know what is generally thought about the introduction of a ghost on canvass, but it is to me as ludicrous as the introduction on the stage of the ghost in Hamlet (in his night-gown) as the old play book direction was. The effect of such a representation seems to me unattainable in a picture. There cannot be due distance and shadowy softness.
Then what does the picture mean to say? In the chronicle, the witch, surprised and affrighted at the apparition, reproaches the king, “Why hast thou deceived me? for thou art Saul.”
But here the witch (a really fine figure, fierce and prononcé as that of a Norna should be) seems threatening the king, who is in an attitude of theatrical as well as degrading dismay. To me this picture has no distinct expression, and is wholly unsatisfactory, maugre all its excellencies of detail.
In fine, the more I have looked at these pictures, the more I have been satisfied that the grand historical style did not afford the scope most proper to Mr. Allston’s genius. The Prophets and Sibyls are for the Michael Angelos. The Beautiful is Mr. Allston’s dominion. There he rules as a Genius, but in attempts such as I have been considering, can only show his appreciation of the stern and sublime thoughts he wants force to reproduce.
But on his own ground we can meet the painter with almost our first delight.
A certain bland delicacy enfolds all these creations as an atmosphere. Here is no effort, they have floated across the painter’s heaven on the golden clouds of phantasy.
These pictures (I speak here only of figures, of the landscapes a few words anon) are almost all in repose. The most beautiful are Beatrice, The Lady reading a Valentine, The Evening Hymn, Rosalie, The Italian Shepherd Boy, Edwin, Lorenzo and Jessica. The excellence of these pictures is subjective and even feminine. They tell us the painter’s ideal of character. A graceful repose, with a fitness for moderate action. A capacity
