Literary cadet and Rhode-Island statesman. [volume] (Providence, R.I.) 1827-1829, 1828-12-24

THE PAINTERS REVELATION.

a Weir, as he threw down his pencil
in despair. ~
The portrait Of a beautiful female rest
ed on his easel. The head was turned
as ifto look into tho painters face, and
an expression Of delicious confidence
and love was playing about the halfpart-
ed mouth. A mass Of luxuIiant hair,
stirred by the position, threw its shad-
ow upon a shoulder that bui for its ans
parency You would have given to ltys,
and the light from which the face turned
away fell on tho polished throat with
the rich mellowness of a moonbeam.
She was brunette-but hair oc q CLOS
sy black, and the blood melting through
the clear brown of her check, and sleep
ing in her lip like color in the edge ola
rose.-The eye was unfinished. lie
could not paint it.-IIer low, expressive
forehead, and tie light pencil Of her eye
brows, and the long. melancholy lashes
were all perfect; but he had painted the
eye a hundred times, and a hundred
times he had destroyed it, till at the
close of long day, as his light failed
him, he threw down his pencil in des-
pair, and resting his head on his easel,
gave himself up TO the contemplation OF
the ideal picture Of his fancy.
wish all my readers had painted a
portrait, the portrait Of the face they
best loved to look on il would be such
a chance to thrill them with a descrip-
ton Of the painters feelings. There is
| nothing but the first timid kiss that has
half its delirium. Why think Of it a
moment! To sit for hours gazing into
| the eyes you dream Of! TO be set to
steal away the tint of the lip and the
glory Of the brow you worship! To
have beauty come and sit down before
you, till its spirit is breaihed into your
fancy, and you can turn away and paint
il! To call up, like a rash enchanter,
the smile that bewiIders you, and have
power over the expression Of a face, tina.
mset you where it will, laps you 10 Ely
sium!-Make me a painter, Phytha-
goras!
A lovers picture Of his mistress, pain
ted as she exists in his fancy; would ne
YER be recognised.-He would make lit
tie Of features and complexion. No
no-he has not been an idolator for this.
He has seen her as no one else has seen
her, with the illumination Of love, which
once in her. life, makes every woman I'M
der heaven an angel ofIight. He knows
her heart, too-its gentleness, its ~fervor;
and when she comes up in his imagina-
ton, II is not her visible form passing
before his minds eye, but the apparit-
ion of her invisible virtues, clothed in the
tender rccollections of their discovery
and Development. If he remembers
her features at all, it is The changing CO.
Tor Ct her cheek, or the droop Of her
curved lashes, or the witchery of the
smile that welcomed him. And ever
then he was intoxicated with her vnice
always a sweet instrument, when the
heart plays upon it-aad his eye was
good for nothing. Not is no matter
what she may be 10 others-shc appears
to him like u bright and perfect being,
and he would as soon paint st. Celia
with a wart, and his mistress with on i'm.
perfect feature.
Duncan could not satisfy himself. He
painted with his heart on fire, and he
threw by canvass after canvass till his
room was like a gallery of angels. In
perfect despair, at last, he sat down and
made a deliberate copy of her features
the exquisite picture of which we have
spoken. Still, the eye haunted him.
He felt as If il would redeem all iC he
could give it the express ion with which
il looked back some Of his impassioned
declarations. His skill, however, was,
as yet baffled, and it was a, the close Of
the third day Of unsuccessful effort that
he reiinquishcd it in despair, and, drop
ping his head upon his easel, abandoned
himself to his imagination.
/ Duncan entered the gallery with He
hen leaning on his arm. 1t was throng-
ed with v~isiters. Groups were collec-
ted before the ~favorite pictures, and the
low hum Of criticism rose confusedly,
varied. now and thon, by the exclama-
ton of some enthusiastic spectator. In
a conspicuous part Of the room hung
The Mute Reply, by Duncan Weir A
crowd had gathered before il, and were
gazing on il with evident pleasure. Ex-
prcssioDs Of surprise and admiration
broke frequently from the group, and as
they fell on the ear Of Duncan, he felt
an irresistible impulse to approach and
look al his W picture. What is like
the affections Of a painter for the of;
spring Of his genius. II seemed to him
AZ if he had never before seen 10. There
it hung like a new picture, and he dwelt
upon II with oh tho interest Of a stran-
ger.-h was indeed beautiful. There
was a bewtching loveliness floating