You have asked me, sir, to point out a subject for the pencil, and I
feel the difficulty of complying with your request; although I am not
certainly unaccustomed to literary composition, or a total stranger to
the stores of history and tradition, which afford the best copies for
the painter's art. But although _sicut pictura poesis_ is an ancient
and undisputed axiom--although poetry and painting both address
themselves to the same object of exciting the human imagination, by
presenting to it pleasing or sublime images of ideal scenes; yet the
one conveying itself through the ears to the understanding, and the
other applying itself only to the eyes, the subjects which are best
suited to the bard or tale-teller are often totally unfit for painting,
where the artist must present in a single glance all that his art has
power to tell us. The artist can neither recapitulate the past nor
intimate the future. The single _now_ is all which he can present; and
hence, unquestionably, many subjects which delight us in poetry, or in
narrative, whether real or fictitious, cannot with advantage be
transferred to the canvass.
Being in some degree aware of these difficulties, though doubtless
unacquainted both with their extent, and the means by which they may be
modified or surmounted, I have, nevertheless, ventured to draw up the
following traditional narrative as a story in which, when the general
details are known, the interest is so much concentrated in one strong
moment of agonizing passion, that it can be understood, and sympathized
with, at a single glance. I therefore presume that it may be acceptable
as a hint to some one among the numerous artists, who have of late
years distinguished themselves as rearing up and supporting the British
school.