excluded from the rank of poets, who had not composed
epics, dramas, odes, or elegies, according to the rules of the
Greeks.
Where on the wide earth could a painter better study
nature than in our own broad land? Our transparent skyour placid lakes-our mountain torrents-our glorious rivers,
with their magnificent waterfalls-hills and valleys, clothed
with varied living verdure-our sea-beat cliffs, and cloudpiercing mountains-where could the landscape painter find
more noble inspiration?
The varieties of human beings and modes of human life
* Allan Cunningham.
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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


here offered to his study, are such as no other country can
afford. Men of every race and every clime have here been
rolled together and amalgamated, like the "pudding-stone"
of the Potomac, in the amalgam of our civil goverment,
without destroying their strongly-marked individual characters. The sunny South offers her glowing beauty, and the
cooler North her delicate loveliness; the teeming West her
ruddy denizens of the forest, and the wave-washed East the
refined and elegant habitant of cities.
Here,are nooks and corners where civilization has scarcely
yet sent a single ray; there, rural homes, smiling with Arcadian peace, simplicity and loveliness. Here,is border life, in
which Salvator Rosa might have revelled-there, a Swiss
hamlet where the peasantry retain their picturesque costume. Here, are stalwart soldiers encamped on the wide
prairie-there, pioneers felling their way through a primeval
forest. Nature is here lavish in her gifts, and already have
American artists demonstrated that they have been mindful
of her teachings, and grateful for her boundless generosity.
In the course of time landscape gardening will take a high
place among the Fine Arts in our country.   "All just and
solid pleasure," said the poet Wordsworth, "all just and
solid pleasure of natural objects rests upon two pillars, God
and man. Laying out grounds as it is called, may be considered as a liberal art, in some sort like poetry and painting,
and its object, like that of all the liberal arts, is, or ought to
be, to move the affections under the control of good sense;





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THE   ARTIST.                    97
that is of the best and wisest; but speaking with more precision, it is to assist nature in moving the affections, and
surely, as I have said, the affections of those who have the
deepest perception of the beauty of nature; who have the
most valuable feelings, that is, the most permanent, the
most ennobling connected with nature and human life. No
liberal art aims merely at the gratification of an individual,
or a class. The painter or the poet is degraded in proportion as he does so; the true servants of the Arts pay homage
to the human kind as impersonated in unwarped and enlightened minds. If this be so when we are merely putting
together words or colors, how much more ought the feeling
to prevail when we are in the midst of the realities of things;
of the beauty and harmony, of the joy and happiness of loving creatures; of men and children, of birds and beasts; of
hills and streams, and trees and flowers; with the changes
of night and day, evening and morning, summer and winter, and all their unwearied actions, and energies, as benign
in the spirit that animates them, as they are beautiful and
grand in that form of clothing which is given them for the
delight of our senses."
9


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CHAPTER XIII.
POETRY.
"All noble ornament is the expression of man's delight in God's work.'"--Rukin.
"Here on all the shining boughs,
Knowledge fair and useful grows;
On the same young flowery tree
All the seasons you may see;
Nations in the bloom of light,
Just disclosing to the sight;
Here are thoughts of larger growth;
Ripening into solid truth;
Fruits refined of noble taste;
Seraphs feed on such repast.
Here, in a green and shady grove
Streams of pleasure mixed with love;
There beneath the smiling skies
Hills of contemplation rise;
Now upon some shining top
Angels light, and call me up;
I rejoice to raise my feet,
Both rejoice when there we meet."
FROM the time of Phidias and Apelles down to our own
day, the poet has given the stimulus to all other artists; he
has done more; he has supplied "airy" shapes to which
they have given      a "local habitation."       The song     of the
poet has inspired the musician, the descriptions of the poet
have been embodied in living colors, breathed in marble,
and been perpetuated in glorious edifices. Does a sculptor
seek a motive for his chisel?        The ideal characters which
genius has created, give scope to his imagination. The
legions of statues which thronged the temples, the houses,
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THE  ARTIST.


99


the streets and the highways of ancient Greece, had, nearly
all of them, their prototypes in the Iliad, and the Odyssey
of Homer. Down the vista of ages, even to the present, is
perpetuated the long line of gods, goddesses, heroes, sages,
and beautiful women, the progeny of his mighty genius.*
Shakspearet has peopled the realm of painting with his
own creations.   It would be amusing to study the statistics
of Picturedom, and learn how       many "illustrations" have
been made from    Shakspeare and Milton, Tasso and Dante.
* The Iliad is a storehouse of rude and imperfect art, as it is a
mirror of consummate nature. "The elements of all the arts," says
Quintilian, "are found in Homer; and, indeed, there is hardly a department of human labor and knowledge, which, directly or indirectly, according to the measure of the times, is not introduced in the
Iliad. The geography of Greece, and of the coasts of Asia Minor, is
exact; the acquaintance with Egypt and Phmonecia, obvious; the
wind, the waves, and the foam of the ocean, the motion, the sound,
and the tackle of the ship, are described with the familiarity and the
fondness of a frequent mariner. In surgery, in agriculture of many
kinds, in architecture, in fortification, in smiths' and carpenters' work,
the attainments of the age are technically displayed."-H. N. Coleridge.
Each individual of Homer forms a class, and is circumscribed by
one quality of heroic power. The height, the strength, the giantstride and supercilious air of Ajax; the courage, the impetuosity, the
never-failing aim, the never-bloodless stroke of Diomedes; the presence of mind, the powerful agility of Ulysses; the velocity of the
lesser Ajax; Agamemnon's sense of prerogative and domineering
spirit, etc., etc.-Fuscli.
t The greatest poets that have ever lived, have, without exception,
been among the wisest men of their times. I say wisest, because the
word learned is often misunderstood; the wisdom of the poet may
include more or less of book-learning, as it may happen; in the
present age it must include some certainly; but the knowledge of the





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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


However largely ideality may be developed in the artist,
he will not content himself with the creations of his own
imagination.    He will revel among the poets, not for selfpleasing alone, but to widen his field of mental vision, and
to exalt and beautify, through the medium of their conceptions, nature herself.
Eckermann said of Goethe, "His works are for the artists
whose mlnd they enlighten as to general principles, and
whom they teach what subjects are suited to works of art;
what he should use, and what leave aside.        All those who
are engaged in science or art, may be guests at his richlyprovided table, and in their works show       plainly that they
have drawn from a great general source of light and life."
Indeed, painting and sculpture are only material exponents of poetry.     The artist is a poet; if he sees in the
mind and its powers, of the passions and their springs, the love and
study of the beautiful forms of the visible creation-this it is which
alone can teach a man to think in sympathy with the great body of
his fellow-creatures, and enable him to draw back the veil which
different manners and various customs have spread over the unchangeable essence of humanity. J   this sense it is most true that
Homer, and Dante, and Milton, were learned in an extraordinary degree; but more than all, that Shakspeare was the most learned man
that ever lived and was not directly inspired by Heaven.-Coleridge.
"On the tip of his subduing tongue
All kinds of arguments and questions deep,
All replication prompt, and reason strong,
For his advantage still did wake and sleep,
To make the weeper laugh, the laugher weep;
He had  the dialect and  different skill.
Catching  all passions in  his craft of will,
That he doth in the general bosom reign
Of young, of old."









THE  ARTIST.


101


visible forms around him, instinct with life and beauty, the
symbols of higher and nobler things, and lifts up his soul
through them to the Almighty Creator-or in the oft-quoted
words of the poet"Looks through nature up to nature's God,"
with reverence and love, and then attempts to portray the
images in his own glowing mind-is he not a poet? His fervid imagination may create visible imagery in marble and on
canvas; or, through language that "breathes" and "burns,"
he may present the same imagery.
"A great painter and a great poet must alike be formed
by study and instruction. The elementary course of their
instruction is parallel. Expansion is given to the same
powers of mind; the same models are held up to their admiration; similar passions are to be delineated by each, and
both are intent to catch the living features. It is only in
the application of principles to practice, that their paths
diverge. Versification and coloring, plot and perspective,
are the mechanical branches which constitute the difference
of their arts."
When the poet, Dante, was in exile at Ravenna, he heard
that his distinguished fellow-citizen, Giotto, was then studying at Ferrara, and sent to invite him to come and join him.
The painter went, and there a friendship was formed between these extraordinary men, which served to soothe the
grief and bitter feelings of the poet's mind.


- -------- ----- --- - - --~ ---:-- ~-;~





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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


While at Florence, in the year 1322, tidings were received by Giotto of the death of his friend, the celebrated
poet. Giotto deeply felt the loss of his friend, and some of
the next works he executed owed their chief excellence to
former conversations with Dante, which he now recalled.
Many artists have adopted both modes of portraying their
exquisite perceptions of the beautiful in nature, of the noble
in sentiment, the delicate and sublime in character.
Allston was as truly a poet, as he was a painter. What
painter could more vividly present a scene through the
medium of drawing and colors, than Allston has done in
the following passage?  "We made Boston harbor on a
clear evening in October. It was an evening to remember! The wind fell and left our ship almost stationary
on a long, low swell, as smooth as glass, and undulating,
under one of our gorgeous autumnal skies, like a prairie of
amber. The moon looked down upon us like a living thing,
as if to bid us welcome," etc. "I was in the very waters,"
he continues, with a burst of patriotic feeling, "which the
gallant Constitution had first broken; whose building I saw
when at college, and whose 'slaughter-breaking brass,' to
use a quotation from worthy Cotton Mather's Magnalia, but
now 'grew hot and spoke' her name among the nations."
Allston has somewhere said, that unless the spectator possess
the imaginative faculty, the works of some of the great
masters "will have little more meaning to him than a calico
counterpane."
~ _.'







THE  ARTIST.


103


His own vivid imagination gave life and reality to pictures of all kinds. lHe says, "I am by nature a uide liker.
I cannot honestly turn up my nose even at a piece of still
life, since, if well done, it gives me pleasure. A picture of
a totally different kind, by Ludovico Carracci, took great
hold on me. The subject was the body of the Virgin, borne
for interment by four apostles. The figures are colossal,
the tone dark, and of tremendous depth of color. It
seemed, as I looked at it, as if the ground shook under their
tread, and the air were darkened by their grief."
"To no other man whom I have known," said Allston,
"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 fountain of his mind was never dry, but
like the far-reaching aqueducts that once supplied this mistress of the world, its living stream seemed specially to flow
for every classic ruin over which we wandered. 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 benevolent, and one that
while it has spared me much pain, has widened my sphere
of pleasure.


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104


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


A. volume of poems, by Allston, was published as early as
1813, in London.
Eckermann, in his conversations with Goethe, tells us
that the poet showed a landscape painted by Rubens, which
was painted with such truth and fidelity, that he remarked,
"Rubens must have copied the picture from nature."  "By
no means," said Goethe; "so perfect a picture is never
seen in nature. We are indebted for its composition, to the
poetic mind of the painter; but the great Rubens had such
an extraordinary memory, that he carried all nature in his
head, and she was always at his command in the minutest
particulars. Thence comes such truth in the whole and in
parts, that we think it must be a copy from nature. No such
landscapes are painted now-a-days. This way of feeling
and seeing nature no longer exists. Our painters are wanting in poetry."
The only true fountain of beauty, is feeling. It is feeling which reveals to us true ideas and correct intentions,
and gives that indefinable charm, never to be conveyed in
words, but which the hand of the artist, guided by the poet's
soul alone, can diffuse throughout all his works. From religious feeling, love, and devotion, arose the silent inborn
inspiration of the old masters; few, indeed, now seek their
hallowed inspiration, or tread the paths by which alone they
could attain it, or emulate that earnest endeavor to work out
the principle of serious and noble philosophy, which is discoverable in the works of Durer and Leonardo da Vinci.







TIE  ARTIST.


105


Vain will be our effort to recall the genius of art, until we
summon to our aid the Christian philosophy founded on religion. Still, if young artists deem this road too distant or
too difficult of attainment, let them at least study deeply the
principles of poetry, in which the same spirit ever breathes
and moves. Not so much the poetry of the Greeks, as
Shakspeare, the best Italian and Spanish dramatists, and
those, also, of the old German poems which are most accessible; and next, such modern productions as are dictated
by the spirit of romance. These should be the constant
companions of the youthful artist; they will lead him back
to the fairy-land of old romantic days, chasing from his eyes
the prosaic mist, engendered by imitation of the pagan antique, and the unsound babble of conventional art. Still,
every effort will be fruitless, unless the painter be endowed
with earnest religious feeling, genuine devotion and immortal faith.*
Goethe advised a friend to make a capital that would be
permanently useful, by the study of the English and literature. The same recommendation he might have offered to
an artist: "You have not been able greatly to avail yourself
of the ancient languages during your youth; seek now a
strong hold in the literature of so able a nation as the English. These fifty years I have been busy with the English
language and literature. But," said he, addressing a young
Englishman, "you do well to come to us and learn our lan* Schlegel.





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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


guage; for not only does our own literature merit attention,
but no one can deny that he who knows German can dispense with many other languages. French, indeed, cannot
be dispensed with; for it is the language of conversation,
and essential to comfort in traveling, as every body understands it, and in all countries it serves you instead of an
interpreter. But as for Greek, Latin, Italian, and Spanish,
we can read the best works of those nations in excellent
translations, and unless we have some particular object in
view, we may well dispense with spending much time upon
the toilsome study of their languages. You get a great deal
from a good translation."
The spirit of poetry never dies; even in this mechanical age
it is rife. Earth, sky, and ocean send up a perpetual hymn.
The "good old days," of which men delight to speak, were
no better than the present. So sings the poet Milnes:
"I know not that the men of old
Were better than men now;
Of heart more kind, of hand more bold,
Of more ingenuous brow;
I heed not those who pine perforce
A ghost of Time to raise,
As if they could check the course
Of these appointed days."
No! glorious things in Art are yet to be accomplished,
before which all the noble works that hitherto have delighted mankind, shall pale their ineffectual fires; for
Past and Future are the wings
On whose support harmoniously conjoined
Moves the great spirit of Human Knowledge.


- -





,~ 'L. _-;rC-.~--y---~ ~ ~rC ~ --~U~~

CHAPTER XIV.


PORT      AIT    PAINTING.
"Portrait painting is one of the ministers of vanity, and vanity is a munificent patroness. Historical painting seeks to revive the memory of the dead, and the dead are
very indifferent paymasters. Students who confine their studies to the works of the dead
need never hope to live themselves.'"-HIogarth.
IN the United States, as in other countries, almost every
painter commences with portraits, and until his reputation
is established, and perhaps for the greater part of his life,
he must depend upon this branch of his art for support.
To be popular and successful as a portrait painter, requires
much artistic skill and talent, a deep insight to human
character, and the capability of adaptation to endless varieties of human beings.
The husband of the celebrated Amelia Opie was a painter
of portraits, though he altogether preferred historical painting. In vindicating her husband from the accusation of
"speaking his mind" to his sitters, she says:            "Of all
employments portrait painting is, perhaps, the most painful
and trying to a man of pride and sensibility, and the most
irritating to an irritable man. To hear beauties and merits
in a portrait stigmatized as deformities and blemishes-to
have high lights taken for white spots, and dark effective
shadows for the dirty appearance of a snuff taker-to wit107


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108


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


ness discontent in the bystanders, because the painting does
not exhibit the sweet smile of the sitter, though it is certain
that a smile on canvas often looks like the grin of idiocy,
while a laughing eye, if the artist attempts to copy it, as
unavoidably assumes the disgusting resemblance of progressive intoxication. Sitters, themselves, Mr. Opie rarely
found troublesome; but persons of worship, as he called
them, that is, persons of great consequence, either from
talent, rank, or widely spreading connections, are sometimes
attended by others, whose aim is to endeavor to please the
great man, or woman, by flattery, wholly at the expense of
the poor artist, and to minister sweet food to the palate of
the patron, regardless though it be as wormwood to that of
the painter. Hence arises an eulogy on the beauties and
perfections of the person painted, and regrets that they are
so inadequately rendered by the person painting; while
frivolous objection succeeds to frivolous objection, and impossibilities are expected and required. I have too frequently witnessed this, and my temper and patience have
often been on the point of deserting me, while Mr. Opie's
had not, apparently, undergone the slightest alteration, a
strong proof that he possessed some of that self-command
which is one of the requisites of good breeding."
Opie painted a portrait of Charles Fox, which was hung
up in the exhibition room of the Academy. A dinner was
given in the exhibition room, at which Fox sat opposite to
Opie; he remembered that he had given less time to the





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109


painter than he requested, and said, across the table:
"There, Mr. Opie, you see I was right; everybody thinks
it could not be better. Now, if I had minded you, and
consented to sit again, you  most probably would have
spoiled the picture."
While this far-famed portrait was in progress, Opie became alarmed for his success; he was distracted by a multitude of hints, which friends, who came in swarms, dropped,
regarding the expression, the posture, and the handling.
Fox was amused with the variety of opinions, and kindly
whispered to Opie, "Don't mind what these people sayyou must know better than they do."
It is said that there was a want of grace and softness in
Opie's female heads till after his marriage with Amelia Opie.
When he exhibited some portraits soon after that event, one
of his brother artists said to him, "Opie, we never saw
anything like this in you before; this must be owing to
your wife." It is altogether probable that the artist had
divined the true cause of Opie's improvement.
The industry of Opie was indefatigable. "Hie was always in his painting room by half past eight in winter, and
by eight o'clock in summer, and there he generally remained,
closely engaged in painting, till half past four in winter, and
till five in summer. He did not suffer his exertions to be
paralyzed by neglect, the most unexpected, nor by disappointment, the most undeserved."
Hogarth was a man of rough address, unpolished man

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ners, and encumbered with the dangerous reputation of a
satirist.*  He was unacquainted with the art of charming
a peer into a patron, by putting him into raptures with his
own good looks.    There were other drawbacks.    The calm,
contemplative look, the elegance of form without the grace
of action, and motionless repose, approaching to slumber,
were not for him, whose strength lay in kindling figures
into life, and tossing them  into business. A   collection of
isolated lords and ladies, each looking more lazily into vacancy than the other, compared with historical pictures, are
as recruits drawn up in line and put into position by the
drill-sergeant, compared to soldiers engaged in the tumult
of battle, animated with high passions, and determined to
do or die.
Compared with the productions of the great masters of
Sthe art of portraiture, those of Hogarth are alike distinguished for their vigorous coarseness and their literal nature.  Ladies accustomed to come from     the hands of men
* This propensity to satire is a dangerous one. As Giotto was completing a picture for the king of Naples, who spent many hours in the
painter's studio, the monarch observed in jest: "Now, Giotto, I
should like you to paint me something on a larger scale; for instance,
my own kingdom." Giotto soon after presented the king with the
painting of an ass, suffering under a heavy bastinado. Instead of reFenting the blows, the beast was busy with his nose and feet at another bunch of rods, larger than that lie felt upon his back, as if desirous of mniking an exchange. On both the instruments of chastisoment
were painted the royal crown and sceptre. Whether or not the king
thought the painter carried the jest too far, it is certain Giotto very
soon after left Naples.





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111


practiced in professional flattery, with the airs of goddesses,
and sometimes with the name, would ill endure such a plainspoken mirror as Hogarth's. He was, moreover, no picker
of pleasant words.  These circumstances were not very
likely, either to augment the number of Hogarth's sitters,
or to cheat him into good humor with an originally uncongenial task. How striking the contrast between Hogarth
and his more popular rival, Sir Joshua Reynolds.
The portraits of Reynolds were equally numerous and
excellent, and all who have written of their merits, have
swelled their eulogiums by comparing them with the simplicity of Titian, the vigor of Rembrandt, and the elegance
and delicacy of Vandyke. Certainly, in character and expression, and in manly ease, he has never been surpassed. He
is always equal-always natural-graceful-unaffected. His
boldness of posture, and his singular freedom of coloring,
are so supported by all the grace of art-by all the sorcery
of skill-that they appear natural and noble. Over the
meanest head he sheds the halo of dignity; his men are
all nobleness; his women all loveliness, and his children all
simplicity; yet they are all like the living originals. He
had the singular art of summoning the mind into the face,
and making sentiment mingle in the portrait. He could
completely dismiss all his preconceived notions of academic
beauty from his mind, be dead to the past, and living only to
the present; and enter into the character of the reigning beauty of the hour, with a truth and a happiness next to magical.







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Burke, in pronouncing an eulogium upon his friend, Sir
Joshua, said: "In full affluence of foreign and domestic
fame, admired by the expert in art and by the learned in
science, courted by the great, caressed by sovereign powers,
and celebrated by distinguished poets, his native modesty
never forsook him, even on surprise or provocation; nor
was the least degree of arrogance or assumption, visible to
the most scrutinizing eye, in any part of his conduct or
discourse.)"
Reynolds had been warned by the surly, intractable, sarcastic spirit of Hogarth, which prevented his success in
portraiture, and resolved to woo the smiles of fortune in a
very different manner.
He who would succeed as a portrait painter must practice
the patience and the courtesy of a fine lady's physician. It
is not enough to put the sitter into a suitable posture, he must
also, by conversation, move him into a suitable mood of
mind, and an ease-a natural, unembarrassed ease of expression. He has, moreover, to keep him thus throughout the
whole of a tedious operation.
Gainsborough had none of the patience and courtesy
which rendered Reynolds so eminently successful. A certain lord went to Gainsborough to sit for his portrait. That
all might be worthy of his station, the nobleman had put
on a new suit of clothes, richly laced, with a well-powdered
wig. Down he sat, and put on a practiced look of such
importance and prettiness, that the artist, who was no flat




_ __


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113


terer, either with tongue or pencil, began to laugh, and was
heard to mutter, " This will never do."  The patient having composed himself in conformity with his station, said:
"Now, sir, I beg you will not overlook the dimple on my
chin." " Confound the dimple on your chin," said Gainsborugh; "I shall neither paint the one nor the other." And
he laid down his brushes and refused to resume them.
The sculptor, Nollekens, seems to have treated his "patients" in a very different manner. He was a blunt, honest
man, with much oddity and simplicity of manner. But
these traits rendered him at times quite amusing, particularly
to the ladies, who sat to him for their busts.
"While Nollekens was modeling the head of a lady of
rank, she forgot herself, changed her position and looked
more loftily than he wished: "Don't look so scorney,"
said the sculptor, modeling all the while, "else you will spoil
my bust-and you are a very fine woman; I think it will
make one of my very best busts."
Another time, he said to a lady who had a serious squint,
"Look for a minute the other way, for then I shall get rid
of that slight shyness in your eye, which, though not ungraceful in life is unusual in art."
On another occasion, a lady with some impatience in her
nature was sitting for a portrait; every minute she changed
her position, and wAith every change of position put on a
change of expression; his patience gave way: "La, woman!" exclaimed the unceremonious sculptor, "What mat10





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ter how handsome you are if you wont sit still till I model
you."   The lady smiled, and sat ever afterwards like a layfigure.*
The facetious Gilbert Stuart, on one occasion, exclaimed:
"What a business is this of a portrait painter! You bring
him a potato, and expect he will paint you a pear."
The portrait painter must maintain his own self-respect
without pride, and his modesty without self-abasement. He
may neither despise the humble, nor cringe to the rich and
powerful. The artist's studio is oftentimes considered a
privileged place for gossipping. Uundoubtedly, there are
great temptations to gossip for the amusement of sitters; but
remember that gossip needs to be made racy; and, too frequently, the condiment for that purpose is downright scandal. The artist, of course, sees a great deal that is amusing
and ludicrous, and to keep his sitters in good humour he
will be tempted to draw upon his memory for ridiculous
stories, which will serve well for that purpose. The sitters
who are thus amused will not feel very comfortable when
they consider that they are in turn to be served up to others
in the same way.
Another temptation to the artist, arising from the nature
of his profession, is too great a love of society; the society
of the gay, the idle and the dissipated. Frivolous society,
which will lower the tone of his mind and character-dissipated society, which will drag him down to the depths of ruin.


* Cunningham.


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115


He needs relaxation, and instead of seeking it in a ramble
in the country, or a ride on horseback, by which both the
physical and mental system would be invigorated, he flies
to the crowded assembly, the pernicious club, or the barroom. The habit of "entertaining boon companions, and
setting the table in a roar," totally unfits a man for an artist.
He requires a steady hand and a steady head, One who
knew better how to moralize than to practice, a well-known
portrait painter, expatiated to another artist on two pictures
he intended to paint, as follows:
"In one," said he, "I show the effects of bad habits and
strong liquors. I will paint a farm-house with everything
around it going, or gone to ruin; fences down-gates broken or unhinged-windows shattered, and old hats and petticoats for panes of glass-the man of the house in rags, and
bloated, reeling home from a tavern-his wife sallow, dispirited and sick, the children neglected, filthy, and crying
for bread. In the other picture, I will exhibit the effects of
industry and temperance on another farm-house and its inmates. The house and fences neat and painted white; all
serene around, and in the distance a golden harvest. The
white house, shaded by luxuriant fruit trees, the man, full
of health and vigor, having returned from the field, has his
blooming children around him and is plucking cherries for
them, while his wife, full of health, and smiling with content,
looks at him whom she loves, and invites him in to his meal.
In short, such a place as the abode of temperance must be."





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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


"By this time," says the brother artist, "we had arrived at
the abode of the painter who could conceive and describe these
scenes, and a commentary on the text was given. In the
front room was an easel, a pallet and brushes, with the paint
dried upon them. Two or three bad unfinished portraits
on the floor, confused furniture in scant quantity, and a
little dirty boy. The painter threw open a door and invited
me into a back apartment. It was small; on one side was
a bed, and on the other a pile of wood.    Opposite to
the door was a kind of cupboard. The centre of the room
was occupied by a table with bottles and glasses. He
opened the cupboard and took out a decanter of brandy, a
pitcher of water, and two tumblers, for which he found room
on the table. ' Come,' said he, 'drink.' 'No,' I replied 'I
belong to the white house.' 'Well, well,' said he, filling a
tumbler more than half full of brandy, ' if you will not drink
you shall see me drink,' and adding some water, swallowed
the whole."
The result of such conduct was such as might have been
anticipated. At the age of fifty-four, an age at which men
with half the vigor that he had been blessed with by nature, are
strong in body, and more strong in mind than at earlier periods, his mind and body were destroyed. The excellent artist
could not paint-the tongue which delighted the hearer was
paralyzed-the memory which furnished rich ideas for a rich
imagination to combine was no more. With a frame of iron
and constitution of steel, with a mind to contrive and a hand. -.--





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THE AR


TIST.            117


to execute, nature had endowed this extraordinary man;
but the good gifts were misused, the blessing of health and
strength counteracted by poisons, and the name of the unfortunate artist, a man of great talents and kind disposition,
can only be used "to point a moral."


I


--





_ __ ~II_


CHAPTER XV.


MORALITY.
"Who is the honest man?
He that doth still and strongly good pursue,
To God, his neighbor and himself, most true,
Whom neither force nor frowning can
Unpin, or wrench from giving all their due.
"Who never melts or thaws
At close temptations! When the day is done,
His goodness sets not; but in dark can run.
The sun to others writeth laws,
And is their virtue; virtue is his sun."-George Herbert.
To resist the peculiar temptations which haunt his footsteps, an artist must possess fixed principles, and        great
decision of character to maintain those principles. He is
tempted to flatter; flattery leads to deceit and falsehood.
"Do not let us lie at all," says the eloquent Ruskin; "do
not think of one falsity as harmless, and another as slight,
and another as unintended.      Cast them all aside; they may
be light and accidental, but they are an ugly soot from the
smoke of the pit, for all that; and it is better that our hearts
should be swept clean of them. Speaking truth is like
writing fair, and comes only by practice; it is less a matter
of will than of habit, and I doubt if any occasion can be
trivial which permits the practice and formation of such a
habit. To speak and act truth with constancy and precision, is nearly as difficult, and perhaps as meritorious, as
118




I







THE  ARTIST.


119


to speak it under intimidation and penalty. And seeing
that of all sin, there is, perhaps, no one more flatly opposed
to the Almighty, no one more wanting in virtue than this
of lying, it is surely a strange insolence to fall into the
foulness of it on slight, or on no temptation, and surely becoming an honorable man to resolve that whatever semblances or fallacies the necessary course of his life may
compel him to bear or to believe, none shall disturb the
serenity of his voluntary actions. I would have the spirit
of Truth clear in the hearts of our artists."
Method and punctuality, are essential requisites for a successful portrait painter.
Sir Joshua Reynolds gives an account of the economy of
his studies and the distribution of his time, during the most
lucrative part of his professional career, which is both
curious and instructive:
"It was his practice to keep all the prints engraved from
his portraits, together with his sketches, in a large portfolio; these he submitted to his sitters, and whatever position they selected, he immediately proceeded to copy it
upon his canvas, and paint the likeness to correspond. He
received six sitters daily, who appeared in their turns; and
he kept regular lists of those who sat, and of those who
were waiting until a finished portrait should open a vacancy
for their admission. He painted them as they stood on his
list.  Of lounging visitors he had a great abhorrence, and,
as he reckoned up the fruits of his labors, said, 'those idle


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120


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


people do not consider that my time is worth five guineas
an hour.' He rose early, breakfasted at nine, entered his
study at ten, examined designs or touched unfinished portraits, till eleven brought a sitter; painted till four, then
dressed and gave the evening to company.
"Notwithstanding his professional diligence, and the time
which he was compelled to yield to the attachment of friends
and the curiosity of strangers, he found leisure to study,
and to note down many useful remarks concerning his art.
He had a decided aversion to loquacious artists, and spoke
little himself while he was busied at his easel. When
artists love to be admired for what they say, they will have
less desire to be admired for what they paint. Dr. Johnson, when questioned by Boswell on the merit of portraits,
said, 'Sir, their chief excellence is being like-I would have
them in the dress of their times, to preserve the accuracy
of history; truth, sir, is of the greatest value in these
things.' To give the exact form and pressure of the man,
and animate him with his natural portion of intellect and no
more, requires a skillful hand, and a head which the love
of flattering is unable to seduce from the practice of truth;
to bestow proper expression, just character, and unstudied
ease, is infinitely difficult. Reynolds said he could teach
any boy, whom chance might throw in his way, to paint a
likeness. To paint like Velasquez is another thing. He
did at once and with ease, what we cannot accomplish with
time and labor. Portraits, as well as written characters of
--... ----   '.~..~- ~.--..- o      -_







THE   ARTIST.                  121
men, should be decidedly marked, otherwise they will be
insipid; and truth should be preferred before freedom of
Industry and economy are homely virtues; but, like other
homely handmaidens, they keep off the dust and rust of
life. "Hogarth held that contest with fortune for bread,
which is the usual lot of unfriended genius. Before the
world felt his talents, and while he was storing his mind
and his portfolio with nature and character, then was the
season of fluctuating spirits, rising and falling hopes, churlish landladies, and importunate creditors. When he had
conquered all these difficulties, he loved to dwell on these
scenes of labor and privation, and fight over again the
battle which ended so honorably to him as a man, and so
gloriously to him as an artist. He was heard to say of
himself, 'I remember the time when I have gone moping
into the city with scarce a shilling, but as soon as I received
ten guineas there for a plate, I have returned home, put on
my sword, and sallied out again with all the confidence of a
man who had thousands in his pockets.'
"With a head so clear, hands so clever, with youth and
independent feelings on his side, he could not be destitute;
and he never was."
Hogarth could not, for a long time, follow the bent of his
original genius entirely. He had a mother and sisters in a
measure dependent upon him, and success in his chosen
path wav uncertain; lie made sure of his bread by engraving


11





122


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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.




arms and crests. Silver bowls and tankards may yet be
found in England, the engravings of which were done by
Hogarth in his early days.
He embelished books with frontispieces and other illustrations. One of his biographers says, "No symptoms of
genius dawned in those early plates;" and another adds,
"But they are well worth examination, were it but to learn
the lesson which genius reckons ungracious-that no distinction is to be obtained without long study and welldirected labor."
"I could do little more than maintain myself till I was
near thirty," said the indefatigable artist; "but even then,
I was a punctual paymaster."
Hogarth, in the relations of son, brother, husband, and
friend, was generous and indulgent; with regard to himself,
he was abstemious, and frugal without parsimony; in his
hospitalities, liberal and free-hearted.
The sculptor, Nollekens, and his wife, were "passing
frugal people.'  By his persevering labor, the sculptor
amassed a large fortune; and though he had occasional fits
of generosity, it is to be lamented, that his economy degenerated into parsimony.
The king of Naples once said to the painter, Giotto,
"Now, Giotto, if I were you, I would not labor so hard
this hot weather." "Nor I, certainly," returned the painter,
"if I were the king."   Yet, that the labor, itself, was
pleasure, no one can doubt; and, with the same genius,


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TIE  ARTIST.


123


he would have felt impelled to labor, even had he been a
king.
Among the virtues of the artist, should be named kindness and generosity to other artists, especially to such as are
just struggling forward in the right path.
It was said of the noble Albrecht Durer, that "he knew
not what it was to envy other artists; he rejoiced over
everything that was good, and praised whatever there was
to praise. If an ill-executed work was brought to him, he
said, good-humoredly, 'Well, the master has done his best.'
Ile was well versed in the Scriptures, and they furnished
materials for his best representations. He never lent his
talent to indecency; his art was as pure as his morals."
Charles V., of Spain, inquired Michel Angelo's opinion
of Albrecht Durer. "Such is my esteem for him," replied
he, "that, were I not Michel Angelo, I would prefer to be
Durer even before Charles of Spain."  Yet Michel Angelo
is said to have been jealous of Raffaelle. On one occasion,
when these two great painters were conversing, and admiring together a work of Andrew del Sarto, Michel Angelo, turning to Raffaelle, exclaimed, "yes, there is that
little fellow in Florence, who, if he had been employed in
great matters as thou art, would have made thee sweat
again."
Refinement and delicacy of sentiment, may be named,
among the "moralities" for an artist.     No coarseness
should pollute his canvas nor desecrate his marble. How




124               SUCCESS      IN   LIFE.
ever tempted by lucre, he may not pander to vice, nor
execute works for sensuality to gloat over. No; let him
rather starve-die as a martyr to virtue-than thus to degrade noble Art to base purposes.   Hundreds of years ago,
was it said, or sung, by Sir Henry Walton:
"How happy is lie born and taught,
That servetl not another's will;
Whose armor is his honest thought,
And simple truth his utmost skill:
Whose passions not his master's are;
Whose soul is still prepared for death,
Untied unto the world by care
Of public fame, or private breath."









CHAPTER XVI.


GENIUS WTITHIOUT VIRTUE.
Believe not that your inner eye
Can ever in just measure try
The worth of hours as they go by;
For every man's weak self, alas,
blak3e him, to see them while they pass,
As through a dim or tinted glass.
Those surely are not fairly spent
That leave your spirit bowed and bent
In sad unrest and ill content.
So should we live, that every hour
May die as dies the natural flower.
A self-reviving thing of Power.-Milnes.
To secure the physical health of the living, men resort to
the painful necessity of dissecting the dead; to secure moral
health, similar dissections of human character are needful.
Equally revolting, and equally painful are the two operations.
But "the evil that men do lives after them;" and therefore, in accordance with the law of self-preservation, that
"evil" must be met in fair and open fight.
SThe aberrations of men of genius have done far more
harm to the world than all the gross vices of the stupid and
ignorant; they are excuses and palliatives for men of inferior minds; they are even imitated by dunces, who are
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126


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


capable of no other kind of emulation. Alas! for fallen
human nature!
Gilbert Stuart went to London and was a pupil of Benjamin West. Col. Trumbull, the painter, saw him there in
1780, and thus describes his appearance: "He was dressed
in an old black coat, with one half torn off the hip and
pinned up, and looked more like a poor beggar than a
painter."  He was wretchedly poor while in London, and
on one occasion, when he was sick, Trumbull called to see
him; he found him in bed and apparently very ill. Sometime afterwards he asked Trumbull if he had any idea what
was the matter with him. On being told that he had not,
Stuart stated that it was hunger! He had eaten nothing
in a week but sea-bread.
"(He became a fashionable and leading artist in the great
metropolis, where portrait painting has been carried to the
highest perfection," says Dunlap. "From the commencement of his independent establishment as a portrait painter
in London, success attended him, but he was a stranger to
prudence. He lived in splendor, and was the gayest of the
gay.*   As he said, of himself, he was a great beau. Pecu* Stuart never lost an opportunity for being merry. He was traveling, in England, in a stage-coach, with some gentlemen who were
strangers to him, but all sociable and full of spirits. They stopped
to dine; the conversation became animated and various. Stuart
blazed away in his dramatic manner. His companions were very desirous to know who and what he was. To the round about question,
to find out his calling or profession, Stuart answered with a grave
face and serious tone, that he "sometimes dressed gentlemen's and







THE  ARTIST.


127


niary difficulties induced him to leave London for Dublin.
There he met with disappoinment.     There is every reason to
suppose that his total want of prudence, or extreme negligence and extravagance, had placed him      in that situation
which induces men
'To do such deeds as make the prosperous man
Lift up his hands, and wonder who could do them."
Stuart returned to his native country in 1793.   "Stuart's
appetites and passions were of the kind said to be uncontrollable; that is, they were indulged when present danger or
inconvenience did not forbid.   In New York, as elsewhere,
the talents and acquirements of Stuart introduced him to
the intimate society of all who were distinguished by office,
ladies' hair." "You are a hair-dresser, then? " "What " said he,
"do you take me for a barber? " " I beg your pardon, sir, but I inferred it from what you said. If I mistook you, may I take the liberty to ask what you are, then? " " Why, I sometimes brush a gentleman's coat, or hat, and sometimes adjust a cravat." " Oh, you are a
valet, then, to some nobleman." "A valet! Indeed, sir, I am not;
I am not a servant; to be sure I make coats and waistcoats for gentleman." "Oh, you are a tailor I  " Do I look like a tailor? I'll assure you I never handled any goose but a roasted one." "What are
you, then?" exclaimed one. "I'll tell you," said Stuart. "Be assured all I have told you is literally true. I dress hair, brush hats
and coats, waistcoats and breeches, and likewise boots and shoes-at
your service." "Oho, a boot and shoemaker, after all!" "Guess
again, gentlemen; I never handled boot or shoe, but for my own feet
and legs; yet all I have told you is true." " We may as well give up
querying."
After checking his laughter, he said to them very gravely: " Now,
gentlemen, I will not play the fool with you any longer, but will tell
you, upon my honor as a gentleman, my bona fide profession. I get
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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


rank, or attainment; and his observing mind and powerful
memory rendered his conversation an inexhaustible fund of
amusement and information to his sitters and his companions. "
From New York Stuart went to Philadelphia, for the purpose of painting a portrait of Washington.
Stuart said he found more difficulty in expressing the
character of Washington on the canvas than in any effort
of the kind lhe had ever made.   He could usually draw out
the character of his sitters by his amusing colloquial efforts.
But Stuart knew not what conversation to address to the
dignified person before him, and lost self-possession.   He
finally succeeded, however, in producing one of the best
portraits which was ever taken of Washington.
Judge Hopkinson has related an anecdote which explains,
in part, the reason why Stuart suffered so much from
my bread by making faces! " He then screwed his countenance and
twisted his visage in a manner that any comedian might have envied.
When his companions, after loud peals of laughter, had composed
themselves, each took credit to himself for having suspected all the
while that the gentleman belonged to the theatre, and they all knew
he must be a comedian by profession; when, to their utter surprise,
he assured them he never was on the stage. They all now looked at
each other with astonishment.
Before parting, Stuart said to his companions: "Gentlemen, you
will find that all I have said of my various employments, is comprised
in these few words: I am a portrait painter. If you will call at John
Palmer's, York Buildings, London, there I shall be ready and willing
to make you a coat or hat, dress your hair, a la mode, supply you, if in
need, with a wig of any fashion or dimensions, accommodate you with
boots or shoes, give you ruffles or cravats, and make faces for you."







THE  ARTIST.


129


poverty. " Coemporary with our great portrait painter in
the city of Penn, was a great wine-merchant, and it is well
known that before his return to his native country, Stuart had
contracted an unfortunate habit which rendered the dealers in
wine very important personages in his estimation. It happened that the wine-merchant's taste for pictures was almost
as strong as the painter's taste for Maderia, and he was willing to indulge Stuart's natural palette in exchange for the
product of his artificial one. The wine-merchant had three
portraits; value, per bill, three hundred dollars. When the
painter and the wine-merchant balanced accounts, the dealer
in paint and immortality, was debtor to the dealer in wine,
per bill, two hundred dollars!"
"It should be borne in mind" said his friend, Dr. Waterhouse, "that Stuart had painted all the Presidents of the
United States, the present one excepted, (1833,) and most of
the distinguished characters of the Revolution, and that Sir
Joshua Reynolds himself sat to him, and that take him altogether he was one of the most extraordinary men our country has produced."  "With the most brilliant talents, and
through life, the admiration of every one who approached
him, or saw his works."
Gilbert Stuart died poor. How many without a hundreth
part of his talents have passed through life by their own
efforts, not only without embarrassment from poverty, but in
affluence, merely by following the dictates of prudence and
conscience.  With reference to more than his want of





I


130             SUCCESS     IN  LIFE.
affluence, it may be said, as was said of another professor of
the fine arts, "poorly, poor man, he lived, poorly, poor man,
he died."
It is sad, indeed, thus to record the aberrations of men of
genius, but warning is as needful to the young as encouragement. There are peculiar temptations lying all along in
the path of the artist, and such an example, as that of Stuart,
utters aloud-Beware! Beware!


- - - --- -'




_ __






CHAPTER XVII.


THE MANHiOOD OF THE ARTIST.
DOMESTIC      LIFE.
"The artist has a double existence, one in imagination and in his works, the other as a
man in his home; and each pervades, completes, and supports the other, and neither is
long, without the other, good and available.' '-Artist's M.arried Life,
No man on earth more imperatively needs a home, a quiet,
peaceful home, than the artist. His absorbing pursuits, in
a measure, unfit him for the petty cares of this every day
"bank-note world."     Who shall relieve him    from the burden, or bear it with him?
"A being breathing thoughtful breath,
A traveler betwixt life and death;
The reason firm, the temperate will,
Endurance, foresight, strength and skill;
A perfect woman nobly planned,
To warn, to comfort and command."
The opinion has come to be too general, that an artist
must forego the comforts of domestic life.    "Are you married yet?" enquired a friend of an artist, who had not seen
him  for several years.    "Certainly not," was the reply;
"painting is my wife."
Men of superior genius, whose lives were a protracted martyrdom, may have done more for posterity than the sculptor
131


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132


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


Flaxman; but there are few happier lives than his on record.
The manhood of Flaxma:l was perfectly consistent with his
grave and quiet childhood, his industrious and moral boyhood.
"In the year 1782 he quitted the paternal roof, hired a
small house and studio in Wardaur street, collected a stock
of choice materials, set his sketches in good order, and took
unto himself a wife, Ann Denman, one whom he had long
loved, and who deserved his affection. She was amiable
and accomplished, had a taste for art and literature, was
skillful in French and Italian, and, like her husband, had
acquired some knowledge of Greek. But what was better
than all, she was an enthusiastic admirer of his geniusshe cheered and encouraged him in his moments of despondency-regulated modestly and prudently his domestic economy-arranged his drawings-managed now and then his
correspondence-and acted in all particulars as though the
church, in performing their marriage, had accomplished a
miracle; and blended them really into one flesh and one blood.
The sculptor, happy in the company of one who had taste
and enthusiasm, soon renewed with double zeal the studies
which courtship and matrimony had interrupted. He had
never doubted that in the company of the wife whom he
loved he should be able to work with an intense spirit; but
of another opinion was that confirmed old bachelor, Sir
Joshua Reynolds.
"So Flaxman," said Sir Joshua, one day, as he chanced





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THE  ARTIST.


133


to meet him, "I am told you are married; if so, sir, I tell
you, you are ruined for an artist!"
Flaxman went home, sat down beside his wife, took her
hand and said, with    a smile, "I am    ruined for an
artist."
"John," said she, "how has this happened, and who has
done it?"
"It happened," said he, "in the church, and Ann Denman has done it; I met Sir Joshua Reynolds just now, and
he said marriage had ruined me in my profession."
Bat was it so? No, indeed. Flaxman and his good little
wife were not to be frightened by the sneer of the testy old
bachelor; they went on quietly in their own way, determined to disprove his assertion. They asked no advice of
others; they shared their domestic concerns with none of
their neighbors, and lived apparently unconscious of the stir
and strife of a great city.
"Ann," said the sculptor, "I have long thought that I
could not rise to distinction in art without studying in Italy,
but these words of Reynolds' have determined me. I shall
go to Rome, as soon as my affairs are fit to be left; and to
show him that wedlock is for a man's good, rather than
for his harm, you shall accompany me."
In this resolution Mrs. Flaxman fully concurred. They
resolved to consult no one, and in order to accomplish the
undertaking without assistance, they determined to practice
strict economy. It was five years after the disheartening





134


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


speech of Sir Joshua before they were able to realize their
pet plan.
One who knew Flaxman well has given a discription of
his household as follows: "I remember his humble little
house in Wardaur street. All was neat, nay, elegant; the
figures from which he studied were the finest antiques, the
nature which he copied was the fairest that could be had,
and all in his studio was propriety and order. But what
struck me most, was the air of devout quiet which reigned
everywhere; the models which he made, and the designs
which he dre.w, were not more serene than he was himself,
and his wife had that meek composure of manner which he
so much loved in art.
Yet, better than all was the devout feeling of this singular man; there was no ostentatious display of piety; nay, he
was in some sort a lover of mirth and sociality, but he was a
reader of the Scriptures,* and a worshiper of sincerity, and
if ever purity visited the earth she resided with John Flaxman."
It is also recorded of him that he visited suffering widows
and orphans, and relieved them frequently by small donations, and gave it to them privately that he might not be
seen by men.
In 1787 Flaxman and his wife went to Rome, where he
studied with intense delight the remains of ancient art.


S"I have but one book, sir," said the poet Collins, "but that is the
best."





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135


"Into these works he looked with the eye of a sculptor and
of a Christian." He resolved that if possible all his future
works in sculpture should embody passages of Holy Writ,
and exhibit the divine dispensation of our blessed Saviour.
But in Rome, as eleswhere, Flaxman was obliged to labor
for his support, and was therefore obliged to follow in part
the taste of the persons for whom he executed works of art.
He illustrated Homer,,Eschylus and Dante.
"Long ere this time of life he had shown, in numerous
instances, that he regarded gold only as a thing to barter for food and raiment, and which enabled him to realize,
in benevolent deeds, the generous wishes of his heart. As
a fountain whence splendor, honor and respect might flow,
he never considered it; and in a plain dress, and from  a
frugal table, he appeared among the rich and the titled,
neither seeking their notice nor shunning it. In all these
sentiments his wife shared.
Those who desire to see Flaxman aright during his seven
years' study in Italy, must not forget to admit into the picture the modest matron who was ever at his side, aiding
him by her knowledge and directing him by her taste.
They loved each other truly-they read the same booksthought the same thoughts-prized the same friends-were
at peace with each other, and had no wish to be separated.
Their residence was in the Via Felice; and all who wished
to be distinguished for taste or genius were visitors of the
sculptor's humble abode.


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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


Enjoying thus the sweetest domestic happiness, he had
no disturbing forces to operate against his progress in his
chosen profession. He felt deeply his indebtedness to his
wife, and testified it in a touching and peculiar manner.
"IHe caused a little quarto book to be made, containing
some score or two of leaves, and with pen and pencil proceeded to embellish it. On the first page is drawn a dove,
with an olive branch in her mouth; an angel is on the right,
and an angel on the left, and between is written, 'To Ann
Flaxman;' below, two hands are clasped as at the altar,
two cherubs bear a garland, and the following inscription to
his wife introduces the subject:
"The anniversary of your birthday calls on me to be
grateful for fourteen happy years passed in your society.
Accept the tribute of these sketches, which, under the allegory of a knight-errant's adventures, indicate the trials of
virtue and the conquest of vice, preparatory to a happier
state of existence. After the hero is called to the spiritual
world, and blessed with a celestial union, he is armed with
power for the exercise of his ministry, and for fulfilling the
dispensations of Providence; he becomes the associate of
Faith, Hope, and Charity, and as Universal Benevolence, is
employed in acts of mercy.-John Flaxman, October 2d,
1796."
The designs which tell this noble story amount to forty.
There is much poetic dignity in the conception of this poem,
(for such I must call it,) and as much in the handling; nor





r


THE ARTIST.


107


do I know of anything in the whole compass of our worksl
of Ogenius with which it can be more aptly cominpared than
Spencer's Fi'iry Queen.
it was the object of Flaxman to exhibit his ''Knigiht
of thlie Burnin  Cross," fulfilling all the duties which our
Saviour enjoined. Tihis ''grand moral- poem" was executed
in pencil sketches of great beauty, and must have been a
most acceptable offering to that excellent wife.
SFlaxmtn was gay, cheerful and compa:nionable; lie was
not one of those who take their mirth abroal, and reserve
moroseness for home. iHe would often cheer the winter
evening by composing light and amusing thingis for the
entertainment of his family, or his friends; ingenious little
stories in prose or verse, illustrated with sketches, serious
and burlesque. Much of the peculiar talent of the man found
its way into those unstudied trifles; in his hand the merriest legend failed not to put on a moral aim and a classic
grace.
"For thirty-ei1ght years Flaxman enjoyed uninterrupted
domestic happiness.  His wife continued the same cheerful,
intelligent companion that she had been in their early wedded life. Hecr husband's respect and affection were such as
any wommn would consider beyond all price. She had aided
him in his profession, sympathized in his trials, kept up the
steady glow of his enthusiasm, anrid been the light and joy
of his home. WV-en aly ciiticisms, wthi regard to English
composition, took place at his table or fireside, he would
12


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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


say, with a smile, 'Ask Mrs. Flaxman, she is my dictionary.'
"She maintained the simplicity and dignity of her husband, and refused all presents unless some reciprocal interchange were made. Could it be otherwise, than that the
gentle, affectionate Flaxman should love such a woman tenderly?  The hour of their earthly separation came in the
year 1820.
"From the time of this bereavement, a lethargy came
over the spirit of the sculptor; she, who had shared in all
his joys and sorrows, was gone, and nothing could comfort
him. Their separation was of short duration. In less than
six years he followed to the world of spirits."
The inscription on his tomb is as follows:
"John Flaxman, R. A. P. S., whose mortal life was a
constant preparation for a blessed immortality; his angelic
spirit returned to the Divine Giver on the 7th of December,
1826, in the seventy-second year of his age."
Such a life needs no comment.







CHAPTER         XVIII.
REASONS      FOR   BECOMING'      AN   ARTIST.
"The busy world shoves angrily aside,
The man who stands with arms akimbo,
Until occasion tells him  what to do."-LoweRl.
"We judge ourselves by what we are capable of doing; others judge us by what
we have done."
THE first and chief reason for any one's being an artist,
is, because such was evidently the design of Providence.
Well might the monarch say he could make noblemen, but
God alone could make such artists as Michel Angelo.*   To
fulfill His own all-wise purposes, He has bestowed various
gifts upon men, and in various degrees.
There is no difficulty in finding out what these gifts are,
in each individual case, if early development be carefully
watched.   Did any one doubt that Salvator Rosat might
become a painter, after they had seen what he could produce
with the end of a burnt stick, the only pencil he could command?    Perhaps the monks, who soundly whipped the boy
for drawing on the walls of their chapel, thought the propensity might be whipped out of him, or, at least, that he might
* Henry VIII. said, of seven peasants he could make seven noblemen, but he could not make one Hans Holbein.
SBorn near Naples, 1615.
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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


be whipped into the church, for whichhi is parents had designe.d him. He was greatly indebted, however, to the wellmeaning monks, for they sent him to school, where lie acquired a good classical education; but nothing could divert
him from following the bent of his genius.
A father may say, as he lays his hand upon the clustering
curls of his first-born boy-" This son I will make a lawyer;
this next fair-haired laddie, I will make a clergyman; and
as for the brave boy, still in his nurse's arms, he shall be
an artist."
Allons! make the first a lawyer; educate him from
childhood for that profession, but should he have been designed for an artist, his books, perchance, will display ornamented margins of his own drawing, and the walls of his
bed-room give the same proofs of his inventive faculty, as
did those of Salvator Rosa. Try again with the next. He
will not be a lawyer, but his vocation you had hit upon in
the first place, he will be a clergyman. As for the youngster-"Why may not that be the scull of a lawyer?"   In
due time he is crammed with Latin and Greek, and sent to
college, 'stoutly rebelling all the while against the procedure; he is not building "castles in the air," but the
time that he should have devoted to the classics is employed
upon designs for real, substantial buildings-the boy will
be an architect. This original capacity, or aptitude, for
certain pursuits, is now very generally acknowledged; yet
it is almost invariably overlooked when the choi:e of a pro






THE  ARTIST.


141


fession or trade is under consideration. When pride, or
interest comes in the way, then, circumstainces nimake the
mian; they say-he may as well use the intellect for one
purpose as for another.
They do not. dleny that there is gradation-from an idiot
to a Newton-but they for the nonce deny, that Newton had
any more capacity from nature, for mathematics, than he
had for sculpture; only that circumstances determined him
into that particular cours~e of mental action. The ori(rginal
sameness of the human capacity!The original material of
diamond and charcofal  The same-the very same-therefore they are precisely alike, and you may set the charcoal
in gold and surround it with pearls, and use diamonds to
raise the steam for one of Collins' ocean monsters.
Nothing can be more absurd, than this notion of original
sameness. How many lives, in consequence of it, have
been worse than wasted. How many have (Idrudged in dull
discontent, on the tread-mill to which they had been consioned by misjudgin (g friends.
On the other Band, how maniiy have ambitiously aspired
to what was beyond their reach.
Bocause a boy dislikes school, it is ii n proof that hlie would
like mechanical labor. Hie may bo only lazy. But if the
same boy finds, from day to day, the acquisuition of knowledge from books an exceedingly iIrksome tashK, and leaves
the school-room with joy, to go to a neighboring brook,
where he is building a bridge; if he there labors incessantly





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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


and effectively till he has built a good bridge-and demonstrates that he has mechanical talent-then he had better
build bridges for the rest of his life, than study Greek and
Latin, preparatory to making a very poor scholar.
The boy may be clever enough about everything else but
the very thing, for which his anxious parents have designed
him.
Then, again, he may rebel against nature, and endeavor
to thwart her designs. IHe may say, I will not be an artist,
for artists are always poor as fishes: I must be rich-I
will be a merchant. No, no, my boy; if you possess true
genius, you will not long be of that opinion. You will
spurn such a low thought-you will so delight in following
out the promptings of genius, that paltry pelf will only for
a brief space come between you and those visions of beauty,
which will soon engross all thought and effort. By some
wonderful power of adaptation, or some inscrutable law,
most men find, like water, their level. Some unfortunates, indeed, continue buried under mountains of difficulty all their lives; but others burst all opposing obstacles,
and like geysers, astonish mankind.
But training--training; if the boy will submit to it, he
can be trained and gently led the way we wish.
Can you train a woodbine to twine around a column from
west to east? will it not pertinaciously adhere to the bent
which nature has given it, and insist upon going from east
to west?  Could Walter Scott have been Dr. Johnson? or


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TIE  ARTIST.


143


Dr. Franklin, Milton?  Could Wordsworth have been Napoleon? or Thorwaldsen, Wellington?
An acorn and a hazelnut bear some resemblance to each
other-plant them in the same soil, bestow upon them the
same culture-the acorn will produce the noble oak tree,
the hazelnut only a stunted bush.
You cannot make a dwarf a giant, by stretching him all
his life on a Procrustean bed; neither can you entirely
dwarf a giant, by reversing the process; though you may rob
him, in a degree, of his fair proportions. There is mental
as well as physical stature-there is a mould in which the
mind is cast, and from which it takes its form and pressure,
as truly as there is a mould for the hazelnut and the acorn.
Did the father of Shakspeare, the ignorant woolcomber,
educate Shakspeare for a dramatist?  Were there any circumstances in his early life, that predisposed the boy to
philosophy and poetry? Who taught Giotto painting? Not
Cimabue, his reputed master, though Giotto has been said to
be the greatest work that ever came out of that master's
studio. Who taught Pascal geometry?     Not his father,
who shut up all mathematical books from his sight, so that
the boy was obliged to draw diagrams upon the floor and
walls of his room, and invent problems for himself. Who
gave Michel Angelo, Raffaelle, and Leonardo da Vinci the
impulse which impelled each and all of them to be architects, painters and sculptors? Neither popes nor cardinals,
neither monarchs nor merchant princes, though they won






144


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


dered at their inborn greatness, and delighted to honor
them, in life and in deat.h.*  The eye of one man sees no
farther than his hand can reach; another takes in the whole
creation at a glance, and lights it up with a living glow.
One man sees in the resplendent rivers, only grand waterpowers; and another, in the sublimest of cataracts, a "nice
place to sponge cloth;" while to the lover of beauty and
sublimity, they reveal a ' present Deity," and call forth
exultant admiration.
We may go still farther. One painter is a good colorist,
he has an eye for color. Sir Joshua Reynolds, though he
professed to admire, almost to idolatry, the genius of Michel
Angelo, could never imitate him in form and composition-his forte was color, and portrait painting. West was
skillful in composition, but detestable as a colorist. Titian's
coloring was inimitable, but, in other respects, he was inferior to Rembrandt. Another painter can represent nature,
like Claude Lorraine, in landscape, while he cannot portray
the "human face divine."   IIogarth learned that his forte
lay, in that world of truth and nature, where the ludicrous
and pathetic are so mysteriously blended, and gave up the
painting of grand historic subjects to men of different natural
abilities.
There are some painters who have little invention, but
large imitative faculties. These are the portrait painters.
* Leonardo da Vinci died, reclining on the bosom of Francis I. of
France.





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THE  ARTIST.


145


Imitation was eminently the leading characteristic of the late
Sir Thomas Lawrence. Now, imitation may be said to be far
inferior to the inventive faculty; so far as to be undeserving
of the name of genius, which is in its very nature creative.
Genius is both imitative and creative. When a painter executes works equal to those of Lawrence, we cannot safely
deny that he possesses genius for portrait painting. From
the child and savage, up to the man of the strongest intellectual power and most refined culture, there is pleasure felt
in viewing a successful imitation-the look of life which
cheats the eye.
Sir Thomas Lawrence added to this charm that of a delicate touch and fine coloring. Moreover, the attitudes, the
accessories, the very drapery of his portraits aided in giving
the predominant character of the individual represented.
"His lords are prodigiously lordly," says an English
critic; "his senators are the very men in their best looks,
whom we see in the two Houses; shrewd, sagacious, and
reflecting - conscious of power and privilege: and never
doubting the result of the next election. Is it to be wondered at that this artist was eminently popular?  There is
much in his pictures that is delightful, and nothing that can
diAplease. He makes no demand upon our imaginations
with which they are unable to comply. With him we are
in a pleasant valley, beside a quiet stream, and the Naiades
and Dryades are all the most polished ladies and gentlemen. IIe does not place us on the brink of some grand,
13




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146             SUCCESS     IN   LIFE.
but tremendous precipice, and make our weak brains whirl
with giddiness as we look down. His lakes are always in
sunshine, and gently curled with a spring breeze; and his
rivers at no season of the year are flooded to torrents. But
there are feelings in the human heart, which a painter may
awaken, far nobler and more stirring than those produced by
such objects."
As an instance of a far higher order of genius, Martin
is contrasted with Lawrence by the same critic. "No
painter," says this enthusiastic admirer of Martin, "has ever
like him represented the immensity of space-none like him
made architecture so sublime, merely through its vastness;
no painter, like him, has spread forth the boundless valley, or
piled mountain upon mountain to the sky-like him has
none made light pour down in dazzling floods from heaven;
and none, like him, has painted the 'darkness visible of
the infernal deeps.' "
Martin, fortunately, like Hogarth, struck into his own peculiar path, and has kept it faithfully. That path lies by the
vast, the magnificent, the terrific, the supernatural. Who
but Martin could have painted his FEAST OF BELSHAZZAR?
"A wicked and arrogant king sits with his thousand lords,
his wives and his concubines, at the feast, and impiously
profanes the vessels which had been consecrated to the worship of the One God: but the gods of gold and of silver, of
brass, of iron, of wood and of stone, they praise and worship.
The measure of his guilt is full, and the punishment must


--







TIHE  ARTIST.


147


follow. But, in the face of all has the crime been perpetrated, and before the eyes of all must his doom be announced.
In the height of their sacrilegious banquet, a hand, an armless hand, writes upon the wall the irrevocable words, and
having written them disappears. Then is the king's countenance changed and his thoughts trouble him, so that the
joints of his loins are unloosed, and his knees smite one
against another. The astrologers and the soothsayers strive
in vain to read the unknown characters; but the prophet of
God appears and interprets them to the king. This is the
subject of the picture-a theme grand, awful and difficult.
It is not a subject for a fine colorist merely, or an expert
draughtsman, but for a poet who can embody his conceptions
in form and color."
The painter makes the daring attempt to represent "a
scene in which the Deity himself, not all invisibly working,
is an immediate agent."
He produces an overwhelming awe arising from the mysterious and awful hand writing upon the wall. That sublime hand writing-the MENE, MENE, TEKEL-glares with
supernatural light upon an entablature of the magnificent
palace of the king. The " hand" has left it there, to affright
the monarch and his courtiers, to confound the Chaldeans and
astrologers, and to be read alone by the prophet of God.
The fearful letters cast their vivid glare upon the ghastly
faces of the bewildered crowd, and the once brilliant lamps
of the festal hall, "pale their ineffectual fires."





148             SUCCESS     IN   LIFE.
The vast and massive architecture imparts a solemn
grandeur to the scene, while its calm immobility contrasits
strikingly with the panic and phrensy of the multitude.
"A tremendous tower, buried in clouds, and darkly visible
under the flaring of the distant lightning, looks grimly over
the roofless palace-hall, as if its impious builders had indeed
made its top reach unto the heaven. Every thing in this
wonderful picture combines to excite and sustain that emotion of sublime and supernatural awe, which is the ruling
sentiment, the very soul of the subject."  It was Martin's
special mission to paint that picture and others of a similar
character.







CHAPTER XIX.
INCENTIVES       AND    DISCOURAGELMENTS.
" The way to be an excellent painter is to be an excellent man. And these united make
a character that would shine in a better world than this.'"-Richardson.
IT has been said that our country yet offers few encouragements to the artist. This might have been said with truth
twenty or thirty years ago, but now there are abounding
facts to disprove the assertion.  Orders come to our best
artists faster than they can execute them.
The Americans have been called "a mechanical people;"
time and opportunity granted, and they will become eminently artistical. They are not a phlegmatic people, insensible to the charms of Nature and the beauties of Art. They
are hardy and mercurial, imitative and ingenious. The mixture of all nations here, and the powerful influence of climate, have produced a modification of the Anglo-Saxon
character, differing widely from the home-born and homebred English. Its elements, of course, are the same, but
the sombre clay has been kneaded up with a goodly quantity of quicksilver. The English have never been remarkable
for elegance and taste; they have never produced the finest
models in art, excepting in architecture, and that was of lang
syne; but they can boast of being very respectable artists.
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150


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


This they acknowledge, or did thirty years ago. Perhaps
they may say, "we have changed all these things now."
Thirty years ago one of their ablest writers said: "An Englishman does not ordinarily pretend to combine his own
gravity, plainness and reserve, with the levity, loquacity,
grimace, and artificial politeness, as it is called, of the
Frenchman. Why, then, will he insist upon engrafting the
fine upon the domestic arts, as an indispensable consummation
of the national character?  We may, indeed, cultivate them
as an experiment in natural history, and produce specimens
of them, and exhibit them as rarities in their kind, as we do
hot-house plants and shrubs; but they are not of native
growth or origin. They do not sit as graceful ornaments,
but as excrescences on the English character; they are like
'flowers in our caps, dying ere they sicken;' they are
exotics and aliens to the soil. We do not import foreigners
to dig our canals, or construct our machines, or solve difficult problems in political economy, or write Scotch novels
for us; but we import our dancing masters, our opera singers,
our valets and our cooks, as till lately we did our painters and
sculptors.
" The progress of the fine arts has been slow and wavering, and unpromising in our country, and their encouragement has been cold and backward in proportion."
Our own country, these United States, is now rich enough
to patronize artists, and the people are sufficiently cultivated, by foreign travel and domestic education, to appreciate







THE   ARTIST.                  151
genius. They are improving in taste. They have, moreover,
patriotism enough to be willing to encourage native talent.
But setting aside patriotism, who does not prefer one of
Cole's landscapes of American scenery, to a host of the
tame productions of modern Italian artists?  Who does not
infinitely prefer the " Greek Slave" to all the statues modern
France has produced?
The Americans are accused of boastfulness. They have
been so often basely maligned and so severely ridiculed, that
they have been compelled to defend themselves, and in so
doing have, perhaps, made too great a flourish of trumpetsbut we may modestly boast of our artists, without gainsaying.
West was an American-Copley became a good artist before he went abroad. Leslie commenced painting in this
country. Trumbull, Stuart, Vanderlyn, Cole, Inman, were
native artists. Allston, and a host of living painters, whom
it would be a pleasure to name, have ably vindicated our
claim to genius in that branch of the fine arts. Our sculptors, too, have wide-world fame. Our architects-"look
around "-they do not "hide their light under a bushel."
There is encouragement of another kind to the artist in
this country, which does not exist in England. "Art," said
Allan Cunningham, "has not yet become with us a fashionable profession for the gentlemen and scholar! Sir Thomas
Lawrence was the son of an inn-keeper. Jackson, of a tailor.
Gainsborough, the son of a clothier, etc., etc." What then?
They became distinguished mnie, and the first, espiialHy,







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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


had every claim to the title of gentleman. Artists, from
time immemorial, have shone like fixed stars by their own
light, while "honors possessed by heritage, are like stars
seen in the ocean, which were never there but for the originals in heaven."  Painting, sculpture and architecture are
among the liberal arts, and the son of the most distinguished statesman in America does not "lose caste" by
becoming a painter. Far from    it; our painters have been
"scholars and gentlemen."    Though we are not bound by
the fetters of "caste" yet there is here an "aristocracy"-the
aristocracy of talent-the highest round on the ladder of
aristocracy-excepting, that of goodness.
" The first nobleman in the land,"* says an English writer,
"may practice painting, as an amusement, may devote to it
much of his time and may attain a proficiency equal to that
of a professional artist, without it being considered derogatory to his rank; but if the tenth son of the lowest baron
were to follow painting as a profession, there would be
many well-meaning, ridiculous persons who would hold up
their hands in surprise and horror at such a step. Painting
is treated as a mechanical art, and the man of rank would
be considered to lose caste by following it. Now, without
summoning to our aid that undeniable principle, that there
is no real disgrace in any honest calling, or taking higher
and sounder ground of argument than the customs and
a Even in the royal family of Great Britain, as well as among the
nobility, there have been amateur sculptors.,




THE   ARTIST.                  153
prejudices of society, we must say, that there seems to be
something very unreasonable in this exclusion of the art of
painting from such professions as a gentleman is at liberty
to follow. Why should the announcement from    a nobleman, that one of his younger sons discovers a strong bent
for painting, and will, therefore, become a painter by profession, be answered, as it would, by a stare and a shrug, and
remain a theme of wonder and reproach?  Society admits
that a peer may, without shame, sell the productions of his
pen, why might he not dispose of the productions of his
pencil?  If the Honorable Mr. Such-a-one, a barrister, may
take guinea fees without contamination, why may he not
equally, without disgrace, paint a picture, send it to an exhibition, and sell it for a hundred pounds?"
For no reason in the world that ought to have the least
weight with a rational being untrammeled by narrow conventionalisms. These strange notions are the more remarkable in England, where artists, once acknowledged to possess
genius, find easy access into the highest social "caste."
Sir Joshua Reynolds, West and Lawrence, were the companions even of royalty, and mingled with some of the most
aristocratic society in England; the same may be said of
some eminent artists of the present day.
Happily, there are no such artificial restrictions in our
country at the very outset. There is nothing humiliating in
the very apprenticeship of art. A young man may choose to
be an architect, a painter, or a sculptor, without encounter

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154


SSUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


ing sneers and scoffs, stares and shrugs, excepting from the
aristocracy of wealth, who will tell him, perhaps, that it is
not a rapid way to make money, and that he had better go
into the "grocery business."
Another inducement to follow art, as a profession, is the
pleasure that the pursuit affords. The preparatory studies
are delightful. The objects to which the young artist's attention must be directed are the most beautiful and most interesting in the whole field of nature, literature and art.
It is a refined, intellectual pursuit. Every branch of art
requires the exercise of ideality. The boldest imagination
and the most delicate sensibility are requisites for the higher
efforts of art.
In portrait painting, the greatest excellence is unattainable
unless the artist has familiarity with the graces of deportment, and the elegance of manner and expression which only
habits of society can give. He will put his own life even
into his portraits. He will, therefore, seek and enjoy the
society of the refined and the intellectual, though he may be
frequently called to perpetuate the features of persons who
have no claim to these two attributes.
Ever since Giotto was the friend of Dante, Petrarch, and
Boccaccio, artists have been the companions and friends of
literary men, and that companionship, beside giving stimulus to the imagination, and strength to the intellect, has been
a never-failing fountain of pleasure. The enthusiasm of a
genuine artist will surround his employment with a halo of




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T,~-~----~--- ----~--


'HE  ARTIST.


155




happiness. In his studio the wise, the good, the beautiful,
are his silent teachers. Secluded from the stir and bustle
of life, he has the quiet enjoyment denied to men who mingle in political strife, who contend on the legal arena, or
fight the real battles of their country on sea and land.
His
"Mind to him a kingdom is,"
from which he looks out, as from a high watch-tower, or
noble fortress, on the passions, the cabals, the meannesses,
and follies of mankind. He may, if he choose, shut himself up in "measureless content," execute his noble works,
and appeal from envious detractions, or "unjust tribunals,"
to posterity.
The landscape painter flies from the blank walls of the
crowded city, to copy nature in her romantic retreats.
There, conversing with her rudest or her most graceful
forms, "lost in lonely musing-eyeing the clouds that roll
over his head, or listening to the water-fall, or seeing the
fresh breeze waving the mountain pines, or leaning against
the side of an impending rock," he hears not the jarring and
creaking wheels of artificial life.
"He holds communion with nature," and when he returns to his studio his memory is filled with "visible forms"
of beauty, which with ready skill he will transfer to the
canvas.
The sculptor, alone at night in his studio, with the suspended lamp shedding its rays upon the marble before him,









156


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


need not envy the flutterers of fashion in the crowded
assembly.   He has a higher joy, as one by one he brings
out the features which have long haunted his imagination,
and gives to the work of his hands, expression, character,
beauty, all but Promethean fire. The architect, as the noble
building shapes itself in his mind, and the many parts assume form    and proportion, has similar enjoyment.      The
artist is not like the mere money-getter, using means (not
always agreeable ones,) to accomplish a certain end; to him
there is positive enjoyment in the means; he may truly say,
Labor ipse voluptas:-work, itself, is pleasure.    The enthusiasm of Michel Angelo was so great, that he seemed to
have a kind of fury against the marble which concealed from
him his statue.*
And after a fine work is completed, how great must be
the pleasure of the artist?     But, alas! like every thing
human, art has trials for its votaries, many and various.
* In a book, written in the sixteenth century, by Blaire de Vegencie, we find the following:"Je puis dire d'avoir vu Michel Ange, ag6 de plus de soixante
ans, et avec un corps maigre qu'6toit bien loin d'annoncer la force,
faire voler en un quart d'heure plus d'eclats d'un marbre tr.s dur,
que n'auroient pu faire en une heure trois jeunes sculpteurs des plus
forts: chose presqu'incroyable A qui ne 'a pas vu. II y allait avec
tant d'impetuosite et tant de furie, que je craignois a tout moment de
voir le bloc entier tomber en pieces. Chaque coup faisoit voler a terre
des eclats de trois ou quatre doigts d'epaisseur, et il appliquoit
son ciseau si pres de l'extrme contour, que si 1'eclat eCt avanc d''une
ligne tout etoit perdu. Brul6 par l'image du beau qui lui apparaissoit,
et qu'il craignoit de perdre, ce grand homme avoit une espcce de fureur
contre le marbre qui lui cachoit sa statue."





THE    ARTIST.                 157
First and foremost, the artist fears poverty. Let him look
the demon in the face, and he will find that he is not so
dark as he has been painted.
When poets ate their dry crust in a garret and did not
aspire beyond Grub Street, other artists might expect to
starve entirely. And they did so, even in Italy, the boasted
home of art.
Pietro Perugino, the master of Raffaelle, "having quitted
his extreme destitution in Perugio, and betaken himself to
Florence, sought, by means of excellence, to arrive at a
certain station. He continued for many months, for want
of a better bed, to sleep wretchedly in a chest; turned
night into day, and applied himself incessantly to study his
profession. The terrors of poverty being ever before his
eyes, he did things to obtain money, which he would not
even have looked at, if he had had the means of maintaining himself."   " Iow great a benefit to men of genius,
poverty is?" continues Vascari, "and how powerful a cause
of becoming perfect and excellent in any art whatever?
It is possible that riches would have closed against Perugino the path of becoming excellent, as completely as
poverty opened it to him, and want spurred him on. In
seeking to raise himself as an artist, he regarded not
cold or hunger, discomfort or inconveniences, labor or
shame; saving always, as it were for a proverb, that after
the bad, the good weather must at last come, and that
when the weather is good the people make themselves


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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


houses, that they may be able to remain under shelter in
time of need.'"
Salvator Rosa had the same powerful incentive to exertion as Perugino. Lady Morgan, in her fanciful Life of
Salvator, describes the youthful artist after he had fled from
the restraints of an uncongenial home, as follows: " Sometimes he was discovered by the Padre cercatore of the convent of Renella, among the rocks and caverns of Baise, the
ruined temples of gods and the haunts of sybils. Sometimes he was found sleeping among the wastes of the Solfatara, beneath the scorched branches of a blasted tree, his
head pillowed by lava (a worse bed than Perugino's chest,)
and his dream, most probably, the vision of an infant poet's
slumbers. For even there he was
'The youngest he
That sat in shadow of Apollo's tree,
Seeing nature with a poet's eye, and
Sketching nature with a poet's hand."'
But to hawk those "sketches" about the streets of Naples,
and part with what was so dear and rich to him, for a few
pieces of copper-there was no poetry in that! Thankfully be it acknowledged, that no artist in our country need
be hungry and houseless:"There is bread and work enough for all."
No sooner are his works-if they bear indubitable marks
of genius-no sooner are they exhibited to the public-if it
be only in a shop-window-than patronage of the most


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THE  ARTIST.


159


substantial kind follows-the patronage of the people, more
sure and more lasting than that of monarchs. There is an
almost universal fondness for decoration among the people,
and few houses are so poor, that they have not some pictorial ornaments; even the cell of the prisoner and the parlor
of the insane pauper, are thus ornamented. True, these
pictures may be merely coarse prints, but frequently they
are copies from the best masters. The number of copies of
the "Madonna della Seggiola" of Raffaelle, of all kinds now
in existence, would be a curious and incredible fact. The
number that have been taken since the original was completed would be astonishing. The annals of genius in our
country are not darkened by the mournful accounts of men
starving to death like Chatterton, or, dying in jail in "utter
wretchedness and penury," like Morland.
Yet our artists have sufficient spur to exertion-they usually
hold their life on the tenure, "work or die."
Another hindrance to artists, arises from morbid sensibility. Too frequently they are wayward, impatient of restraint, jealous and irritable.  "Those who are at war with
others, are not at peace with themselves."
"Salvator Rosa was rejected by the Academy of Saint
Luke, and in consequence of his hostility to reigning authorities, and his unlicensed freedom of speech, excluded
from the great works and public buildings in Rome; and
though he scorned and ridiculed those by whose influence
this was effected, yet neither the smiles of friends and for




160


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


tune, nor the flatteries of fame, which in his lifetime had
spread his name over Europe, and might be confidently expected to extend it to a future age, could console him for
the loss which he affected to despise, and would make no
sacrifices to obtain. He was, indeed, hard to please. He
denounced his rivals and maligners with bitterness; and
with difficulty tolerated the enthusiasm of his disciples, or
the services of his patrons. He was,at all times full of
indignation with or without cause. He was easily exasperated, and not willing soon to be appeased, or to subside
into repose and good humor again. He slighted what he
did best, and seemed anxious to go out of himself."    It
must be confessed, that irritability rather than morbid sensibility was the infirmity of Salvator Rosa's character; yet
the former might have arisen from the latter.
"The savage landscapes of Salvator Rosa are such as might
have been expected from the violence and restlessness of his
disposition; it is not surprising that lie did not succeed in
historic painting.  The painter of humanity should be
kindly and loving, discriminating and just.
"Salvator Rosa, is, beyond all question, the most romantic of landscape painters, because the very violence and
intractableness of his temper threw him, with instinctive
force, upon those objects in nature, which would be most
likely to soothe and disarm it; while in history he is little
less than a caricaturist, because the same acrimony and impatience have made him fasten on those sub)jects and aspects







_I_ _ _


THE  ARTIST.


161


of the human mind, which would most irritate and increase
it; and he has, in this department, produced chiefly distortion and   deformity, sullenness and rage, extravagance,
squalidness, and poverty of appearance."
"Salvator, a man originally endowed with higher powers
than Claude Lorraine," says Ruskin, "was altogether unfaithful to his mission, and has left us, I believe, no gift.
Everything that lie did, is evidently for the sake of exhibiting his own dexterity; there is no love of any kind for anything; his choice of landscape features is distinguished by no
delight in the sublime, but by mere animal restlessness and
ferocity, guided by an imaginative power, of which he could
not altogether deprive himself."
Would any one for a moment believe, that Raffaelle possessed a similar character, judging from his historical paintings?   Could that loving   mother, the Madonna della
Seggiola, have been portrayed by a man of savage rudeness and ferocious irritability?  No; we see the artist in his
works as we do the poet. We do not doubt the verisimilitude of the following portrait of Raffaelle:  "He had a
regular, agreeable, and delicate face, the features well-proportioned, the hair brown, the eyes the same color, full of
sweetness and modesty; the tone of the face bordering
upon the olive; the expression that of grace and sensibility.
The rest of his conformation seems to have been completely
in harmony with his physiognomy. His manners were full
of charm; his exterior was prepossessing; his style of dress
14





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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


elegant, announcing an acquaintance with the usages of the
world, and what is called the ton of the court people. His
moral qualities, those of the heart and mind, corresponded
to the charm  and grace of his person. One is touched
with the gratitude he never ceased to exhibit to his old
master, Perugino, and, above all, with the respect he paid
to his works, and the care he had for his reputation. He
associated Perugino's portrait with his own in many compositions, as if to make him share the honor of a talent, which
owed to him its first direction. It does not appear that the
feeling of envy ever had possession of his heart. Although
it is impossible, for the artist not to compare himself with
those who surround him, and though Raffaelle did not omit
to institute such comparisons, yet his conduct and his works
show only noble emulation. The envious man studies only
how to lower his rivals, in order to rise on their ruins-to
despoil them only to enrich himself at their expense. The
genuine, the generous rival, takes nothing from those whom
he competes with; he does not even borrow from them; if
he owes them anything, it is only the necessity of the effort
he is to make, in order to combat them; and even when he
triumphs over them, he refers to them the glory of his success. Just towards all, Raffaelle knew how to render homage to his most dangerous rivals; and he was heard to thank
God that he was born in the time of Michel Angelo.* En* "Michel Angelo, the stoic Michel Angelo, living alone, and working alone, formed, by his sombre humor, his unsocial character, in





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THE  ARTIST.


163


dowed with a rare obligingness, even towards comparative
strangers, he was never known to refuse his services to any.
Ever ready to lay aside his own work for that of other people, he gave advice, and even designs, to those who claimed
his aid. His cotemporaries have lauded his extreme benevolence towards all, his charity towards the unfortunate."
Raffaelle died at the early age of thirty-seven. His loss
caused universal grief and pain; Castiglione wrote to the
Marchioness, his mother, "I am     at Rome, but seem    no
longer there, since my poor Raffaelle is gone."
Rome, in the eyes of the most spiritual writer of the time,
had lost its chief charm and ornament:    "If grief be in
proportion to the loss sustained, no loss of this kind could
cause a grief equal to that occasioned by the death of Raffaelle; who, having gained the highest reputation for his
works which genius can give, was cut off at an age,
which, with most men, is yet only that of hope."
Raffaelle's body lay in state in his own house, according
to the custom of the time and country. The apartment
where it lay, was that in which still hung suspended on the
scaffolding which supported it, the picture of The Transfiguration, finished, but still perhaps wanting in some parts a
his person and manner of living, and in the taste of his works, the
most striking contrast to Raffaelle. Every time Raffaelle went to
court, he had a train of fifty painters, all of them notable artists, who
attended to do him honor. Michel Angelo said to Raffaclle one day as
the latter passed by his house, ' You march with a grand retinue, like
a General I' 'And you,' replied Raffaelle,' go alone, like a hangman.'"





I


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SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


last touch; in the language of Pliny, "the spectator seems
to behold the pencil of the artist fall from  his dying hand
in the midst of his work."
An immense cortege of friends, pupils, artists, celebrated writers, personages of every rank, accompanied the
body to the Pantheon, where it was deposited, amidst the
lamentations of the whole city of Rome.
It will be seen from the character of Raffaelle, that irritability and morbid sensibility are not, as many suppose, the inevitable concomitants of genius.  They are diseases of noble
minds. The young artist aims at perfection, but he may not
be disheartened because he cannot attain to it.  Self-respect
should prevent extreme anxiety about the opinion of the
world at large; a fair estimate of his own abilities, nerve
him to encounter criticism, just and unjust. Youthful aspirants for fame, occasionally haunt the exhibition room to listen
to the remarks of careless spectators.  The old proverb, for
such cases made and provided, too frequently holds true,
and they go away with a rankling "thorn in the side."
These critics many times are like the one whom the
ancient sculptor reproved, with-" Cobler, stick to your
shoe" *-  and know as little of art as did that pretensious
sandal maker; yet as they have the power to wound, they
should be carefully shunned. A craving for the gratification of vanity, should be conquered at once, or it will fret
away the very life of the artist.
*Ne sutor ultra crepidam.







_ I __


THE  ARTIST.


165


He wishes to succeed-may he not listen to the whisperings of Hope? May he not drink in with delight the
praises that sound sweetly to his ear? He wishes to succeed! The talent of success is nothing more than doing
what you can do well; and doing well whatever you do;
without a thought of fame. If it come at all, it will come
because it is deserved, not because it is sought after. The
artist lives so much in a world of his own, as to be in danger
of forgetting that he still belongs to a common-place world,
where common-place people abound, who have no better
than common-sense. These good people are not to be despised. He cannot live without them, but they may live without him. They form the foundation and solid walls of society-he is only ornamental; both are useful. The giant tree
cannot say to the tiny flower upon its waving branches,
"I have no need of thee;" the flower cannot say to the
rugged roots, "I have no need of thee."   Too frequently
the artist alienates himself from his fellow-men, because he
has no sympathy with their every-day pursuits. This is all
wrong. The artist should be, as Goethe hath it, "a manysided man," capable of entering cordially into the multifarious interests of humanity, and a large-hearted man,
responding sympathetically to all its joys and griefs. He is
not, like an oyster, to shut himself up
"In a choice shell of pride;"
no "island," severed from the continent of social life, but
part and parcel of that life. He should be a genial part of





0




166


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


it, too, and shed the light of loving-kindness along his
every-day pathway.
The artist must beware of becoming a visionary; a castlebuilder; a day-dreamer. Alas, how many hours, nay years,
have been wasted by the sons of genius, in mere musing
upon what they might, could, would, or should do, instead
of doing it. "My mind makes pictures when my eyes are
shut," said Wordsworth; and these day-dreamers prefer
making pictures in the same way, while the canvas stands
neglected on the easel, or the marble remains a shapeless
block. Reverie becomes a habit of mind as difficult to
overcome as opium-eating, and the fantastic shapes which
people the brain of the day-dreaming artist are of no
more use to the world, than the wild ravings of the opiumeater.
The "baseless fabrics" of the visionary, are to be clearly
distinguished from the conceptions which take shape and
beauty in the mind of the artist, and which bide their time,
to become visible in palpable forms.
In the solitude of the studio, there is great temptation to
fall into those delicious musings, which "lap the soul in
Elysium," yet leave it vapid, listless, inert.
These artists "never are, but always to be," super-excellent. Their castles reach to the third heaven; but float
away with the passing cloud. They despise the dull plodder who acts up to the painter's maxim-nulla dies sine
linea; weeks and months pass without a line from them,







F


THE  ARTIST.


167


while every stroke of the steady pencil marks sure progress
in excellence.
This indulgence in visionary delight became a positive
mania with the English painter, Blake, and a sketch of his
life may furnish a striking and useful lesson to the young
artist. William Blake,* at the early age of ten, was an artist,
and at twelve wrote poetry. From   that age till thirty he
wrote some really good verses, but many of them were wild
and incoherent, and in them may be traced "the dawning
of those strange, mystical and mysterious fancies, in which
he subsequently misemployed his pencil."
He learned the art of engraving with a good master, and
was, besides, the occasional pupil of Flaxman and Fuseli.
What was very remarkable about Blake, was his daily industry. He seemed to live two distinct lives. During the day he
worked industriously with the graver; but when night came
he gave himself up to seeing visions and writing mad poetry. At the age of six and twenty, Blake married the
"dark eyed Kate," of several of his lyric poems.
She proved one of the most devoted of wives, yet she did
not aid him, in the least, to conquer his visionary propensities, or impart to him an iota of common sense. "She
believed him to be the finest genius on earth; she believed
in his verse; she believed in his designs; and to the wildest
flights of his imagination she bowed the knee, and was a
worshiper."
Born in London, 1757.







168


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


However, she had herself some practical domestic virtues,
and although she indulged him in his absurdities, was a
prudent, frugal wife. "She found out the way of being
happy at home, living on the simplest of food, and contented
in the homeliest of clothing. She whom Blake emphatically called his 'beloved,' was no ordinary woman. She
wrought off the impressions of his plates; she colored
them with a light and neat hand, and made drawings much
in the spirit of her husband's composition." But Katharine
Blake saw no visions. She worked and toiled, kept shop,
when her husband set up as a print-seller, and when he
proved unsuccessful in speculations and experiments, she
soothed and encouraged him. He wrote songs, composed
music, and when he was in the humor, used the pencil and
the graver.
His "(Songs of Innocence and Experience" are original
and natural. The paintings illustrate the verse, and are
curiously mingled with it. The designs, however, have
been said to be, "more allied to heaven than to earth-a
kind of spiritual abstractions."
As a specimen of his poetry, the following lines are given
accompanying his picture of Innocence:Piping down the valleys wild,
Piping songs of pleasant glee,
On a cloud I saw a child,
And he, laughing, said to mePipe a song about a lamb;
So I piped with merry cheer.





THE    ARTIST.                  169
Piper, pipe that song again;
So I piped-he wept to hear.
Drop thy pipe, thy happy pipe,
Sing thy songs of happy cheer;
So I sang the same again,
While he wept with joy to hear.
Piper, sit thee down and write
In a book that all may read;
So lie vanished from my sight,
And I plucked a hollow reed,
And I made a rural pen,
And I stained the water clear;
And I wrote my happy songs,
Every child may joy to hear.
His designs were even more difficult to understand than
his poems. His imaginary visitations, or visions, furnished
the themes. He engraved both the poetry and the figures
on copper, and afterwards tinted them in a peculiar manner.
There was much beauty in the designs, though the meaning was obscure.
His mind could convert the most ordinary occurrences
into something supernatural.
"Did you ever see a fairy's funeral? " said he to a lady
who happened to sit by him in company.
"Never, sir," was the answer.
"I have," said Blake; "but not before last night. I
was walking alone in my garden; there was great stillness
among the branches and flowers, and more than common
sweetness in the air; I heard a low and pleasant sound, and
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170             SUCCESS     IN  LIFE.
I knew not whence it came. At last I saw the broad leaf
of a flower move, and underneath I saw a procession of
creatures of the size and color of green and gray grasshoppers, bearing a body laid out on a rose leaf, which they
buried with songs, and then disappeared. It was a fairy
funeral."
On another occasion, a gentleman, a friend of Blake, took
from a private drawer a small panel, on which was a painting, and showed it to another gentleman to whom he had
been exhibiting a number of the artist's drawings from
visionary persons, who had condescended to sit to him.
"1 This is the last which I shall show you," said he; "but
it is the greatest curiosity of all. Only look at the splendor
of the coloring, and the original character of the thing."
"I see," replied the other, "a naked figure, with a strong
body and a short neck, with burning eyes which long for
moisture, and a face worthy of a murderer, holding a bloody
cup in its clawed hands, but of which it seems eager to
drink. I never saw any shape so strange, nor did I ever
see any coloring so curiously splendid; a kind of glistening
green and dusky gold, beautifully varnished. But what in
the world is it?"
"It is a ghost, sir-the ghost of a flea-a spiritualization
of the thing."
"You saw this in a vision, then?"
"I'll tell you all about it, sir. I called one evening on
Blake and found him more than usually excited. He told


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171


me he had seen a wonderful thing-the ghost of a flea.
'And did you make a drawing of him,' I enquired. 'No
indeed,' said he, 'I wish I had; but I shall if he appears
again.' He looked earnestly into a corner of the room, and
then said: (Here he is-reach me my things-I shall
keep my eye on him. There he comes, his eager tongue
whisking out of his mouth, a cup in his hand to hold blood,
and covered with a scaly skin of gold and green.' As he
described him so he drew him."
Another friend called one evening on Blake and found
him sitting with a pencil and panel, drawing a portrait
with all the seeming anxiety of a man who is conscious that
he has got a fastidious sitter; he looked and drew, and drew
and looked, yet no living being was visible.
"Disturb me not," said Blake in a whisper; "I have
one sitting to me."
"Sitting to you!" exclaimed the astonished visitor;
"where is he, and what is he?  I see none."
"But I see him, sir," answered Blake haughtily; "there
he is; his name is Lot. You may read of him in the
Scriptures. He is sitting for his portrait."
Even when he was indulging in these laughable fancies,
and seeing visions at the request of his friends, he conceived and engraved a series of illustrations of the Book of
Job, which have been acknowledged as "simple and sublime."
Poor Blake drew and engraved this series in a small







172


SUCCESS  IN  LIFE.


room-his kitchen, parlor, bedroom, and studio-with the
faithful Katharine for his only companion. Indeed, he seldom  saw  company-real flesh and blood company-but
lived in the midst of London like a hermit,
" With one fair spirit for his minister."
His income at this time did not amount to more than
seventeen or eighteen shillings a week.
He continued to execute these singular productions, enduring a life of labor and privation, until he was in his
seventy-first year. Old age came upon him and found him
feeble and in want. Still he saw visions, and attempted to
fix them upon canvas.
Three days before his death, he sat bolstered up in bed
and tinted one of his favorite pictures in his happiest style.
He touched, and retouched it-held it at arms length, and
then threw it from him, exclaiming, "There, that will do!
I cannot mend it."
He saw his wife in tears; she felt that this was to be the
last of his works. "Stay, Kate!" cried Blake, "keep just
as you are-I will draw your portrait-for you have ever
been an angel to me." She obeyed, and the dying artist
made a fine likeness.
"Blake was a poet, a dreamer and an enthusiast. The
eminence which it had been the first ambition of his youth
to climb, was visible before him; and he saw on its ascent,
or on its summit, those who had started earlier in the race.





_ _


THE  ARTIST.


173


He felt conscious of his own merit, and thought he had only
to sing songs and draw designs, to become great and famous. The crosses which genius is heir to had been wholly
unforeseen, and they befel him early.
"1 His works are looked coldly on by the world, and were
only esteemed by men of poetic minds, or those who were
fond of things out of the common way."
By frequent indulgence in wild romantic imaginings, "he
gradually began to believe in the reality of what dreaming
fancy painted, and the pictured forms which swarmed before his eyes, assumed, in his apprehension, the stability and
truth of positive revelations; he mistook the vivid figures
for the poets, heroes and princes of old. He conceived that
he had formed friendships with Homer and Moses, with
Pindar and Virgil, with Dante and Milton.
"Of the existence of Blake" says Allan Cunningham,
"few men of taste could be ignorant; of his great merits
multitudes knew, nor was his extreme poverty any secret.
Yet he, one of the ornaments of the age, was reduced to a
miserable garret and a crust of bread, and would have perished from want, had not some friends, neither wealthy
nor powerful, averted this disgrace from coming upon our
country."







I_ __~ _ ~__ _ _


CHAPTER XX.


HIGH      AIMS.
"And for success, I ask no more than this,To bear unflinching witness to the truth.
All true whole men succeed; for what is worth
Success' name, unless it be the thought,
The inward surety, to have carried out
A noble purpose to a noble end! "-Lowell.
THE dangers and difficulties which beset like fiery dragons
the road to eminence in Art, might seem sufficient to deter
the most adventurous artist-errant from the pursuit. And
they should deter all who are not conscious of possessing
the skill and the strength to overcome them. It is no easy
path of joyous dalliance even to the most gifted-it is the
path to certain destruction to such as enter it merely because they think it an easy and honorable highway for all
who choose to walk in it. But to drop the meagre metaphor; the young man who takes up the pallet or the
chisel to escape from the counter, the desk, the college, or
the farm, and expects in that way to better his condition
will find himself grievously disappointed.
An earnest, unconquerable love of art, for its own sake,
ought to be, in every instance, the main cause for adopting
the trials and labors of the artist. It is not an El Dorado
nor a fairy land, nor to be won by a single blow; but by
174


~ "





_ __


THE  ARTIST.


175


line upon line, stroke upon stroke,* day after day, and night
after night, through long years of patient labor. Yet Art,
to its true votaries, is, what Coleridge said poetry had been
to him, " its own exceeding great reward."
The artist's aim is to exhibit truth and beauty.    "The
one condition coupled with the gift of truth, is its use."
The mathematician, after reading Milton's Paradise Lost,
could ask, "what does it prove?" and many a cold-hearted
and dull-witted man has said of painting and poetry-" what
is their use?" Painting and sculpture, are a visible language, which conveys thoughts more vividly than any other
language, not excepting poetry itself.  "Nature is a revelalation of God; art is a revelation of man."
The artist, in our country, must do what lies clearly at
hand.   That may be only to paint portraits.   Even so; let
him not despise the day of small things. " Knowest thou
yesterday, its aim and reason?  Workest thou well to-day for
worthy things?   Then calmly wait the morrow's hidden season.  And fear not thou, what hap soo'er it brings!"   It is
true, that the portraits of the greater portion of mankind,
are without interest, excepting to a very limited circle. But
to that limited circle, they are inexpressibly valuable; and
* "What tedious training, year after year, never ending, to form
the common sense; what continual reproduction of annoyances, inconveniences, dilemmas, what rejioiings over us of little men; what
disputing of prices, what reckonings of interest; and all to form the
hand to the mind, to instruct us that good thoughts are no better thn
god dreams unress they be executed.


- -- -- --- --







176


SUCCESS IN LIFE.


the artist who ministers thus to domestic and social affection, has done a worthy work.
Ambition may prompt to higher efforts, and genius sigh
for an opportunity to exercise itself on more congenial subjects. In our country, the sculptor and the painter are
called upon by public bodies, for the portraits of our good
and great men. Such portraits are, to all intents and purposes, historical. They are the very bones and sinews of
our future history. They are to look down from the halls
of justice and legislation, the college and academy, upon
the old and the young of coming generations, inspiring
them with heroism, patriotism and virtue.
These "labors of love" will prepare the artist for that
more etherial region of Parnassus, to which he constantly
aspires.
He has a lofty aim. He proudly says, "I am living for
eternity."  Be it so. Let each, and all, follow out the
leading of their idiosyncracy in art, and be just what nature
intended. If they do not, no matter what the "motives"
may be, to which they devote time and thought, their works
will become puerile, artificial, affected, and inefficient.
They have received a gift from God, which they must
render back-the five or ten talents-with generous interest.
"We can conceive of some village Michel Angelo, with
a soul too mighty for its tenement of clay, whose longing
aspirations after truth and good were palsied by the refusal
of his hand to execute them, struggling to burst the tram








THE    ARTIST.                  177
mels and trying to shake off the load of discouragement that
oppressed him. What must be his exultation, to see the
speaking statue, the stately pile, rise up slowly before him;
the idea in his mind embodied out of nothing, without
model or precedent-to see a huge cathedral heave its ponderous weight above the earth, or the solemn figure of an
apostle point from one corner of it to the skies; and to
think that future ages would perhaps gaze at the work with
the same delight and wonder that his own did, and not
suffer his name to sink into the same oblivion as those who
had gone before him, or as the brutes to perish; this was,
indeed, to be admitted into the communion of genius."
"The field lies wide before you, where to reap
The noble harvest of a deathless name."


Aftn_       - - -












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THE HISTORY OF OHIO.
First Period-From 1650, to the Organization of the Northwest Territory, in 1787. By JAMES W. TAYLOR.
MRS, LOUISA C. TUTHILL'S SERIES:
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GENERAL LANE'S BRIGADE IN MEXICO.
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Being an Account of the First Examinations of the Ohio Valley, and the Early Settlement of the Northwest
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PIONEER SETTLERS OF OHIO.
Biographical and Historical Memoirs of the Early Pioneer
Settlers of Ohio, with Narratives of Incidents and
Occurrences in 1775. By S. P. HILDRETH.
GRIMKE ON FREE INSTITUTIONS.
Considerations upon the Nature and          Tendency of Free Institutions. By FREDERICK GRIMKE.







3
LAYARD'S NINEVEH.
A Popular Account of Discoveries at Ninovch. By AUSTEN
HENRY LAYARD. With Numerous Engravings.
THE    LIFE    OF   FRANCIS MARION.
BY WILLIAM GILMORE SIMMS. ENGRAVINGS.
HILLS, LAKES, AND FOREST STREAMS;
or, A Tramp in the Chateaugay Woods. By S. H. HAMMOND.
MORNING STARS OF THE NEW WORLD.
Christopher Columbus-Americus Vespucius-Ferdinand de
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Smith-Capt. Miles Standish-Lady Arabella JohnsonJohn Eliot-Wm. Penn. By H. F. PARKER. Engravings.
The Life and Letters of Stephen Olin, D. D., LL. D. 2 vols.
GREECE AND THE GOLDEN           HORN.
By Rev. Dr. OLIN. Edited by Rev. Dr. MCCLINTOCK.
SCHOOL ARCHITECTURE;
or, Contributions to the Improvement of School Houses in
the United States. By HENRY BARNARD, LL. D.
This volume of 464 pages, is an enlarged and improved edition of a
work, which was pronounced by a Committee of the American Association for the Advancement of Education, of which Prof. Henry, of
the Smithsonian Institution was Chairman, "the most thorough, scientific and practical description of the subject which has appeared in
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1. An exposition, from official documents, of common errors in the
location, construction and furniture of school-houses, as they have been
heretofore almost universally built, even in States where the subject
of Education has received the most attention.


- ___ _ __.,





_ _ _~__


4
2. A discussion of the purposes to be answered, and the principles
to be observed in structures designed for schools.
3. Plans, with minute descriptions and specifications, adapted to
schools of every grade and size, in a variety of styles, and on a large
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4. Numerous illustrations of the most approved modes of constructing and arranging seats and desks, and of all recent improvements for
warming and ventilating school-rooms and public halls generally.
5. Catalogues of maps, globes, and other means of visible illustration and practical experiments, with which each grade of schools
should be furnished.
6. A list of books on Education, Schools and School Systems, and
of books of reference, for the use of Teachers and the older scholars of
every school.
7. Rules and Regulations for the care and preservation of Schoolhouses, Grounds and Furniture.
8. Example of Exercises suitable to the dedication of School-houses.
9. A variety of Hints respecting the Classification of Schools.
This work has been strongly recommended by the most eminent
educators, teachers, and school officials, and has been distributed
among School Districts by the Legislatures of Ohio, Connecticut,
Rhode Island, Massachusetts, Vermont, and New Hampshire. It has
already wrought a revolution in the construction, ventilation and furSniture of school-houses in many parts of the country.
LOSSING'S        LIVES     OF    THE     SIGNERS.
Biographical Sketches of the Signers of the Declaration of
American Independence; the Declaration        Historically
Considered; and a Sketch of the Leading Events connected with the Adoption of the Articles of Confederation, and of the Federal Constitution. By B. J. LosSING.
50 Engravings.
HOWE'S EMINENT MECHANICS.
Memoirs of the most Eminent American Mechanics; also,
Lives of Distinguished European Mechanics; together
with a Collection of Anecdotes, Descriptions, etc., relating to the Mechanic Arts.      By HENRY HOWE. With
50 Engravings.





First Series.
The Swiss Family Robinson;
or, Adventures of a Father, Mother, and Four Sons, on a Desert
Island. Engravings. 2 vols.
Adventures of Daniel Boone,
the Kentucky Rifleman. By the author of " Uncle Philip."
Abbott's History of Maria Antoinette.
Engravings.
The Young Sailor.
A Narrative founded on Fact. By Mary S. B. Dana.
Sandford and Merton.
By Thomas Day.
Conquest and Self-Conquest;
or, Which is the Hero? By Miss Mackintosh.
Boyhood of Great Men;
Intended as an Example for Youth. Engravings.
Abbott's History of Madame Roland.
Engravings.
Abbott's History of Alexander the Great.
Engravings.
Live and Let Live;
or, Domestic Service Illustrated. By Miss C. M. Sedgwick.
Benjamin Franklin:
His Autobiography, continued by Rev. H. H. Weld. Copiously
illustrated.
Lives of the Signers of the Declaration of Independence.
By Benson J. Lossing.





2


Howe's Mechanics.
Lives of Eminent American and European Mechanics. By Henry
Howe. 50 engravings.
Hallam's Middle Ages.
View of the State of Europe during the Middle Ages. By Henry
Hallam.
Two Years Before the Mast;
a Personal Narrative of Life at Sea. By R. H. Dana, Jr.
The Pursuit of Knowledge under Difficulties;
its Pleasures and Rewards; illustrated by Memoirs of Eminent
Men. By Geo. L. Craik. 2 vols.
Russia as it is.
By Count A. de Gurowski.
Letters to Young Ladies.
By Mrs. L. H. Sigourney.
Layard's Nineveh.
A popular Account of Discoveries at Nineveh. Engravings.
Curran and his Contemporaries.
By Charles Phillips.
Life of Sir Isaac Newton.
By Sir David Brewster. Engravings.
Lives of Celebrated Female Sovereigns.
By Mrs. Jameson. 2 vols.
Life of Francis Marion.
By William G. Simms. Engravings.
The Merchant.
Illustrative of Success in Life. By Mrs. Louisa C. Tuthill.
The Sketch-Book.
By Washington Irving.
Life of General Lafayette.
By William Cutter. Portrait.
Taylor's History of Ohio,
to the Organization of the Northwest 'L.ritory, in 1787.





3
Second Series.
Adventures of Hernan Cortez, Conqueror of Mexico.
By " Uncle Philip."
History of England.
By Charles Dickens. 2 vols.
History of Hannibal,
the Carthaginian. By Jacob Abbott. Engravings
Moral Tales.
By Maria Edgeworth. 2 vols.
Rodolphus;
a Franconia Stlzry. By Jacob Abbott. Engravings
The Vicar of Wakefield.
By Oliver Goldsmith.
The Sunshine of Greystone;
a Story for Girls. By E. J. May. Engravings.
The Crofton Boys;
a Tale for Youth. By Harriet Martineau.
Masterman Ready;
or, the Wreck of the Pacific. By Capt. Francis Marryat.
Life of Washington.
By Jared Sparks.
Dr. Smith's History of Greece.
From the Earliest Times to the Roman Conquest. Edited by
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Tytler's Universal History.
From the Creation of the World to the Decease of George III.
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Hildreth's Theory of Politics:
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Elements of Geology.
By Professors Alonzo Gray, and C. B. Adams.
Life and Letters of Barthold George Niebuhr.
By the Chevalier Bunsen.





4
Life of Nelson.
By Robert Southey.
Richardson's Arctic Searching Expedition;
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Life and Travels of Mungo Park.
Thie Lawyer.
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Biographical and Historical Memoirs of the Early Pioneet Settlers
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Monasteries of the East;
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Marco Paul's Travels and Adventures.
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Third Series.
Adventures of Captain John Smith,
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Abbott's History of Queen Elizabeth.
Engravings.
Frank.
By Maria Edgeworth. 2 vols.
Ellen Linn;
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Adventures of Robinson Crusoe.
By Daniel Defoe. Engravings.
Abbott's History of Julius Caesar.
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Never too Late.
By Charles Burdett.
The Son of a Genius.
By Mrs. Hofland.
Plutarch's Lives;
translated by Langhorne. 4 vols.





5
Creasy's Decisive Battles.
The Fifteen Decisive Battles of the World. By E. S. Creasy.
Life of Christopher Columbus.
By Washington Irving.
Abbott's History of Cyrus the Great.
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Farm Implements,
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200 Illustrations.
Stephens' Incidents of Travel
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Lives of the Brothers Humboldt,
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Glimpses of Spain.
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Nile Notes
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Thatcher's Indian Traits;
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Circumnavigation of the Globe;
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James' History of Chivalry and the Crusades.
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The Mechanic.
By Mrs. Louisa C. Tuthill.
Alice Franldin.
By Mary Howitt.
The Young Man's Book;
or, Self-FEducation. By William Hosmor.





6
Fourth Series.
The Adventures of Henry Hudson;
By the author of "Uncle Philip."
Abbott's History of the Empress Josephine.
Engravings.
Harry and Lucy.
By Maria Edgeworth. 2 vols.
Praise and Principle;
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Edgar Clifton;
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Uncle Philip's Whale Fishery.
Conversations with the Children about the Whale Fishery and
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Abbott's History of Alfred the Great.
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Hope on, Hope ever I
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Dr. Smith's History of Rome.
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Robertson's America.
History of the Discovery and Settlement of America.
Abbott's History of Mary Queen of Scots.
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Story of the Peninsular War.
By the Marquis of Londonderry.
Hume's History of England.
6 vols.
Gerstaecker's Narrative
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A Lady's Voyage Round the World.
By Madame Ida Pfeiffer.
Lives of Distinguished Females.





7
The Court and Camp of Bonaparte.
Being Sketches of his Family, Ministers, Marshals, etc.
History of Wonderful Inventions.
Illustrated.
Taylor's History of Ireland.
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The Use of the Body in Relation to the Mind.
By Dr. George Moore.
The Illustrated Natural History.
By Rev. J. G. Wood. 450 engravings.
Dew's Ancient and Modern Nations.
The Laws, Customs, Manners and Institutions of the Ancient and
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Supplementary Series.
Barnard's School Architecture;
embracing the Principles to be observed in the erection of SchoolHouses; Ventilation and Warming; School Furniture and Apparatus; with numerous Plans and Illustrations.
Bancroft's United States.
History of the United States, from the Discovery of the American Continent. By George Bancroft. 5 vols.
Lossing's Pictorial Revolution.
The Pictorial Field Book of the Revolution; or, Illustrations, by
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Prescott's Mexico.
History of the Conquest of Mexico, with a Preliminary View of
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The U. S. Grinnell Expedition in Search of Sir John Franklin.
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With numerous illustrations.
Select British Eloquence;
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8
their Lives, an Estimate of their Genius, and Notes, Critical and
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Thiers' French Revolution.
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The Poets and Poetry of Europe.
With Introductions and Biographical Notices. By Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.
Prose Writers of Germany.
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Lynch's Dead Sea Expedition.
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Morning Stars of the New World.
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Life of Patrick Henry.
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Pencillings by the Way:
Written during some years of Residence and Travel in Europe.
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Summer Cruise in the Mediterranean,
on board an American Frigate. By N. Parker Willis.





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Guizot's History of Civilization.
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Gibbon's Rome.
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Physical Geography.
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Lives of the Queens of England,
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Wilkinson's Ancient Egyptians.
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Astoria;
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Pictorial Iistory of England.
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Bayard Taylor's Africa.
A Journey to Central Africa; or, Life and Landscapes from
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The Mexican War:
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Legends of the West.
By James Hall.
An Art-Student in Munich.
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Six Months in Italy.
By George S. Hillard.
The Earth and Man:
Lectures on Comparative Physical Geography, in its Relation to
the History of Mankind. By Arnold Guyot.





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Headley's War of 1812.
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The Women of the Revolution.
By Mrs. E. F. Ellet. 3 vols.
Pioneer Women of the West.
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Home Life in Germany.
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Chambers' Miscellany
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Longfellow's Poems.
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Lectures on the Progress of Arts and Sciences,
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Greece and the Golden Horn.
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Twenty Years in the Philippines.
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Stephens' Central America.
Incidents of Travel in Central America, Chiapas, and Yucatan
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A Winter in Madeira:
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Johnson's Works.
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