This group has no insipid, allegorical air, as might be supposed; and its composition is very graceful, simple, and harmonious.  The costume is very happily managed.  The angel figure is draped, and with, the liberty-cap, which, as a badge both of ancient and modern times, seems to connect the two figures, and in an artistic point of view balances well the cocked hat; there is a similar harmony between the angel’s wings and the extremities of the horse.  The action of the winged figure induces a natural and spirited action of the horse and rider.  I thought of Goethe’s remark, that a fine work of art will always have, at a distance, where its details cannot be discerned, a beautiful effect, as of architectural ornament, and that this excellence the groups of Raphael share with the antique.  He would have been pleased with the beautiful balance of forms in this group, with the freedom with which light and air play in and out, the management of the whole being clear and satisfactory at the first glance.  But one should go into a great number of studies, as you can in Rome or Florence, and see the abundance of heavy and inharmonious designs to appreciate the merits of this; anything really good seems so simple and so a matter of course to the unpractised observer.

Some say the Americans will not want a group, but just the fact; the portrait of Washington riding straight onward, like Marcus Aurelius, or making an address, or lifting his sword.  I do not know about that,—­it is a matter of feeling.  This winged figure not only gives a poetic sense to the group, but a natural support and occasion for action to the horse and rider.  Uncle Sam must send Major Downing to look at it, and then, if he wants other designs, let him establish a concurrence, as I have said, and choose what is best.  I am not particularly attached to Mr. Greenough, Mr. Powers, or Mr. Crawford.  I admire various excellences in the works of each, and should be glad if each received an order for an equestrian statue.  Nor is there any reason why they should not.  There is money enough in the country, and the more good things there are for the people to see freely in open daylight, the better.  That makes artists germinate.

I love the artists, though I cannot speak of their works in a way to content their friends, or even themselves, often.  Who can, that has a standard of excellence in the mind, and a delicate conscience in the use of words?  My highest tribute is meagre of superlatives in comparison with the hackneyed puffs with which artists submit to be besmeared.  Submit? alas! often they court them, rather.  I do not expect any kindness from my contemporaries.  I know that what is to me justice and honor is to them only a hateful coldness.  Still I love them, I wish for their good, I feel deeply for their sufferings, annoyances, privations, and would lessen them if I could.  I have thought it might perhaps be of use to publish some account of the expenses of the artist.  There