cleaning you. He told me he wondered how I could no it; for his part he would not like to do the same again for ten dollars. I told him you were a fellow being, and that it was our duty to assist each other in distress. Have you forgotten my care of you during the winter you staid with me? How I put you in bed every night, with a warm brick to your feet, and treated you like an infant one month old? Have you forgotten likewise how you destroyed my bed and bedding by fire, and also a great coat that was worth ten dollars?

'I remember, during one of your stays at my house, you were sued in the justice's court by a poor man, for the board and lodging of the French woman, to the amount of about thirty dollars; but as the man had no proof, and only depended on your word, he was non-suited, and a cost of forty-two shillings thrown upon him. This highly gratified your unfeeling heart. I believe you had promised payment, as you said you would give the French woman the money to go and pay it with. I know it is customary in England that when any gentleman keeps a lady, that he pays her board and lodging. You com plain that you suffered with the cold, and that there ought to have been a fire in the parlour. But the fact is, that I expended so much money on your account, and received so little, that I could not go to any further expense, and if I had I should not have got you away. A friend of yours that knew my situation told you that you ought to buy a load of wood to burn in the parlour; your answer was that you should not stay above a week or two, and did not want to have the wood to remove; this certainly would have been a hard case for you to have left me a few sticks of wood.

'Now, Sir, I think I have drawn a complete portrait of your character; yet to enter upon every minutia would be to give a history of your life, and to develop the fallacious mask of hypocrisy and deception under which you have acted in your political as well as moral capacity of life. There may be many grammatical errors in this letter. To you I have no apologies to make; but I hope the candid and impartial public will not view them with a critic's eye.' 'WILLIAM CARVER.'

'Thomas Paine, New York, Dec. 2, 1806.'

'He lived at Ryder's until 4th of May, 1809, about eleven months; during which time, except the last ten weeks, he got drunk regularly twice a day. As to his person, said Mr. Ryder, we had to wash him like a child, and with much the same coaxing; for he hated soap and water. He would have the best of meat cooked for him, eat a little of it, and throw away the rest, that he might have the worth of the money which he paid for his board. He chose to perform all the functions of nature in bed.-When censured for it he would say, I pay you money enough, and you shall labor for it.'

He returned,' says Mr. Cheetham, to his farm at New Rochelle, taking with him Madame Bonneville and her sons. On his arrival he hired Rachel Gidney, a black woman, to cook for him. Rachel continued with him about two

months. But as he never thought of paying for services, or for meat, or for any thing else, Rachel had to sue him for five dollars, the amount of her wages. She got out a warrant, on which he was apprehended, and Mr. Shute, one of his neighbours and political admirers. was his bail. The wages were finally obtained, but he thought it hard that he should be sued in a country for which he had done so much!'

It is now time to bring this article to a close. We will conclude it with a passage from a letter written by Dr. Manley, who attended this extraordinary person in his last illness, in answer to enquiries from Mr. Cheetham :—

During the latter part of his life, though his conversation was equivocal, his conduct was singular. He would not be left alone night or day. He not only required to have some person with him, but he must see that he or she was there, and would not allow his curtain to be closed at any time; and if, as it would sometimes unavoidably happen, he was left alone, he would scream and holla until some person came to him. When relief from pain would admit, he seemed thoughtful and contemplative, his eyes being generally closed, and his hands folded upon his breast, although he never slept without the assistance of an anodyne. There was something remarkable in his conduct about this period (which comprises about two weeks immediately preceding his death), particularly when we reflect that Thomas Paine was author of the Age of Reason. He would call out during his paroxysms of distress, without intermission, ‘O Lord help me, God help me, Jesus Christ help me, O Lord help me,' &c., repeating the same expression without any the least variation, in a tone of voice that would alarm the house. It was this conduct which induced me to think that he had abandoned his former opinions; and I was more inclined to that belief when I understood from his nurse (who is a very serious, and, I believe, pious woman) that he would occasionally enquire, when he saw her engaged with a book, what she was reading, and being answered, and at the same time asked whether she should read

aloud, he assented, and would appear to give particular attention.

'I took occasion, during the night of the 5th and 6th of June, to test the strength of his opinions respecting revelation. I purposely made him a very late visit; it was a time which seemed to sort exactly with my errand: it was midnight; he was in great distress, constantly exclaiming in the words above mentioned; when, after a considerable preface, I addressed him in the following manner, the nurse being present:

Mr. Paine, your opinions, by a large portion of the community, have been treated with deference: you have never been in the habit of mixing in your conversation words of course you have never indulged in the practice of profane swearing: you must be sensible that we are acquainted with your religious opinions as they are given to the world. What must we think of your present conduct? Why do you call upon Jesus

The book she usually read was Mr. Hobart's Companion for the Altar.

Christ to help you? Do you believe that he can help you? Do you believe in the divinity of Jesus Christ? Come now answer me honestly; I want an answer as from the lips of a dying man, for I verily believe that you will not live twentyfour hours. I waited some time at the end of every question; he did not answer, but ceased to exclaim in the above manner. Again I addressed him :- Mr. Paine, you have not answered my questions; will you answer them! Allow me to ask again-Do you believe? or let me qualify the question-do you wish to believe that Jesus Christ is the Son of God? After a pause of some minutes, he answered, I have no wish to believe on that subject.' I then left him, and know not whether he afterwards spoke to any person, on any subject, though he lived, as I before observed, till the morning of the 8th. Such conduct, under usual circumstances, I conceive absolutely unaccountable, though with diffidence I would remark, not so much so in the present instance; for, though the first necessary and general result of conviction be a sincere wish to atone for evil committed, yet it may be a question worthy of able consideration whether excessive pride of opinion, consummate vanity, and inordinate self-love, might not prevent or retard that otherwise natural consequence?'

On the 8th of June, 1809, about nine in the morning, died this memorable reprobate, aged seventy-two years and five months.

For the sake of England and humanity,' says an able anonymous writer, it is to be wished that his impostures and his memory may rot together. In speaking of such a man it is impossible to suppress indignation. Decency towards

PAINT, v. a., v. n., & n. s. PAINTER, n. s.

PAINTING,

PAIN'TURE.

the dead may draw the curtain of oblivion over transient obliquities of conduct, but duty to the living demands the records of villany to be honestly severe. The examples of the dead either for warning or imitation are the property of the living; and the veritable description of virtue and vice is among the genuine Rights of Man.' We shall now leave him to his reckoning with those whom his false and presumptuous theories may have conducted to practical misery; and whom his Rights of Man, and Age of Reason, may have rendered proudly insensible to the concerns of the soul. PAINIM, n. s. & adj. Fr. payen. Pagan;

infidel.

Fr. peindre; Span. pentar, from Lat. pingo.

To delineate; represent by lines or colors: painture is from the Fr. peinteur, and (rarely) used as synonymous with painting.

Jezebel painted her face and tired her head. 2 Kings ix. 30.

Such is his will that paint The earth with colours fresh. The darkest skies with store of starry lights.

Till we from an author's words paint his very thoughts in our minds, we do not understand him." Locke. The church of the annunciation looks beautiful in the inside, all but one corner of it being covered with statues, gilding, and paint. Addison. Poets are limners

To copy out ideas in the mind:

Words are the paint by which their thoughts are shown,

And nature is their object to be drawn. Granville. "Tis in life as 'tis in painting,

Much may be right, yet much be wanting.

Prior. Oh! if to dance all night, and dress all day, Charmed the small-pox, or chased old age away, To patch, nay ogle, might become a saint, Nor would it sure be such a sin to paint.

Pope.

Id.

Her charms in breathing paint engage, Her modest cheek shall warm a future age. Arts on the mind, like paint upon the face, Fright him, that's worth your love, from your emYoung.

brace.

The showery arch

With listed colours gay, or, azure, gules,
Delights and puzzles the beholder's eye,
That views the watery brede with thousand shews
Of painture varyed.

Philips. SIR BENJ. Nay now, Lady Sneerwell, you are severe upon the widow. Come, come, 'tis not that she paints so ill-but when she has finished her face, she joins it so badly to her neck, that she looks like a mended statue, in which the connoisseur sees at once that the head's modern, though the trunk's antique.

Sheridan.

PAINTING is the art of representing to the eyes, by means of figures and colors, every object in nature that is discernible by the sight; and of sometimes expressing, according to the principles of physiognomy, and by the attitudes of the body, the various emotions of the mind. A smooth surface, by means of lines and colors, represents objects in a state of projection; and may represent them in the most pleasant dress, and in a manner most capable of enchanting the senses. The art of painting is extremely difficult in the execution; and its merit can only be appreciated by devotees to the art.

The painter who is distinguished for noble and profound conceptions; who by means of a perfect delineation, and colors more capable of fixing the attention and dazzling the eye, conveys to the spectators the sentiments with which he himself was inspired; who animates them with his genius, and makes a lasting impression on their mind; this artist resembles a poet, and is worthy to share even in the glories of Homer.

PART I.

HISTORY OF THE ART. SECT. I OF THE RISE AND PROGRESS OF

PAINTING IN ANCIENT TIMES. Painting originally consisted of simple outlines, and long continued in this state before the expression of relievo, or the application of color. The next step in the art was to render the imitation more complete by applying colors; which was done in the same way that we color maps, and several nations, as the Egyptians, the Chinese, and the different nations of India, have never yet painted in a better manner.

Even that great improvement in painting, the Claro-Obscuro, was discovered by the Greeks before the invention and proper application of colors.

Plato, who lived 400 years before the Christian era, states, that painting had been practised in Egypt for 10,000 years. Without regarding his Egyptian chronology as accurate, we may consider it as designed to impress us with the very remote antiquity of the art.

The

The monuments of Egyptian painting with which we are best acquainted, says Winckelman, are the chests of mummies. These have resisted the injuries of time, and are still submitted to the examination of the curious. The white, made of white lead, is spread over the ground of the piece; the outlines of the figure are traced with black strokes, and the colors are generally blue, red, yellow, and green, laid on without any mixture or shading. The red and blue prevail most; and these colors seem to have been prepared in the coarsest manner. light is formed by leaving those parts of the ground where it is necessary covered with the white lead, as it is formed by the white paper in some of our drawings. This description is sufficient to convince us that the whole art of painting in Egypt consisted in coloring; but every person knows that without tints, and the mixture of colors, painting can never arrive at perfection. Pliny says, that the Egyptian artists painted the precious metals; that is, they varnished or enamelled them. It is doubtful what this art was, but most probably it consisted in covering gold or silver with a single color. The Egyptians are supposed to have continued this coarse style till the reign of the Ptolemies.

The ancient Persians were so far from excel

ling in the arts, that the paintings of Egypt were highly esteemed among them after they had conquered that country. The only ancient painter of Persia, whose name is preserved, is Manes; and he is more celebrated for his attempt to accommodate the Persian theology of two first principles to the Christian system, than for his skill as a painter. He was famed, however, for drawing straight lines without a ruler. The modern Persians bave made no progress in the art.

In India the art seems to be confined to monstrous figures connected with their religion. See POLYTHEISM. And the paintings of Thibet are only remarkable for the fineness of their strokes.

The Chinese seem never to have had the least idea of perspective. Their landscapes have no plan, no variety in the appearance of the clouds, and no diminishing of the objects in proportion to their distance; and their representations of human beings are caricatures upon the human figure.

It is undoubtedly to the Greeks that we are indebted for the highest cultivation which the imitative arts have known. In sculpture this is even now sufficiently palpable, since at this day their performances remain not only unequalled but unapproached. The same observation holds with respect to architecture; and it is probable that, so far as relates to the perfect representation of a single figure, it might be applied also to

their painting; but there is great reason to conclude that in many branches of this art they are surpassed by the great names among the moderns. In Egypt the knowledge of that principle which is most desirable in art (selection) never appears to have operated far. When a specific form of character was once adopted, there it remained, and was repeated unchanged for generations. Little action was given to figures, and no attempts at all made at expression. Pliny reports, that the statues executed by the Egyptians in his time differed in no respect whatever from those made by them 1000 years before. Of their paintings a few remain to the present era, but the date of these relics is by no means evident. Two of them (seen at Thebes and described by Bruce) are referred by him to the time of Sesostris (about 700 years B. C.), who is said to have restored and embellished that city; but this is mere conjecture. He remarks of these paintings, that they might be compared with good signpaintings of his day.

We cannot here detail the reasons and the coincidence of fortunate circumstances which raised the Greeks to be the arbiters of form. The standard they erected,' says Fuseli, the canon they framed, fell not from heaven: but as they fancied themselves of divine origin, and religion was the first mover of their art, it followed that they should endeavour to invest their authors with the most perfect form; and, as man possesses that exclusively, they were led to a complete and intellectual study of his elements and constitution; this, with their climate, which allowed that form to grow, and to show itself to the greatest advantage; with their civil and political institutions, which established and encouraged exercises and manners best calculated to develope its powers; and above all, that simplicity of their end, that uniformity of pursuit, which in all its derivations retraced the great principle from which it sprang, and, like a central stamen, drew it out into one immense connected web of congenial imitation; these, I say, are the reasons why the Greeks carried the art to a height which no subsequent time or race has been able to rival or even to approach. Great as these advantages were, it is not to be supposed that nature deviated from her gradual progress in the development of human faculties, in favor of the Greeks. Greek art had her infancy, but the graces rocked her cradle, and love taught her to speak. If ever legend deserved our belief, the amorous tale of the Corinthian maid, who traced the shade of her departing lover by the secret lamp, appeals to our sympathy to grant it ; and leads us at the same time to some observations on the first mechanical essays of painting, and that linear method which, though passed nearly unnoticed by Winckelman, seems to have continued as the basis of execution, even when the instrument for which it was chiefly adapted had long been

certain. The tool was a style or pen of wood or metal; the materials a board, or a levigated plane of wood, metal, stone, or soine prepared compound; the method, letters or lines.

The first essays of the art were skiagrams, simple outlines of a shade, similar to those which have been introduced to vulgar use by the students and parasites of physiognomy, under the name of Silhouettes; without any other addition of character or feature but what the profile of the object, thus delineated, could afford.

.

The next step was the monogram, outlines of figures without light or shade, but with some addition of the parts within the outline, and from that to the monochrom, or paintings of a single color on a plane or tablet, primed with white, and then covered with what they called punic wax, first amalgamated with a tough resinous pigment, generally of a red, sometimes dark brown, or black color. In, or rather through, this thin inky ground, the outlines were traced with a firm but pliant style, which they called cestrum; if the traced line happened to be incorrect or wrong, it was gently effaced with the finger or with a sponge, and easily replaced by a fresh one. When the whole design was settled, and no farther alteration intended, it was suffered to dry, was covered, to make it permanent, with a brown encaustic varnish, the lights were worked over again, and rendered more brilliant with a point still more delicate, according to the gradual advance from mere outlines to some indications, and at last to masses of light and shade, and from those to the superinduction of different colors, or the invention of the polychrom, which, by the addition of the pencil to the style, raised the mezzotinto or stained drawing to a legitimate picture, and at length produced that vaunted harmony, the magic scale of Grecian color.

If this conjecture, for it is not more, on the process of linear painting, formed on the evidence and comparison of passages always unconnected, and frequently contradictory, be founded in fact, the rapturous astonishment at the supposed momentaneous production of the Herculanean dancers, and the figures on the earthen vases of the ancients, will cease; or rather, we shall no longer suffer ourselves to be deluded by palpable impossibility of execution: on a ground of levigated lime, or on potter's ware, no velocity or certainty attainable by human hands can conduct a full pencil with that degree of evenness equal from beginning to end with which we see those figures executed, or, if it could, would ever be able to fix the line on the glassy surface without its flowing to make the appearances we see possible, we must have recourse to the linear process that has been described, and transfer our admiration to the perseverance, the correctness of principle, the elegance of taste that conducted the artist's hand, without presuming to arm it with contradictory powers: the figures he drew, and we admire, are not the magic produce of a winged pencil, they are the result of gradual improvement, exquisitely finished monochroms.

How long the pencil continued only to

assist, when it began to engross, and when it at last entirely supplanted the cestrum, cannot, in the perplexity of accidental report, be ascertained. Apollodorus, in the ninety-third olympiad, and Zeuxis in the ninety-fourth, are said to have used it with freedom and with power. The battle of the Lapitha and the Centaurs, which, according to Pausanias, Parrhasius painted on the shield of the Minerva of Phidias, to be chased by Mys, could be nothing but a monochrom, and was probably designed with the cestrum, as an instrument of greater accuracy. Apelles and Protogenes, nearly a century, afterwards, drew their contested lines with the pencil; and that alone, as delicacy and evanescent subtlety were the characteristics of those lines, may give an idea of their mechanic excellence. And yet in their time the diagraphic process, which is the very same with the linear one we have described, made a part of liberal education. And Pausias of Sicyon, the contemporary of Apelles, and perhaps the greatest master of composition amongst the ancients, when employed to repair the decayed pictures of Polygnotus at Thespiæ, was adjudged by general opinion to have egregiously failed in the attempt, because he had substituted the pencil for the cestrum, and entered a contest for superiority with weapons not his own.

Here it might seem in its place to say something on the encaustic method used by the ancients; were it not a subject by ambiguity of expression and conjectural dispute so involved in obscurity that a true account of its process must be despaired of: the most probable idea we can form of it is, that it bore some resemblance to our oil-painting, and that the name was adopted to denote the use of materials, inflammable or prepared by fire, the supposed durability of which, whether applied hot or cold, authorised the terms évekavσe and inussit.' See our article ENCAUSTIC PAINTING.

The ancient inhabitants of Etruria were among the first who connected the arts with the study of nature. In some of their monuments, which still remain, there is to be observed a first style, which shows the art in its infancy; and a second which, like the works of the Florentine artists, shows more of greatness and exaggeration in the character than precision or beauty. Pliny says that painting was carried to great perfection in Italy before the foundation of Rome; but it appears that even in his time the painters of Etruria were held in great repuThe only Etrurian paintings which remain have been found in the tombs of the Tarquins. They consist of long painted friezes, and pilasters adorned with huge figures, which occupied the whole space from the base to the cornice. These paintings are executed on a ground of thick mortar, and many of them are in a state of high preservation.

tation.

Winckelman is of opinion that the Greek colonies established at Naples and Nola had at a very early period cultivated the imitative arts, and taught them to the Campanians established in that country. He considers as works purely Campanian certain medals of Capua and Teanum, cities of Campania into which the Greek colo

nies never penetrated. But there have been discovered, adds he, a great number of Campanian vases covered with painting. The design of the greatest part of these vases, says he, is such, that the figures might occupy a distinguished place in the works of Raphael. Those vases, when we consider that this kind of work admits of no correction, and that the stroke which forms the outline must remain as it is originally traced, are wonderful proofs of the perfection of the art among the ancients. But the count de Caylus is persuaded that the Campanian vases are of Greek origin.

The name of Phidias is as familiar to every man of education as his own. That of Panæænus, his brother, is known only to the few who trace back to their starting-post the early and obscure footsteps of the muse of painting. The performances of Phidias, particularly those in the temple of Minerva, called the Parthenon, remain even to the present day a source of admiration, of wonder, and envy. Those of Pananus exhibited his art still in its infancy, and have been for many revolving ages buried in the stream of oblivion.-To this man, however, Greece appears to have been indebted for an anxious zeal, at least, to advance the art he practised to a more equal station with sculpture; and in his time there were prizes established both at Delphos and Corinth, for its encouragement, whereat he himself contended, but was excelled by Timogras of Chalcis.

The first great name of that epoch of the preparatory period, when facts appear to overbalance conjecture, is that of Polygnotus of Thasos, who painted the Poecile at Athens, and the Lesche, or public hall, at Delphi. Of these works, but chiefly of the two large pictures at Delphi, which represented scenes subsequent to the eversion of Troy, and Ulysses consulting the spirit of Tiresias in Hades, Pausanias gives a minute and circumstantial detail; by which we are led to surmise that what is now called composition was totally wanting in them as a whole; for he begins his description at one end of the picture, and finishes it at the opposite extremity-a senseless method, if we suppose that a central group, or a principal figure to which the rest were in a certain degree subordinate, attracted the eye; it appears as plain that they had no perspective, the series of figures on the second or middle ground being described as placed above those in the foreground, and the figures in the distance above the whole: the honest method, too, which the painter chose of annexing to many of his figures their names in writing, savors much of the infancy of painting. This circumstance, however, we should be cautious in imputing either to ignorance or imbecility, since it might rest on the firm base of permanent principles. The genius of Polygnotus was, more than that of any other artist before or after, a public genius, his works monumental works, and these very pictures the votive offerings of the Gnidians. Polygnotus was, in fact, a man endowed with uncommon ability, and certainly advanced his art very far in point of expression and action in his figures, and in ideal coloring. Of the truth of this observation, his figure of the demon Eurynomus, in one of the