ces of her own artists agree well in their style and character, with the works of those "magicians" who once trod the soil of that comparatively enlightened land. Yet mere imitation could not satisfy Grecian enterprise. And in this single fact we behold the secret of their unsurpassed success.

We would not give them credit for their excellence as though they had been the inventors of the arts of design, and yet had brought them to such a state of perfection, for it cannot be disputed that there is much of the grand and lofty in the Egyptian style, though it have none of that real grandeur and sublimity, that grace and beauty, which are demanded by a perfect taste.

The pyramids and obelisks may outlive the existing races of mankind, but they will bear stronger evidence of the degrading state of servitude under which the Egyptians groaned, than they will of an enterprising people-the cultivators of art. They were set out there on the plain to astonish the human mind forever, and though they do this, they will never convince men that their builders were skilled in the noblest and sublimest forms of architecture. If it be true that Athens and Sparta obtained their knowledge of these arts from their neighbors across the dark-colored sea, men's admiration shall be not less lasting, as they witness the vast superiority of the copy which was taken by their honored sons, from the disfigured and disproportioned original.

The question then for us to consider, is, by what means were the Greeks enabled to arrive at so great a degree of perfection in the arts of design?

Is it true that the human mind is now less expanded,-less given to look at what is excellent and beautiful, than it was two thousand years ago? We do indeed read over the poetry and the philosophy of some of the mighty intellects which were once the presiding geniuses of Greece, and feel that they had sublimity of thought, and beauty of conception, yet we are hardly willing to admit that their capacities were broader and deeper than we may witness in this nineteenth century;-hence we find not the reason of their superiority here. Nor did the balmy and elastic breezes that floated along the shores of Greece, bring with them richer pabulum for her children to feed on, nor the bright sunshine of her heaven, her beautiful scenery, her delightful climate, furnish a deeper source of inspiration, than existed along the banks of the majestic Nile, on the plains and hills of Palestine, or beneath the shadow of the gigantic Apennines.

While her cloud-capped mountains and her smiling vales, were not surpassed in sublimity and beauty, by those of any other land, it was not these which so developed the plastic powers of the mind, and gave them that full play which brought out from the cold dull rock the external anatomy of man, seeming to need nothing but a soul infused, to wake it up to life-it was not simply causes like these, which effected such miracles of art. Operating as a stimulus, in some degree, upon him, the scenery of Greece did not alone give the artist his success; for we must remember that even now the same sun that lighted up the groves of Attica, shines with undiminished splendor, on the land, the same pure and balmy air breathes along the whole Grecian shore; yet no bards rise up and chant immortal song, no sculptor's hands work out great wonders of art, as if guided by supernatural agency.

The wild workings of democracy,-was it these which drew forth such unsurpassed excellence? Was it the stirring spirit of liberty— that liberty which is worth

a whole eternity of bondage,"

which gave the Grecian mind such a mighty impulse, and made it overleap all that had gone before it, in its splendid exhibitions of art? Reasonably, we may attribute much that was accomplished, to the noble spirit of generous emulation, which ever characterises an enlightened, free-acting democracy. The various states of Hellas, were rivals for honor, and they labored hard for superiority. Hence not only the Fine Arts flourished, but every branch of human knowledge was cherished, and watched with diligence.

Before this day, poets and philosophers, orators and heroes had come forth, and battled manfully with the foes of right and freedom. Then followed the tide of Grecian glory. But when the republican governments fell beneath the sway of tyrants, genius felt his hand grow palsied, and his heart grow faint. True, princes, with their gold, gave some impulse to the artist's faltering will, yet gold could not lead on to effort, like the inspiring power of a generous rivalry, called into exercise, by the increasing renown of independent sister states.

Freedom yielded to oppression; and Art sunk down into neglect, along with philosophy and literature, while heroism and eloquence fled forever from the land of Homer, and Aristotle, and Demosthenes, and Plato. Thus it becomes certain that liberty, and a spirit of emulation, were two exciting causes of the Grecian mind, and to their

existence among the Grecks, we must impute somewhat of their preeminence in art.

But the games of Greece, where the human form was seen in its natural and perfect beauty, where was gathered all that was calculated to arouse and dazzle, where the victors were honored as a sort of demi-gods, these public games were one great means of developing that extraordinary manifestation of artistic skill, which her painters, her architects, and her sculptors displayed.

But the causes we have mentioned, are not sufficient to explain the secret of their great success. Powerful they were, but their chief source of inspiration was this-their mythology. They believed, not so much in the existence and eternity of one great presiding God, as in the agency of beings who were under the control of an inexorable fate; every city and hill-top, every stream and meadow, had its guardian deity, and him, men would represent on canvass, or in the more enduring, life-like marble. Had these gods been thought more exalted; pure, mystic spirits, not goaded on by an all-controlling Destiny,-beings like Israel's Omnipotent, Phidias would have moulded some other than the features of divinity, and had he not worshiped a god of higher character than did the Egyptians, he would never have embodied in his work, that most sublime of all Homer's conceptions, of Jupiter rocking high Olympus with his nod, while

"All around

The sovereign's everlasting head, his curls
Ambrosial shook."

Here, no doubt was the source of that superior excellence in art, at which the world has wondered.

Immortal beings and men-gods, transferred from their clay to heaven, were to be exhibited in all their divine and exalted attributes. This, then, was the mysterious power which gave the sculptor his success. It unfolded before his mind perfection, displayed only in the wondrous universe of which he formed a part. He saw no deity, but Nature spoke out loudly of an Omnipotent, and the artist would draw on his canvass, or cut with his chisel from the mountain quarry, his ideal of a god. He would bring forth a work for an immortal life, while he moulded the form and lineaments of "incarnate immortality" itself. His object was to present to human sight, the imagined glory of Deity, and he was stimulated to his efforts by all the motives we have noticed, to accomplish his design.

Such were the causes of Grecian superiority and renown in the Fine Arts. And if Praxiteles has left behind him a statue not surpassed in beauty of execution, by anything which Pisano or Michael Angelo produced-unexcelled by any work of the kind ever executed by man-well may we say in sorrow to Greece, "Thou once lovely and honored land, how art thou fallen! How art thou dishonored by the descendants of thy glorious sons! Wake thee, to thy duty, and again thou shalt astonish the world!"

But while none have excelled, there are many works of modern times, which show us what can be done by the genius of the artist, though he may not try to fashion out the Eternal. They look like the very handiwork of God. Wherever we behold

"The princely dome, the column and the arch,

The sculptur'd marble, and the breathing gold,"

we pause in admiration.

Italy is not more celebrated for her poets, than for her sculptors and painters. Virgil could once speak almost sneeringly, of the superiority of Greece, in the arts of design.

He little thought that a man should ever arise to rival his own glory, by his skill in art, on the very soil he trod. The cultivation of the Fine Arts then, is seen to distinguish a nation; hence we would briefly consider the second question proposed:

2. Should the Fine Arts be earnestly cultivated by Americans? If Schlegel's definition of science is correct, viz: that it is the perfection of all thinking, and in its actual operations as applied to life, and in itself carried to a conclusion, is one with it, then, surely, Americans should encourage the improvement of its every branch.

The fancied objection that these arts are of no utility, still clings to our hearts; but of what service is utility, if it be not to make us happy? Do we not libel Nature,-do we not accuse God of deepest folly, when we cry out against the ornaments of Art? Let us cease thus to cry, or first tear away the bright colors of the garden, and the gold which fringes the summer cloud. Let us pull down the awe-inspiring mountain cliffs, and fill up the vallies, before we plead so loud and earnestly, for the destruction of what man has wrought that is beauti

ful and charming, or deter him from loving poetry, painting, and sculpture. The roof of heaven is "fretted with golden fire," and hence, let us fit up our own creations in beauty and loveliness.

The influence of the arts is elevating and refining, and we should cultivate them for this tendency to exalt individual and national character. The objections that there is not wealth enough in the landthat we have no taste for the Arts-and that they are of no real utility; are fast disappearing before the convincing and melting sight of the developments our painters and sculptors have already made. No one will deny that there is a beneficial tendency in good poetry, rhetoric, and music, and yet these are to be classed under the Fine Arts. Let us have more Miltons, Whitefields, Mozarts, and let us be equally anxious for other Raphaels, and Angelos, and Canovas, to arise among us. A nation's heroes are her great men, and he who makes the marble soften into life, under his hand, or dips his pencil in colors, as beautiful as if they had been drawn from heaven, adds lustre to his country's name. We have now artists of the first order; let their efforts be encouraged, and they shall add to the ornament, the refinement, and the dignity of society. Would that in this land, we might have a work performed, at which men should gaze and wonder, while they feel more strongly than ever, the power of beauty, and exclaim aloud,

"So stands the Statue, which enchants the world."

If the Fine Arts flourish no more on the bright soil of Greece, at least let them not be neglected in this land of improvement, which has already produced a West, an Allston, and a Powers. Though there be no gods to paint, or cut out of the living rock, we may well hope, when we see the "Slave" of one of our countrymen, everywhere attracting such attention, that the day is fast coming on, when our country shall cultivate, with the same earnestness that she does the arts strictly useful, those which are imitative, and ornamental.

JR.

Error, though men may call it new, is often but some old delusion, clad in new apparel. In all her Protean shapes, she is the same in essence. In all her modern forms, she finds a type, in some old myth, or superstition. She is the comet, which with pale "portentous light," returns at distant and irregular periods.

Truth is the fixed star, which, ever and unalterably shines with steady splendor.