rasp and scrape plaster, rather than model in plastic clay,--because he
tinkered up the "infernal regions" of the Cincinnati Museum years ago,
or spends his time now in making perforating-machines and perforated
files; in fine, for _any_ reason rather than for the right legitimate
one of artistic merit, they have demanded room for their favorite.

Even those who look deeper than this, appreciating Mr. Powers as
a gentleman, an ingenious mechanic, and a skillful manipulator in
sculpture, have been content or constrained to urge his claims to
attention upon false considerations. We have heard it gravely remarked,
as a matter of astonishment, that there were individuals--refined men,
apparently--who looked upon the Venus de' Medici as a finer work than
the Greek Slave. In the files of a New York paper may be found an
article, written by a highly cultivated man, in which Powers's busts are
asserted to be rather the effect of miracles than the results of _human_
effort. The spirit which has prompted these and many kindred expressions
cannot be too much deplored by those who love Art and know the artist.
It has succeeded in creating for him a reputation broad and remarkable,
but most unfortunate, because not his own, because not the reputation
which should have formed about his name here, as fame will yonder;
unfortunate, because, though broad, it is the breadth of an inverted
pyramid, which must naturally topple over of itself, and incumber his
path with ruins.

The false position in which Mr. Powers has been placed by his friends
has of course won him many enemies.

Bold, sincere, working enemies are highly useful in developing an
artist's character, especially if he be a law-abiding follower of the
art. But enemies must be dealers of fair blows, wagers of honorable