rogative? Neither the genius of Mr. West, great as I willingly admit it to be, nor that of our great Barry, nor of Michel Angelo himself, the mightiest mind that ever ennobled the art, can render that sublime which is in itself inherently absurd. And surely if it be absurd to paint a human bead upon a horse's neck, with the body of a fowl, ending in a fish's tail, it is not less so to heap heads, tails, horses, fish, lions, and cupids, one upon the other. There will come a time when such gross allegories will be deemed as repugnant to true taste as the gross Anthropomorphism of Catholic church pictures is to true religion. The invisible world is not within the painter's province; there is a commandment of common sense which forbids him to make unto himself the likeness of any thing that is in Heaven above.
225. Tirante el Blanco.
What could possibly have induced
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