Sometime ago, when I indited a letter on the paintings of Cole, I partly
intended it to be the first of a series, which should include all those
of our painters who have established themselves as masters. Since then,
however, I have relinquished that idea. I am not _sufficiently_ well
acquainted with all these gentlemen, and the number of their
productions, to devote a separate paper to each, and have, therefore,
concluded briefly to embody my opinions concerning them in a single
letter. I propose to speak of those only who are identified with New
York, and who are now in the full tide of successful operation; and my
object will be merely to write what would correspond to a letter of
introduction. In my list, made without respect to persons, are the
following names; Durand, Huntington, Edmonds, Page, Mount, Doughty,
Wier, Inman, Ingham, Chapman, and Harvey.
_Durand._ If you are at all conversant with the history of art in this
country, you need not be told that this gentleman has long borne the
enviable reputation of being our best engraver of the human figure. It
is also a well-known fact, that he has executed some remarkable pictures
in the way of portraiture and fanciful history; but as he is now
devoting himself principally to landscape, I shall consider his merits
in this department alone.
His only imaginative landscapes, are a pair, allegorically portraying
the “Morning and Evening” of human life. In one, the monuments of art
and the works of nature are in their prime, and a halo of hope seems to
surround the brow of every living creature, young men and maidens, and
dancing children. In the other, the same monuments and the same nature
are falling to decay, and most of earth’s children are trembling under
the weary load of life. And here, on a fallen column, is seated an old
man leaning upon his staff, and listening, as it were, to a song of
memory, as it recalls the unnumbered joys of other days. A saddening
subject, in reality, is here portrayed, but how has the genius of the
painter endowed it with a spirit of immortality! To the thoughtful mind,
it possesses a world of eloquence, and touches the heart with the thrill
of poetry. Considered as a maiden effort in the most exalted branch of
landscape painting, it affords abundant reason to believe that Mr.
Durand would accomplish great things in this department, if he would but
persevere. The only fault I can find with it, is this—in the idea of its
design, and in some parts of its execution, it bears too close a
resemblance to the Departure and Return, or the Past and Present, of
Thomas Cole.
The majority of Mr. Durand’s landscapes I should designate as actual
views and fanciful pictures; and here, I think, he is without a
superior. In the choice of subjects, he always displays an exquisite
taste; and as he paints with great care, and finishes highly, there is
an indescribable summer-day charm about his pictures which is peculiarly
their own. The three most difficult things in nature for an artist to
delineate, are trees, atmospheres, and figures; but all these have been
thoroughly mastered by Mr. Durand. His trees are strongly
characteristic, and his figures numerous, happily introduced, and
accurately drawn. Of his views, I mostly admire “Lake Geneva,”
“Shakspeare’s Church,” two “Views in Switzerland,” “Island of Capri,”
“Deserted Road-side,” “Farm Yard on the Hudson,” “Oak Tree with horses
under it,” and a “View on the Rhine.” Each one of these is a perfect
gem, a beautiful and poetical reproduction of the original scene. But
the most unique and superb of all his paintings, is a fanciful picture
of a large size, exhibiting an extensive lake in a wilderness. The sun
is on the verge of the horizon, the sky is studded with an array of most
gorgeous clouds, and the surface of the lake is quivering under the
pinions of an evening breeze. In one corner of the foreground is a
cluster of luxuriant trees, encircled with grape-vines, and in the
other, an admirable rock, on which is standing a solitary heron, the
only living creature in the whole scene. The great triumph of this
picture is in the water—the gold-tipt waves.
The last time I saw Mr. Durand, he was finishing some studies of
chestnut trees in blossom, which stand on the margin of Esopus Creek.
They are wonderfully true to nature, and will enhance his reputation,
even if he should not paint anything more during the coming summer. But
I hope that he may not only live to do this, but to paint a dozen
summers more, and a dozen pictures in each summer; for he is a great
artist, and an honor to his native country.
_Huntington._ Although this gentleman is under thirty years of age, he
has produced many admirable pictures, which place him on a level with
the most gifted artists of any country. He commenced his career by
painting landscapes, many of which were wood-scenes and waterfalls on
the Rondout. They are remarkable for their rich coloring, and dashing
style of execution. But it is as a portrait and historical painter that
he is most celebrated. In both these departments his power is wonderful.
Eight years ago he was a pupil of Mr. Morse, but now is an acknowledged
master, and the pride of his profession. He uses the most glowing
colors, and yet there is a perfect harmony in all he paints; he handles
the pencil in a fine off-hand style, and yet his flesh possesses the
softness of the reality; he can take the most ordinary head, and by his
arrangement and his faculty of exalting his subject, make an interesting
picture, while at the same time it will be a speaking likeness. Of his
portraits, the most superb are those of his father, an uncle and aunt,
“The Venetian Girl,” the “Roman Girl,” and “Shepherd Boy of the
Campagna.” The last of these, which we think is equal to Murillo’s
“Beggar Boy,” was painted in the incredible short period of four hours.
If this fact and this picture do not prove Huntington to be a wonderful
genius, we do not know what could do so. But even all the pictures just
mentioned are eclipsed by his two historical ones, taken from the
Pilgrim’s Progress, viz.: “Mercy’s Dream,” and “Christiana and Family
passing through the Valley of the Shadow of Death.” In the first, Mercy
is in a reclining position, resting on one arm, with her face raised
heavenward, while the angel hovering above her is on the point of
placing the crown upon her head. In her position there may be something
a little unnatural, and the expression of the angel may be somewhat too
earthly; but where, in the whole range of art, is there anything more
beautifully designed, more accurately drawn, or more richly colored? In
the other picture, Christiana and her family are represented on a rock
overlooking a valley of flame. At first we are startled by a feeling of
terror, but when the eye falls upon the principal figure, her upraised
countenance beaming with holy confidence and hope, the first impulse
vanishes, and the heart throbs with peaceful joy. The soul depicted in
that countenance, its conception and execution, is a triumph of art
which we believe can never be surpassed. But the interest does not stop
here. What a world of poetry has the painter portrayed in the eldest son
attempting to shield the loved ones from the impending danger, and in
the youngest child cleaving to its mother for protection! All, in fact,
look to Christiana for safety, while she, with the meekness of
childhood, looks calmly up to the Almighty. I should rather be the
author of that painting than of any others of superior merit. Oh, it is
a blessed thing to see genius consecrating its powers to the promotion
of His glory, from whom all genius flows! Huntington possesses both
great and good qualities, and we trust that his sojourn in Europe will
not be prolonged beyond an extensive tour.
_Edmonds._ This gentleman, who occupies the responsible station of
cashier in a bank, is considered one of the ablest financiers in New
York, while, at the same time, he enjoys a remarkable reputation as an
artist. His paintings are comparatively few, owing to his peculiar
situation, and to the correct notion which he entertains, that a work of
art should not be exhibited to the public until its author has done his
best to make it perfect. His style of coloring is warm and glowing, and
his drawing exceedingly accurate. As a designer, he is more particular
than our artists generally; and very few, I think, understand the
principles of composition so well. He is a man of quite extensive
reading, and of expansive mind, and his pictures are an index to the
humor which it contains. They are of a comical character, and never fail
to tell their story at a single glance. They are always intended to make
you laugh, and are, therefore, agreeable helpers on to a long life; and
sometimes possess an undercurrent of poetry or philosophy, which makes
them voiceless preachers to the thinking man. His best pictures are the
“Newspaper Boy,” “The Country and City Beaux,” “Sparking,” “The Bashful
Cousin,” “Italian Mendicants,” “The Epicure,” and “Stealing Milk.” The
first represents a large room thronged with men, women, and children,
into the midst of whom a ragged boy has entered to sell his Sunday
morning papers. In the second we have a charming country lady and her
accepted lover, suddenly surprised by the appearance of a city dandy;
and while the latter is nettled by the appearance of things, the former,
who is rocking himself in an arm-chair, very coolly puffs the smoke of
his cigar into the face of his disappointed rival. In the next, a
country damsel is peeling apples before a large blazing fire, while a
hearty fellow is talking to her, “solemnly and slow,” about his heart
and other kindred matters. In the next, a bashful young fellow is taking
leave of his friends, who urge him to sit down to tea, which is now
ready. The next is a blind old man, led by a little girl, asking alms in
the streets of Rome. In the Epicure, we have a butcher displaying his
nice things to an old gentleman, almost eaten up in health by rich
living. In the last, we have a school-boy in his mother’s pantry,
swallowing large quantities of rich cream, who is discovered by his
“anxious Ma” in the very act. All things considered, I think Mr. Edmonds
one of the most remarkable men of the age, and hope that he may live to
make many more additions to the genius-stamped treasures of American
art.
_Page._ Here we come to another honored artist, but one who has been
greatly over-rated; not a man of genius, but one of rare, of
extraordinary talent. As a mere portrait painter or map-taker, he is
without a rival, I believe, in any country. The man who sits to him for
a likeness, must expect to have every hair on his face delineated to
perfection, but must not expect to have himself exalted or
intellectualized. This is a thing which Page has never done, and can
never do, and consequently he will never excel as an historical painter.
I am warranted in making this assertion by looking at his past efforts
in this department? What admirable execution has he squandered on his
picture of “The Whistle,” his “Prison Scene,” and lately in his “Ecce
Homo.” In coloring and drawing, these pictures cannot be surpassed; but
how very inferior are they in conception, and especially the last!
Surely, the Saviour of the world could never have borne so _physical_ a
countenance as Page has here conceived! It is understood, that he is
engaged on a large picture, to be called “Jephtha’s Daughter.” I
sincerely _hope_ that he may triumph there, but I cannot but doubt.
Parts of it I know will be astonishingly fine, but, as a whole, it will
be a failure. I have been thus free in my remarks concerning this
artist, because he is lauded as a great _genius_, which I am not willing
to acknowledge, although I admire him as a portrait painter. His style
of coloring is not easily described, for it varies with every one of his
subjects, now pale as death or red as a cherry, and now blue as sapphire
or green as an emerald. If I desired my children to behold their very Pa
long after he is in the grave, I would rather have Page paint me than
any other man. His greatest portraits are those of Mrs. Ridner, a single
head and with a child, of Lowell the poet, of Mr. Leup, and of himself.
_Mount._ Three cheers for the laughter-loving and incomparable genius of
Stony Brook, whom I know to be a first-rate fisherman, and a most
pathetic player on the violin. Here is a man who stands alone in the art
of painting, for, in everything he does, he is entirely original. His
productions are stamped with an entirely American character, and so
comically conceived, that they always cause the beholder to smile,
whatever may be his troubles. His coloring is what we call cold, but
remarkable for its fidelity; and his power and knowledge of drawing are
superior to those of any other man in the country. Unlike Mr. Edmonds,
he pays but little attention to designing by rule, but in expression, he
always lays himself out, and I know not that he has ever failed, in a
single instance, to delineate the character he aimed at. He is peculiar
in the habit of tasking his own mind for his subjects, so that you never
see him illustrating the pages of any writer, historian, poet or wit.
And this is a feature I greatly admire. The man who cannot conceive and
execute a picture on his own hook entirely, is nothing but a copyist,
whatever may be his knowledge of the art. Thinking and strictly original
painters, are the only ones that exert a lasting and salutary influence
on the pictorial genius of their country, and Mr. Mount, I am glad to
know, is emphatically one of these. But let me glance at those pictures
which I believe warrant the foregoing opinions. Their general character
may be imagined by their titles, which are as follows: “Cider Making,”
“The Raffle,” “Tough Yarn,” “Fortune Telling,” “Bargaining for a Horse,”
“Gamesters Surprised,” “Winding Up,” “Ringing a Hog,” “Artist showing
his Work,” “The last Clam,” “Hoeing Corn,” “Husking Corn,” “Rustic
Dance,” and “Rabbit Catching.” In the first, we have a Long Island cider
mill, with all the laughable appurtenances thereof. In the next, a
company of loafers in a country bar-room are raffling for a goose,
illustrating the proverb, that “birds of a feather flock together.” The
next picture, a lame old “covey” telling a story to two impatient
gentlemen, which has been illustrated by an admirable story from the pen
of Seba Smith, Esq. In the next, a couple of farmers, in a barn-yard,
are discussing the merits of a “slick looking” horse hitched to a fence,
one of them rolling a stone with his foot, and the other whittling a
stick. In the next, we have some truant boys, who have stolen into a
barn to play “heads or tails,” who are discovered by the farmer; and
while he approaches cautiously, with a long stick in his hand and
vengeance in his eye, one of the boys is frightened by the approaching
step, but another is so absorbed in the game, that a nameless portion of
his body is about to sting under the chastising stroke. The next
exhibits a gentleman lover holding a skein of yarn for a buxom country
damsel. The next, is a _painted_ “concord of _sharp_ sounds.” In the
next, an artist is showing a country farmer a picture, which causes him
great delight. The next, portrays the garret of a disappointed bachelor,
seated before a fireless fireplace, and mourning over the departure of a
few clams, the shells of which are on the hearth at his feet. The four
remaining pictures are described in their titles. The man who could
paint such a variety of subjects, ought assuredly to be a good portrait
painter; and Mr. Mount is such. His portraits are only occasionally
executed, and for particular friends, and the former only when the
spirit moves him, for he is a creature of impulse. And besides, his
health has ever been of a delicate nature, which will not suffer him to
“bone” down to labor. This fact, I presume, will be a satisfactory
answer to those who are continually inquiring, “Why don’t Mount paint
more?” The pictures he has produced, admirable and numerous as they are,
are but as the bud to the fruit, when we consider his great capacity. I
hope that it may be his fortune to enjoy a long and happy life, and that
he may make many more additions to American art.
_Doughty._ This gentleman has long been a favorite landscape painter
with the public, and has executed many exceedingly beautiful pictures,
principally of a fanciful character. In number they are too great, which
is his misfortune and not his fault. He has been obliged to paint at a
cheap price, or the public would have let him starve to death, as they
would any other artist, or a man of refined and exalted taste. And
having painted so much, it is not to be wondered at that many of his
productions should have been too hastily done, and that there should be
a sameness in his subjects. Finishing, as he generally does, with great
care, it always gratifies the eye to behold his pictures; but it is
obvious that he has never painted much from nature, for there is a
monotony in his touch, which cannot escape the criticism of the
attentive student of foliage. There are some, however, and very
important features too, in landscape painting, which are completely
mastered by Mr. Doughty, and in which he is without a rival, either in
Cole, Durand, or Huntington. His skies and water are the most true and
beautiful that we have ever seen. A carefully painted waterfall by
Doughty, is a picture of rare excellence and great value. His
atmospheres, too, are sometimes most exquisitely conceived and executed.
Good figures are the principal things wanting in his paintings to make
some of them nearly perfect, and his inability to paint them is
undoubtedly another reason for the sameness of his subjects. When a man
paints without a story or a moral in view, it is difficult to designate
his pictures; but our favorites among those of Mr. Doughty, are a large
“upright” with waterfall, an autumn scene, owned in Boston, another sold
to the Apollo Association, and a scene on Lake George.
_Wier._ This gentleman is the accomplished teacher of drawing at the
Academy of West Point. The majority of his productions, which are
numerous, give evidence of his possessing extensive literary
acquirements, a refined mind, and brilliant imagination. He is the
author of a number of pleasing landscapes, the best of which, “Constable
Bourbon’s March to Rome,” has been illustrated by the pen of Gulian C.
Verplanck. The amusing pictures, called the “Boat Club,” and “St.
Nicholas,” have proven, that if he would attempt it, he might excel in
that department of the art occupied by Mount and Edmonds. But it is as
an historical painter, that his name will live, and is now mostly
celebrated. His drawing is remarkably correct, his coloring rich, and
his style of execution highly finished. Another qualification belonging
to his works, and one which makes us love the man, is, that they are
purely American. Who that has seen it, can ever forget his full-length
portrait of “Red Jacket,” the warrior and orator of the Senecas? Aside
from the noble subject, it is unquestionably the most faithful and
competent delineation of Indian character to be found; and who that has
ever seen the “Indian Captives,” by the same hand, has not mourned over
the fate of the much wronged Aborigines of our land, even as “brave men
mourn the brave?” In this painting, we have an Indian and his squaw, in
prison, and an English soldier warning them of their impending fate.
Although it is an intensely interesting scene, yet the painter has not
availed himself of a single “face divine,” which I fancy to be a
beautifully poetic idea, and could not be carried out but by a man of
genius. Mr. Wier is one of the four artists appointed by the General
Government to execute four paintings for the Rotunda at Washington. The
subject of his, is the “Departure of the Pilgrims from Leyden;” but as I
have not yet seen it, I am unable to express an opinion as to its
merits.
_Inman._ The reputation of this gentleman as a portrait painter is very
extensive, and he has ever commanded a higher price than any other in
New York. His productions are very numerous, and there is not a single
branch of the art in which he has not made some successful attempts. His
coloring is rich and life-like, his style of execution exceedingly bold
and free. Painting as he does with great rapidity, we find that his
drawing is seldom as correct as it should be. He manifests a refined and
exalted taste in the arrangements of his portraits, and generally in his
miscellaneous designs. But, after all, he has painted some poor
pictures, and this is an evidence of the fact, that he is a man of
uncommon genius, and not talent. There is a wonderful spirit in his
heads, and unlike his rival, Page, he portrays the mind, which, after
all, is a greater triumph of art, and far more important in a portrait,
than the mere shell of humanity, as delineated by Page. His full-length
portrait of Macready, as William Tell, is a masterly performance, well
conceived, well colored, and well drawn; and among his miscellaneous
pictures, the most remarkable, are—“Rip Van Winkle,” “Bride of
Lammermoor,” “Mumble the Peg,” and “News-Boy;” all of them possessing
many peculiar beauties, with some glaring faults. Of his plain
portraits, I would mention only two as good specimens of his skill in
general, namely, those of Nicholas Biddle and Bishop White. I do not
deem it within the power of any man to go beyond these in portraying the
body of man and the soul within. Mr. Inman is also one of those artists
honored by a commission from the Government for a 10,000 dollar
painting. I understand that he is very far behind-hand in his great
undertaking. I know, however, that he has met with some sad misfortune,
which may be the cause; but I trust that he will soon be at work, and
may accomplish a national work worthy of his ability and his fame.
_Ingham._ This gentleman is one of the most celebrated and unique of all
our portrait painters. His style is emphatically his own, and may be
designated as that of exquisite finishing. You can never discern the
traces of his pencil, and the reason is, he produces his effect by
successive glazing. His pictures are distinguished for their
transparency, richness of color, and harmony; and being a man of
sentiment and delicate feeling, he is the universal favorite among the
ladies, and probably the most faultless painter in this country of those
charming but incomprehensible creations of Heaven. His best productions
are the portraits of “Miss McNevin,” “Mr. Dunlap,” “Dr. Channing,” and
the “White Plume;” and as genuine works of art, are inferior to nothing
in the whole range of that department. That of Dr. Channing, is one of
the best specimens of soul painting that I have ever seen, and any one
familiar only with the writings of the great original, could not fail to
select this portrait as his, from the midst of a hundred of other men,
so full is it of expression, and so perfect and exalted is the effect of
the painter. Ingham is a man of genius as well as talent, a friend to
young artists, and an honor to American art.
_Chapman._ All hail to this poetical and ready artist, and accomplished
gentleman, who has executed first-rate pictures in almost every
department of painting! His coloring is rather gaudy and paint-like, but
his drawing, when he takes pains, is correct and vigorous. His knowledge
of design is profound, and his conception of a picture is quick, and
always in admirable taste. He has been a devoted student of the old
masters, and copied more celebrated paintings than any other American.
Having been an extensive traveller throughout the United States, and
ever being on the lookout for valuable subjects to paint, and a lover of
historical lore, he has collected a large quantity of valuable
materials, the whole of which I hope he may live to embody in national
paintings. It was he who received the commission from Government to
paint the third picture (Vanderlyn is at work on the fourth) for the
Rotunda at Washington, and he has manfully fulfilled his obligation in
the execution of the “Baptism of Pocahontas.” Some of his other
prominent pictures, are “Hagar and Ishmael fainting in the wilderness,”
full length portrait of “David Crocket,” “Beppo,” “The First Ship,” a
large historical landscape representing “The Retreat from Fort
Necessity,” and a full length of “Washington in his youth.” These,
however, are but a small portion of what he has done, for he is one of
the most industrious men living. He is also a complete master of
sketching, and as he has a historical mind, his efforts of this kind are
very beautiful and very numerous. He is without a rival in this
lucrative branch of art, and for the past two years has mostly been
devoted to it, and is consequently a favorite among booksellers. He is a
lover of the “poor Indian,” and has done much toward perpetuating their
personal and national characteristics. Among the many things which now
occupy his time, is an American Drawing Book, which is what we very much
need in this country, and his I know will be a superb and valuable one
in every point of view.
_Harvey._ This gentleman is a landscape painter of rare merit; but many
of his pictures, unfortunately for us, are owned in England. His
principal work, and one which places him in a very high rank, is Forty
Atmospheric Views in the United States, executed in watercolors, and in
a style of uncommon beauty. He is a good draftsman, and possesses a
remarkable eye for color, and everything from his pencil teems with
sentiment and poetry. His contemplated work of “American Scenery,” when
published after his own expensive plan, will be an invaluable
acquisition to our treasury of art, and I hope that it may be received
by the public with the favor it so richly deserves.
Such is the array of painters, of which the emporium of America may well
be proud. Fame must ever attend their names, as surely as it is
attending those of West, Copley, Stuart, Allston, Jarvis, Trumbull, and
Malbone, among the dead; and Sully, King, Harding, Fisher, Neagle,
Morse, Vanderlyn, and Audubon, among the living of other
cities;—altogether making a company which would reflect honor on any
nation in the world.