commands to discover and subjugate them -the cloudy steam, the fugitive electricity, the expansive gas, new esculents, new medicinal elements-so the ductile metal, the finely veined wood, and the yielding marble are all as direct intimations of the divine will and purpose. In the mind God has implanted the restless urgency to realize, in beautiful forms, the spiritual ideas that rise into life within its pregnant bosom a craving more powerful than the cry for bread, and even conquering the strong natural instinct for rest and for life. And he has himself provided the unapproachable paradigms, which ever inspire and excite the human powers to their utmost ability. A beckoning hand, and a spiritual voice whispering excelsior, ever invite the reverent imagination to a higher conception, and the cunning fingers to a more delicate execution. The world is hung with pictures, adorned with statuary, and piled up in sublime forms of architecture. The great Sovereign of the universe is evidently worshiped and glorified as truly in an effort to develop and cultivate the imagination, as in the toils of daily labor and the investigations of science; and the work may be as devout. Sir Godfrey Kneller was accustomed to say: "When I paint, I consider it as one way, at least, of offering devotions to my Maker, by exercising the talent his goodness has graciously blessed me with;" and Francis I., when his noblemen expressed their surprise at his grief upon the death of Leonardo da Vinci, exclaimed: "I can make a nobleman; but God Almighty alone can make an artist." Indeed, the inspiration to accomplish these noble and beautiful results is ascribed in Holy Writ to the Almighty: "Then wrought every wise-hearted man in whom the Lord put wisdom and understanding, to know how to work all manner of work for the service of the sanctuary;" and in the disclosures of the "new heavens" and "new earth," the adornments of art are the chosen symbols of its glory: "Behold I will lay thy stones with fair colors and thy foundations with sapphires, and I will make thy windows of agates, and thy gates of carbuncles, and all thy borders of pleasant stones."

The effect of a true and pure work of art upon the mind of the beholder can but be wholesome and ennobling. "Though the cultivation of the taste," says the

author of the "Manual of the Fine Arts,” "will not create moral principles in the mind where they do not exist, it is maintained that there is an affinity between the refinements of taste and the virtues of the soul; between the beautiful and the good. Heaven, the peculiar abode of holiness, is represented as a place of transcendent beauty and glory. And granting that the fine arts are utterly powerless to implant pure principles, still, if not abused, they will foster and expand them, and imbue them with a fine sensibility." The same author remarks with much propriety: “A cultivation of the taste, by a proper degree of attention to literature and the fine arts, elevates the mind above trivial cares and conventional jealousies, giving it a vigorous independence, and a fund of inexhaustible resources within itself." The increase of material wealth, with us, exhibits itself too often in the gratification of appetite or of the lower affections-in the over-luxuriousness of our dwellings and their furniture, and in those forms of domestic art that strike the sight with the most glaring effect-in plate and jewelry. "I cannot but think," says Ruskin," that part of the wealth which now lies buried in these doubtful luxuries, might most wisely and kindly be thrown into a form which would give perpetual pleasure, not to its possessor only, but to thousands besides, and neither tempt the unprincipled, nor inflame the envious, nor mortify the poor; while, supposing that your own dignity was dear to you, this, you may rely upon it, would be more impressed upon others by the nobleness of your house walls than by the glistening of your sideboards."

No form of art is better adapted to accomplish these high purposes than sculpture. Ruskin is of the opinion that there is less liability of a perverted taste in this form of art than in painting. "You are aware," he says in his interesting lectures, "that the possibilities of error in sculpture are much less than in painting; it is altogether an easier and simpler art, invariably attaining perfection long before painting, in the progress of a national mind." Our young country has presented its full share of claimants to the honors of this noble art, and among the living and the dead can point, with national pride, to names that the world will not readily let die. The lamented Horatio Greenough

-a Boston boy-whose valuable life was finally fretted out, in the prime of his years, by the vexatious delays of our government in sending for the group of statuary executed by him in Italy, which had been ordered, under the administration of Mr. Van Buren, to embellish the pediment of the eastern portico of the capitol at Washington, had lived long enough to secure a European reputation. To him belongs the honor of the severe and sublime design of the monument upon Bunker Hill. His younger brother, Richard Greenough, is an emulator of his genius, and is rising to fame in the same province of art. Eve, the Greek Slave, and the Neapolitan Fisher Boy have rendered the name of Hiram Powers immortal-a NewEnglander by birth, but early transplanted to Ohio, and claimed by Cincinnati as one of her noblest sons. The majestic bronze statue by Ball Hughes of Dr. Bowditch, in Mt. Auburn, and other equal works, have placed the author's name among the conspicuous sculptors of the day. Henry Dexter, of New-York, became a painter, by the irresistible force of genius, and a sculptor almost involuntarily. About the time of his coming to Boston, Greenough was leaving the country for Italy, and a friend of the young painter advised him to obtain the molding clay left behind in the sculptor's rooms, as modeling might help him in acquiring a knowledge of forms. The suggestion was followed, and the clay obtained. "I mixed it with water," he says, "and prepared a mass of it in the way I supposed it was to be used. My hands were in the clay when Mr. White, the painter, came in. I requested him to let me make his face in the mud. He readily assented. In about half an hour, with only my fingers for instruments, I astonished my sitter, and almost frightened myself. This was my first attempt at modeling." His marble "Binney Child" in Mt. Auburn will not soon leave the memory of the observer. Clevenger, and Crawford, the latter of whom conceived and chiseled the striking monumental representation of the death of Dr. Amos Binney, in Mt. Auburn, have both justified by ample results their right to a position in the "goodlie" company of sculptors. And then there is Stevenson, who executed the "Wounded Indian;" Bracket, the sculptor of the "Shipwrecked Mother and Child;" Brown, whose colossal statue

of De Witt Clinton, in bronze, was a great achievement of art; Thomas Ball, of Charleston, whose head of Webster has been much admired; Clark Mills, whose equestrian statue of Jackson adorns the National Capitol; and Miss Hosmer, the latest, and in some respects most remarkable cultivator of the art of sculpture-a young lady of Watertown, Mass., whose "Hesper" is considered an extraordinary production, affording an eloquent prophecy of fame.

John C. King, whose name stands at the head of this sketch, is intimately connected, in his early artistic history and fortunes, with his warm friend and companion, Hiram Powers. Mr. King is a native of Scotland, having been born in the town of Kilwinning, Ayrshire, on the 16th of October, 1806. His later studies and labors were foretold by his early tastes and passion for painting. At five years of age, he began with chalk sketches, and the gift. of his first box of water colors, he says, made him “happier then, than a fortune could make me now." He practiced as an amateur artist, without instruction, until the age of manhood. He was persuaded to learn the business of his father, (a machinist,) that the aid of his services might be secured to the family. In 1829, Mr. King, having become restless at home, and having heard glowing accounts of the openings for business in America, embarked for New-Orleans, where he arrived in due season, and soon after sailed for Cincinnati. His time was occupied in various forms of his trade until 1836, when, in the financial crisis of that memorable period, all manufacturing business was paralyzed. In 1832, while residing in Cincinnati, he became acquainted with Hiram Powers, and a warm and lasting friendship was the result. "In 1834," writes Mr. King, in his sketch of his life prepared for Mrs. Lee, "a young friend of Mr. Powers died of cholera. Powers was applied to, to model a bust of him from memory. I had an invitation to look at it when it was finished. This was the first model in clay I had ever seen, and it possessed great interest for me. After examining it carefully, and making remarks on the parts that pleased me most, Powers came directly in front of me, threw his hands behind his back, looked at me with his large, serious eyes, as if he saw through to the back of my

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head, and said, King, if you had as much practice as I have had, you could model as good a bust as I can.' I asked him why he said so; he replied, I know it from the remarks you have just made on that model. Get a piece of clay, and I will give you my modeling stand, and lend you my modeling tools, and if your modesty will not allow you to ask any gentleman to sit, make a bust of your wife; and if you should fail, don't be discouraged, as a female study, for a beginner, is rather a severe test.' The clay was procured, and the block set up, into which I was to work my way, to come at the likeness. Most of the work had to be done at night, as early in the morning I had the duties connected with my business to attend to. About two weeks served to throw aside the clay in the front of the head, and, somewhat to my astonishment,

the likeness was apparent. I summoned courage to ask Powers to look at it. I confess that I was quite nervous about the time the model was uncovered. He looked at it, and said, 'Did I not tell you that you could model? And if circumstances should occur that make it expedient for you to resort to sculpture as a means of supporting your family, you need no teacher: you have that within you that will guide you better than any master." Thus was one artist quickened into life by the genial and unselfish kindness and appreciation of another. From this time Mr. King continued to cultivate the art which he had espoused with all the warmth of a first love, modeling busts and medallions.

In 1837 he removed to New-Orleans, and gave himself up to his profession, leaving in this city when he removed, as

the evidences of his peculiar skill and success in copying nature, among others, the busts of Rev. Theodore Clapp and Honorable Pierre Soulé, and a number of his remarkable likenesses in cameo. In 1840 he removed to Boston, continuing his work of modeling busts with great assiduity, and multiplying his accurate and beautiful cameos. His great works in marble are the busts of John Quincy Adams, Dr. Samuel Woodward, and Daniel Webster.

Mr. King has not yet illustrated his genius by any ideal statuary; indeed, although in the simple sketch that we have given, the life of the artist may seem to have run quietly and happily on, behind this outward and visible life there may have been the keen inward struggle against the pressure of daily necessities, and also against the mental despondency arising from the inadequate returns of labors that had become a craving and an almost necessary condition of happiness and life.

A more touching and painful record could hardly be written than the confidential history of most of our artists. Long months of toil, without resources to meet the continual wants of a family, must be passed, before the speaking marble or canvas returns even its limited recompense; and with the comparatively few appreciators of art, the supply ordinarily is in advance of the demand. The wonder is, that art is still so generously cultivated by its devotees, at such a price of neglect and agony. But the ideal power is not lacking in Mr. King: it reveals itself by unmistaken symbols in his marble busts. The original forms of beauty stand around his mental gallery awaiting the hour of hope, when they shall come forth and assume a material embodiment. "Those can know but little of the miracles in primitive clay," says the Washington National Intelligencer, "who have not seen King's gorgeous, but truthful bust of the great expounder of the constitution." His power of seizing upon the best expression and producing a likeness of extraordinary precision both in cameo and in marble, is not more marked than the ethereal grace of original genius with which he invests the perfect images that rise under his hand.

His noble bust of the "old man eloquent" stands in the room of the speaker

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of the House of Representatives, on the very spot where Mr. Adams breathed his lasta perpetual remembrancer of the fearless and faithful sage of Quincy, and honor to the sculptor. In the spring of 1850, Mr. King had the privilege of a series of sittings from Mr. Webster. saw him under the most favorable circumstances, and by careful measurements was enabled to secure an exact counterpart of the illustrious statesman. The majestic subject, in both physical and mental proportions, was all that art could ask for a noble display of her handiwork. And the success of the artist was complete; he has suceeded in perpetuating in marble that wonderful " personification of intellect and power, and of self possession and energy in repose."

Of this work the discriminating critic of the Boston Post remarked: "The likeness, the expression, the character of the remarkable man are all faithfully and wonderfully presented, the bust is lifelike, impressive to an astonishing degree, and must rank altogether among the best efforts of modern art." Another Boston critic, the editor of the Transcript, remarked: "It is the true historic head of Webster-that by which he will be best known to posterity-that which his most intimate friends will most confidently refer to, as, at once, the most agreeable and the most minutely accurate of the many likenesses of the man.' A marble copy of this bust was ordered for Faneuil Hall; and when completed and the object of universal commendation, the memorable fire which consumed the Tremont Temple destroyed this noble result of months of toil, together with the artist's casts, models, valuable busts, all his cameos and all the implements of the art which he had collected in his studio. The gentlemen, however, who had ordered the original bust, generously called for another; a plaster cast, happily, having been preserved. Mr. Grinnell, of New-York, is possessor of another marble bust of Webster from the hand of Mr. King; and the artist is at present in England with his fine copy of the American senator, ordered by Lord Ashburton. We hope he may bring with him, upon his return, orders for many more of his great work.

If life and an opportunity for the development and cultivation of his genius are

enjoyed by Mr. King, we may confidently predict a still richer recompense of emolument and fame for him. He is but inspired by his early successes, and the cunning of his hand has not yet expressed itself as it may when the pressure of necessity is removed from it, and it follows unembarrassed the conceptions of an untrammeled mind. A keen observer, and one well qualified to form a comparative estimate of the genius exhibited by the cultivators of art, says in a letter to the writer: "I know of no artist of our own day so well entitled, whether in cameocutting, or in modeling, or in exquisite skill in chiseling, to unqualified eulogy and ample patronage, yet securing so little in proportion to his merits. In cameo work, we have no living artist, at home or abroad, who, in his characteristic style, unites, with original life and freshness, so much classical elegance and

finish. In his admirable busts he has the rare skill to retain a well-marked individuality and life-like portraiture, with an ideal dignity and grace, seldom revealed by other artists without sacrificing truth and resemblance." We trust that brighter days are beginning to beam upon the pathway of the artist, and that his genius will have yet an unobstructed path. However this may be, the true artist may ever say of his art as Coleridge said of his poetry: "I expect neither profit nor general fame from my writings, and I consider myself as having been amply repaid without either. Poetry has been to me its own exceeding great reward: it has soothed my afflictions; it has multiplied and refined my enjoyments; it has endeared solitude, and it has given me the habit of wishing to discover the good and the beautiful in all that meets and surrounds me."