Viewing page 57 of 64

This transcription has been completed. Contact us with corrections.

36

hemmed in by the broken outline, deep forests, and rocky precipices of Tongue Mountain.  In this fascinating region Durand calmly but earnestly pursued his summer studies for several seasons.  The serene, translucent waters of Lake George were typical of the frank, placid, and truthful spirit of the man. 

Durand seldom attempted scenes of storm or violence; such were not in his natural vein, and are not executed with the hearty spirit of his gentler works.  One of the noblest and most successful of these bolder efforts was painted for Robert Oliphant, to whom our artists are deeply indebted for cheering personal friendship and intelligent encouragement of American Art.  The picture referred to is called "The Symbol." An ominous storm is gathering and blackening around a mountain; a giant peak rises high above the murky confusion below, catching a golden flush of sunlight through a rift in the clouds.  It is an admirable picture, but the hopeful glow on the granite peak reflects more of the artist's cheerful temper than the dismal strife of the swirling clouds below.  What a contrast to this is the bright, sunny, and consoling picture called "Sunday Morning," kindly sent from Providence by the owner, Mr. Royal Taft, to grace the Memorial Exhibition of the artist's works, now open at Ortgies'.  A sweet serenity pervades it in every part.  It is a poem, 

37

suggesting to the mind that stillness and feeling of sacred rest which is often experienced on a calm Sunday morning in a beautiful country.  Another picture, the subject of which was suggested to him by Mr. Sturges, and which is a complete exception to his usual vein, is called "God's Judgment upon Gog."  It illustrates certain passes in the prophecy of Ezekiel.
 
"Behold [saith the Lord] I am against thee, O Gog, the chief Prince of Mesheck and Tubal.  I will turn thee back . . . and I will smite thy bow out of thy left hand, and will cause thine arrows to fall out of thy right hand. . . . Though shalt fall, upon the mountains of Israel thou and all thy bands. . . . I will give thee unto the ravenous birds of every sort, and to the beasts of the field to be devoured."

So far as I can vaguely recall the picture, it represented a scene of darkness and desolation in the valley of graves.  The hosts of Gog are scattered and falling in terror, while the blackened air is horrid with the ominous flight of birds of prey snuffing the blood of the slain oppressors of Israel.  Out of a cavernous gap in the mountains rush forth hordes of wild beasts-tigers and leopards, swift and stealthy, thirsting for blood.  There is something of an awful and demoniac spirit about this scene, the widest departure