groaning under the tyranny of a proconsul, who was sometimes an apostate priest, sometimes a dissolute runaway attorney's clerk, glorying in one continued insult to every idea of decency and morality; I should haye seen the produce of the farmer under requisition, and met waggon loads of prisoners, of all ages and sexes, going under an escort to Paris, which, like the lion's den in the fable, admitted of no return; I should have seen the crosses overturned, the churches converted into stables, and whole districts labouring to appearance under the peculiar malediction of Providence. Nor would the general appearance of Paris have been such as to afford one any consolation. The parts of the city formerly occupied by the favourites of fortune and the court, were deserted, and the words national property in large characters over the door of many a hotel, explained the fate of the former proprietor, and the situation of his family. The law of the maximum, which fixed the price in assignats of every article in common use, rendered the approach of a customer frightful to a shopkeeper, who did not dare to decline selling, while the peasantry of the neighbourhood, who had been in the practice of supplying the markets, who continued to do so from fear alone, approached the halles with regret visible upon their countenances. Hardly a carriage was heard in the day, and if heard in the night, it was generally known to be employed in transferring prisoners to the Conciergerie. The noise and tumult of former times had been troublesome, but the tranquillity of the present times was frightful; it was the silence of death. The few individuals who walked the streets, avoided all intercourse with each other, as in the time of some infectious disorder, and hurried along in a certain squalidness of dress, in imitation of their rulers: this, which served the purposes of disguise to many, was supposed by others to be connected with the principles of liberty, and has been adopted in time by the unthinking part of the community in some distant countries, where liberty ought to have been better known; while all affected a certain coarseness of speech and rudeness of behaviour, which were alike hostile to the feelings of decency and the cause of humanity. In the midst of all this ferocity and these horrors, the means of dissipation were abundant. Between twenty and thirty theatres were opened every night, and, as the government defrayed the greater part of the expense, the prices of admission were so low, that many found it answer the purposes of economy to pass the evening at a playhouse. The pieces exhibited were such as became the character and conduct of those, under whom all trembled. No actor would have ventured to perform the part of a king, who was not an odious tyrant, or have pronounced a hemistich, which might seem to reflect upon the administration. A priest in his sacerdotal dress, contriving the plan of a general massacre, or the

death of Marat, were subjects for tragedy; and a young man getting disguised into a convent of nuns, was the groundwork of a favourite comedy. I have conversed with many who were in Paris at this period, and who felt for the degradation of a great nation; but there were others, who having procured assignats for specie, enjoyed the opportunity afforded them of being luxurious at so small an expense, and who felt happy in the possession of a magnificent hotel, the owner of which might have been pining in a dungeon, or wandering with his children in quest of bread. To such men France was even then a delightful country; they rioted in all which had ever excited their sensuality, and returned satiated at last, and as if loaded with the spoils of a conquered country, to astonish their simple neighbours with a display of handsome plate and gorgeous furniture. To know the virtues and amiable manners of the French nation at the time I speak of, a traveller must have visited the prisons, many of which containing persons from every station in life, bore the appearance of a well-regulated commonwealth. The rich divided their means of existence with the poor, children came voluntarily to share the danger of their parents, wives and sisters softened the captivity, and partook of the hard fortune of their husbands and brothers; and the old and faithful servants of a family were seen to continue their attendance to the last, and follow their benefactors to the scaffold. In this reunion of unfortunate persons were then alone to be found those ancient magistrates, the luminaries of the nation in its better days, who had so bravely stood between the crown and the people; the greatly rich, who like Lavoisier, devoted thousands to the improvement of useful sciences, or like Labordes, made the rays of bounty shine upon all about them, and there alone were still to be admired those graces of polished conversation, those amiable manners, which can so well express, or rather imitate, the virtues of social life.

The active courage of the nation seemed confined to the frontiers: at home the only proof of resolution was to suffer without complaint, and submit to death with equanimity. We are all eighty years of age, was the common expression. I have seen, says Riouffe, forty-five members of the parliament of Paris, and thirty-three of that of Thoulouse, march to death with the same air and demeanour which distinguished them in former times, when walking in procession on the day of some public ceremony.

I had very little idea, when I began this letter, of deviating so widely from what, I intended, should be the principal subject of it; but the mention of the parliament of Paris has led me insensibly from my purpose. Let me however mention one case more, which marks the worst times of the revolution, and may console you for all the useless horrors I have related with an instance of parental love, which cannot

be too often applauded. A father and a son, of the name of Loiserolle, were confined at St. Lazare, where the committee of public safety chose to lay the scene of one of those imaginary conspiracies, which enabled them at any time to get rid of a number of prisoners at once. The son, who had been placed upon the list of conspirators, happened not to be in the common room; he had retired to rest in an adjoining chamber, when the nightly demand was made for the accustomed waggon load of victims to be transferred to the Concergerie, which was known to be the threshold of death. Loiserolle was now ordered to advance-Here I am, said the noble-minded father; and requesting in a whisper, that no one would disturb his son, or inform the officers of the police of their mistake, he took his place with others in a square formed by the guards, appeared at the bar of the tribunal the next morning, answered to his name, which was the only question asked, and bravely died in his son's place. I hope in God some poet or historian, worthy to record such magnanimous actions, will rise up hereafter. It pleased Heaven that this should be the last instance of cruelty perpetrated by the jacobin government; their fall took place a few days afterwards; and Robespierre, after undergoing a degree of agonizing pain, which seems to have in some measure vindicated the justice of Providence, died at the guillotine.

THE FINE ARTS-FOR THE PORT FOLIO.

ANECDOTES OF AMERICAN PAINTERS.

Or the artists who now flourish in England, those who profess painting may be said to be among the most numerous; and it must be a fact extremely grateful to every lover of his country, that some of them, and those the most distinguished, are Americans. The names of WEST, TRUMBULL, and COPELY need only be mentioned in proof of my assertion.

While the lovers of the fine arts in various countries, have admired the works of these great men, there are numbers here who are yet to be informed that they are their countrymen. VANDERLYNE, another of our master painters, is at Paris. As these names should be the pride of every American, it ought also to be recollected that others of almost, if not quite equal merit, are still with us. STEUART's fame has been universally disseminated. The elegant, the lamented MAL

BORNE is no more.

Others of great merit are still, I regret to say, too little known, who, while they excite the admiration and respect of their friends, are equally worthy of public patronage.

These names it is the intention of the present work to bring into more general notice, after which a review will be taken of those more eminent. It is to be presumed that such a work will be peculiarly interesting to all, who admire genius and delight to patronize it; and to the common reader, as it will make him more conversant with the merit of native artists, who while toiling in obscurity, and almost overcome by insurmountable difficulties, have too much pride to call their countrymen ungrateful.

In pursuance of the design above intimated, we commence with a narrative of one whose name is known only to a few, whose merit has been acknowledged by artists and connoisseurs, and whose works have excited the admiration of all who know them.

HOVEY.

Full many a gem of purest ray serene,

The dark unfathom'd caves of ocean bear;

Full many a flower is born to blush unseen,

And waste its sweetness on the desert air.-GRAY.

Ir is but too true that the spark of genius oft bursts forth in obscurity, glows with vivid lustre for a while, then languishes and dies un-less nourished by the breath of patronage. The rich and great whom it becomes to encourage every thing excellent, should therefore make it their pride, to seek out and patronize native genius.

The subject of the present memoir first shone forth in retirement, patronage brought him into notice, and the discontinuance of it, obliged him to return to his original situation. Thus the genius, which if properly cultivated, might have astonished the world, and added to our national fame, must now dwindle to insignificance, or be content with the praise of the vulgar, and the gaze of the rustic.

OTIS HOVEY we believe was born in Massachusetts about the year 1788, whence his father removed soon after to Oxford, in the western part of the state of New-York. Hovey early evinced surprising talents for his favourite pursuit, and was frequently engaged in sketching various subjects with coal and chalk. These sketches, in a style coarse as the materials with which they were executed, excited the attention and wonder of the neighbours, who were struck with their force of expression, and correct delineation of nature. An amazing instance of his early genius is thus related: A sleigh and horses had been left carelessly in the road; at some alarm the horses started off

at full speed, and passed the window of the room in which Hovey was sitting. This was a fine subject for him: he made a rapid sketch of it, so true to nature, that every person who saw it was amazed, acknowledging it not merely as a fine sketch, but as a representation of the sleigh and horses of the individual to whom they belonged.

In pursuits like these, was spent the early part of his life, and such were the indications of his uncommon genius. Thus employed, he was discovered by a gentleman of the city of New-York. This gentleman, astonished at the wonderful proofs of talents exhibited by Hovey, both from his regard for the family, and his love of the fine arts, was desirous of assisting him. Thinking that in a city like New-York it would not be difficult to obtain a sufficient degree of patronage for such a youth, he invited him to come there, offering at the same time every necessary aid from his own purse.

With such encouragement, and such a patron, Hovey did not hesitate to accept the invitation, and accordingly came to the city about the year 1805, being then 16 or 17 years of age. His story was told, his patron introduced him to some of his friends, and during his stay afforded him a liberal support. After some exhibition of his talents, this gentleman endeavoured among the polite, the wealthy, and the learned, to raise a subscription sufficient to enable him to have the benefit of a few years instruction in Europe. To the shame of the city be it said, after frequent and unwearied applications, he was obliged to give up the project, it being an expense too great for one or two individuals, unless of large fortunes.

While this plan was in agitation, the pleasures and dissipation of the city began to take strong hold upon the disposition of Hovey. Emerging from the western wilds, untutored in the ways of the world, almost equally ignorant of books, no place could be more dangerous to a young man of genius, than a city like New-York. At such an age the passions are strongest, and the voice of Reason is hushed by the almost irresistible allurements of Pleasure. His patron early saw the danger to which his young protegé was exposed, and repeatedly remonstrated against his conduct; these remonstrances it is to be feared were little attended to. The consequence was, that although this gentleman would willingly have continued to assist young Hovey, and to retain him in the city, yet finding that his disposition had taken a new turn, and knowing that great talents unless cultivated were dangerous to their possessor in a populous city, he thought it most advisable for him to return home.

This could by no means have been agreeable to Hovey. He had now imbibed a relish for a city life, he had tasted of the banquet of dissipation, and sipped of the bowl of pleasure: it was sweet and agreeable, he had not yet learned that there were bitter dregs at bottom,