Thus much will be elicited from the most indifferent spectator acquainted with the history of the transaction, before he proceeds to express an opinion upon the painting in detail, respecting which so much has been written and so little understood. But concessions such as these are in no wise to screen the painting from full and free investigation as a work of art-the production of one liable, as all mortals are, occasionally to err, and, (as commonly happens) not exempt from imperfection because abounding with excellence.

The general effect, in the first place, is striking to the beholder, and that which pleases in the whole, may be considered an evidence of general merit in a performance, such as we believe no one, aware of Mr. West's estimation among artists, will be found to dispute. The rich glow of colouring, the relief afforded by the various groups that appear-the solemnity, interest, and suspense of the scene, all contribute to awaken those higher emotions which it is the peculiar glory of a master in the art to call forth.

The principal object that attracts attention is our Saviour. The superior dignity of his mien above all men, points him out at once, as he ought to be, the chief subject of notice. If any objection were to arise in contemplating the physiognomy, which, in studying character, is so material an index, it is perhaps that a sufficient degree of interest is not manifested in the objects presented. The countenance appears too little marked. "He was a man of sorrows, and acquainted with grief," and though his features were no doubt regular, as we learn from ancient writings, yet the convexity of the forehead, the smoothness of the visage altogether, do not present those occasional strong lines which accompany thought and reflection, and are always more or less indicative of the highest understanding. Midnight praying on the mount, and in the wilderness, must have furrowed that cheek with care and anxiety, which bespeak our sympathy with suffering. The eyes are expressive rather of acuteness than of benignity.

It is understood that modern representations of our Saviour are formed upon the traditions of the fathers, who have not all expressed themselves on this subject in an uniform manner. St. Jerome believes, that the lustre and majesty which shone about our Saviour's face, were capable of winning all hearts; it was this that drew the generality of his Apostles with so much ease to him; it was this majesty that struck those down who came to seize him in the olive garden.

St. Bernard relates, that the people followed him, and were attached to his person, by the allurement of the several graces that shone in him, by the sweetness of his conversation and discourses, and the lustre of his beauty. There is a majority in favour of these opinions, supported by scriptural anthority.

"Thou art fairer than the children of men; grace is poured into thy lips. Psalms, xlv. 3. St. Chrysostom says, that the people were as it were nailed to our Saviour, and were never weary of seeing and admiring him.

Nicephorus is of opinion that St. Luke drew the pictures of Jesus Christ, the blessed Virgin, and the Apostles, and that by this means their images, represented to the life, were scattered over all the earth. It is certain that there has been always a particular tradition in the church concerning the figure and stature of our Saviour and his Apostles. Our Lord is thus described after the images which are believed to have been painted by St. Luke.

'He was very beautiful in the face, and about seven spithamas, or six feet high; his hair was inclining to be very fair, not thick, but a little curled; his eyes-brows were black, and did not form exactly a semicircle. His eyes were large, lively, and something yellowish; his nose long, his beard black, and pretty short; but he wore his hair long, for the scissors had never been used upon his head, nor had the hand of any one touched him besides that of his mother the Virgin, when he was as yet a child. His neck was not stiff, nor his carriage lofty or proud. He stooped a little with his head: his complexion was almost of the colour of wheat; his countenance neither round nor sharp, but like his mother's, something longish, and pretty much upon the vermilion. Gravity, prudence, meekness, and clemency were painted in his face.'

Nicephor. Hist. Eccles. v. 2. c. 43.

In depicting the countenance of Christ, it may be supposed that great reflection must have been exercised before the imagination of the painter could satisfy itself with its own creation. Of all the component parts of the subject, it is unquestionably the most nice and delicate. It is for the painter or the poet alone to judge of the difficulties of such an occasion, when a happy moment may occur or be wanting, on which so much depends-when success is given, not to labour or industry, but to inspiration of genius—when, it is a fortunate conception in short, formed of the most exquisite assemblages in the mind, that decides the merit of the execution. It is so in poetry, it is so in painting, both nearly allied to each other.

The hands of Jesus, spread out in an attitude of annunciation, are exquisitely wrought, the right seems as if starting from the canvas, the left is contracted, which has given it the appearance of being smaller in size than the other. The drapery is perhaps rather too gaudy for one who, like truth, "needs no ornament."

Immediately on the right of our Saviour is the Apostle John, whose inanity of expression (if consonant to marbles or traditions) yet seems scarcely to accord with his character in divine works, and pensive attitude in the painting. It is in deviations to effect a striking purpose, that the indulgence of the painter's imagination is allowed and admired. He must sometimes improve upon strict historical truth, in pursuing the grandeur of his design. How much the great style, such as that before us, exacts from its professors to conceive and represent their subject in a poetical manner, not confined to mere matter of fact, may be seen in the cartoons of Raffaelle. In all the pictures in which that painter has represented the apostles, he has drawn them with great nobleness; he has given them as much dignity as the human figure is capable of receiving.

All this is not falsifying the fact. It is taking an allowed poetical license.* A painter of portraits retains the individual likeness; a painter of history shows the man by showing his actions. A painter must compensate the natural deficiencies of his art. He has but one sentence to utter, but one moment to exhibit. He cannot, like the poet or historian, expatiate, and impress the mind with great veneration for the character of the hero or saint he represents. The painter has no other means of conveying an idea of the dignity of the mind, but by that external appearance which grandeur of thought does generally, though not always, impress on the countenance; and by that correspondence of figure to sentiment and situation, which all men wish, but cannot command. The painter, who may in this one particular attain with ease what others desire in vain, ought to give all that he possibly can, since there are so many circumstances of true greatness that he cannot give at all.

On the left of Christ is Peter, whose rugged aspect may well comport with an idea of the vocation he had left, as a fisherman, to follow his divine master. Matthew, farther on, appears the thoughtful spectator, a man grave and sanctified, well qualified to bear witness to this miracle, and whose narration is the text of the picture.

Judas Iscariot is seen behind the Apostle Matthew, scowling upon the scene, with a look that betrays all the dark principles of his nature, which the painter, with infinite skill, has admirably contrasted with the open, undisguised expression of zeal in the next Apostle, a younger man, who appears in the act of encouraging the father of an insane boy to come forward and submit his unhappy son to the healing power. Here is one of the many hidden beauties of this extraordinary work, that reveal themselves more and more on an attentive study.

The blind man in front of the last mentioned Apostle, is an admirable copy of nature, the more true the nearer we compare it with real instances. His hand, grasping a stick, appears that of one living; his youthful son is represented to us, by the happy power of the artist, the all-dutiful child, and by the inclination of his head, the cast of his eyes, and even the little attention of disposing the hair, as though shipwrecked in hope, yet taught to expect the blessing, from the intent look he raises to regard the figure whence it is reported to flow; beneath, is the group of all others that most arrests the attention, on account of the singular felicity with which the figure of a sick man "nigh unto death" is represented, with hands uplifted, prayer quivering on his lips, and earnest expectation depicted in the strain of every feeble muscle of the face. The pallid hue of the body, the faithful delineation of the veins, the joints of the shrivelled hands, and the anatomical accuracy of the arms, the toute ensemble in short, convey so true a likeness of bedridden age,-to the effect of which, the white linen drapery, the grey locks, the number of figures interested, and importance given, by

-Pictoribus atque poetis,
Quidlibet audendi semper fuit æqua potestas.

Horat.

the support of two lusty bearers, have artfully added, that we are constrained to dwell upon this, as next to the figure of our Saviour, the principal object of attraction in the piece.

The sick man's daughter, holding his crutch, has a look of extreme anxiety, the mouth is gently open, the earnestness is thereby increased, while her outstretched neck accords with it. Her beauteous countenance is pale with long attendance on the sick couch, her emotion too evident to be misinterpreted; while care, seated on her brow, is strikingly contrasted with the unconscious gaze of a fine boy about four years old, accompanying her. Beyond these, on the right, a centurion is seen kneeling in an attitude of adoration and expectancy, grounded in faith, awaiting the fulfilment of the miracle. On the extreme right is an elderly female, apparently struggling with disease, who, by the distension of the eyes, and inclination of the body, seems striving to partake of the divine blessing. She is supported by two Roman soldiers, the taller of whom is a remarkably fine study; his limbs admirably proportioned, his countenance noble and with the Roman nose, were no doubt derived from choice models of the Italian school. Just above is seen an aged man sustaining his son, a maniac, who presents the spectacle of lost reason in all its horrors. Mr. West has no doubt taken this from some Hospital for incurables, for the wretched being appears in the extreme of frenzied aspect. What the mind feels a horror of, it can rarely bring itself to admire. But, though under the influence of such a feeling, it will pronounce on the merit of a faithful transcript from an original, if such there was in the present case. The physiologist will acknowledge that spare diet, close confinement, and paroxysms of passion, all contribute to communicate a livid paleness to the flesh, which, with the shaved head, (necessary where the brain is affected) and starting eyes, not inaptly denote the deprivation of mental possession. It was necessary to introduce human suffering in its most aggravated degree, in order to convey an adequate idea of the power of Christ, as well as to relieve the monotony of ordinary wo. In an elevated situation over this object, is a most beautiful young girl, the loveliest perhaps that imagination could paint, which agreeably softens the scene to the eye, but it is still more assisted by the amiable looks of the two sisters of the maniac, one of whom, clasping her hands, expresses the agony of her mind, and excites a peculiar sympathy in the beholder.

On the right of the picture, a woman kneeling, holds a sick infant; the complexion of the little sufferer well betokens malady, and in an easy posture, it reclines its head on the bosom of the mother, who is well described as a Jewess by her countenance. Above her, is a young girl blind, with a bandage of linen around her head, which, with the hectick flush upon her cheek, denote an inflammation of the brain; the artist has been very happy in this, but the father, though a fine head, expresses in the countenance too little earnestness for the occasion. The old woman next him must strike all an exact representative of character within their recollection. In