19 



A VISIT TO A GREAT PICTURE. 



It cannot fail to be a source of regret to those who happen to pos- 

 sess " a taste" for the Fine Arts, to observe, throughout our land, the 

 low degree of genuine appreciation put upon the great works which 

 have fallen to us as heirlooms from Genius. Some, indeed, might deem 

 it a question, whether the period is to be longed for when our Da Vin- 

 cis, our Correggios, our Raphaels, can be fed by Americans, and their 

 productions, as subjects of thought and conversation, take the place of 

 hot-bed speculations, partizan feeling, and territorial acquisitions, or, as 

 sacred Penates, fill not only the niches of our public buildings, but find 

 their way to the homes of our private citizens. Some might mourn for 

 the patriotism of him, whose kindling eye lights up with enthusiasm 

 when the Leos and Medicis of the world are spoken of Others, more 

 charitable, kindly feel a pity, vvhich however, never fails of being accom- 

 panied with a self-congratulation, that they, at least, are sane on that 

 subject. 



Still, the privilege of thinking differently will not be denied ; and 

 we, whether fortunately or unfortunately, we will not now say, hap- 

 pen to have been born, if we have been rightly informed, with a humble 

 share of this enthusiasm, so much descried, so much pitied, so little met 

 and sympathized with. In consequence it has been a source of no little 

 gratification to find among our nursery traditions, some strange accounts 

 of the marvellous exactness with which our infant hand traced the 

 shadow of the nurse's nose, projected in giant proportions upon the 

 wall. Not that we would make any vain inferences, for it is rather 

 amazing-that so little should have been realized from a promise so hope- 

 ful •, but, that our words may be clothed with some measure of au- 

 thority, for Nature has drawn across the entrance to this Hall of her 

 Temple a bar that none but the adepti may ever pass. 



These remarks have arisen from the remembrance of an incident. — 

 As my years verged towards manhood, I heard much about the produc- 

 tions of the Great Masters, but never, except in fancy, had been granted 

 to me that which I so much coveted but half dreaded — an opportunity 

 of mingling with the throng of worshippers around the shrine of Genius. 

 Imagine, then, my delight, when, at length, the long wished-for boon 

 was realized ! Imagine the throbbing of expectation, when, a little be- 

 fore the appointed time, 1 stood before the pile of common brick and 

 mortar, which actually held "a Great Picture!" Imagine, if you can, 

 my amazement, when upon being ushered in, no sight burst upon my 

 eye, to make me sink to the earth in deep awe, or gape with open- 

 mouthed wonder; none to 



