orks of the Caracci,
Domenichino, Guido Albani, and others of almost equal celebrity. I am no
judge of such matters; and therefore my reader need lay no stress upon
my criticisms; but it appeared to me, that some paintings placed in the
first rank had not attained that excellence. The highly-praised "Victory
of Sampson over the Philistines," I felt, wanted the grandeur of the
Hebrew Judge on this the greatest occasion of his life; although it gave
you a very excellent representation of a thirsty man drinking, with rows
of prostrate people in the background. Other pieces were disfigured by
glaring anachronisms in time and dress. The artist evidently had drawn
his inspiration, not from the _Bible_, but from the _Cathedral_. The
Apostles in some cases had the faces of monks, and looked as if they had
divided their time betwixt Liguori and the wine-flagon. Several
Scriptural personages were attired in an ecclesiastical dress, which
must have been made by some tailor of the sixteenth century. But there
is one picture in that gallery that impressed me more than any other
picture I ever saw. It is a painting of the Crucifixion by Guido. The
background is a dark thundery mass of cloud, resting angrily above the
dimly-seen roofs and towers of Jerusalem. There is "darkness over all
the land;" and in the foreground, and relieved by the darkness, stands
the cross, with the sufferer. On the left is John, looking up with
undying affection. On the right is Mary,--calm, but with eyes full of
unutterable sorrow. Mary Magdalene embraces the foot of the cross: her
face and upper parts are finely shaded; but her attitude and form are
strongly expressive of reverence, affection, and profound grief. There
are no details: the piece is simple and great. There are no attempts to
produce effect by violent manifestations of grief. Hope is gone, but
love remains; and there before you are the parties standing calm and
silent, with their great sorrow.

It so happened that the exhibition of the works of living artists was
open at the time, and I had a good opportunity of comparing the present
with the past race of Italian painters. I soon found that the race of
Guidos was extinct, and that the pencil of the masters had fallen into
the hands of but poor copyists. The present artists of Italy have given
over painting saints and Scripture-pieces, and work mostly in portraits
and landscapes. They paint, of course, what will sell; and the public
taste app