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.
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