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diff --git a/29907.txt b/29907.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..697f0ee --- /dev/null +++ b/29907.txt @@ -0,0 +1,20113 @@ +Project Gutenberg's Modern Painters Volume I (of V), by John Ruskin + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Modern Painters Volume I (of V) + +Author: John Ruskin + +Release Date: September 4, 2009 [EBook #29907] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN PAINTERS VOLUME I (OF V) *** + + + + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Marius Borror and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + + + + +Transcriber's note: A few typographical errors have been corrected: they + are listed at the end of the text. + + Chapter headings were originally constructed as side-notes. They were + placed here at the head of their respective paragraphs, and moved to + paragraph's start where given at paragraph's middle. See HTML version + for the original headers placement. + + + + + Library Edition + + THE COMPLETE WORKS + + OF + + JOHN RUSKIN + + POETRY OF ARCHITECTURE + SEVEN LAMPS + MODERN PAINTERS + VOLUME I + + NATIONAL LIBRARY ASSOCIATION + NEW YORK CHICAGO + + + + + THE COMPLETE WORKS + + OF + + JOHN RUSKIN + + VOLUME II + + MODERN PAINTERS + + VOLUME I + + + + + MODERN PAINTERS. + + BY + + A GRADUATE OF OXFORD. + + VOL. I. + + PART I--II. + + + + TO + + THE LANDSCAPE ARTISTS OF ENGLAND + + This Work + + IS RESPECTFULLY DEDICATED + + BY THEIR SINCERE ADMIRER, + + _THE AUTHOR_ + + + + + PREFACE TO THE FIRST EDITION. + +The work now laid before the public originated in indignation at the +shallow and false criticism of the periodicals of the day on the works +of the great living artist to whom it principally refers. It was +intended to be a short pamphlet, reprobating the matter and style of +those critiques, and pointing out their perilous tendency, as guides of +public feeling. But, as point after point presented itself for +demonstration, I found myself compelled to amplify what was at first a +letter to the Editor of a Review, into something very like a treatise on +art, to which I was obliged to give the more consistency and +completeness, because it advocated opinions which, to the ordinary +connoisseur, will sound heretical. I now scarcely know whether I should +announce it is an Essay on Landscape Painting, and apologize for its +frequent reference to the works of a particular master; or, announcing +it as a critique on particular works, apologize for its lengthy +discussion of general principles. But of whatever character the work may +be considered, the motives which led me to undertake it must not be +mistaken. No zeal for the reputation of any individual, no personal +feeling of any kind, has the slightest weight or influence with me. The +reputation of the great artist to whose works I have chiefly referred, +is established on too legitimate grounds among all whose admiration is +honorable, to be in any way affected by the ignorant sarcasms of +pretension and affectation. But when _public_ taste seems plunging +deeper and deeper into degradation day by day, and when the press +universally exerts such power as it possesses to direct the feeling of +the nation more completely to all that is theatrical, affected, and +false in art; while it vents its ribald buffooneries on the most exalted +truth, and the highest ideal of landscape, that this or any other age +has ever witnessed, it becomes the imperative duty of all who have any +perception or knowledge of what is really great in art, and any desire +for its advancement in England, to come fearlessly forward, regardless +of such individual interests as are likely to be injured by the +knowledge of what is good and right, to declare and demonstrate, +wherever they exist, the essence and the authority of the Beautiful and +the True. + +Whatever may seem invidious or partial in the execution of my task is +dependent not so much on the tenor of the work, as on its +incompleteness. I have not entered into systematic criticism of all the +painters of the present day; but I have illustrated each particular +excellence and truth of art by the works in which it exists in the +highest degree, resting satisfied that if it be once rightly felt and +enjoyed in these, it will be discovered and appreciated wherever it +exists in others. And although I have never suppressed any conviction of +the superiority of one artist over another, which I believed to be +grounded on truth, and necessary to the understanding of truth, I have +been cautious never to undermine positive rank, while I disputed +relative rank. My uniform desire and aim have been, not that the present +favorite should be admired less, but that the neglected master should be +admired more. And I know that an increased perception and sense of truth +and beauty, though it may interfere with our estimate of the comparative +rank of painters, will invariably tend to increase our admiration of all +who are really great; and he who now places Stanfield and Callcott above +Turner, will admire Stanfield and Callcott more than he does now, when +he has learned to place Turner far above them both. + +In three instances only have I spoken in direct depreciation of the +works of living artists, and these are all cases in which the reputation +is so firm and extended, as to suffer little injury from the opinion of +an individual, and where the blame has been warranted and deserved by +the desecration of the highest powers. + +Of the old masters I have spoken with far greater freedom; but let it be +remembered that only a portion of the work is now presented to the +public, and it must not be supposed, because in that particular portion, +and with reference to particular excellencies, I have spoken in constant +depreciation, that I have no feeling of other excellencies of which +cognizance can only be taken in future parts of the work. Let me not be +understood to mean more than I have said, nor be made responsible for +conclusions when I have only stated facts. I have said that the old +masters did not give the truth of Nature; if the reader chooses, thence, +to infer that they were not masters at all, it is his conclusion, not +mine. + +Whatever I have asserted throughout the work, I have endeavored to +ground altogether on demonstrations which must stand or fall by their +own strength, and which ought to involve no more reference to authority +or character than a demonstration in Euclid. Yet it is proper for the +public to know, that the writer is no mere theorist, but has been +devoted from his youth to the laborious study of practical art. + +Whatever has been generally affirmed of the old schools of +landscape-painting is founded on familiar acquaintance with every +important work of art, from Antwerp to Naples. But it would be useless, +where close and immediate comparison with works in our own Academy is +desirable, to refer to the details of pictures at Rome or Munich; and it +would be impossible to speak at once with just feeling, as regarded the +possessor, and just freedom, as regarded the public, of pictures in +private galleries. Whatever particular references have been made for +illustration, have been therefore confined, as far as was in my power, +to works in the National and Dulwich Galleries. + +Finally, I have to apologize for the imperfection of a work which I +could have wished not to have executed, but with years of reflection and +revisal. It is owing to my sense of the necessity of such revisal, that +only a portion of the work is now presented to the public; but that +portion is both complete in itself, and is more peculiarly directed +against the crying evil which called for instant remedy. Whether I ever +completely fulfil my intention, will partly depend upon the spirit in +which the present volume is received. If it be attributed to an +invidious spirit, or a desire for the advancement of individual +interests, I could hope to effect little good by farther effort. If, on +the contrary, its real feeling and intention be understood, I shall +shrink from no labor in the execution of a task which may tend, however +feebly, to the advancement of the cause of real art in England, and to +the honor of those great living Masters whom we now neglect or malign, +to pour our flattery into the ear of Death, and exalt, with vain +acclamation, the names of those who neither demand our praise, nor +regard our gratitude. + + THE AUTHOR. + + + + + PREFACE TO THE SECOND EDITION. + +It is allowed by the most able writers on naval and military tactics, +that although the attack by successive divisions absolutely requires in +the attacking party such an inherent superiority in quality of force, +and such consciousness of that superiority, as may enable his front +columns, or his leading ships, to support themselves for a considerable +period against overwhelming numbers; it yet insures, if maintained with +constancy, the most total ruin of the opposing force. Convinced of the +truth, and therefore assured of the ultimate prevalence and victory of +the principles which I have advocated, and equally confident that the +strength of the cause must give weight to the strokes of even the +weakest of its defenders, I permitted myself to yield to a somewhat +hasty and hot-headed desire of being, at whatever risk, in the thick of +the fire, and began the contest with a part, and that the weakest and +least considerable part, of the forces at my disposal. And I now find +the volume thus boldly laid before the public in a position much +resembling that of the Royal Sovereign at Trafalgar, receiving, +unsupported, the broadsides of half the enemy's fleet, while unforeseen +circumstances have hitherto prevented, and must yet for a time prevent, +my heavier ships of the line from taking any part in the action. I +watched the first moments of the struggle with some anxiety for the +solitary vessel,--an anxiety which I have now ceased to feel,--for the +flag of truth waves brightly through the smoke of the battle, and my +antagonists, wholly intent on the destruction of the leading ship, have +lost their position, and exposed themselves in defenceless disorder to +the attack of the following columns. + +If, however, I have had no reason to regret my hasty advance, as far as +regards the ultimate issue of the struggle, I have yet found it to +occasion much misconception of the character, and some diminution of +the influence, of the present essay. For though the work has been +received as only in sanguine moments I had ventured to hope, though I +have had the pleasure of knowing that in many instances its principles +have carried with them a strength of conviction amounting to a +demonstration of their truth, and that, even where it has had no other +influence, it has excited interest, suggested inquiry, and prompted to a +just and frank comparison of Art with Nature; yet this effect would have +been greater still, had not the work been supposed, as it seems to have +been by many readers, a completed treatise, containing a systematized +statement of the whole of my views on the subject of modern art. +Considered as such, it surprises me that the book should have received +the slightest attention. For what respect could be due to a writer who +pretended to criticise and classify the works of the great painters of +landscape, without developing, or even alluding to, one single principle +of the beautiful or sublime? So far from being a completed essay, it is +little more than the introduction to the mass of evidence and +illustration which I have yet to bring forward; it treats of nothing but +the initiatory steps of art, states nothing but the elementary rules of +criticism, touches only on merits attainable by accuracy of eye and +fidelity of hand, and leaves for future consideration every one of the +eclectic qualities of pictures, all of good that is prompted by feeling, +and of great that is guided by judgment; and its function and scope +should the less have been mistaken, because I have not only most +carefully arranged the subject in its commencement, but have given +frequent references throughout to the essays by which it is intended to +be succeeded, in which I shall endeavor to point out the signification +and the value of those phenomena of external nature which I have been +hitherto compelled to describe without reference either to their +inherent beauty, or to the lessons which may be derived from them. + +Yet, to prevent such misconception in future, I may perhaps be excused +for occupying the reader's time with a fuller statement of the feelings +with which the work was undertaken, of its general plan, and of the +conclusions and positions which I hope to be able finally to deduce and +maintain. + +Nothing, perhaps, bears on the face of it more appearance of folly, +ignorance, and impertinence, than any attempt to diminish the honor of +those to whom the assent of many generations has assigned a throne; for +the truly great of later times have, almost without exception, fostered +in others the veneration of departed power which they felt themselves, +satisfied in all humility to take their seat at the feet of those whose +honor is brightened by the hoariness of time, and to wait for the period +when the lustre of many departed days may accumulate on their own heads, +in the radiance which culminates as it recedes. The envious and +incompetent have usually been the leaders of attack, content if, like +the foulness of the earth, they may attract to themselves notice by +their noisomeness, or, like its insects, exalt themselves by virulence +into visibility. While, however, the envy of the vicious, and the +insolence of the ignorant, are occasionally shown in their nakedness by +_futile_ efforts to degrade the dead, it is worthy of consideration +whether they may not more frequently escape detection in _successful_ +efforts to degrade the living,--whether the very same malice may not be +gratified, the very same incompetence demonstrated in the unjust +lowering of present greatness, and the unjust exaltation of a perished +power, as, if exerted and manifested in a less safe direction, would +have classed the critic with Nero and Caligula, with Zoilus and +Perrault. Be it remembered, that the spirit of detraction is detected +only when unsuccessful, and receives least punishment where it effects +the greatest injury; and it cannot but be felt that there is as much +danger that the rising of new stars should be concealed by the mists +which are unseen, as that those throned in heaven should be darkened by +the clouds which are visible. + +There is, I fear, so much malice in the hearts of most men, that they +are chiefly jealous of that praise which can give the greatest pleasure, +and are then most liberal of eulogium when it can no longer be enjoyed. +They grudge not the whiteness of the sepulchre, because by no honor they +can bestow upon it can the senseless corpse be rendered an object of +envy; but they are niggardly of the reputation which contributes to +happiness, or advances to fortune. They are glad to obtain credit for +generosity and humility by exalting those who are beyond the reach of +praise, and thus to escape the more painful necessity of doing homage to +a living rival. They are rejoiced to set up a standard of imaginary +excellence, which may enable them, by insisting on the inferiority of a +contemporary work to the things that have been, to withdraw the +attention from its superiority to the things that are. The same +undercurrent of jealousy operates in our reception of animadversion. Men +have commonly more pleasure in the criticism which hurts than in that +which is innocuous, and are more tolerant of the severity which breaks +hearts and ruins fortunes, than of that which falls impotently on the +grave. + +And thus well says the good and deep-minded Richard Hooker: "To the best +and wisest, while they live, the world is continually a froward +opposite; and a curious observer of their defects and imperfections, +their virtues afterwards it as much admireth. And for this cause, many +times that which deserveth admiration would hardly be able to find +favor, if they which propose it were not content to profess themselves +therein scholars and followers of the ancient. For the world will not +endure to hear that we are wiser than any have been which went +before."--Book v. ch. vii. 3. He therefore who would maintain the cause +of contemporary excellence against that of elder time, must have almost +every class of men arrayed against him. The generous, because they would +not find matter of accusation against established dignities; the +envious, because they like not the sound of a living man's praise; the +wise, because they prefer the opinion of centuries to that of days; and +the foolish, because they are incapable of forming an opinion of their +own. Obloquy so universal is not lightly to be risked, and the few who +make an effort to stem the torrent, as it is made commonly in favor of +their own works, deserve the contempt which is their only reward. Nor is +this to be regretted, in its influence on the progress and preservation +of things technical and communicable. Respect for the ancients is the +salvation of art, though it sometimes blinds us to its _ends_. It +increases the power of the painter, though it diminishes his liberty; +and if it be sometimes an incumbrance to the essays of invention, it is +oftener a protection from the consequences of audacity. The whole system +and discipline of art, the collected results of the experience of ages, +might, but for the fixed authority of antiquity, be swept away by the +rage of fashion, or lost in the glare of novelty; and the knowledge +which it had taken centuries to accumulate, the principles which mighty +minds had arrived at only in dying, might be overthrown by the frenzy of +a faction, and abandoned in the insolence of an hour. + +Neither, in its general application, is the persuasion of the +superiority of former works less just than useful. The greater number +of them are, and must be, immeasurably nobler than any of the results of +present effort, because that which is best of the productions of four +thousand years must necessarily be in its accumulation, beyond all +rivalry from the works of any given generation; but it should always be +remembered that it is improbable that many, and impossible that all, of +such works, though the greatest yet produced, should approach abstract +perfection; that there is certainly something left for us to carry +farther, or complete; that any given generation has just the same chance +of producing some individual mind of first-rate calibre, as any of its +predecessors; and that if such a mind _should_ arise, the chances are, +that with the assistance of experience and example, it would, in its +particular and chosen path, do greater things than had been before done. + +We must therefore be cautious not to lose sight of the real use of what +has been left us by antiquity, nor to take that for a model of +perfection which is, in many cases, only a guide to it. The picture +which is looked to for an interpretation of nature is invaluable, but +the picture which is taken as a substitute for nature, had better be +burned; and the young artist, while he should shrink with horror from +the iconoclast who would tear from him every landmark and light which +has been bequeathed him by the ancients, and leave him in a liberated +childhood, may be equally certain of being betrayed by those who would +give him the power and the knowledge of past time, and then fetter his +strength from all advance, and bend his eyes backward on a beaten +path--who would thrust canvas between him and the sky, and tradition +between him and God. + +And such conventional teaching is the more to be dreaded, because all +that is highest in art, all that is creative and imaginative, is formed +and created by every great master for himself, and cannot be repeated or +imitated by others. We judge of the excellence of a rising writer, not +so much by the resemblance of his works to what has been done before, as +by their difference from it; and while we advise him, in his first +trials of strength, to set certain models before him with respect to +inferior points,--one for versification, another for arrangement, +another for treatment,--we yet admit not his greatness until he has +broken away from all his models, and struck forth versification, +arrangement, and treatment of his own. + +Three points, therefore, I would especially insist upon as necessary to +be kept in mind in all criticism of modern art. First, that there are +few, very few of even the best productions of antiquity, which are not +visibly and palpably imperfect in some kind or way, and conceivably +improvable by farther study; that every nation, perhaps every generation, +has in all probability some peculiar gift, some particular character of +mind, enabling it to do something different from, or something in some +sort better than what has been before done; and that therefore, unless +art be a trick, or a manufacture, of which the secrets are lost, the +greatest minds of existing nations, if exerted with the same industry, +passion, and honest aim as those of past time, have a chance in their +particular walk of doing something as great, or, taking the advantage of +former example into account, even greater and better. It is difficult to +conceive by what laws of logic some of the reviewers of the following +Essay have construed its first sentence into a denial of this +principle,--a denial such as their own conventional and shallow criticism +of modern works invariably implies. I have said that "nothing has been +for centuries consecrated by public admiration without possessing in a +_high_ degree _some_ species of sterling excellence." Does it thence +follow that it possesses in the _highest_ degree _every_ species of +sterling excellence? "Yet thus," says the sapient reviewer, "he admits +the fact against which he mainly argues,--namely, the superiority of +these time-honored productions." As if the possession of an abstract +excellence of some kind necessarily implied the possession of an +incomparable excellence of every kind! There are few works of man so +perfect as to admit of no conception of their being excelled,[A]--there +are thousands which have been for centuries, and will be for centuries +more, consecrated by public admiration, which are yet imperfect in many +respects, and have been excelled, and may be excelled again. Do my +opponents mean to assert that nothing good can ever be bettered, and that +what is best of past time is necessarily best of all time? Perugino, I +suppose, possessed some species of sterling excellence, but Perugino was +excelled by Raffaelle; and so Claude possesses some species of sterling +excellence, but it follows not that he may not be excelled by Turner. + +The second point on which I would insist is that if a mind _were_ to +arise of such power as to be capable of equalling or excelling some of +the greatest works of past ages, the productions of such a mind would, +in all probability, be totally different in manner and matter from all +former productions; for the more powerful the intellect, the less will +its works resemble those of other men, whether predecessors or +contemporaries. Instead of reasoning, therefore, as we commonly do, in +matters of art, that because such and such a work does not resemble that +which has hitherto been a canon, therefore it _must_ be inferior and +wrong in principle; let us rather admit that there is in its very +dissimilarity an increased chance of its being itself a new, and +perhaps, a higher canon. If any production of modern art can be shown to +have the authority of nature on its side, and to be based on eternal +truths, it is all so much more in its favor, so much farther proof of +its power, that it is totally different from all that have been before +seen.[B] + +The third point on which I would insist, is that if such a mind were to +arise, it would necessarily divide the world of criticism into two +factions; the one, necessarily the largest and loudest, composed of men +incapable of judging except by precedent, ignorant of general truth, and +acquainted only with such particular truths as may have been illustrated +or pointed out to them by former works, which class would of course be +violent in vituperation, and increase in animosity as the master +departed farther from their particular and preconceived canons of +right,--thus wounding their vanity by impugning their judgment; the +other, necessarily narrow of number, composed of men of general +knowledge and unbiassed habits of thought, who would recognize in the +work of the daring innovator a record and illustration of facts before +unseized, who would justly and candidly estimate the value of the truths +so rendered, and would increase in fervor of admiration as the master +strode farther and deeper, and more daringly into dominions before +unsearched or unknown; yet diminishing in multitude as they increased in +enthusiasm: for by how much their leader became more impatient in his +step--more impetuous in his success--more exalted in his research, by so +much must the number capable of following him become narrower, until at +last, supposing him never to pause in his advance, he might be left in +the very culminating moment of his consummate achievement, with but a +faithful few by his side, his former disciples fallen away, his former +enemies doubled in numbers and virulence, and the evidence of his +supremacy only to be wrought out by the devotion of men's lives to the +earnest study of the new truths he had discovered and recorded. + +Such a mind has arisen in our days. It has gone on from strength to +strength, laying open fields of conquest peculiar to itself. It has +occasioned such schism in the schools of criticism as was beforehand to +be expected, and it is now at the zenith of its power, and, +_consequently_, in the last phase of declining popularity. + +This I know, and can prove. No man, says Southey, was ever yet convinced +of any momentous truth without feeling in himself the power, as well as +the desire of communicating it. In asserting and demonstrating the +supremacy of this great master, I shall both do immediate service to the +cause of right art, and shall be able to illustrate many principles of +landscape painting which are of general application, and have hitherto +been unacknowledged. + +For anything like immediate effect on the public mind, I do not hope. +"We mistake men's diseases," says Richard Baxter, "when we think there +needeth nothing to cure them of their errors but the evidence of truth. +Alas! there are many distempers of mind to be removed before they +receive that evidence." Nevertheless, when it is fully laid before them, +my duty will be done. Conviction will follow in due time. I do not +consider myself as in any way addressing, or having to do with, the +ordinary critics of the press. Their writings are not the guide, but the +expression, of public opinion. A writer for a newspaper naturally and +necessarily endeavors to meet, as nearly as he can, the feelings of the +majority of his readers; his bread depends on his doing so. Precluded by +the nature of his occupations from gaining any knowledge of art, he is +sure that he can gain credit for it by expressing the opinions of his +readers. He mocks the picture which the public pass, and bespatters with +praise the canvas which a crowd concealed from him. + +Writers like the present critic of Blackwood's Magazine[C] deserve more +respect--the respect due to honest, hopeless, helpless imbecility. There +is something exalted in the innocence of their feeblemindedness: one +cannot suspect them of partiality, for it implies feeling; nor of +prejudice, for it implies some previous acquaintance with their subject. +I do not know that even in this age of charlatanry, I could point to a +more barefaced instance of imposture on the simplicity of the public, +than the insertion of these pieces of criticism in a respectable +periodical. We are not insulted with opinions on music from persons +ignorant of its notes; nor with treatises on philology by persons +unacquainted with the alphabet; but here is page after page of +criticism, which one may read from end to end, looking for something +which the writer knows, and finding nothing. Not his own language, for +he has to look in his dictionary, by his own confession, for a word[D] +occurring in one of the most important chapters of his Bible; not the +commonest traditions of the schools, for he does not know why Poussin +was called "learned;"[E] not the most simple canons of art, for he +prefers Lee to Gainsborough;[F] not the most ordinary facts of nature, +for we find him puzzled by the epithet "silver," as applied to the +orange blossom,--evidently never having seen anything silvery about an +orange in his life, except a spoon. Nay, he leaves us not to conjecture +his calibre from internal evidence; he candidly tells us (Oct. 1842) +that he has been studying trees only for the last week, and bases his +critical remarks chiefly on his practical experience of birch. More +disinterested than our friend Sancho, he would disenchant the public +from the magic of Turner by virtue of his own flagellation; +Xanthias-like, he would rob his master of immortality by his own powers +of endurance. What is Christopher North about? Does he receive his +critiques from Eaton or Harrow--based on the experience of a week's +birds'-nesting and its consequences? How low must art and its interests +sink, when the public mind is inadequate to the detection of this +effrontery of incapacity! In all kindness to Maga, we warn her, that, +though the nature of this work precludes us from devoting space to the +exposure, there may come a time when the public shall be themselves able +to distinguish ribaldry from reasoning, and may require some better and +higher qualifications in their critics of art, than the experience of a +school-boy, and the capacities of a buffoon. + +It is not, however, merely to vindicate the reputation of those whom +writers like these defame, which would but be to anticipate by a few +years the natural and inevitable reaction of the public mind, that I am +devoting years of labor to the development of the principles on which +the great productions of recent art are based. I have a higher end in +view--one which may, I think, justify me, not only in the sacrifice of +my own time, but in calling on my readers to follow me through an +investigation far more laborious than could be adequately rewarded by +mere insight into the merits of a particular master, or the spirit of a +particular age. + +It is a question which, in spite of the claims of Painting to be +called the Sister of Poetry, appears to me to admit of considerable +doubt, whether art has ever, except in its earliest and rudest stages, +possessed anything like efficient moral influence on mankind. Better the +state of Rome when "magnorum artificum frangebat pocula miles, ut +phaleris gauderet equus," than when her walls flashed with the marble +and the gold, "nec cessabat luxuria id agere, ut quam plurimum incendiis +perdat." Better the state of religion in Italy, before Giotto had broken +on one barbarism of the Byzantine schools, than when the painter of the +Last Judgment, and the sculptor of the Perseus, sat revelling side by +side. It appears to me that a rude symbol is oftener more efficient than +a refined one in touching the heart, and that as pictures rise in rank +as works of art, they are regarded with less devotion and more +curiosity. + +But, however this may be, and whatever influence we may be disposed to +admit in the great works of sacred art, no doubt can, I think, be +reasonably entertained as to the utter inutility of all that has been +hitherto accomplished by the painters of landscape. No moral end has +been answered, no permanent good effected, by any of their works. They +may have amused the intellect, or exercised the ingenuity, but they +never have spoken to the heart. Landscape art has never taught us one +deep or holy lesson; it has not recorded that which is fleeting, nor +penetrated that which was hidden, nor interpreted that which was +obscure; it has never made us feel the wonder, nor the power, nor the +glory, of the universe; it has not prompted to devotion, nor touched +with awe; its power to move and exalt the heart has been fatally abused, +and perished in the abusing. That which ought to have been a witness to +the omnipotence of God, has become an exhibition of the dexterity of +man, and that which should have lifted our thoughts to the throne of the +Deity, has encumbered them with the inventions of his creatures. + +If we stand for a little time before any of the more celebrated works of +landscape, listening to the comments of the passers-by, we shall hear +numberless expressions relating to the skill of the artist, but very few +relating to the perfection of nature. Hundreds will be voluble in +admiration, for one who will be silent in delight. Multitudes will laud +the composition, and depart with the praise of Claude on their +lips,--not one will feel as if it were _no_ composition, and depart +with the praise of God in his heart. + +These are the signs of a debased, mistaken, and false school of +painting. The skill of the artist, and the perfection of his art, are +never proved until both are forgotten. The artist has done nothing till +he has concealed himself,--the art is imperfect which is visible,--the +feelings are but feebly touched, if they permit us to reason on the +methods of their excitement. In the reading of a great poem, in the +hearing of a noble oration, it is the subject of the writer, and not his +skill,--his passion, not his power, on which our minds are fixed. We see +as he sees, but we see not him. We become part of him, feel with him, +judge, behold with him; but we think _of_ him as little as of ourselves. +Do we think of Aeschylus while we wait on the silence of Cassandra,[G] or +of Shakspeare, while we listen to the wailing of Lear? Not so. The power +of the masters is shown by their self-annihilation. It is commensurate +with the degree in which they themselves appear not in their work. The +harp of the minstrel is untruly touched, if his own glory is all that it +records. Every great writer may be at once known by his guiding the mind +far from himself, to the beauty which is not of his creation, and the +knowledge which is past his finding out. + +And must it ever be otherwise with painting, for otherwise it has ever +been. Her subjects have been regarded as mere themes on which the +artist's power is to be displayed; and that power, be it of imitation, +composition, idealization, or of whatever other kind, is the chief +object of the spectator's observation. It is man and his fancies, man +and his trickeries, man and his inventions,--poor, paltry, weak, +self-sighted man,--which the connoisseur forever seeks and worships. +Among potsherds and dunghills, among drunken boors and withered +beldames, through every scene of debauchery and degradation, we follow +the erring artist, not to receive one wholesome lesson, not to be +touched with pity, nor moved with indignation, but to watch the +dexterity of the pencil, and gloat over the glittering of the hue. + +I speak not only of the works of the Flemish School--I wage no war with +their admirers; they may be left in peace to count the spiculae of +haystacks and the hairs of donkeys--it is also of works of real mind +that I speak,--works in which there are evidences of genius and workings +of power,--works which have been held up as containing all of the +beautiful that art can reach or man conceive. And I assert with sorrow, +that all hitherto done in landscape, by those commonly conceived its +masters, has never prompted one holy thought in the minds of nations. It +has begun and ended in exhibiting the dexterities of individuals, and +conventionalities of systems. Filling the world with the honor of Claude +and Salvator, it has never once tended to the honor of God. + +Does the reader start in reading these last words, as if they were those +of wild enthusiasm,--as if I were lowering the dignity of religion by +supposing that its cause could be advanced by such means? His surprise +proves my position. It _does_ sound like wild, like absurd enthusiasm, +to expect any definite moral agency in the painters of landscape; but +ought it so to sound? Are the gorgeousness of the visible hue, the glory +of the realized form, instruments in the artist's hand so ineffective, +that they can answer no nobler purpose than the amusement of curiosity, +or the engagement of idleness? Must it not be owing to gross neglect or +misapplication of the means at his command, that while words and tones +(means of representing nature surely less powerful than lines and +colors) can kindle and purify the very inmost souls of men, the painter +can only hope to entertain by his efforts at expression, and must remain +forever brooding over his incommunicable thoughts? + +The cause of the evil lies, I believe, deep-seated in the system of +ancient landscape art; it consists, in a word, in the painter's taking +upon him to modify God's works at his pleasure, casting the shadow of +himself on all he sees, constituting himself arbiter where it is honor +to be a disciple, and exhibiting his ingenuity by the attainment of +combinations whose highest praise is that they are impossible. We shall +not pass through a single gallery of old art, without hearing this topic +of praise confidently advanced. The sense of artificialness, the +absence of all appearance of reality, the clumsiness of combination by +which the meddling of man is made evident, and the feebleness of his +hand branded on the inorganization of his monstrous creature, is +advanced as a proof of inventive power, as an evidence of abstracted +conception;--nay, the violation of specific form, the utter abandonment +of all organic and individual character of object, (numberless examples +of which from the works of the old masters are given in the following +pages,) is constantly held up by the unthinking critic as the foundation +of the grand or historical style, and the first step to the attainment +of a pure ideal. Now, there is but one grand style, in the treatment of +all subjects whatsoever, and that style is based on the _perfect_ +knowledge, and consists in the simple, unencumbered rendering, of the +specific characters of the given object, be it man, beast, or flower. +Every change, caricature, or abandonment of such specific character, is +as destructive of grandeur as it is of truth, of beauty as of propriety. +Every alteration of the features of nature has its origin either in +powerless indolence or blind audacity, in the folly which forgets, or +the insolence which desecrates, works which it is the pride of angels to +know, and their privilege to love. + +We sometimes hear such infringement of universal laws justified on the +plea, that the frequent introduction of mythological abstractions into +ancient landscape requires an imaginary character of form in the +material objects with which they are associated. Something of this kind +is hinted in Reynolds's 14th Discourse; but nothing can be more false +than such reasoning. If there be any truth or beauty in the original +conception of the spiritual being so introduced, there must be a true +and real connection between that abstract idea[H] and the features of +nature as she was and is. The woods and waters which were peopled by the +Greek with typical life were not different from those which now wave and +murmur by the ruins of his shrines. With their visible and actual forms +was his imagination filled, and the beauty of its incarnate creatures +can only be understood among the pure realities which originally +modelled their conception. If divinity be stamped upon the features, or +apparent in the form of the spiritual creature, the mind will not be +shocked by its appearing to ride upon the whirlwind, and trample on the +storm; but if mortality, no violation of the characters of the earth +will forge one single link to bind it to the heaven. + +Is there then no such thing as elevated ideal character of landscape? +Undoubtedly; and Sir Joshua, with the great master of this character, +Nicolo Poussin, present to his thoughts, ought to have arrived at more +true conclusions respecting its essence than, as we shall presently see, +are deducible from his works. The true ideal of landscape is precisely +the same as that of the human form; it is the expression of the +specific--not the individual, but the specific--characters of every +object, in their perfection; there is an ideal form of every herb, +flower, and tree: it is that form to which every individual of the +species has a tendency to arrive, freed from the influence of accident +or disease. Every landscape painter should know the specific characters +of every object he has to represent, rock, flower, or cloud; and in his +highest ideal works, all their distinctions will be perfectly expressed, +broadly or delicately, slightly or completely, according to the nature +of the subject, and the degree of attention which is to be drawn to the +particular object by the part it plays in the composition. Where the +sublime is aimed at, such distinctions will be indicated with severe +simplicity, as the muscular markings in a colossal statue; where beauty +is the object, they must be expressed with the utmost refinement of +which the hand is capable. + +This may sound like a contradiction of principles advanced by the +highest authorities; but it is only a contradiction of a particular and +most mistaken application of them. Much evil has been done to art by +the remarks of historical painters on landscape. Accustomed themselves +to treat their backgrounds slightly and boldly, and feeling (though, as +I shall presently show, only in consequence of their own deficient +powers) that any approach to completeness of detail therein, injures +their picture by interfering with its principal subject, they naturally +lose sight of the peculiar and intrinsic beauties of things which to +them are injurious, unless subordinate. Hence the frequent advice given +by Reynolds and others, to neglect _specific_ form in landscape, and +treat its materials in large masses, aiming only at general truths,--the +flexibility of foliage, but not its kind; the rigidity of rock, but not +its mineral character. In the passage more especially bearing on this +subject (in the eleventh lecture of Sir J. Reynolds), we are told that +"the landscape painter works not for the virtuoso or the naturalist, but +for the general observer of life and nature." This is true, in precisely +the same sense that the sculptor does not work for the anatomist, but +for the common observer of life and nature. Yet the sculptor is not, for +this reason, permitted to be wanting either in knowledge or expression +of anatomical detail; and the more refined that expression can be +rendered, the more perfect is his work. That which, to the anatomist, is +the end,--is, to the sculptor, the means. The former desires details, +for their own sake; the latter, that by means of them, he may kindle his +work with life, and stamp it with beauty. And so in landscape;--botanical +or geological details are not to be given as matter of curiosity or +subject of search, but as the ultimate elements of every species of +expression and order of loveliness. + +In his observations on the foreground of the St. Pietro Martire, Sir +Joshua advances, as matter of praise, that the plants are discriminated +"just as much as was necessary for variety, and no more." Had this +foreground been occupied by a group of animals, we should have been +surprised to be told that the lion, the serpent, and the dove, or +whatever other creatures might have been introduced, were distinguished +from each other just as much as was necessary for variety, and no more. +Yet is it to be supposed that the distinctions of the vegetable world +are less complete, less essential, or less divine in origin, than those +of the animal? If the distinctive forms of animal life are meant for our +reverent observance, is it likely that those of vegetable life are made +merely to be swept away? The latter are indeed less obvious and less +obtrusive; for which very reason there is less excuse for omitting them, +because there is less danger of their disturbing the attention or +engaging the fancy. + +But Sir Joshua is as inaccurate in fact, as false in principle. He +himself furnishes a most singular instance of the very error of which he +accuses Vaseni,--the seeing what he expects; or, rather, in the present +case, not seeing what he does not expect. The great masters of Italy, +almost without exception, and Titian perhaps more than any, (for he had +the highest knowledge of landscape,) are in the constant habit of +rendering every detail of their foregrounds with the most laborious +botanical fidelity: witness the "Bacchus and Ariadne," in which the +foreground is occupied by the common blue iris, the aquilegia, and the +wild rose; _every stamen_ of which latter is given, while the blossoms +and leaves of the columbine (a difficult flower to draw) have been +studied with the most exquisite accuracy. The foregrounds of Raffaelle's +two cartoons,--"The Miraculous Draught of Fishes" and "The Charge to +Peter,"--are covered with plants of the common sea colewort, (_crambe +maritima_,) of which the sinuated leaves and clustered blossoms would +have exhausted the patience of any other artist; but have appeared +worthy of prolonged and thoughtful labor to the great mind of Raffaelle. + +It appears then, not only from natural principles, but from the highest +of all authority, that thorough knowledge of the lowest details is +necessary and full expression of them right, even in the highest class +of historical painting; that it will not take away from, nor interfere +with, the interest of the figures; but, rightly managed, must add to and +elucidate it; and, if further proof be wanting, I would desire the +reader to compare the background of Sir Joshua's "Holy Family," in the +National Gallery, with that of Nicolo Poussin's "Nursing of Jupiter," in +the Dulwich Gallery. The first, owing to the utter neglect of all +botanical detail, has lost every atom of ideal character, and reminds us +of nothing but an English fashionable flower garden;--the formal +pedestal adding considerably to the effect. Poussin's, in which every +vine leaf is drawn with consummate skill and untiring diligence, +produces not only a tree group of the most perfect grace and beauty, but +one which, in its pure and simple truth, belongs to every age of nature, +and adapts itself to the history of all time. If, then, such entire +rendering of specific character be necessary to the historical painter, +in cases where these lower details are entirely subordinate to his human +subject, how much more must it be necessary in landscape, where they +themselves constitute the subject, and where the undivided attention is +to be drawn to them. + +There is a singular sense in which the child may peculiarly be said to +be father of the man. In many arts and attainments, the first and last +stages of progress--the infancy and the consummation--have many features +in common; while the intermediate stages are wholly unlike either, and +are farthest from the right. Thus it is in the progress of a painter's +handling. We see the perfect child,--the absolute beginner, using of +necessity a broken, imperfect, inadequate line, which, as he advances, +becomes gradually firm, severe, and decided. Yet before he becomes a +perfect artist, this severity and decision will again be exchanged for a +light and careless stroke, which in many points will far more resemble +that of his childhood than of his middle age--differing from it only by +the consummate effect wrought out by the apparently inadequate means. So +it is in many matters of opinion. Our first and last coincide, though on +different grounds; it is the middle stage which is farthest from the +truth. Childhood often holds a truth with its feeble fingers, which the +grasp of manhood cannot retain,--which it is the pride of utmost age to +recover. + +Perhaps this is in no instance more remarkable than in the opinion we +form upon the subject of detail in works of art. Infants in judgment, we +look for specific character, and complete finish--we delight in the +faithful plumage of the well-known bird--in the finely drawn leafage of +the discriminated flower. As we advance in judgment, we scorn such +detail altogether; we look for impetuosity of execution, and breadth of +effect. But, perfected in judgment, we return in a great measure to our +early feelings, and thank Raffaelle for the shells upon his sacred +beach, and for the delicate stamens of the herbage beside his inspired +St. Catherine.[I] + +Of those who take interest in art, nay, even of artists themselves, +there are an hundred in the middle stage of judgment, for one who is in +the last; and this not because they are destitute of the power to +discover, or the sensibility to enjoy the truth, but because the truth +bears so much semblance of error--the last stage of the journey to the +first,--that every feeling which guides to it is checked in its origin. +The rapid and powerful artist necessarily looks with such contempt on +those who seek minutiae of detail _rather_ than grandeur of impression, +that it is almost impossible for him to conceive of the great last step +in art, by which both become compatible. He has so often to dash the +delicacy out of the pupil's work, and to blot the details from his +encumbered canvas; so frequently to lament the loss of breadth and +unity, and so seldom to reprehend the imperfection of minutiae, that he +necessarily looks upon complete _parts_ as the very sign of error, +weakness, and ignorance. Thus, frequently to the latest period of his +life, he separates, like Sir Joshua, as chief enemies, the details and +the whole, which an artist cannot be great unless he reconciles; and +because details alone, and unreferred to a final purpose, are the sign +of a tyro's work, he loses sight of the remoter truth, that details +perfect in unity, and, contributing to a final purpose, are the sign of +the production of a consummate master. + +It is not, therefore, detail sought for its own sake,--not the +calculable bricks of the Dutch house-painters, nor the numbered hairs +and mapped wrinkles of Denner, which constitute great art,--they are the +lowest and most contemptible art; but it is detail referred to a great +end,--sought for the sake of the inestimable beauty which exists in the +slightest and least of God's works, and treated in a manly, broad, and +impressive manner. There may be as much greatness of mind, as much +nobility of manner in a master's treatment of the smallest features, as +in his management of the most vast; and this greatness of manner chiefly +consists in seizing the specific character of the object, together with +all the great qualities of beauty which it has in common with higher +orders of existence,[J] while he utterly rejects the meaner beauties +which are accidentally peculiar to the object, and yet not specifically +characteristic of it. I cannot give a better instance than the painting +of the flowers in Titian's picture above mentioned. While every stamen +of the rose is given, because this was necessary to mark the flower, and +while the curves and large characters of the leaves are rendered with +exquisite fidelity, there is no vestige of particular texture, of moss, +bloom, moisture, or any other accident--no dew-drops, nor flies, nor +trickeries of any kind; nothing beyond the simple forms and hues of the +flowers,--even those hues themselves being simplified and broadly +rendered. The varieties of aquilegia have, in reality, a grayish and +uncertain tone of color; and, I believe, never attain the intense purity +of blue with which Titian has gifted his flower. But the master does not +aim at the particular color of individual blossoms; he seizes the type +of all, and gives it with the utmost purity and simplicity of which +color is capable. + +These laws being observed, it will not only be in the power, it will be +the duty,--the imperative duty,--of the landscape painter, to descend to +the lowest details with undiminished attention. Every herb and flower of +the field has its specific, distinct, and perfect beauty; it has its +peculiar habitation, expression, and function. The highest art is that +which seizes this specific character, which develops and illustrates it, +which assigns to it its proper position in the landscape, and which, by +means of it, enhances and enforces the great impression which the +picture is intended to convey. Nor is it of herbs and flowers alone that +such scientific representation is required. Every class of rock, every +kind of earth, every form of cloud, must be studied with equal industry, +and rendered with equal precision. And thus we find ourselves +unavoidably led to a conclusion directly opposed to that constantly +enunciated dogma of the parrot-critic, that the features of nature must +be "generalized,"--a dogma whose inherent and broad absurdity would long +ago have been detected, if it had not contained in its convenient +falsehood an apology for indolence, and a disguise for incapacity. +Generalized! As if it were possible to generalize things generically +different. Of such common cant of criticism I extract a characteristic +passage from one of the reviews of this work, that in this year's +Athenaeum for February 10th: "He (the author) would have geological +landscape painters, dendrologic, meteorologic, and doubtless +entomologic, ichthyologic, every kind of physiologic painter united in +the same person; yet, alas, for true poetic art among all these learned +Thebans! No; landscape painting must not be reduced to mere portraiture +of inanimate substances, Denner-like portraiture of the earth's face. +* * * * * Ancient landscapists took a broader, deeper, higher view +of their art; they neglected particular traits, and gave only general +features. Thus they attained mass and force, harmonious union and simple +effect, the elements of grandeur and beauty." + +To all such criticism as this (and I notice it only because it expresses +the feelings into which many sensible and thoughtful minds have been +fashioned by infection) the answer is simple and straightforward. It is +just as impossible to generalize granite and slate, as it is to +generalize a man and a cow. An animal must be either one animal or +another animal; it cannot be a general animal, or it is no animal; and +so a rock must be either one rock or another rock; it cannot be a +general rock, or it is no rock. If there were a creature in the +foreground of a picture, of which he could not decide whether it were a +pony or a pig, the Athenaeum critic would perhaps affirm it to be a +generalization of pony and pig, and consequently a high example of +"harmonious union and simple effect." But _I_ should call it simple bad +drawing. And so when there are things in the foreground of Salvator of +which I cannot pronounce whether they be granite or slate, or tufa, I +affirm that there is in them neither harmonious union nor simple effect, +but simple monstrosity. There is no grandeur, no beauty of any sort or +kind; nothing but destruction, disorganization, and ruin, to be obtained +by the violation of natural distinctions. The elements of brutes can +only mix in corruption, the elements of inorganic nature only in +annihilation. We may, if we choose, put together centaur monsters; but +they must still be half man, half horse; they cannot be both man and +horse, nor either man or horse. And so, if landscape painters choose, +they may give us rocks which shall be half granite and half slate; but +they cannot give us rocks which shall be either granite or slate, nor +which shall be both granite and slate. Every attempt to produce that +which shall be _any_ rock, ends in the production of that which is _no_ +rock. + +It is true that the distinctions of rocks and plants and clouds are less +conspicuous, and less constantly subjects of observation than those of +the animal creation; but the difficulty of observing them proves not +the merit of overlooking them. It only accounts for the singular fact, +that the world has never yet seen anything like a perfect school of +landscape. For just as the highest historical painting is based on +perfect knowledge of the workings of the human form, and human mind, so +must the highest landscape painting be based on perfect cognizance of +the form, functions, and system of every organic or definitely +structured existence which it has to represent. This proposition is +self-evident to every thinking mind; and every principle which appears +to contradict it is either misstated or misunderstood. For instance, the +Athenaeum critic calls the right statement of generic difference +"_Denner_-like portraiture." If he can find anything like Denner in what +I have advanced as the utmost perfection of landscape art--the recent +works of Turner--he is welcome to his discovery and his theory. No; +Denner-like portraiture would be the endeavor to paint the separate +crystals of quartz and felspar in the granite, and the separate flakes +of mica in the mica slate,--an attempt just as far removed from what I +assert to be great art, (the bold rendering of the generic characters of +form in both rocks,) as modern sculpture of lace and button-holes is +from the Elgin marbles. Martin has attempted this Denner-like +portraiture of sea-foam with the assistance of an acre of canvas--with +what success, I believe the critics of his last year's Canute had, for +once, sense enough to decide. + +Again, it does not follow that because such accurate knowledge is +_necessary_ to the painter that it should constitute the painter, nor +that such knowledge is valuable in itself, and without reference to high +ends. Every kind of knowledge may be sought from ignoble motives, and +for ignoble ends; and in those who so possess it, it is ignoble +knowledge; while the very same knowledge is in another mind an +attainment of the highest dignity, and conveying the greatest blessing. +This is the difference between the mere botanist's knowledge of plants, +and the great poet's or painter's knowledge of them. The one notes their +distinctions for the sake of swelling his herbarium, the other, that he +may render them vehicles of expression and emotion. The one counts the +stamens, and affixes a name, and is content; the other observes every +character of the plant's color and form; considering each of its +attributes as an element of expression, he seizes on its lines of grace +or energy, rigidity or repose; notes the feebleness or the vigor, the +serenity or tremulousness of its hues; observes its local habits, its +love or fear of peculiar places, its nourishment or destruction by +particular influences; he associates it in his mind with all the +features of the situations it inhabits, and the ministering agencies +necessary to its support. Thenceforward the flower is to him a living +creature, with histories written on its leaves, and passions breathing +in its motion. Its occurrence in his picture is no mere point of color, +no meaningless spark of light. It is a voice rising from the earth,--a +new chord of the mind's music,--a necessary note in the harmony of his +picture, contributing alike to its tenderness and its dignity, nor less +to its loveliness than its truth. + +The particularization of flowers by Shakspeare and Shelley affords us +the most frequent examples of the exalted use of these inferior details. +It is true that the painter has not the same power of expressing the +thoughts with which his symbols are connected; he is dependent in some +degree on the knowledge and feeling of the spectator; but, by the +destruction of such details, his foreground is not rendered more +intelligible to the ignorant, although it ceases to have interest for +the informed. It is no excuse for illegible writing that there are +persons who could not have read it had it been plain. + +I repeat then, generalization, as the word is commonly understood, is +the act of a vulgar, incapable, and unthinking mind. To see in all +mountains nothing but similar heaps of earth; in all rocks, nothing but +similar concretions of solid matter; in all trees, nothing but similar +accumulations of leaves, is no sign of high feeling or extended thought. +The more we know, and the more we feel, the more we separate; we +separate to obtain a more perfect unity. Stones, in the thoughts of the +peasant, lie as they do on his field, one is like another, and there is +no connection between any of them. The geologist distinguishes, and in +distinguishing connects them. Each becomes different from its fellow, +but in differing from, assumes a relation to its fellow; they are no +more each the repetition of the other,--they are parts of a system, and +each implies and is connected with the existence of the rest. That +generalization then is right, true, and noble, which is based on the +knowledge of the distinctions and observance of the relations of +individual kinds. That generalization is wrong, false, and contemptible, +which is based on ignorance of the one, and disturbance of the other. +It is indeed no generalization, but confusion and chaos; it is the +generalization of a defeated army into indistinguishable impotence--the +generalization of the elements of a dead carcass into dust. + +Let us, then, without farther notice of the dogmata of the schools of +art, follow forth those conclusions to which we are led by observance of +the laws of nature. + +I have just said that every class of rock, earth and cloud, must be +known by the painter, with geologic and meteorologic accuracy.[K] Nor is +this merely for the sake of obtaining the character of these minor +features themselves, but more especially for the sake of reaching that +simple, earnest, and consistent character which is visible in the +_whole_ effect of every natural landscape. Every geological formation +has features entirely peculiar to itself; definite lines of fracture, +giving rise to fixed resultant forms of rock and earth; peculiar +vegetable products, among which still farther distinctions are wrought +out by variations of climate and elevation. From such modifying +circumstances arise the infinite varieties of the orders of landscape, +of which each one shows perfect harmony among its several features, and +possesses an ideal beauty of its own; a beauty not distinguished merely +by such peculiarities as are wrought on the human form by change of +climate, but by generic differences the most marked and essential; so +that its classes cannot be generalized or amalgamated by any expedients +whatsoever. The level marshes and rich meadows of the tertiary, the +rounded swells and short pastures of the chalk, the square-built cliffs +and cloven dells of the lower limestone, the soaring peaks and ridgy +precipices of the primaries, having nothing in common among +them--nothing which is not distinctive and incommunicable. Their very +atmospheres are different--their clouds are different--their humors of +storm and sunshine are different--their flowers, animals and forests are +different. By each order of landscape--and its orders, I repeat, are +infinite in number, corresponding not only to the several species of +rock, but to the particular circumstances of the rocks' deposition or +after treatment, and to the incalculable varieties of climate, aspect, +and human interference:--by each order of landscape, I say, peculiar +lessons are intended to be taught, and distinct pleasures to be +conveyed; and it is as utterly futile to talk of generalizing their +impressions into an ideal landscape, as to talk of amalgamating all +nourishment into one ideal food, gathering all music into one ideal +movement, or confounding all thought into one ideal idea. + +There is, however, such a thing as composition of different orders of +landscape, though there can be no generalization of them. Nature herself +perpetually brings together elements of various expression. Her barren +rocks stoop through wooded promontories to the plain; and the wreaths of +the vine show through their green shadows the wan light of unperishing +snow. + +The painter, therefore, has the choice of either working out the +isolated character of some one distinct class of scene, or of bringing +together a multitude of different elements, which may adorn each other +by contrast. + +I believe that the simple and uncombined landscape, if wrought out with +due attention to the ideal beauty of the features it includes, will +always be the most powerful in its appeal to the heart. Contrast +increases the splendor of beauty, but it disturbs its influence; it adds +to its attractiveness, but diminishes its power. On this subject I shall +have much to say hereafter; at present I merely wish to suggest the +possibility, that the single-minded painter, who is working out on broad +and simple principles, a piece of unbroken, harmonious landscape +character, may be reaching an end in art quite as high as the more +ambitious student who is always "within five minutes' walk of +everywhere," making the ends of the earth contribute to his pictorial +guazzetto;[L] and the certainty, that unless the composition of the +latter be regulated by severe judgment, and its members connected by +natural links, it must become more contemptible in its motley, than an +honest study of roadside weeds. + +Let me, at the risk of tediously repeating what is universally known, +refer to the common principles of historical composition, in order that +I may show their application to that of landscape. The merest tyro in +art knows that every figure which is unnecessary to his picture, is an +encumbrance to it, and that every figure which does not sympathize with +the action, interrupts it. He that gathereth not with me, +scattereth,--is, or ought to be, the ruling principle of his plan: and +the power and grandeur of his result will be exactly proportioned to the +unity of feeling manifested in its several parts, and to the propriety +and simplicity of the relations in which they stand to each other. + +All this is equally applicable to the materials of inanimate nature. +Impressiveness is destroyed by a multitude of contradictory facts, and +the accumulation, which is not harmonious, is discordant. He who +endeavors to unite simplicity with magnificence, to guide from solitude +to festivity, and to contrast melancholy with mirth, must end by the +production of confused inanity. There is a peculiar spirit; possessed by +every kind of scene; and although a point of contrast may sometimes +enhance and exhibit this particular feeling more intensely, it must be +only a point, not an equalized opposition. Every introduction of new and +different feeling weakens the force of what has already been impressed, +and the mingling of all emotions must conclude in apathy, as the +mingling of all colors in white. + +Let us test by these simple rules one of the "ideal" landscape +compositions of Claude, that known to the Italians as "Il Mulino." + +The foreground is a piece of very lovely and perfect forest scenery, +with a dance of peasants by a brookside; quite enough subject to form, +in the hands of a master, an impressive and complete picture. On the +other side of the brook, however, we have a piece of pastoral life, a +man with some bulls and goats tumbling headforemost into the water, +owing to some sudden paralytic affection of all their legs. Even this +group is one too many; the shepherd had no business to drive his flock +so near the dancers, and the dancers will certainly frighten the cattle. +But when we look farther into the picture, our feelings receive a +sudden and violent shock, by the unexpected appearance, amidst things +pastoral and musical, of the military: a number of Roman soldiers riding +in on hobby-horses, with a leader on foot, apparently encouraging them +to make an immediate and decisive charge on the musicians. Beyond the +soldiers is a circular temple, in exceedingly bad repair, and close +beside it, built against its very walls, a neat water-mill in full work. +By the mill flows a large river, with a weir all across it. The weir has +not been made for the mill, (for that receives its water from the hills +by a trough carried over the temple,) but it is particularly ugly and +monotonous in its line of fall, and the water below forms a dead-looking +pond, on which some people are fishing in punts. The banks of this river +resemble in contour the later geological formations around London, +constituted chiefly of broken pots and oyster-shells. At an inconvenient +distance from the water-side stands a city, composed of twenty-five +round towers and a pyramid. Beyond the city is a handsome bridge; beyond +the bridge, part of the Campagna, with fragments of aqueducts; beyond +the Campagna, the chain of the Alps; on the left, the cascades of +Tivoli. + +This is, I believe, a fair example of what is commonly called an "ideal +landscape," _i.e._, a group of the artist's studies from nature, +individually spoiled, selected with such opposition of character as may +insure their neutralizing each other's effect, and united with +sufficient unnaturalness and violence of association to insure their +producing a general sensation of the impossible. Let us analyze the +separate subjects a little in this ideal work of Claude's. + +Perhaps there is no more impressive scene on earth than the solitary +extent of the Campagna of Rome under evening light. Let the reader +imagine himself for a moment withdrawn from the sounds and motion of the +living world, and sent forth alone into this wild and wasted plain. The +earth yields and crumbles beneath his foot, tread he never so lightly, +for its substance is white, hollow, and carious, like the dusty wreck of +the bones of men.[M] The long knotted grass waves and tosses feebly in +the evening wind, and the shadows of its motion shake feverishly along +the banks of ruin that lift themselves to the sunlight. Hillocks of +mouldering earth heave around him, as if the dead beneath were +struggling in their sleep; scattered blocks of black stone, four-square, +remnants of mighty edifices, not one left upon another, lie upon them to +keep them down. A dull purple, poisonous haze stretches level along the +desert, veiling its spectral wrecks of massy ruins, on whose rents the +red light rests like dying fire on defiled altars. The blue ridge of the +Alban mount lifts itself against a solemn space of green, clear, quiet +sky. Watch-towers of dark clouds stand steadfastly along the +promontories, of the Apennines. From the plain to the mountains, the +shattered aqueducts, pier beyond pier, melt into the darkness, like +shadowy and countless troops of funeral mourners, passing from a +nation's grave. + +Let us, with Claude, make a few "ideal" alterations in this landscape. +First, we will reduce the multitudinous precipices of the Apennines to +four sugar-loaves. Secondly, we will remove the Alban mount, and put a +large dust-heap in its stead. Next, we will knock down the greater part +of the aqueducts, and leave only an arch or two, that their infinity of +length may no longer be painful from its monotony. For the purple mist +and declining sun, we will substitute a bright blue sky, with round +white clouds. Finally, we will get rid of the unpleasant ruins in the +foreground; we will plant some handsome trees therein, we will send for +some fiddlers, and get up a dance, and a picnic party. + +It will be found, throughout the picture, that the same species of +improvement is made on the materials which Claude had ready to his hand. +The descending slopes of the city of Rome, towards the pyramid of Caius +Cestius, supply not only lines of the most exquisite variety and beauty, +but matter for contemplation and reflection in every fragment of their +buildings. This passage has been idealized by Claude into a set of +similar round towers, respecting which no idea can be formed but that +they are uninhabitable, and to which no interest can be attached, beyond +the difficulty of conjecturing what they could have been built for. The +ruins of the temple are rendered unimpressive by the juxtaposition of +the water-mill, and inexplicable by the introduction of the Roman +soldiers. The glide of the muddy streams of the melancholy Tiber and +Anio through the Campagna, is impressive in itself, but altogether +ceases to be so, when we disturb their stillness of motion by a weir, +adorn their neglected flow with a handsome bridge, and cover their +solitary surface with punts, nets, and fishermen. + +It cannot, I think, be expected, that landscapes like this should have +any effect on the human heart, except to harden or to degrade it; to +lead it from the love of what is simple, earnest and pure, to what is as +sophisticated and corrupt in arrangement, as erring and imperfect in +detail. So long as such works are held up for imitation, landscape +painting must be a manufacture, its productions must be toys, and its +patrons must be children. + +My purpose then, in the present work, is to demonstrate the utter +falseness both of the facts and principles; the imperfection of +material, and error of arrangement, on which works such as these are +based; and to insist on the necessity, as well as the dignity, of an +earnest, faithful, loving, study of nature as she is, rejecting with +abhorrence all that man has done to alter and modify her. And the praise +which, in this first portion of the work, is given to many English +artists, would be justifiable on this ground only, that although +frequently with little power and desultory effort, they have yet, in an +honest and good heart, received the word of God from clouds, and leaves, +and waves, and kept it,[N] and endeavored in humility to render to the +world that purity of impression which can alone render the result of +art an instrument of good, or its labor deserving of gratitude. + +If, however, I shall have frequent occasion to insist on the necessity +of this heartfelt love of, and unqualified submission to, the teaching +of nature, it will be no less incumbent upon me to reprobate the +careless rendering of casual impression, and the mechanical copyism of +unimportant subject, which are too frequently visible in our modern +school.[O] Their lightness and desultoriness of intention, their +meaningless multiplication of unstudied composition, and their want of +definiteness and loftiness of aim, bring discredit on their whole system +of study, and encourage in the critic the unhappy prejudice that the +field and the hill-side are less fit places of study than the gallery +and the garret. Not every casual idea caught from the flight of a shower +or the fall of a sunbeam, not every glowing fragment of harvest light, +nor every flickering dream of copsewood coolness, is to be given to the +world as it came, unconsidered, incomplete, and forgotten by the artist +as soon as it has left his easel. That only should be considered a +picture, in which the spirit, (not the materials, observe,) but the +animating emotion of many such studies is concentrated, and exhibited by +the aid of long-studied, painfully-chosen forms; idealized in the right +sense of the word, not by audacious liberty of that faculty of degrading +God's works which man calls his "imagination," but by perfect assertion +of entire knowledge of every part and character and function of the +object, and in which the details are completed to the last line +compatible with the dignity and simplicity of the whole, wrought out +with that noblest industry which concentrates profusion into point, and +transforms accumulation into structure; neither must this labor be +bestowed on every subject which appears to afford a capability of good, +but on chosen subjects in which nature has prepared to the artist's hand +the purest sources of the impression he would convey. These may be +humble in their order, but they must be perfect of their kind. There is +a perfection of the hedgerow and cottage, as well as of the forest and +the palace, and more ideality in a great artist's selection and +treatment of roadside weeds and brook-worn pebbles, than in all the +struggling caricature of the meaner mind which heaps its foreground with +colossal columns, and heaves impossible mountains into the encumbered +sky. Finally, these chosen subjects must not be in any way repetitions +of one another, but each founded on a new idea, and developing a totally +distinct train of thought; so that the work of the artist's life should +form a consistent series of essays, rising through the scale of creation +from the humblest scenery to the most exalted; each picture being a +necessary link in the chain, based on what preceded, introducing to what +is to follow, and all, in their lovely system, exhibiting and drawing +closer the bonds of nature to the human heart. Since, then, I shall +have to reprobate the absence of study in the moderns nearly as much as +its false direction in the ancients, my task will naturally divide +itself into three portions. In the first, I shall endeavor to +investigate and arrange the facts of nature with scientific accuracy; +showing as I proceed, by what total neglect of the very first base and +groundwork of their art the idealities of some among the old masters are +produced. This foundation once securely laid, I shall proceed, in the +second portion of the work, to analyze and demonstrate the nature of the +emotions of the Beautiful and Sublime; to examine the particular +characters of every kind of scenery, and to bring to light, as far as +may be in my power, that faultless, ceaseless, inconceivable, +inexhaustible loveliness, which God has stamped upon all things, if man +will only receive them as He gives them. Finally, I shall endeavor to +trace the operation of all this on the hearts and minds of men; to +exhibit the moral function and end of art, to prove the share which it +ought to have in the thoughts, and influence on the lives of all of us; +to attach to the artist the responsibility of a preacher, and to kindle +in the general mind that regard which such an office must demand. + +It must be evident that the first portion of this task, which is all +that I have yet been enabled to offer to the reader, cannot but be the +least interesting and the most laborious, especially because it is +necessary that it should be executed without reference to any principles +of beauty or influences of emotion. It is the hard, straightforward +classification of material things, not the study of thought or passion; +and therefore let me not be accused of the feelings which I choose to +repress. The consideration of the high qualities of art must not be +interrupted by the work of the hammer and the eudiometer. + +Again, I would request that the frequent passages of reference to the +great masters of the Italian school may not be looked upon as mere modes +of conventional expression. I think there is enough in the following +pages to prove that I am not likely to be carried away by the celebrity +of a name; and therefore that the devoted love which I profess for the +works of the great historical and sacred painters is sincere and +well-grounded. And indeed every principle of art which I may advocate, I +shall be able to illustrate by reference to the works of men universally +allowed to be the masters of masters; and the public, so long as my +teaching leads them to higher understanding and love of the works of +Buonaroti, Leonardo, Raffaelle, Titian, and Cagliari, may surely concede +to me without fear, the right of striking such blows as I may deem +necessary to the establishment of my principles, at Gasper Poussin, or +Vandevelde. + +Indeed, I believe there is nearly as much occasion, at the present day, +for advocacy of Michael Angelo against the pettiness of the moderns, as +there is for support of Turner against the conventionalities of the +ancients. For, though the names of the fathers of sacred art are on all +our lips, our faith in them is much like that of the great world in its +religion--nominal, but dead. In vain our lecturers sound the name of +Raffaelle in the ears of their pupils, while their own works are visibly +at variance with every principle deducible from his. In vain is the +young student compelled to produce a certain number of school copies of +Michael Angelo, when his bread must depend on the number of gewgaws he +can crowd into his canvas. And I could with as much zeal exert myself +against the modern system of English historical art, as I have in favor +of our school of landscape, but that it is an ungrateful and painful +task to attack the works of living painters, struggling with adverse +circumstances of every kind, and especially with the false taste of a +nation which regards matters of art either with the ticklishness of an +infant, or the stolidity of a Megatherium. + +I have been accused, in the execution of this first portion of my work, +of irreverent and scurrile expression towards the works which I have +depreciated. Possibly I may have been in some degree infected by reading +those criticisms of our periodicals, which consist of nothing else; but +I believe in general that my words will be found to have sufficient +truth in them to excuse their familiarity; and that no other weapons +could have been used to pierce the superstitious prejudice with which +the works of certain painters are shielded from the attacks of reason. +My answer is that given long ago to a similar complaint, uttered under +the same circumstances by the foiled sophist:--"[Greek: (Hos d'estin ho +anthropos; hos apaideutos tis, os ouio phaula onomata onomazein tolma en +semno pragmati.) Toioutos tis, o Hippia, ouden allo phrontizon e to +alethes]." + +It is with more surprise that I have heard myself accused of thoughtless +severity with respect to the works of contemporary painters, for I fully +believe that whenever I attack them, I give myself far more pain than I +can possibly inflict; and, in many instances, I have withheld +reprobation which I considered necessary to the full understanding of my +work, in the fear of grieving or injuring men of whose feelings and +circumstances I was ignorant. Indeed, the apparently false and +exaggerated bias of the whole book in favor of modern art, is in great +degree dependent on my withholding the animadversions which would have +given it balance, and keeping silence where I cannot praise. But I had +rather be a year or two longer in effecting my purposes, than reach them +by trampling on men's hearts and hearths; and I have permitted myself to +express unfavorable opinions only where the popularity and favor of the +artist are so great as to render the opinion of an individual a matter +of indifference to him. + +And now--but one word more. For many a year we have heard nothing with +respect to the works of Turner but accusations of their want of _truth_. +To every observation on their power, sublimity, or beauty, there has +been but one reply: They are not like nature. I therefore took my +opponents on their own ground, and demonstrated, by thorough +investigation of actual facts, that Turner _is_ like nature, and paints +more of nature than any man who ever lived. I expected this proposition +(the foundation of all my future efforts) would have been disputed with +desperate struggles, and that I should have had to fight my way to my +position inch by inch. Not at all. My opponents yield me the field at +once. One (the writer for the Athenaeum) has no other resource than the +assertion, that "he disapproves the natural style in painting. If people +want to see _nature_, let them go and look at herself. Why should they +see her at second-hand on a piece of canvas?" The other, (Blackwood,) +still more utterly discomfited, is reduced to a still more remarkable +line of defence. "It is not," he says, "what things in all respects +really are, but how they are convertible by the mind into what they are +_not_, that we have to consider." (October, 1843, p. 485.) I leave +therefore the reader to choose whether, with Blackwood and his fellows, +he will proceed to consider how things are convertible by the mind into +what they are _not_, or whether, with me, he will undergo the harder, +but perhaps on the whole more useful, labor of ascertaining--What they +are. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [A] One or two fragments of Greek sculpture, the works of Michael + Angelo, considered with reference to their general conception and + power, and the Madonna di St. Sisto, are all that I should myself + put into such a category, not that even these are without defect, + but their defects are such as mortality could never hope to rectify. + + [B] This principle is dangerous, but not the less true, and + necessary to be kept in mind. There is scarcely any truth which does + not admit of being wrested to purposes of evil, and we must not deny + the desirableness of originality, because men may err in seeking for + it, or because a pretence to it may be made, by presumption, a cloak + for its incompetence. Nevertheless, originality is never to be + sought for its own sake--otherwise it will be mere aberration--it + should arise naturally out of hard, independent study of nature; and + it should be remembered that in many things technical, it is + impossible to alter without being inferior, for therein, as says + Spencer, "Truth is one, and right is ever one;" but wrongs are + various and multitudinous. "Vice," says Byron, in Marino Faliero, + "must have variety; but Virtue stands like the sun, and all which + rolls around drinks life from her aspect." + + [C] It is with regret that, in a work of this nature, I take notice + of criticisms, which, after all, are merely intended to amuse the + careless reader, and be forgotten as soon as read; but I do so in + compliance with wishes expressed to me since the publication of this + work, by persons who have the interests of art deeply at heart, and + who, I find, attach more importance to the matter than I should have + been disposed to do. I have, therefore, marked two or three passages + which _may_ enable the public to judge for themselves of the quality + of these critiques; and this I think a matter of justice to those + who might otherwise have been led astray by them--more than this I + cannot consent to do. I should have but a hound's office if I had to + tear the tabard from every Rouge Sanglier of the arts--with bell and + bauble to back him. + + [D] Chrysoprase, (Vide No. for October, 1843, p. 502.) + + [E] Every school-boy knows that this epithet was given to Poussin in + allusion to the profound classical knowledge of the painter. The + reviewer, however, (September, 1841,) informs us that the expression + refers to his skill in "Composition." + + [F] Critique on Royal Academy, 1842. "He" (Mr. Lee) "often reminds + us of Gainsborough's best manner; but he is _superior_ to him always + in subject, composition, and variety."--Shade of + Gainsborough!--deep-thoughted, solemn Gainsborough,--forgive us for + re-writing this sentence; we do so to gibbet its perpetrator + forever,--and leave him swinging in the winds of the Fool's + Paradise. It is with great pain that I ever speak with severity of + the works of living masters, especially when, like Mr. Lee's, they + are well-intentioned, simple, free from affectation or imitation, + and evidently painted with constant reference to nature. But I + believe that these qualities will always secure him that admiration + which he deserves--that there will be many unsophisticated and + honest minds always ready to follow his guidance, and answer his + efforts with delight; and therefore, that I need not fear to point + out in him the want of those technical qualities which are more + especially the object of an artist's admiration. Gainsborough's + power of color (it is mentioned by Sir Joshua as his peculiar gift) + is capable of taking rank beside that of Rubens; he is the purest + colorist--Sir Joshua himself not excepted--of the whole English + school; with him, in fact, the art of painting did in great part + die, and exists not now in Europe. Evidence enough will be seen in + the following pages of my devoted admiration of Turner; but I + hesitate not to say, that in management and quality of single and + particular tint, in the purely technical part of painting, Turner is + a child of Gainsborough. Now, Mr. Lee never aims at color; he does + not make it his object in the slightest degree--the spring green of + vegetation is all that he desires; and it would be about as rational + to compare his works with studied pieces of coloring, as the + modulation of the Calabrian pipe to the harmony of a full orchestra. + Gainsborough's hand is as light as the sweep of a cloud--as swift as + the flash of a sunbeam; Lee's execution is feeble and spotty. + Gainsborough's masses are as broad as the first division in heaven + of light from darkness; Lee's (perhaps necessarily, considering the + effects of flickering sunlight at which he aims) are as fragmentary + as his leaves, and as numerous. Gainsborough's forms are grand, + simple, and ideal; Lee's are small, confused, and unselected. + Gainsborough never loses sight of his picture as a whole; Lee is but + too apt to be shackled by its parts. In a word, Gainsborough is an + immortal painter; and Lee, though on the right road, is yet in the + early stages of his art; and the man who could imagine any + resemblance or point of comparison between them, is not only a + novice in art, but has not capacity ever to be anything more. He may + be pardoned for not comprehending Turner, for long preparation and + discipline are necessary before the abstract and profound philosophy + of that artist can be met; but Gainsborough's excellence is based on + principles of art long acknowledged, and facts of nature universally + apparent; and I insist more particularly on the reviewer's want of + feeling for his works, because it proves a truth of which the public + ought especially to be assured that those who lavish abuse on the + great men of modern times, are equally incapable of perceiving the + real excellence of established canons, are ignorant of the commonest + and most acknowledged principia of the art, blind to the most + palpable and comprehensible of its beauties, incapable of + distinguishing, if left to themselves, a master's work from the + vilest school copy, and founding their applause of those great works + which they praise, either in pure hypocrisy, or in admiration of + their defects. + + [G] There is a fine touch in the Frogs in Aristophanes, alluding + probably to this part of the Agamemnon. "[Greek: Ego d' hechairon te + siope kai me tout' heterpeu ouk hettou e nun hoi lalountes]." The + same remark might be well applied to the seemingly vacant or + incomprehensible portions of Turner's canvas. In their mysterious, + and intense fire, there is much correspondence between the mind of + Aeschylus and that of our great painter. They share at least one + thing in common--unpopularity. [Greek: 'Ho demos aneboa krisin + poiein, XA. o ton panourgon; Ai. ne Di, ouranion g' hoson. XA. met' + Aischylou ho ouk esan heteroi symmachoi; AI. oligon to chreston + estin]. + + [H] I do not know any passage in ancient literature in which this + connection is more exquisitely illustrated than in the lines, + burlesque though they be, descriptive of the approach of the chorus + in the Clouds of Aristophanes,--a writer, by the way, who, I + believe, knew and felt more of the noble landscape character of his + country than any whose works have come down to us except Homer. The + individuality and distinctness of conception--the visible cloud + character which every word of this particular passage brings out + into more dewy and bright existence, are to me as refreshing as the + real breathing of mountain winds. The line "[Greek: dia ton koilon + kai ton daseon, plagiai]," could have been written by none but an + ardent lover of hill scenery--one who had watched, hour after hour, + the peculiar oblique, sidelong action of descending clouds, as they + form along the hollows and ravines of the hills. There are no + lumpish solidities--no pillowy protuberances here. All is melting, + drifting, evanescent,--full of air, and light, and dew. + + [I] Let not this principle be confused with Fuseli's, "love for what + is called deception in painting marks either the infancy or + decrepitude of a nation's taste." Realization to the mind + necessitates not deception of the eye. + + [J] I shall show, in a future portion of the work, that there are + principles of universal beauty common to all the creatures of God; + and that it is by the greater or less share of these that one form + becomes nobler or meaner than another. + + [K] Is not this--it may be asked--demanding more from him than life + can accomplish? Not one whit. Nothing more than knowledge of + external characteristics is absolutely required; and even if, which + were more desirable, thorough scientific knowledge had to be + attained, the time which our artists spend in multiplying crude + sketches, or finishing their unintelligent embryos of the study, + would render them masters of every science that modern + investigations have organized, and familiar with every form that + Nature manifests. Martin, if the time which he must have spent on + the abortive bubbles of his Canute had been passed in working on the + seashore, might have learned enough to enable him to produce, with a + few strokes, a picture which would have smote like the sound of the + sea, upon men's hearts forever. + + [L] "A green field is a sight which makes us pardon + The absence of that more sublime construction + Which mixes up vines, olive, precipices, + Glaciers, volcanoes, oranges, and ices." + + _Don Juan._ + + [M] The vegetable soil of the Campagna is chiefly formed by + decomposed lavas, and under it lies a bed of white pumice, exactly + resembling remnants of bones. + + [N] The feelings of Constable with respect to his art might be + almost a model for the young student, were it not that they err a + little on the other side, and are perhaps in need of chastening and + guiding from the works of his fellow-men. We should use pictures not + as authorities, but as comments on nature, just as we use divines, + not as authorities, but as comments on the Bible. Constable, in his + dread of saint-worship, excommunicates himself from all benefit of + the Church, and deprives himself of much instruction from the + Scripture to which he holds, because he will not accept aid in the + reading of it from the learning of other men. Sir George Beaumont, + on the contrary, furnishes, in the anecdotes given of him in + Constable's life, a melancholy instance of the degradation into + which the human mind may fall, when it suffers human works to + interfere between it and its Master. The recommending the color of + an old Cremona fiddle for the prevailing tone of everything, and the + vapid inquiry of the conventionalist, "Where do you put your brown + tree?" show a prostration of intellect so laughable and lamentable, + that they are at once, on all, and to all, students of the gallery, + a satire and a warning. Art so followed is the most servile + indolence in which life can be wasted. There are then two dangerous + extremes to be shunned,--forgetfulness of the Scripture, and scorn + of the divine--slavery on the one hand, free-thinking on the other. + The mean is nearly as difficult to determine or keep in art as in + religion, but the great danger is on the side of superstition. He + who walks humbly with Nature will seldom be in danger of losing + sight of Art. He will commonly find in all that is truly great of + man's works, something of their original, for which he will regard + them with gratitude, and sometimes follow them with respect; while + he who takes Art for his authority may entirely lose sight of all + that it interprets, and sink at once into the sin of an idolater, + and the degradation of a slave. + + [O] I should have insisted more on this fault (for it is a fatal + one) in the following Essay, but the cause of it rests rather with + the public than with the artist, and in the necessities of the + public as much as in their will. Such pictures as artists themselves + would wish to paint, could not be executed under very high prices; + and it must always be easier, in the present state of society, to + find ten purchasers of ten-guinea sketches, than one purchaser for a + hundred-guinea picture. Still, I have been often both surprised and + grieved to see that any effort on the part of our artists to rise + above manufacture--any struggle to something like completed + conception--was left by the public to be its own reward. In the + water-color exhibition of last year there was a noble work of David + Cox's, ideal in the right sense--a forest hollow with a few sheep + crushing down through its deep fern, and a solemn opening of evening + sky above its dark masses of distance. It was worth all his little + bits on the walls put together. Yet the public picked up all the + little bits--blots and splashes, ducks, chickweed, ears of corn--all + that was clever and petite; and the real picture--the full + development of the artist's mind--was left on his hands. How can I, + or any one else, with a conscience, advise him after this to aim at + anything more than may be struck out by the cleverness of a quarter + of an hour. Cattermole, I believe, is earthed and shackled in the + same manner. He began his career with finished and studied pictures, + which, I believe, never paid him--he now prostitutes his fine talent + to the superficialness of public taste, and blots his way to + emolument and oblivion. There is commonly, however, fault on both + sides; in the artist for exhibiting his dexterity by mountebank + tricks of the brush, until chaste finish, requiring ten times the + knowledge and labor, appears insipid to the diseased taste which he + has himself formed in his patrons, as the roaring and ranting of a + common actor will oftentimes render apparently vapid the finished + touches of perfect nature; and in the public, for taking less real + pains to become acquainted with, and discriminate, the various + powers of a great artist, than they would to estimate the excellence + of a cook or develop the dexterity of a dancer. + + + + + PREFACE TO THE THIRD EDITION. + +It is with much regret, and partly against my own judgment, that I +republish the following chapters in their present form. The particular +circumstances (stated in the first preface) under which they were +originally written, have rendered them so unfit for the position they +now hold as introductory to a serious examination of the general +functions of art, that I should have wished first to complete the +succeeding portions of the essay, and then to write another introduction +of more fitting character. But as it may be long before I am able to do +this, and as I believe what I have already written may still be of some +limited and partial service, I have suffered it to reappear, trusting to +the kindness of the reader to look to its intention rather than its +temper, and forgive its inconsideration in its earnestness. + +Thinking it of too little substance to bear mending, wherever I have +found a passage which I thought required modification or explanation, I +have cut it out; what I have left, however imperfect, cannot I think be +dangerously misunderstood: something I have added, not under the idea of +rendering the work in any wise systematic or complete, but to supply +gross omissions, answer inevitable objections, and give some substance +to passages of mere declamation. + +Whatever inadequacy or error there may be, throughout, in materials or +modes of demonstration, I have no doubt of the truth and necessity of +the main result; and though the reader may, perhaps, find me frequently +hereafter showing other and better grounds for what is here affirmed, +yet the point and bearing of the book, its determined depreciation of +Claude, Salvator, Gaspar, and Canaletto, and its equally determined +support of Turner as the greatest of all landscape painters, and of +Turner's recent works as his finest, are good and right; and if the +prevalence throughout of attack and eulogium be found irksome or +offensive, let it be remembered that my object thus far has not been +either the establishment or the teaching of any principles of art, but +the vindication, most necessary to the prosperity of our present +schools, of the uncomprehended rank of their greatest artist, and the +diminution, equally necessary as I think to the prosperity of our +schools, of the unadvised admiration of the landscape of the seventeenth +century. For I believe it to be almost impossible to state in terms +sufficiently serious and severe the depth and extent of the evil which +has resulted (and that not in art alone, but in all other matters with +which the contemplative faculties are concerned) from the works of those +elder men. On the continent all landscape art has been utterly +annihilated by them, and with it all sense of the power of nature. We in +England have only done better because our artists have had strength of +mind enough to form a school withdrawn from their influence. + +These points are somewhat farther developed in the general sketch of +ancient and modern landscape, which I have added to the first section of +the second part. Some important additions have also been made to the +chapters on the painting of sea. Throughout the rest of the text, though +something is withdrawn, little is changed; and the reader may rest +assured that if I were now to bestow on this feeble essay the careful +revision which it much needs, but little deserves, it would not be to +alter its tendencies, or modify its conclusions, but to prevent +indignation from appearing virulence on the one side, and enthusiasm +partisanship on the other. + + + + + PREFACE TO NEW EDITION (1873). + +I have been lately so often asked by friends on whose judgment I can +rely, to permit the publication of another edition of "Modern Painters" +in its original form, that I have at last yielded, though with some +violence to my own feelings; for many parts of the first and second +volumes are written in a narrow enthusiasm, and the substance of their +metaphysical and religious speculation is only justifiable on the ground +of its absolute honesty. Of the third, fourth, and fifth volumes I +indeed mean eventually to rearrange what I think of permanent interest, +for the complete edition of my works, but with fewer and less elaborate +illustrations: nor have I any serious grounds for refusing to allow the +book once more to appear in the irregular form which it took as it was +written, since of the art-teaching and landscape description it contains +I have little to retrench, and nothing to retract. + +This final edition must, however, be limited to a thousand copies, for +some of the more delicate plates are already worn, that of the Mill +Stream in the fifth volume, and of the Loire Side very injuriously; +while that of the Shores of Wharfe had to be retouched by an engraver +after the removal of the mezzotint for reprinting. But Mr. Armytage's, +Mr. Cousen's, and Mr. Cuff's magnificent plates are still in good state, +and my own etchings, though injured, are still good enough to answer +their purpose. + + + + + SYNOPSIS OF CONTENTS. + + PART I. + + OF GENERAL PRINCIPLES. + + + SECTION I. + + OF THE NATURE OF THE IDEAS CONVEYABLE BY ART. + + +CHAPTER I.--Introductory. + PAGE + Sec. 1. Public opinion no criterion of excellence, except after long + periods of time. 1 + Sec. 2. And therefore obstinate when once formed. 4 + Sec. 3. The author's reasons for opposing it in particular instances. 5 + Sec. 4. But only on points capable of demonstration. 5 + Sec. 5. The author's partiality to modern works excusable. 6 + + +CHAPTER II.--Definition of Greatness in Art. + + Sec. 1. Distinction between the painter's intellectual power and + technical knowledge. 8 + Sec. 2. Painting, as such, is nothing more than language. 8 + Sec. 3. "Painter," a term corresponding to "versifier." 9 + Sec. 4. Example in a painting of E. Landseer's. 9 + Sec. 5. Difficulty of fixing an exact limit between language and + thought. 9 + Sec. 6. Distinction between decorative and expressive language. 10 + Sec. 7. Instance in the Dutch and early Italian schools. 10 + Sec. 8. Yet there are certain ideas belonging to language itself. 11 + Sec. 9. The definition. 12 + + +CHAPTER III.--Of Ideas of Power. + + Sec. 1. What classes of ideas are conveyable by art. 13 + Sec. 2. Ideas of power vary much in relative dignity. 13 + Sec. 3. But are received from whatever has been the subject of + power. The meaning of the word "excellence." 14 + Sec. 4. What is necessary to the distinguishing of excellence. 15 + Sec. 5. The pleasure attendant on conquering difficulties is right. 16 + + +CHAPTER IV.--Of Ideas of Imitation. + + Sec. 1. False use of the term "imitation" by many writers on art. 17 + Sec. 2. Real meaning of the term. 18 + Sec. 3. What is requisite to the sense of imitation. 18 + Sec. 4. The pleasure resulting from imitation the most contemptible + that can be derived from art. 19 + Sec. 5. Imitation is only of contemptible subjects. 19 + Sec. 6. Imitation is contemptible because it is easy. 20 + Sec. 7. Recapitulation. 20 + + +CHAPTER V.--Of Ideas of Truth. + + Sec. 1. Meaning of the word "truth" as applied to art. 21 + Sec. 2. First difference between truth and imitation. 21 + Sec. 3. Second difference. 21 + Sec. 4. Third difference. 22 + Sec. 5. No accurate truths necessary to imitation. 22 + Sec. 6. Ideas of truth are inconsistent with ideas of imitation. 24 + + +CHAPTER VI.--Of Ideas of Beauty. + + Sec. 1. Definition of the term "beautiful." 26 + Sec. 2. Definition of the term "taste." 26 + Sec. 3. Distinction between taste and judgment. 27 + Sec. 4. How far beauty may become intellectual. 27 + Sec. 5. The high rank and function of ideas of beauty. 28 + Sec. 6. Meaning of the term "ideal beauty." 28 + + +CHAPTER VII.--Of Ideas of Relation. + + Sec. 1. General meaning of the term. 29 + Sec. 2. What ideas are to be comprehended under it. 29 + Sec. 3. The exceeding nobility of these ideas. 30 + Sec. 4. Why no subdivision of so extensive a class is necessary. 31 + + + + + SECTION II. + + OF POWER. + + +CHAPTER I.--General Principles respecting Ideas of Power. + + Sec. 1. No necessity for detailed study of ideas of imitation. 32 + Sec. 2. Nor for separate study of ideas of power. 32 + Sec. 3. Except under one particular form. 33 + Sec. 4. There are two modes of receiving ideas of power, commonly + inconsistent. 33 + Sec. 5. First reason of the inconsistency. 33 + Sec. 6. Second reason for the inconsistency. 34 + Sec. 7. The sensation of power ought not to be sought in imperfect art. 34 + Sec. 8. Instances in pictures of modern artists. 35 + Sec. 9. Connection between ideas of power and modes of execution. 35 + + +CHAPTER II.--Of Ideas of Power, as they are dependent upon Execution. + + Sec. 1. Meaning of the term "execution." 36 + Sec. 2. The first quality of execution is truth. 36 + Sec. 3. The second, simplicity. 36 + Sec. 4. The third, mystery. 37 + Sec. 5. The fourth, inadequacy; and the fifth, decision. 37 + Sec. 6. The sixth, velocity. 37 + Sec. 7. Strangeness an illegitimate source of pleasure in execution. 37 + Sec. 8. Yet even the legitimate sources of pleasure in execution are + inconsistent with each other. 38 + Sec. 9. And fondness for ideas of power leads to the adoption of the + lowest. 39 + Sec. 10. Therefore perilous. 40 + Sec. 11. Recapitulation. 40 + + +CHAPTER III.--Of the Sublime. + + Sec. 1. Sublimity is the effect upon the mind of anything above it. 41 + Sec. 2. Burke's theory of the nature of the sublime incorrect, and why. 41 + Sec. 3. Danger is sublime, but not the fear of it. 42 + Sec. 4. The highest beauty is sublime. 42 + Sec. 5. And generally whatever elevates the mind. 42 + Sec. 6. The former division of the subject is therefore sufficient. 42 + + + + + PART II. + + OF TRUTH. + + + SECTION I. + + GENERAL PRINCIPLES RESPECTING IDEAS OF TRUTH. + + +CHAPTER I.--Of Ideas of Truth in their connection with those of + Beauty and Relation. + + Sec. 1. The two great ends of landscape painting are the representation + of facts and thoughts. 44 + Sec. 2. They induce a different choice of material subjects. 45 + Sec. 3. The first mode of selection apt to produce sameness and + repetition. 45 + Sec. 4. The second necessitating variety. 45 + Sec. 5. Yet the first is delightful to all. 46 + Sec. 6. The second only to a few. 46 + Sec. 7. The first necessary to the second. 47 + Sec. 8. The exceeding importance of truth. 48 + Sec. 9. Coldness or want of beauty no sign of truth. 48 + Sec. 10. How truth may be considered a just criterion of all art. 48 + + +CHAPTER II.--That the Truth of Nature is not to be discerned by the + Uneducated Senses. + + Sec. 1. The common self-deception of men with respect to their + power of discerning truth. 50 + Sec. 2. Men usually see little of what is before their eyes. 51 + Sec. 3. But more or less in proportion to their natural sensibility to + what is beautiful. 52 + Sec. 4. Connected with a perfect state of moral feeling. 52 + Sec. 5. And of the intellectual powers. 53 + Sec. 6. How sight depends upon previous knowledge. 54 + Sec. 7. The difficulty increased by the variety of truths in nature. 55 + Sec. 8. We recognize objects by their least important attributes. + Compare Part I. Sect. I. Chap. 4. 55 + + +CHAPTER III.--Of the Relative Importance of Truths:--First, that + Particular Truths are more important than General Ones. + + Sec. 1. Necessity of determining the relative importance of truths. 58 + Sec. 2. Misapplication of the aphorism: "General truths are more + important than particular ones." 58 + Sec. 3. Falseness of this maxim, taken without explanation. 59 + Sec. 4. Generality important in the subject, particularity in the + predicate. 59 + Sec. 5. The importance of truths of species is not owing to their + generality. 60 + Sec. 6. All truths valuable as they are characteristic. 61 + Sec. 7. Otherwise truths of species are valuable, because beautiful. 61 + Sec. 8. And many truths, valuable if separate, may be objectionable + in connection with others. 62 + Sec. 9. Recapitulation. 63 + + +CHAPTER IV.--Of the Relative Importance of Truths:--Secondly, that + Rare Truths are more important than Frequent Ones. + + Sec. 1. No accidental violation of nature's principles should be + represented. 64 + Sec. 2. But the cases in which those principles have been strikingly + exemplified. 65 + Sec. 3. Which are comparatively rare. 65 + Sec. 4. All repetition is blamable. 65 + Sec. 5. The duty of the painter is the same as that of a preacher. 66 + + +CHAPTER V.--Of the Relative Importance of Truths:--Thirdly, that + Truths of Color are the least important of all Truths. + + Sec. 1. Difference between primary and secondary qualities in bodies. 67 + Sec. 2. The first are fully characteristic, the second imperfectly so. 67 + Sec. 3. Color is a secondary quality, therefore less important than + form. 68 + Sec. 4. Color no distinction between objects of the same species. 68 + Sec. 5. And different in association from what it is alone. 69 + Sec. 6. It is not certain whether any two people see the same colors + in things. 69 + Sec. 7. Form, considered as an element of landscape, includes light + and shade. 69 + Sec. 8. Importance of light and shade in expressing the character of + bodies, and unimportance of color. 70 + Sec. 9. Recapitulation. 71 + + +CHAPTER VI.--Recapitulation. + + Sec. 1. The importance of historical truths. 72 + Sec. 2. Form, as explained by light and shade, the first of all truths. + Tone, light, and color, are secondary. 72 + Sec. 3. And deceptive chiaroscuro the lowest of all. 73 + + +CHAPTER VII.--General Application of the Foregoing Principles. + + Sec. 1. The different selection of facts consequent on the several aims + at imitation or at truth. 74 + Sec. 2. The old masters, as a body, aim only at imitation. 74 + Sec. 3. What truths they gave. 75 + Sec. 4. The principles of selection adopted by modern artists. 76 + Sec. 5. General feeling of Claude, Salvator, and G. Poussin, contrasted + with the freedom and vastness of nature. 77 + Sec. 6. Inadequacy of the landscape of Titian and Tintoret. 78 + Sec. 7. Causes of its want of influence on subsequent schools. 79 + Sec. 8. The value of inferior works of art, how to be estimated. 80 + Sec. 9. Religious landscape of Italy. The admirableness of its + completion. 81 + Sec. 10. Finish, and the want of it, how right--and how wrong. 82 + Sec. 11. The open skies of the religious schools, how valuable. Mountain + drawing of Masaccio. Landscape of the Bellinis and Giorgione. 84 + Sec. 12. Landscape of Titian and Tintoret. 86 + Sec. 13. Schools of Florence, Milan, and Bologna. 88 + Sec. 14. Claude, Salvator, and the Poussins. 89 + Sec. 15. German and Flemish landscape. 90 + Sec. 16. The lower Dutch schools. 92 + Sec. 17. English school, Wilson and Gainsborough. 93 + Sec. 18. Constable, Callcott. 94 + Sec. 19. Peculiar tendency of recent landscape. 95 + Sec. 20. G. Robson, D. Cox. False use of the term "style." 95 + Sec. 21. Copley Fielding. Phenomena of distant color. 97 + Sec. 22. Beauty of mountain foreground. 99 + Sec. 23. De Wint. 101 + Sec. 24. Influence of Engraving. J. D. Harding. 101 + Sec. 25. Samuel Prout. Early painting of architecture, how deficient. 103 + Sec. 26. Effects of age upon buildings, how far desirable. 104 + Sec. 27. Effects of light, how necessary to the understanding of + detail. 106 + Sec. 28. Architectural painting of Gentile Bellini and Vittor + Carpaccio. 107 + Sec. 29. And of the Venetians generally. 109 + Sec. 30. Fresco painting of the Venetian exteriors. Canaletto. 110 + Sec. 31. Expression of the effects of age on Architecture by S. Prout. 112 + Sec. 32. His excellent composition and color. 114 + Sec. 33. Modern architectural painting generally. G. Cattermole. 115 + Sec. 34. The evil in an archaeological point of view of misapplied + invention, in architectural subject. 117 + Sec. 35. Works of David Roberts: their fidelity and grace. 118 + Sec. 36. Clarkson Stanfield. 121 + Sec. 37. J. M. W. Turner. Force of national feeling in all great + painters. 123 + Sec. 38. Influence of this feeling on the choice of Landscape subject. 125 + Sec. 39. Its peculiar manifestation in Turner. 125 + Sec. 40. The domestic subjects of the Liber Studiorum. 127 + Sec. 41. Turner's painting of French and Swiss landscape. The latter + deficient. 129 + Sec. 42. His rendering of Italian character still less successful. His + large compositions how failing 130 + Sec. 43. His views of Italy destroyed by brilliancy and redundant + quantity. 133 + Sec. 44. Changes introduced by him in the received system of art. 133 + Sec. 45. Difficulties of his later manner. Resultant deficiencies. 134 + Sec. 46. Reflection of his very recent works. 137 + Sec. 47. Difficulty of demonstration in such subjects. 139 + + + + + SECTION II. + + OF GENERAL TRUTHS. + + +CHAPTER I.--Of Truth of Tone. + + Sec. 1. Meanings of the word "tone:"--First, the right relation of + objects in shadow to the principal light. 140 + Sec. 2. Secondly, the quality of color by which it is felt to owe part + of its brightness to the hue of light upon it. 140 + Sec. 3. Difference between tone in its first sense and aerial + perspective. 141 + Sec. 4. The pictures of the old masters perfect in relation of middle + tints to light. 141 + Sec. 5. And consequently totally false in relation of middle tints to + darkness. 141 + Sec. 6. General falsehood of such a system. 143 + Sec. 7. The principle of Turner in this respect. 143 + Sec. 8. Comparison of N. Poussin's "Phocion." 144 + Sec. 9. With Turner's "Mercury and Argus." 145 + Sec. 10. And with the "Datur Hora Quieti." 145 + Sec. 11. The second sense of the word "tone." 146 + Sec. 12. Remarkable difference in this respect between the paintings + and drawings of Turner. 146 + Sec. 13. Not owing to want of power over the material 146 + Sec. 14. The two distinct qualities of light to be considered 147 + Sec. 15. Falsehoods by which Titian attains the appearance of quality + in light. 148 + Sec. 16. Turner will not use such means. 148 + Sec. 17. But gains in essential truth by the sacrifice. 148 + Sec. 18. The second quality of light. 148 + Sec. 19. The perfection of Cuyp in this respect interfered with by + numerous solecisms. 150 + Sec. 20. Turner is not so perfect in parts--far more so in the whole. 151 + Sec. 21. The power in Turner of uniting a number of tones. 152 + Sec. 22. Recapitulation. 153 + + +CHAPTER II.--Of Truth of Color. + + Sec. 1. Observations on the color of G. Poussin's La Riccia. 155 + Sec. 2. As compared with the actual scene. 155 + Sec. 3. Turner himself is inferior in brilliancy to nature. 157 + Sec. 4. Impossible colors of Salvator, Titian. 157 + Sec. 5. Poussin, and Claude. 158 + Sec. 6. Turner's translation of colors. 160 + Sec. 7. Notice of effects in which no brilliancy of art can even + approach that of reality. 161 + Sec. 8. Reasons for the usual incredulity of the observer with respect + to their representation 162 + Sec. 9. Color of the Napoleon. 163 + Sec. 10. Necessary discrepancy between the attainable brilliancy of + color and light. 164 + Sec. 11. This discrepancy less in Turner than in other colorists. 165 + Sec. 12. Its great extent in a landscape attributed to Rubens. 165 + Sec. 13. Turner scarcely ever uses pure or vivid color. 166 + Sec. 14. The basis of gray, under all his vivid hues. 167 + Sec. 15. The variety and fulness even of his most simple tones. 168 + Sec. 16. Following the infinite and unapproachable variety of nature. 168 + Sec. 17. His dislike of purple, and fondness for the opposition of + yellow and black. The principles of nature in this respect. 169 + Sec. 18. His early works are false in color. 170 + Sec. 19. His drawings invariably perfect. 171 + Sec. 20. The subjection of his system of color to that of chiaroscuro. 171 + + +CHAPTER III.--Of Truth of Chiaroscuro. + + Sec. 1. We are not at present to examine particular effects of light. 174 + Sec. 2. And therefore the distinctness of shadows is the chief means + of expressing vividness of light. 175 + Sec. 3. Total absence of such distinctness in the works of the Italian + school. 175 + Sec. 4. And partial absence in the Dutch. 176 + Sec. 5. The perfection of Turner's works in this respect. 177 + Sec. 6. The effect of his shadows upon the light. 178 + Sec. 7. The distinction holds good between almost all the works of the + ancient and modern schools. 179 + Sec. 8. Second great principle of chiaroscuro. Both high light and + deep shadow are used in equal quantity, and only in points. 180 + Sec. 9. Neglect or contradiction of this principle by writers on art. 180 + Sec. 10. And consequent misguiding of the student. 181 + Sec. 11. The great value of a simple chiaroscuro. 182 + Sec. 12. The sharp separation of nature's lights from her middle tint. 182 + Sec. 13. The truth of Turner. 183 + + +CHAPTER IV.--Of Truth of Space:--First, as Dependent on the Focus of + the Eye. + + Sec. 1. Space is more clearly indicated by the drawing of objects than + by their hue. 185 + Sec. 2. It is impossible to see objects at unequal distances + distinctly at one moment. 186 + Sec. 3. Especially such as are both comparatively near. 186 + Sec. 4. In painting, therefore, either the foreground or distance must + be partially sacrificed. 187 + Sec. 5. Which not being done by the old masters, they could not + express space. 187 + Sec. 6. But modern artists have succeeded in fully carrying out this + principle. 188 + Sec. 7. Especially of Turner. 189 + Sec. 8. Justification of the want of drawing in Turner's figures. 189 + + +CHAPTER V.--Of Truth of Space:--Secondly, as its Appearance is + dependent on the Power of the Eye. + + Sec. 1. The peculiar indistinctness dependent on the retirement of + objects from the eye. 191 + Sec. 2. Causes confusion, but not annihilation of details. 191 + Sec. 3. Instances in various objects. 192 + Sec. 4. Two great resultant truths; that nature is never distinct, + and never vacant. 193 + Sec. 5. Complete violation of both these principles by the old + masters. They are either distinct or vacant. 193 + Sec. 6. Instances from Nicholas Poussin. 194 + Sec. 7. From Claude. 194 + Sec. 8. And G. Poussin. 195 + Sec. 9. The imperative necessity, in landscape painting, of fulness + and finish. 196 + Sec. 10. Breadth is not vacancy. 197 + Sec. 11. The fulness and mystery of Turner's distances. 198 + Sec. 12. Farther illustrations in architectural drawing. 199 + Sec. 13. In near objects as well as distances. 199 + Sec. 14. Vacancy and falsehood of Canaletto. 200 + Sec. 15. Still greater fulness and finish in landscape foregrounds. 200 + Sec. 16. Space and size are destroyed alike by distinctness and by + vacancy. 202 + Sec. 17. Swift execution best secures perfection of details. 202 + Sec. 18. Finish is far more necessary in landscape than in historical + subjects. 202 + Sec. 19. Recapitulation of the section. 203 + + + + + SECTION III. + + OF TRUTH OF SKIES. + + +CHAPTER I.--Of the Open Sky. + + Sec. 1. The peculiar adaptation of the sky to the pleasing and + teaching of man. 204 + Sec. 2. The carelessness with which its lessons are received. 205 + Sec. 3. The most essential of these lessons are the gentlest. 205 + Sec. 4. Many of our ideas of sky altogether conventional. 205 + Sec. 5. Nature, and essential qualities of the open blue. 206 + Sec. 6. Its connection with clouds. 207 + Sec. 7. Its exceeding depth. 207 + Sec. 8. These qualities are especially given by modern masters. 207 + Sec. 9. And by Claude. 208 + Sec. 10. Total absence of them in Poussin. Physical errors in his + general treatment of open sky. 208 + Sec. 11. Errors of Cuyp in graduation of color. 209 + Sec. 12. The exceeding value of the skies of the early Italian and + Dutch schools. Their qualities are unattainable in modern + times. 210 + Sec. 13. Phenomena of visible sunbeams. Their nature and cause. 211 + Sec. 14. They are only illuminated mist, and cannot appear when the sky + is free from vapor, nor when it is without clouds. 211 + Sec. 15. Erroneous tendency in the representation of such phenomena by + the old masters. 212 + Sec. 16. The ray which appears in the dazzled eye should not be + represented. 213 + Sec. 17. The practice of Turner. His keen perception of the more + delicate phenomena of rays. 213 + Sec. 18. The total absence of any evidence of such perception in the + works of the old masters. 213 + Sec. 19. Truth of the skies of modern drawings. 214 + Sec. 20. Recapitulation. The best skies of the ancients are, in + _quality_, inimitable, but in rendering of various truth, + childish. 215 + + +CHAPTER II.--Of Truth of Clouds:--First, of the Region of the Cirrus. + + Sec. 1. Difficulty of ascertaining wherein the truth of clouds + consists. 216 + Sec. 2. Variation of their character at different elevations. The + three regions to which they may conveniently be considered + as belonging. 216 + Sec. 3. Extent of the upper region. 217 + Sec. 4. The symmetrical arrangement of its clouds. 217 + Sec. 5. Their exceeding delicacy. 218 + Sec. 6. Their number. 218 + Sec. 7. Causes of their peculiarly delicate coloring. 219 + Sec. 8. Their variety of form. 219 + Sec. 9. Total absence of even the slightest effort at their + representation, in ancient landscape. 220 + Sec. 10. The intense and constant study of them by Turner. 221 + Sec. 11. His vignette, Sunrise on the Sea. 222 + Sec. 12. His use of the cirrus in expressing mist. 223 + Sec. 13. His consistency in every minor feature. 224 + Sec. 14. The color of the upper clouds. 224 + Sec. 15. Recapitulation. 225 + + +CHAPTER III.--Of Truth of Clouds:--Secondly, of the Central Cloud + Region. + + Sec. 1. Extent and typical character of the central cloud region. 226 + Sec. 2. Its characteristic clouds, requiring no attention nor thought + for their representation, are therefore favorite subjects + with the old masters. 226 + Sec. 3. The clouds of Salvator and Poussin. 227 + Sec. 4. Their essential characters. 227 + Sec. 5. Their angular forms and general decision of outline. 228 + Sec. 6. The composition of their minor curves. 229 + Sec. 7. Their characters, as given by S. Rosa. 230 + Sec. 8. Monotony and falsehood of the clouds of the Italian school + generally. 230 + Sec. 9. Vast size of congregated masses of cloud. 231 + Sec. 10. Demonstrable by comparison with mountain ranges. 231 + Sec. 11. And consequent divisions and varieties of feature. 232 + Sec. 12. Not lightly to be omitted. 232 + Sec. 13. Imperfect conceptions of this size and extent in ancient + landscape. 233 + Sec. 14. Total want of transparency and evanescence in the clouds of + ancient landscape. 234 + Sec. 15. Farther proof of their deficiency in space. 235 + Sec. 16. Instance of perfect truth in the sky of Turner's Babylon. 236 + Sec. 17. And in his Pools of Solomon. 237 + Sec. 18. Truths of outline and character in his Como. 237 + Sec. 19. Association of the cirrostratus with the cumulus. 238 + Sec. 20. The deep-based knowledge of the Alps in Turner's Lake of + Geneva. 238 + Sec. 21. Farther principles of cloud form exemplified in his Amalfi. 239 + Sec. 22. Reasons for insisting on the _infinity_ of Turner's works. + Infinity is almost an unerring test of _all_ truth. 239 + Sec. 23. Instances of the total want of it in the works of Salvator. 240 + Sec. 24. And of the universal presence of it in those of Turner. The + conclusions which may be arrived at from it. 240 + Sec. 25. The multiplication of objects, or increase of their size, will + not give the impression of infinity, but is the resource of + novices. 241 + Sec. 26. Farther instances of infinity in the gray skies of Turner. 242 + Sec. 27. The excellence of the cloud-drawing of Stanfield. 242 + Sec. 28. The average standing of the English school. 243 + + +CHAPTER IV.--Of Truth of Clouds:--Thirdly, of the Region of the + Rain-Cloud. + + Sec. 1. The apparent difference in character between the lower and + central clouds is dependent chiefly on proximity. 244 + Sec. 2. Their marked differences in color. 244 + Sec. 3. And in definiteness of form. 245 + Sec. 4. They are subject to precisely the same great laws. 245 + Sec. 5. Value, to the painter, of the rain-cloud. 246 + Sec. 6. The old masters have not left a single instance of the + painting of the rain-cloud, and very few efforts at it. + Gaspar Poussin's storms. 247 + Sec. 7. The great power of the moderns in this respect. 248 + Sec. 8. Works of Copley Fielding. 248 + Sec. 9. His peculiar truth. 248 + Sec. 10. His weakness, and its probable cause. 249 + Sec. 11. Impossibility of reasoning on the rain-clouds of Turner from + engravings. 250 + Sec. 12. His rendering of Fielding's particular moment in the Jumieges. 250 + Sec. 13. Illustration of the nature of clouds in the opposed forms of + smoke and steam. 250 + Sec. 14. Moment of retiring rain in the Llanthony. 251 + Sec. 15. And of commencing, chosen with peculiar meaning for Loch + Coriskin. 252 + Sec. 16. The drawing of transparent vapor in the Land's End. 253 + Sec. 17. The individual character of its parts. 253 + Sec. 18. Deep-studied form of swift rain-cloud in the Coventry. 254 + Sec. 19. Compared with forms given by Salvator. 254 + Sec. 20. Entire expression of tempest by minute touches and + circumstances in the Coventry. 255 + Sec. 21. Especially by contrast with a passage of extreme repose. 255 + Sec. 22. The truth of this particular passage. Perfectly pure blue sky + only seen after rain, and how seen. 256 + Sec. 23. Absence of this effect in the works of the old masters. 256 + Sec. 24. Success of our water-color artists in its rendering. Use of it + by Turner. 257 + Sec. 25. Expression of near rain-cloud in the Gosport, and other works. 257 + Sec. 26. Contrasted with Gaspar Poussin's rain-cloud in the Dido and + Aeneas. 258 + Sec. 27. Turner's power of rendering mist. 258 + Sec. 28. His effects of mist so perfect, that if not at once + understood, they can no more be explained or reasoned on + than nature herself. 259 + Sec. 29. Various instances. 259 + Sec. 30. Turner's more violent effects of tempest are never rendered + by engravers. 260 + Sec. 31. General system of landscape engraving. 260 + Sec. 32. The storm in the Stonehenge. 260 + Sec. 33. General character of such effects as given by Turner. His + expression of falling rain. 261 + Sec. 34. Recapitulation of the section. 261 + Sec. 35. Sketch of a few of the skies of nature, taken as a whole, + compared with the works of Turner and of the old masters. + Morning on the plains. 262 + Sec. 36. Noon with gathering storms. 263 + Sec. 37. Sunset in tempest. Serene midnight. 264 + Sec. 38. And sunrise on the Alps. 264 + + +CHAPTER V.--Effects of Light rendered by Modern Art. + + Sec. 1. Reasons for merely, at present, naming, without examining the + particular effects of light rendered by Turner. 266 + Sec. 2. Hopes of the author for assistance in the future investigation + of them. 266 + + + + + SECTION IV. + + OF TRUTH OF EARTH. + + +CHAPTER I.--Of General Structure. + + Sec. 1. First laws of the organization of the earth, and their + importance in art. 270 + Sec. 2. The slight attention ordinarily paid to them. Their careful + study by modern artists. 271 + Sec. 3. General structure of the earth. The hills are its action, the + plains its rest. 271 + Sec. 4. Mountains come out from underneath the plains, and are their + support. 272 + Sec. 5. Structure of the plains themselves. Their perfect level, when + deposited by quiet water. 273 + Sec. 6. Illustrated by Turner's Marengo. 273 + Sec. 7. General divisions of formation resulting from this + arrangement. Plan of investigation. 274 + + +CHAPTER II.--Of the Central Mountains. + + Sec. 1. Similar character of the central peaks in all parts of the + world. 275 + Sec. 2. Their arrangements in pyramids or wedges, divided by vertical + fissures. 275 + Sec. 3. Causing groups of rock resembling an artichoke or rose. 276 + Sec. 4. The faithful statement of these facts by Turner in his Alps + at Daybreak. 276 + Sec. 5. Vignette of the Andes and others. 277 + Sec. 6. Necessary distance, and consequent aerial effect on all such + mountains. 277 + Sec. 7. Total want of any rendering of their phenomena in ancient art. 278 + Sec. 8. Character of the representations of Alps in the distances of + Claude. 278 + Sec. 9. Their total want of magnitude and aerial distance. 279 + Sec. 10. And violation of specific form. 280 + Sec. 11. Even in his best works. 280 + Sec. 12. Farther illustration of the distant character of mountain + chains. 281 + Sec. 13. Their excessive appearance of transparency. 281 + Sec. 14. Illustrated from the works of Turner and Stanfield. The + Borromean Islands of the latter. 282 + Sec. 15. Turner's Arona. 283 + Sec. 16. Extreme distance of large objects always characterized by + very sharp outline. 283 + Sec. 17. Want of this decision in Claude. 284 + Sec. 18. The perpetual rendering of it by Turner. 285 + Sec. 19. Effects of snow, how imperfectly studied. 285 + Sec. 20. General principles of its forms on the Alps. 287 + Sec. 21. Average paintings of Switzerland. Its real spirit has + scarcely yet been caught. 289 + + +CHAPTER III.--Of the Inferior Mountains. + + Sec. 1. The inferior mountains are distinguished from the central, by + being divided into beds. 290 + Sec. 2. Farther division of these beds by joints. 290 + Sec. 3. And by lines of lamination. 291 + Sec. 4. Variety and seeming uncertainty under which these laws are + manifested. 291 + Sec. 5. The perfect expression of them in Turner's Loch Coriskin. 292 + Sec. 6. Glencoe and other works. 293 + Sec. 7. Especially the Mount Lebanon. 293 + Sec. 8. Compared with the work of Salvator. 294 + Sec. 9. And of Poussin. 295 + Sec. 10. Effects of external influence on mountain form. 296 + Sec. 11. The gentle convexity caused by aqueous erosion. 297 + Sec. 12. And the effect of the action of torrents. 297 + Sec. 13. The exceeding simplicity of contour caused by these + influences. 298 + Sec. 14. And multiplicity of feature. 299 + Sec. 15. Both utterly neglected in ancient art. 299 + Sec. 16. The fidelity of treatment in Turner's Daphne and Leucippus. 300 + Sec. 17. And in the Avalanche and Inundation. 300 + Sec. 18. The rarity among secondary hills of steep slopes or high + precipices. 301 + Sec. 19. And consequent expression of horizontal distance in their + ascent. 302 + Sec. 20. Full statement of all these facts in various works of + Turner.--Caudebec, etc. 302 + Sec. 21. The use of considering geological truths. 303 + Sec. 22. Expression of retiring surface by Turner contrasted with the + work of Claude. 304 + Sec. 23. The same moderation of slope in the contours of his higher + hills. 304 + Sec. 24. The peculiar difficulty of investigating the more essential + truths of hill outline. 305 + Sec. 25. Works of other modern artists.--Clarkson Stanfield. 305 + Sec. 26. Importance of particular and individual truth in hill drawing. 306 + Sec. 27. Works of Copley Fielding. His high feeling. 307 + Sec. 28. Works of J. D. Harding and others. 308 + + +CHAPTER IV.--Of the Foreground. + + Sec. 1. What rocks were the chief components of ancient landscape + foreground. 309 + Sec. 2. Salvator's limestones. The real characters of the rock. Its + fractures, and obtuseness of angles. 309 + Sec. 3. Salvator's acute angles caused by the meeting of concave + curves. 310 + Sec. 4. Peculiar distinctness of light and shade in the rocks of + nature. 311 + Sec. 5. Peculiar confusion of both in the rocks of Salvator. 311 + Sec. 6. And total want of any expression of hardness or brittleness. 311 + Sec. 7. Instances in particular pictures. 312 + Sec. 8. Compared with the works of Stanfield. 312 + Sec. 9. Their absolute opposition in every particular. 313 + Sec. 10. The rocks of J. D. Harding. 313 + Sec. 11. Characters of loose earth and soil. 314 + Sec. 12. Its exceeding grace and fulness of feature. 315 + Sec. 13. The ground of Teniers. 315 + Sec. 14. Importance of these minor parts and points. 316 + Sec. 15. The observance of them is the real distinction between the + master and the novice. 316 + Sec. 16. Ground of Cuyp. 317 + Sec. 17. And of Claude. 317 + Sec. 18. The entire weakness and childishness of the latter. 318 + Sec. 19. Compared with the work of Turner. 318 + Sec. 20. General features of Turner's foreground. 319 + Sec. 21. Geological structure of his rocks in the Fall of the Tees. 319 + Sec. 22. Their convex surfaces and fractured edges. 319 + Sec. 23. And perfect unity. 320 + Sec. 24. Various parts whose history is told us by the details of the + drawing. 321 + Sec. 25. Beautiful instance of an exception to general rules in the + Llanthony. 321 + Sec. 26. Turner's drawing of detached blocks of weathered stone. 322 + Sec. 27. And of complicated foreground. 323 + Sec. 28. And of loose soil. 323 + Sec. 29. The unison of all in the ideal foregrounds of the Academy + pictures. 324 + Sec. 30. And the great lesson to be received from all. 324 + + + + + SECTION V. + + OF TRUTH OF WATER. + + +CHAPTER I.--Of Water, as Painted by the Ancients. + + Sec. 1. Sketch of the functions and infinite agency of water. 325 + Sec. 2. The ease with which a common representation of it may be + given. The impossibility of a faithful one. 325 + Sec. 3. Difficulty of properly dividing the subject. 326 + Sec. 4. Inaccuracy of study of water-effect among all painters. 326 + Sec. 5. Difficulty of treating this part of the subject. 328 + Sec. 6. General laws which regulate the phenomena of water. First, The + imperfection of its reflective surface. 329 + Sec. 7. The inherent hue of water modifies dark reflections, and does + not affect right ones. 330 + Sec. 8. Water takes no shadow. 331 + Sec. 9. Modification of dark reflections by shadow. 332 + Sec. 10. Examples on the waters of the Rhone. 333 + Sec. 11. Effect of ripple on distant water. 335 + Sec. 12. Elongation of reflections by moving water. 335 + Sec. 13. Effect of rippled water on horizontal and inclined images. 336 + Sec. 14. To what extent reflection is visible from above. 336 + Sec. 15. Deflection of images on agitated water. 337 + Sec. 16. Necessity of watchfulness as well as of science. Licenses, how + taken by great men. 337 + Sec. 17. Various licenses or errors in water painting of Claude, Cuyp, + Vandevelde. 339 + Sec. 18. And Canaletto. 341 + Sec. 19. Why unpardonable. 342 + Sec. 20. The Dutch painters of sea. 343 + Sec. 21. Ruysdael, Claude, and Salvator. 344 + Sec. 22. Nicolo Poussin. 345 + Sec. 23. Venetians and Florentines. Conclusion. 346 + + +CHAPTER II.--Of Water, as Painted by the Moderns. + + Sec. 1. General power of the moderns in painting quiet water. The + lakes of Fielding. 348 + Sec. 2. The calm rivers of De Wint, J. Holland, &c. 348 + Sec. 3. The character of bright and violent falling water. 349 + Sec. 4. As given by Nesfield. 349 + Sec. 5. The admirable water-drawing of J. D. Harding. 350 + Sec. 6. His color; and painting of sea. 350 + Sec. 7. The sea of Copley Fielding. Its exceeding grace and rapidity. 351 + Sec. 8. Its high aim at character. 351 + Sec. 9. But deficiency in the requisite quality of grays. 352 + Sec. 10. Variety of the grays of nature. 352 + Sec. 11. Works of Stanfield. His perfect knowledge and power. 353 + Sec. 12. But want of feeling. General sum of truth presented by modern + art. 353 + + +CHAPTER III.--Of Water, as Painted by Turner. + + Sec. 1. The difficulty of giving surface to smooth water. 355 + Sec. 2. Is dependent on the structure of the eye, and the focus by + which the reflected rays are perceived. 355 + Sec. 3. Morbid clearness occasioned in painting of water by + distinctness of reflections. 356 + Sec. 4. How avoided by Turner. 357 + Sec. 5. All reflections on distant water are distinct. 357 + Sec. 6. The error of Vandevelde. 358 + Sec. 7. Difference in arrangement of parts between the reflected + object and its image. 359 + Sec. 8. Illustrated from the works of Turner. 359 + Sec. 9. The boldness and judgment shown in the observance of it. 360 + Sec. 10. The _texture_ of surface in Turner's painting of calm water. 361 + Sec. 11. Its united qualities. 361 + Sec. 12. Relation of various circumstances of past agitation, &c., by + the most trifling incidents, as in the Cowes. 363 + Sec. 13. In scenes on the Loire and Seine. 363 + Sec. 14. Expression of contrary waves caused by recoil from shore. 364 + Sec. 15. Various other instances. 364 + Sec. 16. Turner's painting of distant expanses of water.--Calm, + interrupted by ripple. 365 + Sec. 17. And rippled, crossed by sunshine. 365 + Sec. 18. His drawing of distant rivers. 366 + Sec. 19. And of surface associated with mist. 367 + Sec. 20. His drawing of falling water, with peculiar expression of + weight. 367 + Sec. 21. The abandonment and plunge of great cataracts. How given by + him. 368 + Sec. 22. Difference in the action of water, when continuous and when + interrupted. The interrupted stream fills the hollows of + its bed. 369 + Sec. 23. But the continuous stream takes the shape of its bed. 370 + Sec. 24. Its exquisite curved lines. 370 + Sec. 25. Turner's careful choice of the historical truth. 370 + Sec. 26. His exquisite drawing of the continuous torrent in the + Llanthony Abbey. 371 + Sec. 27. And of the interrupted torrent in the Mercury and Argus. 372 + Sec. 28. Various cases. 372 + Sec. 29. Sea painting. Impossibility of truly representing foam. 373 + Sec. 30. Character of shore-breakers, also inexpressible. 374 + Sec. 31. Their effect how injured when seen from the shore. 375 + Sec. 32. Turner's expression of heavy rolling sea. 376 + Sec. 33. With peculiar expression of weight. 376 + Sec. 34. Peculiar action of recoiling waves. 377 + Sec. 35. And of the stroke of a breaker on the shore. 377 + Sec. 36. General character of sea on a rocky coast given by Turner in + the Land's End. 378 + Sec. 37. Open seas of Turner's earlier time. 379 + Sec. 38. Effect of sea after prolonged storm. 380 + Sec. 39. Turner's noblest work, the painting of the deep open sea in + the Slave Ship. 382 + Sec. 40. Its united excellences and perfection as a whole. 383 + + + + + SECTION VI. + + OF TRUTH OF VEGETATION.--CONCLUSION. + + +CHAPTER I.--Of Truth of Vegetation. + + Sec. 1. Frequent occurrence of foliage in the works of the old + masters. 384 + Sec. 2. Laws common to all forest trees. Their branches do not taper, + but only divide. 385 + Sec. 3. Appearance of tapering caused by frequent buds. 385 + Sec. 4. And care of nature to conceal the parallelism. 386 + Sec. 5. The degree of tapering which may be represented as continuous. 386 + Sec. 6. The trees of Gaspar Poussin. 386 + Sec. 7. And of the Italian school generally, defy this law. 387 + Sec. 8. The truth, as it is given by J. D. Harding. 387 + Sec. 9. Boughs, in consequence of this law, _must_ diminish where they + divide. Those of the old masters often do not. 388 + Sec. 10. Boughs must multiply as they diminish. Those of the old + masters do not. 389 + Sec. 11. Bough-drawing of Salvator. 390 + Sec. 12. All these errors especially shown in Claude's sketches, and + concentrated in a work of G. Poussin's. 391 + Sec. 13. Impossibility of the angles of boughs being taken out of them + by wind. 392 + Sec. 14. Bough-drawing of Titian. 392 + Sec. 15. Bough-drawing of Turner. 394 + Sec. 16. Leafage. Its variety and symmetry. 394 + Sec. 17. Perfect regularity of Poussin. 395 + Sec. 18. Exceeding intricacy of nature's foliage. 396 + Sec. 19. How contradicted by the tree-patterns of G. Poussin. 396 + Sec. 20. How followed by Creswick. 397 + Sec. 21. Perfect unity in nature's foliage. 398 + Sec. 22. Total want of it in Both and Hobbima. 398 + Sec. 23. How rendered by Turner. 399 + Sec. 24. The near leafage of Claude. His middle distances are good. 399 + Sec. 25. Universal termination of trees in symmetrical curves. 400 + Sec. 26. Altogether unobserved by the old masters. Always given by + Turner. 401 + Sec. 27. Foliage painting on the Continent. 401 + Sec. 28. Foliage of J. D. Harding. Its deficiencies. 402 + Sec. 29. His brilliancy of execution too manifest. 403 + Sec. 30. His bough-drawing, and choice of form. 404 + Sec. 31. Local color, how far expressible in black and white, and with + what advantage. 404 + Sec. 32. Opposition between great manner and great knowledge. 406 + Sec. 33. Foliage of Cox, Fielding, and Cattermole. 406 + Sec. 34. Hunt and Creswick. Green, how to be rendered expressive of + light, and offensive if otherwise. 407 + Sec. 35. Conclusion. Works of J. Linnel and S. Palmer. 407 + + +CHAPTER II.--General remarks respecting the Truth of Turner. + + Sec. 1. No necessity of entering into discussion of architectural + truth. 409 + Sec. 2. Extreme difficulty of illustrating or explaining the highest + truth. 410 + Sec. 3. The _positive_ rank of Turner is in no degree shown in the + foregoing pages, but only his relative rank. 410 + Sec. 4. The exceeding refinement of his truth. 411 + Sec. 5. There is nothing in his works which can be enjoyed without + knowledge. 411 + Sec. 6. And nothing which knowledge will not enable us to enjoy. 412 + Sec. 7. His former rank and progress. 412 + Sec. 8. Standing of his present works. Their mystery is the + consequence of their fulness. 413 + + +CHAPTER III.--Conclusion.--Modern Art and Modern Criticism. + + Sec. 1. The entire prominence hitherto given to the works of one + artist caused only by our not being able to take + cognizance of _character_. 414 + Sec. 2. The feelings of different artists are incapable of full + comparison. 415 + Sec. 3. But the fidelity and truth of each are capable of real + comparison. 415 + Sec. 4. Especially because they are equally manifested in the + treatment of all subjects. 415 + Sec. 5. No man draws one thing well, if he can draw nothing else. 416 + Sec. 6. General conclusions to be derived from our past investigation. 417 + Sec. 7. Truth, a standard of all excellence. 417 + Sec. 8. Modern criticism. Changefulness of public taste. 418 + Sec. 9. Yet associated with a certain degree of judgment. 418 + Sec. 10. Duty of the press. 418 + Sec. 11. Qualifications necessary for discharging it. 418 + Sec. 12. General incapability of modern critics. 419 + Sec. 13. And inconsistency with themselves. 419 + Sec. 14. How the press may really advance the cause of art. 420 + Sec. 15. Morbid fondness at the present day for unfinished works. 420 + Sec. 16. By which the public defraud themselves. 421 + Sec. 17. And in pandering to which, artists ruin themselves. 421 + Sec. 18. Necessity of finishing works of art perfectly. 421 + Sec. 19. _Sketches_ not sufficiently encouraged. 422 + Sec. 20. Brilliancy of execution or efforts at invention not to be + tolerated in young artists. 422 + Sec. 21. The duty and after privileges of all students. 423 + Sec. 22. Necessity among our greater artists of more singleness of aim. 423 + Sec. 23. What should be their general aim. 425 + Sec. 24. Duty of the press with respect to the works of Turner. 427 + + + + + LIST OF PLATES TO VOLUME I. + + _Page._ + + Casa Contarini Fasan, Venice 110 + From a drawing by Ruskin. + + The Dogana, and Santa Maria della Salute, Venice 136 + From a painting by Turner. + + Okehampton Castle 258 + From a painting by Turner. + + Port Ruysdael 376 + From a painting by Turner. + + + + + MODERN PAINTERS. + + + + + PART I + + OF GENERAL PRINCIPLES. + + SECTION I. + + OF THE NATURE OF THE IDEAS CONVEYABLE BY ART. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + INTRODUCTORY. + + +Sec. 1. Public opinion no criterion of excellence, except after long + periods of time. + +If it be true, and it can scarcely be disputed, that nothing has been +for centuries consecrated by public admiration, without possessing in a +high degree some kind of sterling excellence, it is not because the +average intellect and feeling of the majority of the public are +competent in any way to distinguish what is really excellent, but +because all erroneous opinion is inconsistent, and all ungrounded +opinion transitory; so that while the fancies and feelings which deny +deserved honor and award what is undue have neither root nor strength +sufficient to maintain consistent testimony for a length of time, the +opinions formed on right grounds by those few who are in reality +competent judges, being necessarily stable, communicate themselves +gradually from mind to mind, descending lower as they extend wider, +until they leaven the whole lump, and rule by absolute authority, even +where the grounds and reasons for them cannot be understood. On this +gradual victory of what is consistent over what is vacillating, depends +the reputation of all that is highest in art and literature. For It is +an insult to what is really great in either, to suppose that it in any +way addresses itself to mean or uncultivated faculties. It is a matter +of the simplest demonstration, that no man can be really appreciated but +by his equal or superior. His inferior may over-estimate him in +enthusiasm; or, as is more commonly the case, degrade him, in ignorance; +but he cannot form a grounded and just estimate. Without proving this, +however--which it would take more space to do than I can spare--it is +sufficiently evident that there is no process of amalgamation by which +opinions, wrong individually, can become right merely by their +multitude.[1] If I stand by a picture in the Academy, and hear twenty +persons in succession admiring some paltry piece of mechanism or +imitation in the lining of a cloak, or the satin of a slipper, it is +absurd to tell me that they reprobate collectively what they admire +individually: or, if they pass with apathy by a piece of the most noble +conception or most perfect truth, because it has in it no tricks of the +brush nor grimace of expression, it is absurd to tell me that they +collectively respect what they separately scorn, or that the feelings +and knowledge of such judges, by any length of time or comparison of +ideas, could come to any right conclusion with respect to what is really +high in art. The question is not decided by them, but for them;--decided +at first by few: by fewer in proportion as the merits of the work are of +a higher order. From these few the decision is communicated to the +number next below them in rank of mind, and by these again to a wider +and lower circle; each rank being so far cognizant of the superiority of +that above it, as to receive its decision with respect; until, in +process of time, the right and consistent opinion is communicated to +all, and held by all as a matter of faith, the more positively in +proportion as the grounds of it are less perceived.[2] + + +Sec. 2. And therefore obstinate when once formed. + +Sec. 3. The author's reasons for opposing it in particular instances. + +Sec. 4. But only on points capable of demonstration. + +But when this process has taken place, and the work has become sanctified +by time in the minds of men, it is impossible that any new work of equal +merit can be impartially compared with it, except by minds not only +educated and generally capable of appreciating merit, but strong enough +to shake off the weight of prejudice and association, which invariably +incline them to the older favorite. It is much easier, says Barry, to +repeat the character recorded of Phidias, than to investigate the merits +of Agasias. And when, as peculiarly in the case of painting, much +knowledge of what is technical and practical is necessary to a right +judgment, so that those alone are competent to pronounce a true verdict +who are themselves the persons to be judged, and who therefore can give +no opinion, centuries may elapse before fair comparison can be made +between two artists of different ages; while the patriarchal excellence +exercises during the interval a tyrannical--perhaps, even a blighting, +influence over the minds, both of the public and of those to whom, +properly understood, it should serve for a guide and example. In no city +of Europe where art is a subject of attention, are its prospects so +hopeless, or its pursuits so resultless, as in Rome; because there, among +all students, the authority of their predecessors in art is supreme and +without appeal, and the mindless copyist studies Raffaelle, but not what +Raffaelle studied. It thus becomes the duty of every one capable of +demonstrating any definite points of superiority in modern art, and who +is in a position in which his doing so will not be ungraceful, to +encounter without hesitation whatever opprobrium may fall upon him from +the necessary prejudice even of the most candid minds, and from the far +more virulent opposition of those who have no hope of maintaining their +own reputation for discernment but in the support of that kind of +consecrated merit which may be applauded without an inconvenient +necessity for reasons. It is my purpose, therefore, believing that there +are certain points of superiority in modern artists, and especially in +one or two of their number, which have not yet been fully understood, +except by those who are scarcely in a position admitting the declaration +of their conviction, to institute a close comparison between the great +works of ancient and modern landscape art, to raise, as far as possible, +the deceptive veil of imaginary light through which we are accustomed to +gaze upon the patriarchal work, and to show the real relations, whether +favorable or otherwise, subsisting between it and our own. I am fully +aware that this is not to be done lightly or rashly; that it is the part +of every one proposing to undertake such a task strictly to examine, with +prolonged doubt and severe trial, every opinion in any way contrary to +the sacred verdict of time, and to advance nothing which does not, at +least in his own conviction, rest on surer ground than mere feeling or +taste. I have accordingly advanced nothing in the following pages but +with accompanying demonstration, which may indeed be true or +false--complete or conditional, but which can only be met on its own +grounds, and can in no way be borne down or affected by mere authority of +great names. Yet even thus I should scarcely have ventured to speak so +decidedly as I have, but for my full conviction that we ought not to +class the historical painters of the fifteenth, and landscape painters of +the seventeenth, centuries, together, under the general title of "old +masters," as if they possessed anything like corresponding rank in their +respective walks of art. I feel assured that the principles on which they +worked are totally opposed, and that the landscape painters have been +honored only because they exhibited in mechanical and technical qualities +some semblance of the manner of the nobler historical painters, whose +principles of conception and composition they entirely reversed. The +course of study which has led me reverently to the feet of Michael Angelo +and Da Vinci, has alienated me gradually from Claude and Gaspar--I cannot +at the same time do homage to power and pettiness--to the truth of +consummate science, and the mannerism of undisciplined imagination. And +let it be understood that whenever hereafter I speak depreciatingly of +the old masters as a body, I refer to none of the historical painters, +for whom I entertain a veneration, which though I hope reasonable in its +grounds, is almost superstitious in degree. Neither, unless he be +particularly mentioned, do I intend to include Nicholas Poussin, whose +landscapes have a separate and elevated character, which renders it +necessary to consider them apart from all others. Speaking generally of +the older masters, I refer only to Claude, Gaspar Poussin, Salvator Rosa, +Cuyp, Berghem, Both, Ruysdael, Hobbima, Teniers, (in his landscapes,) P. +Potter, Canaletti, and the various Van somethings, and Back somethings, +more especially and malignantly those who have libelled the sea. + +It will of course be necessary for me in the commencement of the work to +state briefly those principles on which I conceive all right judgment of +art must be founded. These introductory chapters I should wish to be +read carefully, because all criticism must be useless when the terms or +grounds of it are in any degree ambiguous; and the ordinary language of +connoisseurs and critics, granting that they understand it themselves, +is usually mere jargon to others, from their custom of using technical +terms, by which everything is meant, and nothing is expressed. + + +Sec. 5. The author's partiality to modern works excusable. + +And if, in the application of these principles, in spite of my endeavor +to render it impartial, the feeling and fondness which I have for some +works of modern art escape me sometimes where it should not, let it be +pardoned as little more than a fair counterbalance to that peculiar +veneration with which the work of the older master, associated as it has +ever been in our ears with the expression of whatever is great or +perfect, must be usually regarded by the reader. I do not say that this +veneration is wrong, nor that we should be less attentive to the +repeated words of time: but let us not forget, that if honor be for the +dead, gratitude can only be for the living. He who has once stood beside +the grave, to look back upon the companionship which has been forever +closed, feeling how impotent _there_ are the wild love, or the keen +sorrow, to give one instant's pleasure to the pulseless heart, or atone +in the lowest measure to the departed spirit for the hour of unkindness, +will scarcely for the future incur that debt to the heart, which can +only be discharged to the dust. But the lesson which men receive as +individuals, they do not learn as nations. Again and again they have +seen their noblest descend into the grave, and have thought it enough to +garland the tombstone when they had not crowned the brow, and to pay the +honor to the ashes, which they had denied to the spirit. Let it not +displease them that they are bidden, amidst the tumult and the dazzle of +their busy life, to listen for the few voices, and watch for the few +lamps, which God has toned and lighted to charm and to guide them, that +they may not learn their sweetness by their silence, nor their light by +their decay. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [1] The opinion of a majority is right only when it is more probable + with each individual that he should be right than that he should be + wrong, as in the case of a jury. Where it is more probable, with + respect to each individual, that he should be wrong than right, the + opinion of the minority is the true one. Thus it is in art. + + [2] There are, however, a thousand modifying circumstances which + render this process sometimes unnecessary,--sometimes rapid and + certain--sometimes impossible. It is unnecessary in rhetoric and the + drama, because the multitude is the only proper judge of those arts + whose end is to move the multitude (though more is necessary to a + fine play than is essentially dramatic, and it is only of the + dramatic part that the multitude are cognizant). It is unnecessary, + when, united with the higher qualities of a work, there are appeals + to universal passion, to all the faculties and feelings which are + general in man as an animal. The popularity is then as sudden as it + is well grounded,--it is hearty and honest in every mind, but it is + based in every mind on a different species of excellence. Such will + often be the case with the noblest works of literature. Take Don + Quixote for example. The lowest mind would find in it perpetual and + brutal amusement in the misfortunes of the knight, and perpetual + pleasure in sympathy with the squire. A mind of average feeling + would perceive the satirical meaning and force of the book, would + appreciate its wit, its elegance, and its truth. But only elevated + and peculiar minds discover, in addition to all this, the full moral + beauty of the love and truth which are the constant associates of + all that is even most weak and erring in the character of its hero, + and pass over the rude adventure and scurrile jest in haste--perhaps + in pain, to penetrate beneath the rusty corselet, and catch from the + wandering glance the evidence and expression of fortitude, + self-devotion, and universal love. So, again, with the works of + Scott and Byron; popularity was as instant as it was deserved, + because there is in them an appeal to those passions which are + universal in all men, as well as an expression of such thoughts as + can be received only by the few. But they are admired by the + majority of their advocates for the weakest parts of their works, as + a popular preacher by the majority of his congregation for the worst + part of his sermon. + + The process is rapid and certain, when, though there may be little + to catch the multitude at once, there is much which they can enjoy + when their attention is authoritatively directed to it. So rests the + reputation of Shakspeare. No ordinary mind can comprehend wherein + his undisputed superiority consists, but there is yet quite as much + to amuse, thrill, or excite,--quite as much of what is, in the + strict sense of the word, dramatic, in his works as in any one + else's. They were received, therefore, when first written, with + average approval, as works of common merit: but when the high + decision was made, and the circle spread, the public took up the hue + and cry conscientiously enough. Let them have daggers, ghosts, + clowns, and kings, and with such real and definite sources of + enjoyment, they will take the additional trouble to learn half a + dozen quotations, without understanding them, and admit the + superiority of Shakspeare without further demur. Nothing, perhaps, + can more completely demonstrate the total ignorance of the public of + all that is great or valuable in Shakspeare than their universal + admiration of Maclise's Hamlet. + + The process is impossible when there is in the work nothing to + attract and something to disgust the vulgar mind. Neither their + intrinsic excellence, nor the authority of those who can judge of + it, will ever make the poems of Wordsworth or George Herbert + popular, in the sense in which Scott and Byron are popular, because + it is to the vulgar a labor instead of a pleasure to read them; and + there are parts in them which to such judges cannot but be vapid or + ridiculous. Most works of the highest art,--those of Raffaelle, M. + Angelo, or Da Vinci,--stand as Shakspeare does,--that which is + commonplace and feeble in their excellence being taken for its + essence by the uneducated, imagination assisting the impression, + (for we readily fancy that we feel, when feeling is a matter of + pride or conscience,) and affectation and pretension increasing the + noise of the rapture, if not its degree. Giotto, Orgagna, Angelico, + Perugino, stand, like George Herbert, only with the few. Wilkie + becomes popular, like Scott, because he touches passions which all + feel, and expresses truths which all can recognize. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + DEFINITION OF GREATNESS IN ART. + + +Sec. 1. Distinction between the painter's intellectual power and technical + knowledge. + +In the 15th Lecture of Sir Joshua Reynolds, incidental notice is taken +of the distinction between those excellences in the painter which belong +to him _as such_, and those which belong to him in common with all men +of intellect, the general and exalted powers of which art is the +evidence and expression, not the subject. But the distinction is not +there dwelt upon as it should be, for it is owing to the slight +attention ordinarily paid to it, that criticism is open to every form of +coxcombry, and liable to every phase of error. It is a distinction on +which depend all sound judgment of the rank of the artist, and all just +appreciation of the dignity of art. + + +Sec. 2. Painting, as such, is nothing more than language. + +Painting, or art generally, as such, with all its technicalities, +difficulties, and particular ends, is nothing but a noble and expressive +language, invaluable as the vehicle of thought, but by itself nothing. +He who has learned what is commonly considered the whole art of +painting, that is, the art of representing any natural object +faithfully, has as yet only learned the language by which his thoughts +are to be expressed. He has done just as much towards being that which +we ought to respect as a great painter, as a man who has learned how to +express himself grammatically and melodiously has towards being a great +poet. The language is, indeed, more difficult of acquirement in the one +case than in the other, and possesses more power of delighting the +sense, while it speaks to the intellect, but it is, nevertheless, +nothing more than language, and all those excellences which are peculiar +to the painter as such, are merely what rhythm, melody, precision and +force are in the words of the orator and the poet, necessary to their +greatness, but not the tests of their greatness. It is not by the mode +of representing and saying, but by what is represented and said, that +the respective greatness either of the painter or the writer is to be +finally determined. + + +Sec. 3. "Painter," a term corresponding to "versifier." + +Speaking with strict propriety, therefore, we should call a man a great +painter only as he excelled in precision and force in the language of +lines, and a great versifier, as he excelled in precision or force in +the language of words. A great poet would then be a term strictly, and +in precisely the same sense applicable to both, if warranted by the +character of the images or thoughts which each in their respective +languages convey. + + +Sec. 4. Example in a painting of E. Landseer's. + +Take, for instance, one of the most perfect poems or pictures (I use the +words as synonymous) which modern times have seen:--the "Old Shepherd's +Chief-mourner." Here the exquisite execution of the glossy and crisp +hair of the dog, the bright sharp touching of the green bough beside it, +the clear painting of the wood of the coffin and the folds of the +blanket, are language--language clear and expressive in the highest +degree. But the close pressure of the dog's breast against the wood, the +convulsive clinging of the paws, which has dragged the blanket off the +trestle, the total powerlessness of the head laid, close and motionless, +upon its folds, the fixed and tearful fall of the eye in its utter +hopelessness, the rigidity of repose which marks that there has been no +motion nor change in the trance of agony since the last blow was struck +on the coffin-lid, the quietness and gloom of the chamber, the +spectacles marking the place where the Bible was last closed, indicating +how lonely has been the life--how unwatched the departure of him who is +now laid solitary in his sleep;--these are all thoughts--thoughts by +which the picture is separated at once from hundreds of equal merit, as +far as mere painting goes, by which it ranks as a work of high art, and +stamps its author, not as the neat imitator of the texture of a skin, or +the fold of a drapery, but as the Man of Mind. + + +Sec. 5. Difficulty of fixing an exact limit between language and thought. + +It is not, however, always easy, either in painting or literature, to +determine where the influence of language stops, and where that of +thought begins. Many thoughts are so dependent upon the language in +which they are clothed, that they would lose half their beauty if +otherwise expressed. But the highest thoughts are those which are least +dependent on language, and the dignity of any composition and praise to +which it is entitled, are in exact proportion to its independency of +language or expression. A composition is indeed usually most perfect, +when to such intrinsic dignity is added all that expression can do to +attract and adorn; but in every case of supreme excellence this all +becomes as nothing. We are more gratified by the simplest lines or words +which can suggest the idea in its own naked beauty, than by the robe or +the gem which conceal while they decorate; we are better pleased to feel +by their absence how little they would bestow, than by their presence +how much they can destroy. + + +Sec. 6. Distinction between decorative and expressive language. + +There is therefore a distinction to be made between what is ornamental +in language and what is expressive. That part of it which is necessary +to the embodying and conveying the thought is worthy of respect and +attention as necessary to excellence, though not the test of it. But +that part of it which is decorative has little more to do with the +intrinsic excellence of the picture than the frame or the varnishing of +it. And this caution in distinguishing between the ornamental and the +expressive is peculiarly necessary in painting; for in the language of +words it is nearly impossible for that which is not expressive to be +beautiful, except by mere rhythm or melody, any sacrifice to which is +immediately stigmatized as error. But the beauty of mere language in +painting is not only very attractive and entertaining to the spectator, +but requires for its attainment no small exertion of mind and devotion +of time by the artist. Hence, in art, men have frequently fancied that +they were becoming rhetoricians and poets when they were only learning +to speak melodiously, and the judge has over and over again advanced to +the honor of authors those who were never more than ornamental +writing-masters. + + +Sec. 7. Instance in the Dutch and early Italian schools. + +Most pictures of the Dutch school, for instance, and excepting always +those of Rubens, Vandyke, and Rembrandt, are ostentatious exhibitions of +the artist's power of speech, the clear and vigorous elocution of +useless and senseless words: while the early efforts of Cimabue and +Giotto are the burning messages of prophecy, delivered by the +stammering lips of infants. It is not by ranking the former as more than +mechanics, or the latter as less than artists, that the taste of the +multitude, always awake to the lowest pleasures which art can bestow, +and blunt to the highest, is to be formed or elevated. It must be the +part of the judicious critic carefully to distinguish what is language, +and what is thought, and to rank and praise pictures chiefly for the +latter, considering the former as a totally inferior excellence, and one +which cannot be compared with nor weighed against thought in any way nor +in any degree whatsoever. The picture which has the nobler and more +numerous ideas, however awkwardly expressed, is a greater and a better +picture than that which has the less noble and less numerous ideas, +however beautifully expressed. No weight, nor mass, nor beauty of +execution can outweigh one grain or fragment of thought. Three +penstrokes of Raffaelle are a greater and a better picture than the most +finished work that ever Carlo Dolci polished into inanity. A finished +work of a great artist is only better than its sketch, if the sources of +pleasure belonging to color and realization--valuable in +themselves,--are so employed as to increase the impressiveness of the +thought. But if one atom of thought has vanished, all color, all finish, +all execution, all ornament, are too dearly bought. Nothing but thought +can pay for thought, and the instant that the increasing refinement or +finish of the picture begins to be paid for by the loss of the faintest +shadow of an idea, that instant all refinement or finish is an +excrescence, and a deformity. + + +Sec. 8. Yet there are certain ideas belonging to language itself. + +Sec. 9. The definition. + +Yet although in all our speculations on art, language is thus to be +distinguished from, and held subordinate to, that which it conveys, we +must still remember that there are certain ideas inherent in language +itself, and that strictly speaking, every pleasure connected with art +has in it some reference to the intellect. The mere sensual pleasure of +the eye, received from the most brilliant piece of coloring, is as +nothing to that which it receives from a crystal prism, except as it +depends on our perception of a certain meaning and intended arrangement +of color, which has been the subject of intellect. Nay, the term idea, +according to Locke's definition of it, will extend even to the sensual +impressions themselves as far as they are "things which the mind +occupies itself about in thinking," that is, not as they are felt by the +eye only, but as they are received by the mind through the eye. So that, +if I say that the greatest picture is that which conveys to the mind of +the spectator the greatest number of the greatest ideas, I have a +definition which will include as subjects of comparison every pleasure +which art is capable of conveying. If I were to say, on the contrary, +that the best picture was that which most closely imitated nature, I +should assume that art could only please by imitating nature, and I +should cast out of the pale of criticism those parts of works of art +which are not imitative, that is to say, intrinsic beauties of color and +form, and those works of art wholly, which, like the arabesques of +Raffaelle in the Loggias, are not imitative at all. Now I want a +definition of art wide enough to include all its varieties of aim: I do +not say therefore that the art is greatest which gives most pleasure, +because perhaps there is some art whose end is to teach, and not to +please. I do not say that the art is greatest which teaches us most, +because perhaps there is some art whose end is to please, and not to +teach. I do not say that the art is greatest which imitates best, +because perhaps there is some art whose end is to create, and not to +imitate. But I say that the art is greatest, which conveys to the mind +of the spectator, by any means whatsoever, the greatest number of the +greatest ideas, and I call an idea great in proportion as it is received +by a higher faculty of the mind, and as it more fully occupies, and in +occupying, exercises and exalts, the faculty by which it is received. + +If this then be the definition of great art, that of a great artist +naturally follows. He is the greatest artist who has embodied, in the +sum of his works, the greatest number of the greatest ideas. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + OF IDEAS OF POWER. + + +The definition of art which I have just given, requires me to determine +what kinds of ideas can be received from works of art, and which of +these are the greatest, before proceeding to any practical application +of the test. + + +Sec. 1. What classes of ideas are conveyable by art. + +I think that all the sources of pleasure, or any other good, to be +derived from works of art, may be referred to five distinct heads. + + I. Ideas of Power.--The perception or conception of the mental or + bodily powers by which the work has been produced. + + II. Ideas of Imitation.--The perception that the thing produced + resembles something else. + + III. Ideas of Truth.--The perception of faithfulness in a statement + of facts by the thing produced. + + IV. Ideas of Beauty.--The perception of beauty, either in the thing + produced, or in what it suggests or resembles. + + V. Ideas of Relation.--The perception of intellectual relations, in + the thing produced, or in what it suggests or resembles. + +I shall briefly distinguish the nature and effects of each of these +classes of ideas. + + +Sec. 2. Ideas of power vary much in relative dignity. + +I. Ideas of Power.--These are the simple perception of the mental or +bodily powers exerted in the production of any work of art. According to +the dignity and degree of the power perceived is the dignity of the +idea; but the whole class of ideas is received by the intellect, and +they excite the best of the moral feelings, veneration, and the desire +of exertion. As a species, therefore, they are one of the noblest +connected with art; but the differences in degree of dignity among +themselves are infinite, being correspondent with every order of +power,--from that of the fingers to that of the most exalted intellect. +Thus, when we see an Indian's paddle carved from the handle to the +blade, we have a conception of prolonged manual labor, and are gratified +in proportion to the supposed expenditure of time and exertion. These +are, indeed, powers of a low order, yet the pleasure arising from the +conception of them enters very largely indeed into our admiration of all +elaborate ornament, architectural decoration, etc. The delight with +which we look on the fretted front of Rouen Cathedral depends in no +small degree on the simple perception of time employed and labor +expended in its production. But it is a right, that is, an ennobling +pleasure, even in this its lowest phase; and even the pleasure felt by +those persons who praise a drawing for its "finish," or its "work," +which is one precisely of the same kind, would be right, if it did not +imply a want of perception of the higher powers which render work +unnecessary. If to the evidence of labor be added that of strength or +dexterity, the sensation of power is yet increased; if to strength and +dexterity be added that of ingenuity and judgment, it is multiplied +tenfold, and so on, through all the subjects of action of body or mind, +we receive the more exalted pleasure from the more exalted power. + + +Sec. 3. But are received from whatever has been the subject of power. The + meaning of the word "excellence." + +So far the nature and effects of ideas of power cannot but be admitted +by all. But the circumstance which I wish especially to insist upon, +with respect to them, is one which may not, perhaps, be so readily +allowed, namely, that they are independent of the nature or worthiness +of the object from which they are received, and that whatever has been +the subject of a great power, whether there be intrinsic and apparent +worthiness in itself or not, bears with it the evidence of having been +so, and is capable of giving the ideas of power, and the consequent +pleasures, in their full degree. For observe, that a thing is not +properly said to have been the result of a great power, on which only +some part of that power has been expended. A nut may be cracked by a +steam-engine, but it has not, in being so, been the subject of the power +of the engine. And thus it is falsely said of great men, that they waste +their lofty powers on unworthy objects: the object may be dangerous or +useless, but, as far as the phrase has reference to difficulty of +performance, it cannot be unworthy of the power which it brings into +exertion, because nothing can become a subject of action to a greater +power which can be accomplished by a less, any more than bodily strength +can be exerted where there is nothing to resist it. + +So then, men may let their great powers lie dormant, while they employ +their mean and petty powers on mean and petty objects; but it is +physically impossible to employ a great power, except on a great object. +Consequently, wherever power of any kind or degree has been exerted, the +marks and evidence of it are stamped upon its results: it is impossible +that it should be lost or wasted, or without record, even in the +"estimation of a hair:" and therefore, whatever has been the subject of +a great power bears about with it the image of that which created it, +and is what is commonly called "excellent." And this is the true meaning +of the word excellent, as distinguished from the terms, "beautiful," +"useful," "good," etc.; and we shall always, in future, use the word +excellent, as signifying that the thing to which it is applied required +a great power for its production.[3] + + +Sec. 4. What is necessary to the distinguishing of excellence. + +The faculty of perceiving what powers are required for the production of +a thing, is the faculty of perceiving excellence. It is this faculty in +which men, even of the most cultivated taste, must always be wanting, +unless they have added practice to reflection; because none can estimate +the power manifested in victory, unless they have personally measured +the strength to be overcome. Though, therefore, it is possible, by the +cultivation of sensibility and judgment, to become capable of +distinguishing what is beautiful, it is totally impossible, without +practice and knowledge, to distinguish or feel what is excellent. The +beauty or the truth of Titian's flesh-tint may be appreciated by all; +but it is only to the artist, whose multiplied hours of toil have not +reached the slightest resemblance of one of its tones, that its +_excellence_ is manifest. + + +Sec. 5. The pleasure attendant on conquering difficulties is right. + +Wherever, then, difficulty has been overcome, there is excellence: and +therefore, in order to prove excellent, we have only to prove the +difficulty of its production: whether it be useful or beautiful is +another question; its excellence depends on its difficulty alone. For is +it a false or diseased taste which looks for the overcoming of +difficulties, and has pleasure in it, even without any view to resultant +good. It has been made part of our moral nature that we should have a +pleasure in encountering and conquering opposition, for the sake of the +struggle and the victory, not for the sake of any after result; and not +only our own victory, but the perception of that of another, is in all +cases the source of pure and ennobling pleasure. And if we often hear it +said, and truly said, that an artist has erred by seeking rather to show +his skill in overcoming technical difficulties, than to reach a great +end, be it observed that he is only blamed because he has sought to +conquer an inferior difficulty rather than a great one; for it is much +easier to overcome technical difficulties than to reach a great end. +Whenever the visible victory over difficulties is found painful or in +false taste, it is owing to the preference of an inferior to a great +difficulty, or to the false estimate of what is difficult and what is +not. It is far more difficult to be simple than to be complicated; far +more difficult to sacrifice skill and cease exertion in the proper +place, than to expend both indiscriminately. We shall find, in the +course of our investigation, that beauty and difficulty go together; and +that they are only mean and paltry difficulties which it is wrong or +contemptible to wrestle with. Be it remembered then--Power is never +wasted. Whatever power has been employed, produces excellence in +proportion to its own dignity and exertion; and the faculty of +perceiving this exertion, and appreciating this dignity, is the faculty +of perceiving excellence. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [3] Of course the word "excellent" is primarily a mere synonym with + "surpassing," and when applied to persons, has the general meaning + given by Johnson--"the state of abounding in any good quality." But + when applied to things it has always reference to the power by which + they are produced. We talk of excellent music or poetry, because it + is difficult to compose or write such, but never of excellent + flowers, because all flowers being the result of the same power, + must be equally excellent. We distinguish them only as beautiful or + useful, and therefore, as there is no other one word to signify that + quality of a thing produced by which it pleases us merely as the + result of power, and as the term "excellent" is more frequently used + in this sense than in any other, I choose to limit it at once to + this sense, and I wish it, when I use it in future, to be so + understood. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + OF IDEAS OF IMITATION. + + +Sec. 1. False use of the term "imitation" by many writers of art. + +Fuseli, in his lectures, and many other persons of equally just and +accurate habits of thought, (among others, S. T. Coleridge,) make a +distinction between imitation and copying, representing the first as the +legitimate function of art--the latter as its corruption; but as such a +distinction is by no means warranted, or explained by the common meaning +of the words themselves, it is not easy to comprehend exactly in what +sense they are used by those writers. And though, reasoning from the +context, I can understand what ideas those words stand for in their +minds, I cannot allow the terms to be properly used as symbols of those +ideas, which (especially in the case of the word Imitation) are +exceedingly complex, and totally different from what most people would +understand by the term. And by men of less accurate thought, the word is +used still more vaguely or falsely. For instance, Burke (Treatise on the +Sublime, part i. sect. 16) says, "When the object represented in poetry +or painting is such as we could have no desire of seeing in the reality, +then we may be sure that its power in poetry or painting is owing to the +power of _imitation_." In which case the real pleasure may be in what we +have been just speaking of, the dexterity of the artist's hand; or it +may be in a beautiful or singular arrangement of colors, or a thoughtful +chiaroscuro, or in the pure beauty of certain forms which art forces on +our notice, though we should not have observed them in the reality; and +I conceive that none of these sources of pleasure are in any way +expressed or intimated by the term "imitation." + +But there is one source of pleasure in works of art totally different +from all these, which I conceive to be properly and accurately expressed +by the word "imitation:" one which, though constantly confused in +reasoning, because it is always associated in fact, with other means of +pleasure, is totally separated from them in its nature, and is the real +basis of whatever complicated or various meaning may be afterwards +attached to the word in the minds of men. + + +Sec. 2. Real meaning of the term. + +Sec. 3. What is requisite to the sense of imitation. + +I wish to point out this distinct source of pleasure clearly at once, +and only to use the word "imitation" in reference to it. Whenever +anything looks like what it is not, the resemblance being so great as +_nearly_ to deceive, we feel a kind of pleasurable surprise, an +agreeable excitement of mind, exactly the same in its nature as that +which we receive from juggling. Whenever we perceive this in something +produced by art, that is to say, whenever the work is seen to resemble +something which we know it is not, we receive what I call an idea of +imitation. _Why_ such ideas are pleasing, it would be out of our present +purpose to inquire; we only know that there is no man who does not feel +pleasure in his animal nature from gentle surprise, and that such +surprise can be excited in no more distinct manner than by the evidence +that a thing is not what it appears to be.[4] Now two things are +requisite to our complete and more pleasurable perception of this: +first, that the resemblance be so perfect as to amount to a deception; +secondly, that there be some means of proving at the same moment that it +_is_ a deception. The most perfect ideas and pleasures of imitation are, +therefore, when one sense is contradicted by another, both bearing as +positive evidence on the subject as each is capable of alone; as when +the eye says a thing is round, and the finger says it is flat; they are, +therefore, never felt in so high a degree as in painting, where +appearance of projection, roughness, hair, velvet, etc., are given with +a smooth surface, or in wax-work, where the first evidence of the senses +is perpetually contradicted by their experience; but the moment we come +to marble, our definition checks us, for a marble figure does not look +like what it is not: it looks like marble, and like the form of a man, +but then it _is_ marble, and it _is_ the form of a man. It does not look +like a man, which it is not, but like the form of a man, which it is. +Form is form, _bona fide_ and actual, whether in marble or in +flesh--not an imitation or resemblance of form, but real form. The chalk +outline of the bough of a tree on paper, is not an imitation; it looks +like chalk and paper--not like wood, and that which it suggests to the +mind is not properly said to be _like_ the form of a bough, it _is_ the +form of a bough. Now, then, we see the limits of an idea of imitation; +it extends only to the sensation of trickery and deception occasioned by +a thing's intentionally seeming different from what it is; and the +degree of the pleasure depends on the degree of difference and the +perfection of the resemblance, not on the nature of the thing resembled. +The simple pleasure in the imitation would be precisely of the same +degree, (if the accuracy could be equal,) whether the subject of it were +the hero or his horse. There are other collateral sources of pleasure, +which are necessarily associated with this, but that part of the +pleasure which depends on the imitation is the same in both. + + +Sec. 4. The pleasure resulting from imitation the most contemptible that + can be derived from art. + +Ideas of imitation, then, act by producing the simple pleasure of +surprise, and that not of surprise in its higher sense and function, but +of the mean and paltry surprise which is felt in jugglery. These ideas +and pleasures are the most contemptible which can be received from art; +first, because it is necessary to their enjoyment that the mind should +reject the impression and address of the thing represented, and fix +itself only upon the reflection that it is not what it seems to be. All +high or noble emotion or thought are thus rendered physically +impossible, while the mind exults in what is very like a strictly +sensual pleasure. We may consider tears as a result of agony or of art, +whichever we please, but not of both at the same moment. If we are +surprised by them as an attainment of the one, it is impossible we can +be moved by them as a sign of the other. + + +Sec. 5. Imitation is only of contemptible subjects. + +Ideas of imitation are contemptible in the second place, because not +only do they preclude the spectator from enjoying inherent beauty in the +subject, but they can only be received from mean and paltry subjects, +because it is impossible to imitate anything really great. We can "paint +a cat or a fiddle, so that they look as if we could take them up;" but +we cannot imitate the ocean, or the Alps. We can imitate fruit, but not +a tree; flowers, but not a pasture; cut-glass, but not the rainbow. All +pictures in which deceptive powers of imitation are displayed are +therefore either of contemptible subjects, or have the imitation shown +in contemptible parts of them, bits of dress, jewels, furniture, etc. + + +Sec. 6. Imitation is contemptible because it is easy. + +Thirdly, these ideas are contemptible, because no ideas of power are +associated with them; to the ignorant, imitation, indeed, seems +difficult, and its success praiseworthy, but even they can by no +possibility see more in the artist than they do in a juggler, who +arrives at a strange end by means with which they are unacquainted. To +the instructed, the juggler is by far the more respectable artist of the +two, for they know sleight of hand to be an art of immensely more +difficult acquirement, and to imply more ingenuity in the artist than a +power of deceptive imitation in painting, which requires nothing more +for its attainment than a true eye, a steady hand, and moderate +industry--qualities which in no degree separate the imitative artist +from a watch-maker, pin-maker, or any other neat-handed artificer. These +remarks do not apply to the art of the Diorama, or the stage, where the +pleasure is not dependent on the imitation, but is the same which we +should receive from nature herself, only far inferior in degree. It is a +noble pleasure; but we shall see in the course of our investigation, +both that it is inferior to that which we receive when there is no +deception at all, and why it is so. + + +Sec. 7. Recapitulation. + +Whenever then in future, I speak of ideas of imitation, I wish to be +understood to mean the immediate and present perception that something +produced by art is not what it seems to be. I prefer saying "that it is +not what it seems to be," to saying "that it seems to be what it is +not," because we perceive at once what it seems to be, and the idea of +imitation, and the consequent pleasure, result from the subsequent +perception of its being something else--flat, for instance, when we +thought it was round. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [4] [Greek: syllogismos ettig, hoti touto ekeino].--Arist. Rhet. 1, + 11, 23. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + OF IDEAS OF TRUTH. + +The word truth, as applied to art, signifies the faithful statement, +either to the mind or senses, of any fact of nature. + + +Sec. 1. Meaning of the word "truth" as applied to art. + +We receive an idea of truth, then, when we perceive the faithfulness of +such a statement. + +The difference between ideas of truth and of imitation lies chiefly in +the following points. + + +Sec. 2. First difference between truth and imitation. + +First,--Imitation can only be of something material, but truth has +reference to statements both of the qualities of material things, and of +emotions, impressions, and thoughts. There is a moral as well as +material truth,--a truth of impression as well as of form,--of thought +as well as of matter; and the truth of impression and thought is a +thousand times the more important of the two. Hence, truth is a term of +universal application, but imitation is limited to that narrow field of +art which takes cognizance only of material things. + + +Sec. 3. Second difference. + +Secondly,--Truth may be stated by any signs or symbols which have a +definite signification in the minds of those to whom they are addressed, +although such signs be themselves no image nor likeness of anything. +Whatever can excite in the mind the conception of certain facts, can +give ideas of truth, though it be in no degree the imitation or +resemblance of those facts. If there be--we do not say there is--but if +there be in painting anything which operates, as words do, not by +resembling anything, but by being taken as a symbol and substitute for +it, and thus inducing the effect of it, then this channel of +communication can convey uncorrupted truth, though it do not in any +degree resemble the facts whose conception it induces. But ideas of +imitation, of course, require the likeness of the object. They speak to +the perceptive faculties only: truth to the conceptive. + + +Sec. 4. Third difference. + +Thirdly,--And in consequence of what is above stated, an idea of truth +exists in the statement of _one_ attribute of anything, but an idea of +imitation requires the resemblance of as many attributes as we are +usually cognizant of in its real presence. A pencil outline of the bough +of a tree on white paper is a statement of a certain number of facts of +form. It does not yet amount to the imitation of anything. The idea of +that form is not given in nature by lines at all, still less by black +lines with a white space between them. But those lines convey to the +mind a distinct impression of a certain number of facts, which it +recognizes as agreeable with its previous impressions of the bough of a +tree; and it receives, therefore, an idea of truth. If, instead of two +lines, we give a dark form with the brush, we convey information of a +certain relation of shade between the bough and sky, recognizable for +another idea of truth; but we have still no imitation, for the white +paper is not the least like air, nor the black shadow like wood. It is +not until after a certain number of ideas of truth have been collected +together, that we arrive at an idea of imitation. + + +Sec. 5. No accurate truths necessary to imitation. + +Hence it might at first sight appear, that an idea of imitation, +inasmuch as several ideas of truth were united in it, was nobler than a +simple idea of truth. And if it were necessary that the ideas of truth +should be perfect, or should be subjects of contemplation _as such_, it +would be so. But, observe, we require to produce the effect of imitation +only so many and such ideas of truth as the _senses_ are usually +cognizant of. Now the senses are not usually, nor unless they be +especially devoted to the service, cognizant, with accuracy, of any +truths but those of space and projection. It requires long study and +attention before they give certain evidence of even the simplest truths +of form. For instance, the quay on which the figure is sitting, with his +hand at his eyes, in Claude's seaport, No. 14, in the National Gallery, +is egregiously out of perspective. The eye of this artist, with all his +study, had thus not acquired the power of taking cognizance of the +apparent form even of a simple parallelopiped. How much less of the +complicated forms of boughs, leaves, or limbs? Although, therefore, +something resembling the real form is necessary to deception, this +something is not to be called a _truth_ of form; for, strictly speaking, +there are no degrees of truth, there are only degrees of approach to it; +and an approach to it, whose feebleness and imperfection would instantly +offend and give pain to a mind really capable of distinguishing truth, +is yet quite sufficient for all the purposes of deceptive imagination. +It is the same with regard to color. If we were to paint a tree +sky-blue, or a dog rose-pink, the discernment of the public would be +keen enough to discover the falsehood; but, so that there be just so +much approach to truth of color as may come up to the common idea of it +in men's minds, that is to say, if the trees be all bright green, and +flesh unbroken buff, and ground unbroken brown, though all the real and +refined truths of color be wholly omitted, or rather defied and +contradicted, there is yet quite enough for all purposes of imitation. +The only facts then, which we are usually and certainly cognizant of, +are those of distance and projection, and if these be tolerably given, +with something like truth of form and color to assist them, the idea of +imitation is complete. I would undertake to paint an arm, with every +muscle out of its place, and every bone of false form and dislocated +articulation, and yet to observe certain coarse and broad resemblances +of true outline, which, with careful shading, would induce deception, +and draw down the praise and delight of the discerning public. The other +day at Bruges, while I was endeavoring to set down in my note-book +something of the ineffable expression of the Madonna in the cathedral, a +French amateur came up to me, to inquire if I had seen the modern French +pictures in a neighboring church. I had not, but felt little inclined to +leave my marble for all the canvas that ever suffered from French +brushes. My apathy was attacked with gradually increasing energy of +praise. Rubens never executed--Titian never colored anything like them. +I thought this highly probable, and still sat quiet. The voice continued +at my ear. "Parbleu, Monsieur, Michel Ange n'a rien produit de plus +beau!" "De plus _beau_?" repeated I, wishing to know what particular +excellences of Michael Angelo were to be intimated by this expression. +"Monsieur, on ne pent plus--c'est un tableau admirable--inconcevable: +Monsieur," said the Frenchman, lifting up his hands to heaven, as he +concentrated in one conclusive and overwhelming proposition the qualities +which were to outshine Rubens and overpower Buonaroti--"Monsieur, IL +SORT!" + +This gentleman could only perceive two truths--flesh color and +projection. These constituted his notion of the perfection of painting; +because they unite all that is necessary for deception. He was not +therefore cognizant of many ideas of truth, though perfectly cognizant +of ideas of imitation. + + +Sec. 6. Ideas of truth are inconsistent with ideas of imitation. + +We shall see, in the course of our investigation of ideas of truth, that +ideas of imitation not only do not imply their presence, but even are +inconsistent with it; and that pictures which imitate so as to deceive, +are never true. But this is not the place for the proof of this; at +present we have only to insist on the last and greatest distinction +between ideas of truth and of imitation--that the mind, in receiving one +of the former, dwells upon its own conception of the fact, or form, or +feeling stated, and is occupied only with the qualities and character of +that fact or form, considering it as real and existing, being all the +while totally regardless of the signs or symbols by which the notion of +it has been conveyed. These signs have no pretence, nor hypocrisy, nor +legerdemain about them;--there is nothing to be found out, or sifted, or +surprised in them;--they bear their message simply and clearly, and it +is that message which the mind takes from them and dwells upon, +regardless of the language in which it is delivered. But the mind, in +receiving an idea of imitation, is wholly occupied in finding out that +what has been suggested to it is not what it appears to be: it does not +dwell on the suggestion, but on the perception that it is a false +suggestion: it derives its pleasure, not from the contemplation of a +truth, but from the discovery of a falsehood. So that the moment ideas +of truth are grouped together, so as to give rise to an idea of +imitation, they change their very nature--lose their essence as ideas of +truth--and are corrupted and degraded, so as to share in the treachery +of what they have produced. Hence, finally, ideas of truth are the +foundation, and ideas of imitation the destruction, of all art. We shall +be better able to appreciate their relative dignity after the +investigation which we propose of the functions of the former; but we +may as well now express the conclusion to which we shall then be +led--that no picture can be good which deceives by its imitation, for +the very reason that nothing can be beautiful which is not true. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + OF IDEAS OF BEAUTY. + + +Sec. 1. Definition of the term "beautiful." + +Any material object which can give us pleasure in the simple +contemplation of its outward qualities without any direct and definite +exertion of the intellect, I call in some way, or in some degree, +beautiful. Why we receive pleasure from some forms and colors, and not +from others, is no more to be asked or answered than why we like sugar +and dislike wormwood. The utmost subtilty of investigation will only +lead us to ultimate instincts and principles of human nature, for which +no farther reason can be given than the simple will of the Deity that we +should be so created. We may, indeed, perceive, as far as we are +acquainted with His nature, that we have been so constructed as, when in +a healthy and cultivated state of mind, to derive pleasure from whatever +things are illustrative of that nature; but we do not receive pleasure +from them _because_ they are illustrative of it, nor from any perception +that they are illustrative of it, but instinctively and necessarily, as +we derive sensual pleasure from the scent of a rose. On these primary +principles of our nature, education and accident operate to an unlimited +extent; they may be cultivated or checked, directed or diverted, gifted +by right guidance with the most acute and faultless sense, or subjected +by neglect to every phase of error and disease. He who has followed up +these natural laws of aversion and desire, rendering them more and more +authoritative by constant obedience, so as to derive pleasure always +from that which God originally intended should give him pleasure, and +who derives the greatest possible sum of pleasure from any given object, +is a man of taste. + + +Sec. 2. Definition of the term "taste." + +This, then, is the real meaning of this disputed word. Perfect taste is +the faculty of receiving the greatest possible pleasure from those +material sources which are attractive to our moral nature in its purity +and perfection. He who receives little pleasure from these sources, +wants taste; he who receives pleasure from any other sources, has false +or bad taste. + + +Sec. 3. Distinction between taste and judgment. + +And it is thus that the term "taste" is to be distinguished from that of +"judgment," with which it is constantly confounded. Judgment is a +general term, expressing definite action of the intellect, and +applicable to every kind of subject which can be submitted to it. There +may be judgment of congruity, judgment of truth, judgment of justice, +and judgment of difficulty and excellence. But all these exertions of +the intellect are totally distinct from taste, properly so called, which +is the instinctive and instant preferring of one material object to +another without any obvious reason, except that it is proper to human +nature in its perfection so to do. + + +Sec. 4. How far beauty may become intellectual. + +Observe, however, I do not mean by excluding direct exertion of the +intellect from ideas of beauty, to assert that beauty has no effect upon +nor connection with the intellect. All our moral feelings are so +in-woven with our intellectual powers, that we cannot affect the one +without in some degree addressing the other; and in all high ideas of +beauty, it is more than probable that much of the pleasure depends on +delicate and untraceable perceptions of fitness, propriety, and +relation, which are purely intellectual, and through which we arrive at +our noblest ideas of what is commonly and rightly called "intellectual +beauty." But there is yet no immediate _exertion_ of the intellect; that +is to say, if a person receiving even the noblest ideas of simple beauty +be asked _why_ he likes the object exciting them, he will not be able to +give any distinct reason, nor to trace in his mind any formed thought, +to which he can appeal as a source of pleasure. He will say that the +thing gratifies, fills, hallows, exalts his mind, but he will not be +able to say why, or how. If he can, and if he can show that he perceives +in the object any expression of distinct thought, he has received more +than an idea of beauty--it is an idea of relation. + + +Sec. 5. The high rank and function of ideas of beauty. + +Ideas of beauty are among the noblest which can be presented to the +human mind, invariably exalting and purifying it according to their +degree; and it would appear that we are intended by the Deity to be +constantly under their influence, because there is not one single object +in nature which is not capable of conveying them, and which, to the +rightly perceiving mind, does not present an incalculably greater number +of beautiful than of deformed parts; there being in fact scarcely +anything, in pure, undiseased nature, like positive deformity, but only +degrees of beauty, or such slight and rare points of permitted contrast +as may render all around them more valuable by their opposition, spots +of blackness in creation, to make its colors felt. + + +Sec. 6. Meaning of the term "ideal beauty." + +But although everything in nature is more or less beautiful, every +species of object has its own kind and degree of beauty; some being in +their own nature more beautiful than others, and few, if any, +individuals possessing the utmost degree of beauty of which the species +is capable. This utmost degree of specific beauty, necessarily +coexistent with the utmost perfection of the object in other respects, +is the ideal of the object. + +Ideas of beauty, then, be it remembered, are the subjects of moral, but +not of intellectual perception. By the investigation of them we shall be +led to the knowledge of the ideal subjects of art. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + OF IDEAS OF RELATION. + + +Sec. 1. General meaning of the term. + +I use this term rather as one of convenience than as adequately +expressive of the vast class of ideas which I wish to be comprehended +under it, namely, all those conveyable by art, which are the subjects of +distinct intellectual perception and action, and which are therefore +worthy of the name of thoughts. But as every thought, or definite +exertion of intellect, implies two subjects, and some connection or +relation inferred between them, the term "ideas of relation" is not +incorrect, though it is inexpressive. + + +Sec. 2. What ideas are to be comprehended under it. + +Under this head must be arranged everything productive of expression, +sentiment, and character, whether in figures or landscapes, (for there +may be as much definite expression and marked carrying out of particular +thoughts in the treatment of inanimate as of animate nature,) everything +relating to the conception of the subject and to the congruity and +relation of its parts; not as they enhance each other's beauty by known +and constant laws of composition, but as they give each other expression +and meaning, by particular application, requiring distinct thought to +discover or to enjoy: the choice, for instance, of a particular lurid or +appalling light, to illustrate an incident in itself terrible, or of a +particular tone of pure color to prepare the mind for the expression of +refined and delicate feeling; and, in a still higher sense, the +invention of such incidents and thoughts as can be expressed in words as +well as on canvas, and are totally independent of any means of art but +such as may serve for the bare suggestion of them. The principal object +in the foreground of Turner's "Building of Carthage" is a group of +children sailing toy boats. The exquisite choice of this incident, as +expressive of the ruling passion, which was to be the source of future +greatness, in preference to the tumult of busy stone-masons or arming +soldiers, is quite as appreciable when it is told as when it is +seen,--it has nothing to do with the technicalities of painting; a +scratch of the pen would have conveyed the idea and spoken to the +intellect as much as the elaborate realizations of color. Such a thought +as this is something far above all art; it is epic poetry of the highest +order. Claude, in subjects of the same kind, commonly introduces people +carrying red trunks with iron locks about, and dwells, with infantine +delight, on the lustre of the leather and the ornaments of the iron. The +intellect can have no occupation here; we must look to the imitation or +to nothing. Consequently, Turner rises above Claude in the very first +instant of the conception of his picture, and acquires an intellectual +superiority which no powers of the draughtsman or the artist (supposing +that such existed in his antagonist) could ever wrest from him. + + +Sec. 3. The exceeding nobility of these ideas. + +Such are the function and force of ideas of relation. They are what I +have asserted in the second chapter of this section to be the noblest +subjects of art. Dependent upon it only for expression, they cause all +the rest of its complicated sources of pleasure to take, in comparison +with them, the place of mere language or decoration; nay, even the +noblest ideas of beauty sink at once beside these into subordination and +subjection. It would add little to the influence of Landseer's picture +above instanced, Chap. II., Sec. 4, that the form of the dog should be +conceived with every perfection of curve and color which its nature was +capable of, and that the ideal lines should be carried out with the +science of a Praxiteles; nay, the instant that the beauty so obtained +interfered with the impression of agony and desolation, and drew the +mind away from the feeling of the animal to its outward form, that +instant would the picture become monstrous and degraded. The utmost +glory of the human body is a mean subject of contemplation, compared to +the emotion, exertion and character of that which animates it; the +lustre of the limbs of the Aphrodite is faint beside that of the brow of +the Madonna; and the divine form of the Greek god, except as it is the +incarnation and expression of divine mind, is degraded beside the +passion and the prophecy of the vaults of the Sistine. + + +Sec. 4. Why no subdivision of so extensive a class is necessary. + +Ideas of relation are of course, with respect to art generally, the most +extensive as the most important source of pleasure; and if we proposed +entering upon the criticism of historical works, it would be absurd to +attempt to do so without further subdivision and arrangement. But the +old landscape painters got over so much canvas without either exercise +of, or appeal to, the intellect, that we shall be little troubled with +the subject as far as they are concerned; and whatever subdivision we +may adopt, as it will therefore have particular reference to the works +of modern artists, will be better understood when we have obtained some +knowledge of them in less important points. + +By the term "ideas of relation," then, I mean in future to express all +those sources of pleasure, which involve and require, at the instant of +their perception, active exertion of the intellectual powers. + + + + + SECTION II. + + OF POWER. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + GENERAL PRINCIPLES RESPECTING IDEAS OF POWER. + + +Sec. 1. No necessity for detailed study of ideas of imitation. + +We have seen in the last section, what classes of ideas may be conveyed +by art, and we have been able so far to appreciate their relative worth +as to see, that from the list, as it is to be applied to the purposes of +legitimate criticism, we may at once throw out the ideas of imitation; +first, because, as we have shown, they are unworthy the pursuit of the +artist; and secondly, because they are nothing more than the result of a +particular association of ideas of truth. In examining the truth of art, +therefore, we shall be compelled to take notice of those particular +truths, whose association gives rise to the ideas of imitation. We shall +then see more clearly the meanness of those truths, and we shall find +ourselves able to use them as tests of vice in art, saying of a +picture,--"It deceives, therefore it must be bad." + + +Sec. 2. Nor for separate study of ideas of power. + +Ideas of power, in the same way, cannot be completely viewed as a +separate class; not because they are mean or unimportant, but because +they are almost always associated with, or dependent upon, some of the +higher ideas of truth, beauty, or relation, rendered with decision or +velocity. That power which delights us in the chalk sketch of a great +painter is not one of the fingers, not like that of the writing-master, +mere dexterity of hand. It is the accuracy and certainty of the +knowledge, rendered evident by its rapid and fearless expression, which +is the real source of pleasure; and so upon each difficulty of art, +whether it be to know, or to relate, or to invent, the sensation of +power is attendant, when we see that difficulty totally and swiftly +vanquished. Hence, as we determine what is otherwise desirable in art, +we shall gradually develop the sources of the ideas of power; and if +there be anything difficult which is not otherwise desirable, it must be +afterwards considered separately. + + +Sec. 3. Except under one particular form. + +But it will be necessary at present to notice a particular form of the +ideas of power, which is partially independent of knowledge of truth, or +difficulty, and which is apt to corrupt the judgment of the critic, and +debase the work of the artist. It is evident that the conception of +power which we receive from a calculation of unseen difficulty, and an +estimate of unseen strength, can never be so impressive as that which we +receive from the present sensation or sight of the one resisting, and +the other overwhelming. In the one case the power is imagined, and in +the other felt. + + +Sec. 4. There are two modes of receiving ideas of power, commonly + inconsistent. + +There are thus two modes in which we receive the conception of power; +one, the most just, when by a perfect knowledge of the difficulty to be +overcome, and the means employed, we form a right estimate of the +faculties exerted; the other, when without possessing such intimate and +accurate knowledge, we are impressed by a sensation of power in visible +action. If these two modes of receiving the impression agree in the +result, and if the sensation be equal to the estimate, we receive the +utmost possible idea of power. But this is the case perhaps with the +works of only one man out of the whole circle of the fathers of art, of +him to whom we have just referred, Michael Angelo. In others, the +estimate and the sensation are constantly unequal, and often +contradictory. + + +Sec. 5. First reason of the inconsistency. + +The first reason of this inconsistency is, that in order to receive a +_sensation_ of power, we must see it in operation. Its victory, +therefore, must not be achieved, but achieving, and therefore imperfect. +Thus we receive a greater sensation of power from the half-hewn limbs of +the Twilight to the Day of the Cappella de' Medici, than even from the +divine inebriety of the Bacchus in the gallery--greater from the life +dashed out along the Friezes of the Parthenon, than from the polished +limbs of the Apollo,--greater from the ink sketch of the head of +Raffaelle's St. Catherine, than from the perfection of its realization. + + +Sec. 6. Second reason for the inconsistency. + +Another reason of the inconsistency is, that the sensation of power is +in proportion to the apparent inadequacy of the means to the end; so +that the impression is much greater from a partial success attained with +slight effort, than from perfect success attained with greater +proportional effort. Now, in all art, every touch or effort does +individually less in proportion as the work approaches perfection. The +first five chalk touches bring a head into existence out of nothing. No +five touches in the whole course of the work will ever do so much as +these, and the difference made by each touch is more and more +imperceptible as the work approaches completion. Consequently, the ratio +between the means employed and the effect produced is constantly +decreasing, and therefore the least sensation of power is received from +the most perfect work. + + +Sec. 7. The sensation of power ought not to be sought in imperfect art. + +It is thus evident that there are sensations of power about imperfect +art, so that it be right art as far as it goes, which must always be +wanting in its perfection; and that there are sources of pleasure in the +hasty sketch and rough hewn block, which are partially wanting in the +tinted canvas and the polished marble. But it is nevertheless wrong to +prefer the sensation of power to the intellectual perception of it. +There is in reality greater power in the completion than in the +commencement; and though it be not so manifest to the senses, it ought +to have higher influence on the mind; and therefore in praising pictures +for the ideas of power they convey, we must not look to the keenest +sensation, but to the highest estimate, accompanied with as much of the +sensation as is compatible with it; and thus we shall consider those +pictures as conveying the highest ideas of power which attain the most +_perfect_ end with the slightest possible means; not, observe, those in +which, though much has been done with little, all has not been done, but +from the picture, in which _all_ has been done, and yet not a touch +thrown away. The quantity of work in the sketch is necessarily less in +proportion to the effect obtained than in the picture; but yet the +picture involves the greater power, if out of all the additional labor +bestowed on it, not a touch has been lost. + + +Sec. 8. Instances in pictures of modern artists. + +For instance, there are few drawings of the present day that involve +greater sensations of power than those of Frederick Tayler. Every dash +tells, and the quantity of effect obtained is enormous, in proportion to +the apparent means. But the effect obtained is not complete. Brilliant, +beautiful, and right, as a sketch, the work is still far from +perfection, as a drawing. On the contrary, there are few drawings of the +present day that bear evidence of more labor bestowed, or more +complicated means employed, than those of John Lewis. The result does +not, at first, so much convey an impression of inherent power as of +prolonged exertion; but the result is complete. Water-color drawing can +be carried no farther; nothing has been left unfinished or untold. And +on examination of the means employed, it is found and felt that not one +touch out of the thousands employed has been thrown away;--that not one +dot nor dash could be spared without loss of effect;--and that the +exertion has been as swift as it has been prolonged--as bold as it has +been persevering. The power involved in such a picture is of the highest +order, and the enduring pleasure following on the estimate of it pure. + + +Sec. 9. Connection between ideas of power and modes of execution. + +But there is still farther ground for caution in pursuing the sensation +of power, connected with the particular characters and modes of +execution. This we shall be better able to understand by briefly +reviewing the various excellences which may belong to execution, and +give pleasure in it; though the full determination of what is desirable +in it, and the critical examination of the execution of different +artists, must be deferred, as will be immediately seen, until we are +more fully acquainted with the principles of truth. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + OF IDEAS OF POWER, AS THEY ARE DEPENDENT UPON EXECUTION. + + +Sec. 1. Meaning of the term "execution." + +By the term "execution," I understand the right mechanical use of the +means of art to produce a given end. + + +Sec. 2. The first quality of execution is truth. + +All qualities of execution, properly so called, are influenced by, and +in a great degree dependent on, a far higher power than that of mere +execution,--knowledge of truth. For exactly in proportion as an artist +is certain of his end, will he be swift and simple in his means; and, as +he is accurate and deep in his knowledge, will he be refined and precise +in his touch. The first merit of manipulation, then, is that delicate +and ceaseless expression of refined truth which is carried out to the +last touch, and shadow of a touch, and which makes every hairsbreadth of +importance, and every gradation full of meaning. It is not, properly +speaking, execution; but it is the only source of difference between the +execution of a commonplace and of a perfect artist. The lowest +draughtsman, if he have spent the same time in handling the brush, may +be equal to the highest in the other qualities of execution (in +swiftness, simplicity, and decision;) but not in truth. It is in the +perfection and precision of the instantaneous line that the claim to +immortality is laid. And if this truth of truths be present, all the +other qualities of execution may well be spared; and to those artists +who wish to excuse their ignorance and inaccuracy by a species of +execution which is a perpetual proclamation, "qu'ils n'ont demeure qu'un +quart d'heure a le faire," we may reply with the truthful Alceste, +"Monsieur, le temps ne fait rien a l'affaire." + + +Sec. 3. The second, simplicity. + +The second quality of execution is simplicity. The more unpretending, +quiet, and retiring the means, the more impressive their effect. Any +ostentation, brilliancy, or pretension of touch,--any exhibition of +power or quickness, merely as such, above all, any attempt to render +lines attractive at the expense of their meaning, is vice. + + +Sec. 4. The third mystery. + +The third is mystery. Nature is always mysterious and secret in the use +of her means; and art is always likest her when it is most inexplicable. +That execution which is the most incomprehensible, and which therefore +defies imitation, (other qualities being supposed alike,) is the best. + + +Sec. 5. The fourth, inadequacy; and the fifth, decision. + +The fourth is inadequacy. The less sufficient the means appear to the +end, the greater (as has been already noticed) will be the sensation of +power. + +The fifth is decision: the appearance, that is, that whatever is done, +has been done fearlessly and at once; because this gives us the +impression that both the fact to be represented, and the means necessary +to its representation, were perfectly known. + + +Sec. 6. The sixth, velocity. + +The sixth is velocity. Not only is velocity, or the appearance of it, +agreeable as decision is, because it gives ideas of power and knowledge; +but of two touches, as nearly as possible the same in other respects, +the quickest will invariably be the best. Truth being supposed equally +present in the shape and direction of both, there will be more evenness, +grace and variety, in the quick one than in the slow one. It will be +more agreeable to the eye as a touch or line, and will possess more of +the qualities of the lines of nature--gradation, uncertainty, and unity. + + +Sec. 7. Strangeness an illegitimate source of pleasure in execution. + +These six qualities are the only perfectly legitimate sources of +pleasure in execution; but I might have added a seventh--strangeness, +which in many cases is productive of a pleasure not altogether mean or +degrading, though scarcely right. Supposing the other higher qualities +first secured, it adds in no small degree to our impression of the +artist's knowledge, if the means used be such as we should never have +thought of, or should have thought adapted to a contrary effect. Let us, +for instance, compare the execution of the bull's head in the left hand +lowest corner of the Adoration of the Magi, in the Museum at Antwerp, +with that in Berghem's landscape, No. 132 in the Dulwich Gallery. Rubens +first scratches horizontally over his canvas a thin grayish brown, +transparent and even, very much the color of light wainscot; the +horizontal strokes of the bristles being left so evident, that the whole +might be taken for an imitation of wood, were it not for its +transparency. On this ground the eye, nostril, and outline of the cheek +are given with two or three rude, brown touches, (about three or four +minutes' work in all,) though the head is colossal. The background is +then laid in with thick, solid, warm white, actually projecting all +round the head, leaving it in dark intaglio. Finally, five thin and +scratchy strokes of very cold bluish white are struck for the high light +on the forehead and nose, and the head is complete. Seen within a yard +of the canvas, it looks actually transparent--a flimsy, meaningless, +distant shadow; while the background looks solid, projecting and near. +From the right distance, (ten or twelve yards off, whence alone the +whole of the picture can be seen,) it is a complete, rich, substantial, +and living realization of the projecting head of the animal; while the +background falls far behind. Now there is no slight nor mean pleasure in +perceiving such a result attained by means so strange. By Berghem, on +the other hand, a dark background is first laid in with exquisite +delicacy and transparency, and on this the cow's head is actually +modelled in luminous white, the separate locks of hair projecting from +the canvas. No surprise, nor much pleasure of any kind, would be +attendant on this execution, even were the result equally successful; +and what little pleasure we had in it, vanishes, when on retiring from +the picture, we find the head shining like a distant lantern, instead of +substantial or near. Yet strangeness is not to be considered as a +legitimate source of pleasure. That means which is most conducive to the +end, should always be the most pleasurable; and that which is most +conducive to the end, can be strange only to the ignorance of the +spectator. This kind of pleasure is illegitimate, therefore, because it +implies and requires, in those who feel it, ignorance of art. + + +Sec. 8. Yet even the legitimate sources of pleasure in execution are + inconsistent with each other. + +Sec. 9. And fondness for ideas of power leads to the adoption of the + lowest. + +Sec. 10. Therefore perilous. + +The legitimate sources of pleasure in execution are therefore truth, +simplicity, mystery, inadequacy, decision, and velocity. But of these, +be it observed, some are so far inconsistent with others, that they +cannot be united in high degrees. Mystery with inadequacy, for +instance; since to see that the means are inadequate, we must see what +they are. Now the first three are the great qualities of execution, and +the last three are the attractive ones, because on them are chiefly +attendant the ideas of power. By the first three the attention is +withdrawn from the means and fixed on the result: by the last three, +withdrawn from the result and fixed on the means. To see that execution +is swift or that it is decided, we must look away from its creation to +observe it in the act of creating; we must think more of the pallet than +of the picture, but simplicity and mystery compel the mind to leave the +means and fix itself on the conception. Hence the danger of too great +fondness for those sensations of power which are associated with the +three last qualities of execution; for although it is most desirable +that these should be present as far as they are consistent with the +others, and though their visible absence is always painful and wrong, +yet the moment the higher qualities are sacrificed to them in the least +degree, we have a brilliant vice. Berghem and Salvator Rosa are good +instances of vicious execution dependent on too great fondness for +sensations of power, vicious because intrusive and attractive in itself, +instead of being subordinate to its results and forgotten in them. There +is perhaps no greater stumbling-block in the artist's way, than the +tendency to sacrifice truth and simplicity to decision and velocity,[5] +captivating qualities, easy of attainment, and sure to attract attention +and praise, while the delicate degree of truth which is at first +sacrificed to them is so totally unappreciable by the majority of +spectators, so difficult of attainment to the artist, that it is no +wonder that efforts so arduous and unrewarded should be abandoned. But +if the temptation be once yielded to, its consequences are fatal; there +is no pause in the fall. I could name a celebrated modern artist--once a +man of the highest power and promise, who is a glaring instance of the +peril of such a course. Misled by the undue popularity of his swift +execution, he has sacrificed to it, first precision, and then truth, and +her associate, beauty. What was first neglect of nature, has become +contradiction of her; what was once imperfection, is now falsehood; and +all that was meritorious in his manner, is becoming the worst, because +the most attractive of vices; decision without a foundation, and +swiftness without an end. + + +Sec. 11. Recapitulation. + +Such are the principal modes in which the ideas of power may become a +dangerous attraction to the artist--a false test to the critic. But in +all cases where they lead us astray it will be found that the error is +caused by our preferring victory over a small _apparent_ difficulty to +victory over a great, but concealed one; and so that we keep this +distinction constantly in view, (whether with reference to execution or +to any other quality of art,) between the sensation and the intellectual +estimate of power, we shall always find the ideas of power a just and +high source of pleasure in every kind and grade of art. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [5] I have here noticed only noble vices, the sacrifices of one + excellence to another legitimate but inferior one. There are, on the + other hand, qualities of execution which are often sought for and + praised, though scarcely by the class of persons for whom I am + writing, in which everything is sacrificed to illegitimate and + contemptible sources of pleasure, and these are vice throughout, and + have no redeeming quality nor excusing aim. Such is that which is + often thought so desirable in the Drawing-master, under the title of + boldness, meaning that no touch is ever to be made less than the + tenth of an inch broad; such, on the other hand, the softness and + smoothness which are the great attraction of Carlo Dolci, and such + the exhibition of particular powers and tricks of the hand and + fingers, in total forgetfulness of any end whatsoever to be attained + thereby, which is especially characteristic of modern engraving. + Compare Sect. II. Chap. II. Sec. 21. Note. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + OF THE SUBLIME. + +It may perhaps be wondered that in the division we have made of our +subject, we have taken no notice of the sublime in art, and that in our +explanation of that division we have not once used the word. + + +Sec. 1. Sublimity is the effect upon the mind of anything above it. + +The fact is, that sublimity is not a specific term,--not a term +descriptive of the effect of a particular class of ideas. Anything which +elevates the mind is sublime, and elevation of mind is produced by the +contemplation of greatness of any kind; but chiefly, of course, by the +greatness of the noblest things. Sublimity is, therefore, only another +word for the effect of greatness upon the feelings. Greatness of matter, +space, power, virtue, or beauty, are thus all sublime; and there is +perhaps no desirable quality of a work of art, which in its perfection +is not, in some way or degree, sublime. + + +Sec. 2. Burke's theory of the nature of the sublime incorrect, and why. + +Sec. 3. Danger is sublime, but not the fear of it. + +Sec. 4. The highest beauty is sublime. + +Sec. 5. And generally whatever elevates the mind. + +I am fully prepared to allow of much ingenuity in Burke's theory of the +sublime, as connected with self-preservation. There are few things so +great as death; and there is perhaps nothing which banishes all +littleness of thought and feeling in an equal degree with its +contemplation. Everything, therefore, which in any way points to it, +and, therefore, most dangers and powers over which we have little +control, are in some degree sublime. But it is not the fear, observe, +but the contemplation of death; not the instinctive shudder and struggle +of self-preservation, but the deliberate measurement of the doom, which +are really great or sublime in feeling. It is not while we shrink, but +while we defy, that we receive or convey the highest conceptions of the +fate. There is no sublimity in the agony of terror. Whether do we trace +it most in the cry to the mountains, "fall on us," and to the hills, +"cover us," or in the calmness of the prophecy--"And though after my +skin worms destroy this body, yet in my flesh I shall see God?" A little +reflection will easily convince any one, that so far from the feelings +of self-preservation being necessary to the sublime, their greatest +action is totally destructive of it; and that there are few feelings +less capable of its perception than those of a coward. But the simple +conception or idea of greatness of suffering or extent of destruction is +sublime, whether there be any connection of that idea with ourselves or +not. If we were placed beyond the reach of all peril or pain, the +perception of these agencies in their influence on others would not be +less sublime, not because peril or pain are sublime in their own nature, +but because their contemplation, exciting compassion or fortitude, +elevates the mind, and renders meanness of thought impossible. Beauty is +not so often felt to be sublime; because, in many kinds of purely +material beauty there is some truth in Burke's assertion, that +"littleness" is one of its elements. But he who has not felt that there +may be beauty without littleness, and that such beauty is a source of +the sublime, is yet ignorant of the meaning of the ideal in art. I do +not mean, in tracing the source of the sublime to greatness, to hamper +myself with any fine-spun theory. I take the widest possible ground of +investigation, that sublimity is found wherever anything elevates the +mind; that is, wherever it contemplates anything above itself, and +perceives it to be so. This is the simple philological signification of +the word derived from _sublimis_; and will serve us much more easily, +and be a far clearer and more evident ground of argument, than any mere +metaphysical or more limited definition, while the proof of its justness +will be naturally developed by its application to the different branches +of art. + + +Sec. 6. The former division of the subject is therefore sufficient. + +As, therefore, the sublime is not distinct from what is beautiful, nor +from other sources of pleasure in art, but is only a particular mode and +manifestation of them, my subject will divide itself into the +investigation of ideas of truth, beauty, and relation; and to each of +these classes of ideas I destine a separate part of the work. The +investigation of ideas of truth will enable us to determine the +relative rank of artists as followers and historians of nature. + +That of ideas of beauty will lead us to compare them in their +attainment, first of what is agreeable in technical matters, then in +color and composition, finally and chiefly, in the purity of their +conceptions of the ideal. + +And that of ideas of relation will lead us to compare them as +originators of just thought. + + + + + PART II. + + OF TRUTH. + + SECTION I. + + GENERAL PRINCIPLES RESPECTING IDEAS OF TRUTH. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + OF IDEAS OF TRUTH IN THEIR CONNECTION WITH THOSE OF BEAUTY AND RELATION. + + +Sec. 1. The two great ends of landscape painting are the representation of + facts and thoughts. + +It cannot but be evident from the above division of the ideas conveyable +by art, that the landscape painter must always have two great and +distinct ends; the first, to induce in the spectator's mind the faithful +conception of any natural objects whatsoever; the second, to guide the +spectator's mind to those objects most worthy of its contemplation, and +to inform him of the thoughts and feelings with which these were +regarded by the artist himself. + +In attaining the first end, the painter only places the spectator where +he stands himself; he sets him before the landscape and leaves him. The +spectator is alone. He may follow out his own thoughts as he would in +the natural solitude, or he may remain untouched, unreflecting and +regardless, as his disposition may incline him. But he has nothing of +thought given to him, no new ideas, no unknown feelings, forced on his +attention or his heart. The artist is his conveyance, not his +companion,--his horse, not his friend. But in attaining the second end, +the artist not only _places_ the spectator, but _talks_ to him; makes +him a sharer in his own strong feelings and quick thoughts; hurries him +away in his own enthusiasm; guides him to all that is beautiful; +snatches him from all that is base, and leaves him more than +delighted,--ennobled and instructed, under the sense of having not only +beheld a new scene, but of having held communion with a new mind, and +having been endowed for a time with the keen perception and the +impetuous emotion of a nobler and more penetrating intelligence. + + +Sec. 2. They induce a different choice of material subjects. + +Each of these different aims of art will necessitate a different system +of choice of objects to be represented. The first does not indeed imply +choice at all, but it is usually united with the selection of such +objects as may be naturally and constantly pleasing to all men, at all +times; and this selection, when perfect and careful, leads to the +attainment of the pure ideal. But the artist aiming at the second end, +selects his objects for their meaning and character, rather than for +their beauty; and uses them rather to throw light upon the particular +thought he wishes to convey, than as in themselves objects of +unconnected admiration. + + +Sec. 3. The first mode of selection apt to produce sameness and repetition. + +Now, although the first mode of selection, when guided by deep +reflection, may rise to the production of works possessing a noble and +ceaseless influence on the human mind, it is likely to degenerate into, +or rather, in nine cases out of ten, it never goes beyond, a mere appeal +to such parts of our animal nature as are constant and common--shared by +all, and perpetual in all; such, for instance, as the pleasure of the +eye in the opposition of a cold and warm color, or of a massy form with +a delicate one. It also tends to induce constant repetition of the same +ideas, and reference to the same principles; it gives rise to those +_rules_ of art which properly excited Reynolds's indignation when +applied to its higher efforts; it is the source of, and the apology for, +that host of technicalities and absurdities which in all ages have been +the curse of art and the crown of the connoisseur. + + +Sec. 4. The second necessitating variety. + +But art, in its second and highest aim, is not an appeal to constant +animal feelings, but an expression and awakening of individual thought: +it is therefore as various and as extended in its efforts as the +compass and grasp of the directing mind; and we feel, in each of its +results, that we are looking, not at a specimen of a tradesman's wares, +of which he is ready to make us a dozen to match, but at one coruscation +of a perpetually active mind, like which there has not been, and will +not be another. + + +Sec. 5. Yet the first is delightful to all. + +Sec. 6. The second only to a few. + +Hence, although there can be no doubt which of these branches of art is +the highest, it is equally evident that the first will be the most +generally felt and appreciated. For the simple statement of the truths +of nature must in itself be pleasing to every order of mind; because +every truth of nature is more or less beautiful; and if there be just +and right selection of the more important of these truths--based, as +above explained, on feelings and desires common to all mankind--the +facts so selected must, in some degree, be delightful to all, and their +value appreciable by all: more or less, indeed, as their senses and +instinct have been rendered more or less acute and accurate by use and +study; but in some degree by all, and in the same way by all. But the +highest art, being based on sensations of peculiar minds, sensations +occurring to _them_ only at particular times, and to a plurality of +mankind perhaps never, and being expressive of thoughts which could only +rise out of a mass of the most extended knowledge, and of dispositions +modified in a thousand ways by peculiarity of intellect--can only be met +and understood by persons having some sort of sympathy with the high and +solitary minds which produced it--sympathy only to be felt by minds in +some degree high and solitary themselves. He alone can appreciate the +art, who could comprehend the conversation of the painter, and share in +his emotion, in moments of his most fiery passion and most original +thought. And whereas the true meaning and end of his art must thus be +sealed to thousands, or misunderstood by them; so also, as he is +sometimes obliged, in working out his own peculiar end, to set at +defiance those constant laws which have arisen out of our lower and +changeless desires, that whose purpose is unseen, is frequently in its +means and parts displeasing. + + +Sec. 7. The first necessary to the second. + +Sec. 8. The exceeding importance of truth. + +But this want of extended influence in high art, be it especially +observed, proceeds from no want of truth in the art itself, but from a +want of sympathy in the spectator with those feelings in the artist +which prompt him to the utterance of one truth rather than of another. +For (and this is what I wish at present especially to insist upon) +although it is possible to reach what I have stated to be the first end +of art, the representation of facts, without reaching the second, the +representation of thoughts, yet it is altogether impossible to reach the +second without having previously reached the first. I do not say that a +man cannot think, having false basis and material for thought; but that +a false thought is worse than the want of thought, and therefore is not +art. And this is the reason why, though I consider the second as the +real and only important end of all art, I call the representation of +facts the first end; because it is necessary to the other, and must be +attained before it. It is the foundation of all art; like real +foundations it may be little thought of when a brilliant fabric is +raised on it; but it must be there: and as few buildings are beautiful +unless every line and column of their mass have reference to their +foundation, and are suggestive of its existence and strength, so nothing +can be beautiful in art which does not in all its parts suggest and +guide to the foundation, even where no undecorated portion of it is +visible; while the noblest edifices of art are built of such pure and +fine crystal that the foundation may all be seen through them; and then +many, while they do not see what is built upon that first story, yet +much admire the solidity of its brickwork; thinking they understand all +that is to be understood of the matter; while others stand beside them, +looking not at the low story, but up into the heaven at that building of +crystal in which the builder's spirit is dwelling. And thus, though we +want the thoughts and feelings of the artist as well as the truth, yet +they must be thoughts arising out of the knowledge of truth, and +feelings raising out of the contemplation of truth. We do not want his +mind to be as badly blown glass, that distorts what we see through it; +but like a glass of sweet and strange color, that gives new tones to +what we see through it; and a glass of rare strength and clearness too, +to let us see more than we could ourselves, and bring nature up to us +and near to us. Nothing can atone for the want of truth, not the most +brilliant imagination, the most playful fancy, the most pure feeling, +(supposing that feeling _could_ be pure and false at the same time;) not +the most exalted conception, nor the most comprehensive grasp of +intellect, can make amends for the want of truth, and that for two +reasons; first, because falsehood is in itself revolting and degrading; +and secondly, because nature is so immeasurably superior to all that the +human mind can conceive, that every departure from her is a fall beneath +her, so that there can be no such thing as an ornamental falsehood. All +falsehood must be a blot as well as a sin, an injury as well as a +deception. + + +Sec. 9. Coldness or want of beauty no sign of truth. + +We shall, in consequence, find that no artist can be graceful, +imaginative, or original, unless he be truthful; and that the pursuit of +beauty, instead of leading us away from truth, increases the desire for +it and the necessity of it tenfold; so that those artists who are really +great in imaginative power, will be found to have based their boldness +of conception on a mass of knowledge far exceeding that possessed by +those who pride themselves on its accumulation without regarding its +use. Coldness and want of passion in a picture, are not signs of the +accuracy, but of the paucity of its statements; true vigor and +brilliancy are not signs of audacity, but of knowledge. + + +Sec. 10. How truth may be considered a just criterion of all art. + +Hence it follows that it is in the power of all, with care and time, to +form something like a just judgment of the relative merits of artists; +for although with respect to the feeling and passion of pictures, it is +often as impossible to criticise as to appreciate, except to such as are +in some degree equal in powers of mind, and in some respects the same in +modes of mind, with those whose works they judge; yet, with respect to +the representation of facts, it is possible for all, by attention, to +form a right judgment of the respective powers and attainments of every +artist. Truth is a bar of comparison at which they may all be examined, +and according to the rank they take in this examination, will almost +invariably be that which, if capable of appreciating them in every +respect, we should be just in assigning them; so strict is the +connection, so constant the relation between the sum of knowledge and +the extent of thought, between accuracy of perception and vividness of +idea. + +I shall endeavor, therefore, in the present portion of the work, to +enter with care and impartiality into the investigation of the claims of +the schools of ancient and modern landscape to faithfulness in +representing nature. I shall pay no regard whatsoever to what may be +thought beautiful, or sublime, or imaginative. I shall look only for +truth; bare, clear, downright statement of facts; showing in each +particular, as far as I am able, what the truth of nature is, and then +seeking for the plain expression of it, and for that alone. And I shall +thus endeavor, totally regardless of fervor of imagination or brilliancy +of effect, or any other of their more captivating qualities, to examine +and to judge the works of the great living painter, who is, I believe, +imagined by the majority of the public to paint more falsehood and less +fact than any other known master. We shall see with what reason. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + THAT THE TRUTH OF NATURE IS NOT TO BE DISCERNED BY THE UNEDUCATED + SENSES. + + +Sec. 1. The common self-deception of men with respect to their power of + discerning truth. + +It may be here inquired by the reader, with much appearance of reason, +why I think it necessary to devote a separate portion of the work to the +showing of what is truthful in art. "Cannot we," say the public, "see +what nature is with our own eyes, and find out for ourselves what is +like her?" It will be as well to determine this question before we go +farther, because if this were possible, there would be little need of +criticism or teaching with respect to art. + +Now I have just said that it is possible for all men, by care and +attention, to form a just judgment of the fidelity of artists to nature. +To do this, no peculiar powers of mind are required, no sympathy with +particular feelings, nothing which every man of ordinary intellect does +not in some degree possess,--powers, namely, of observation and +intelligence, which by cultivation may be brought to a high degree of +perfection and acuteness. But until this cultivation has been bestowed, +and until the instrument thereby perfected has been employed in a +consistent series of careful observation, it is as absurd as it is +audacious to pretend to form any judgment whatsoever respecting the +truth of art: and my first business, before going a step farther, must +be to combat the nearly universal error of belief among the thoughtless +and unreflecting, that they know either what nature is, or what is like +her, that they can discover truth by instinct, and that their minds are +such pure Venice glass as to be shocked by all treachery. I have to +prove to them that there are more things in heaven and earth than are +dreamed of in their philosophy, and that the truth of nature is a part +of the truth of God; to him who does not search it out, darkness, as it +is to him who does, infinity. + + +Sec. 2. Men usually see little of what is before their eyes. + +The first great mistake that people make in the matter, is the +supposition that they must _see_ a thing if it be before their eyes. +They forget the great truth told them by Locke, Book ii. chap. 9, Sec. +3:--"This is certain, that whatever alterations are made in the body, if +they reach not the mind, whatever impressions are made on the outward +parts, if they are not taken notice of within, there is no perception. +Fire may burn our bodies, with no other effect than it does a billet, +unless the motion be continued to the brain, and there the sense of heat +or idea of pain be produced in the mind, wherein consists actual +perception. How often may a man observe in himself, that while his mind +is intently employed in the contemplation of some subjects and curiously +surveying some ideas that are there, it takes no notice of impressions +of sounding bodies, made upon the organ of hearing, with the same +attention that uses to be for the producing the ideas of sound! A +sufficient impulse there may be on the organ, but it not reaching the +observation of the mind, there follows no perception, and though the +motion that uses to produce the idea of sound be made in the ear, yet no +sound is heard." And what is here said, which all must feel by their own +experience to be true, is more remarkably and necessarily the case with +sight than with any other of the senses, for this reason, that the ear +is not accustomed to exercise constantly its functions of hearing; it is +accustomed to stillness, and the occurrence of a sound of any kind +whatsoever is apt to awake attention, and be followed with perception, +in proportion to the degree of sound; but the eye, during our waking +hours, exercises constantly its function of seeing; it is its constant +habit; we always, as far as the _bodily_ organ is concerned, see +something, and we always see in the same degree, so that the occurrence +of sight, as such, to the eye, is only the continuance of its necessary +state of action, and awakes no attention whatsoever, except by the +particular nature and quality of the sight. And thus, unless the minds +of men are particularly directed to the impressions of sight, objects +pass perpetually before the eyes without conveying any impression to the +brain at all; and so pass actually unseen, not merely unnoticed, but in +the full, clear sense of the word, unseen. And numbers of men being +pre-occupied with business or care of some description, totally +unconnected with the impressions of sight, such is actually the case +with them, they receiving from nature only the inevitable sensations of +blueness, redness, darkness, light, etc., and except at particular and +rare moments, no more whatsoever. + + +Sec. 3. But more or less in proportion to their natural sensibility to what + is beautiful. + +Sec. 4. Connected with a perfect state of moral feeling. + +The degree of ignorance of external nature in which men may thus remain, +depends, therefore, partly on the number and character of the subjects +with which their minds may be otherwise occupied, and partly on a +natural want of sensibility to the power of beauty of form, and the +other attributes of external objects. I do not think that there is ever +such absolute incapacity in the eye for distinguishing and receiving +pleasure from certain forms and colors, as there is in persons who are +technically said to have no ear, for distinguishing notes, but there is +naturally every degree of bluntness and acuteness, both for perceiving +the truth of form, and for receiving pleasure from it when perceived. +And although I believe even the lowest degree of these faculties can be +expanded almost unlimitedly by cultivation, the pleasure received +rewards not the labor necessary, and the pursuit is abandoned. So that +while in those whose sensations are naturally acute and vivid, the call +of external nature is so strong that it must be obeyed, and is ever +heard louder as the approach to her is nearer,--in those whose +sensations are naturally blunt, the call is overpowered at once by other +thoughts, and their faculties of perception, weak originally, die of +disuse. With this kind of bodily sensibility to color and form is +intimately connected that higher sensibility which we revere as one of +the chief attributes of all noble minds, and as the chief spring of real +poetry. I believe this kind of sensibility may be entirely resolved into +the acuteness of bodily sense of which I have been speaking, associated +with love, love I mean in its infinite and holy functions, as it +embraces divine and human and brutal intelligences, and hallows the +physical perception of external objects by association, gratitude, +veneration, and other pure feelings of our moral nature. And although +the discovery of truth is in itself altogether intellectual, and +dependent merely on our powers of physical perception and abstract +intellect, wholly independent of our moral nature, yet these +instruments (perception and judgment) are so sharpened and brightened, +and so far more swiftly and effectively used, when they have the energy +and passion of our moral nature to bring them into action--perception is +so quickened by love, and judgment so tempered by veneration, that, +practically, a man of deadened moral sensation is always dull in his +perception of truth, and thousands of the highest and most divine truths +of nature are wholly concealed from him, however constant and +indefatigable may be his intellectual search. Thus, then, the farther we +look, the more we are limited in the number of those to whom we should +choose to appeal as judges of truth, and the more we perceive how great +a number of mankind may be partially incapacitated from either +discovering or feeling it. + + +Sec. 5. And of the intellectual powers. + +Sec. 6. How sight depends upon previous knowledge. + +Next to sensibility, which is necessary for the perception of facts, +come reflection and memory, which are necessary for the retention of +them, and recognition of their resemblances. For a man may receive +impression after impression, and that vividly and with delight, and yet, +if he take no care to reason upon those impressions and trace them to +their sources, he may remain totally ignorant of the facts that produced +them; nay, may attribute them to facts with which they have no +connection, or may coin causes for them that have no existence at all. +And the more sensibility and imagination a man possesses, the more +likely will he be to fall into error; for then he will see whatever he +expects, and admire and judge with his heart, and not with his eyes. How +many people are misled, by what has been said and sung of the serenity +of Italian skies, to suppose they must be more _blue_ than the skies of +the north, and think that they see them so; whereas, the sky of Italy is +far more dull and gray in color than the skies of the north, and is +distinguished only by its intense repose of light. And this is confirmed +by Benvenuto Cellini, who, I remember, on his first entering France, is +especially struck with the clearness of the sky, as contrasted with the +_mist_ of Italy. And what is more strange still, when people see in a +painting what they suppose to have been the source of their impressions, +they will affirm it to be truthful, though they feel no such impression +resulting from it. Thus, though day after day they may have been +impressed by the tone and warmth of an Italian sky, yet not having +traced the feeling to its source, and supposing themselves impressed by +its _blueness_, they will affirm a blue sky in a painting to be +truthful, and reject the most faithful rendering of all the real +attributes of Italy as cold or dull. And this influence of the +imagination over the senses, is peculiarly observable in the perpetual +disposition of mankind to suppose that they _see_ what they _know_, and +_vice versa_ in their not seeing what they do not know. Thus, if a child +be asked to draw the corner of a house, he will lay down something in +the form of the letter T. He has no conception that the two lines of the +roof, which he knows to be level, produce on his eye the impression of a +slope. It requires repeated and close attention before he detects this +fact, or can be made to feel that the lines on his paper are false. And +the Chinese, children in all things, suppose a good perspective drawing +to be as false as we feel their plate patterns to be, or wonder at the +strange buildings which come to a point at the end. And all the early +works, whether of nations or of men, show, by their want of _shade_, how +little the eye, without knowledge, is to be depended upon to discover +truth. The eye of a Red Indian, keen enough to find the trace of his +enemy or his prey, even in the unnatural turn of a trodden leaf, is yet +so blunt to the impressions of shade, that Mr. Catlin mentions his once +having been in great danger from having painted a portrait with the face +in half-light, which the untutored observers imagined and affirmed to be +the painting of half a face. Barry, in his sixth lecture, takes notice +of the same want of actual _sight_ in the early painters of Italy. "The +imitations," he says, "of early art are like those of children--nothing +is seen in the spectacle before us, unless it be previously known and +sought for; and numberless observable differences between the age of +ignorance and that of knowledge, show how much the contraction or +extension of our sphere of vision depends upon other considerations than +the mere returns of our natural optics." And the deception which takes +place so broadly in cases like these, has infinitely greater influence +over our judgment of the more intricate and less tangible truths of +nature. We are constantly supposing that we see what experience only +has shown us, or can show us, to have existence, constantly missing the +sight of what we do not know beforehand to be visible: and painters, to +the last hour of their lives, are apt to fall in some degree into the +error of painting what exists, rather than what they can see. I shall +prove the extent of this error more completely hereafter. + + +Sec. 7. The difficulty increased by the variety of truths in nature. + +Be it also observed, that all these difficulties would lie in the way, +even if the truths of nature were always the same, constantly repeated +and brought before us. But the truths of nature are one eternal +change--one infinite variety. There is no bush on the face of the globe +exactly like another bush;--there are no two trees in the forest whose +boughs bend into the same network, nor two leaves on the same tree which +could not be told one from the other, nor two waves in the sea exactly +alike. And out of this mass of various, yet agreeing beauty, it is by +long attention only that the conception of the constant character--the +ideal form--hinted at by all, yet assumed by none, is fixed upon the +imagination for its standard of truth. + +It is not singular, therefore, nor in any way disgraceful, that the +majority of spectators are totally incapable of appreciating the truth +of nature, when fully set before them; but it is both singular and +disgraceful that it is so difficult to convince them of their own +incapability. Ask the connoisseur, who has scampered over all Europe, +the shape of the leaf of an elm, and the chances are ninety to one that +he cannot tell you; and yet he will be voluble of criticism on every +painted landscape from Dresden to Madrid, and pretend to tell you +whether they are like nature or not. Ask an enthusiastic chatterer in +the Sistine Chapel how many ribs he has, and you get no answer; but it +is odds that you do not get out of the door without his informing you +that he considers such and such a figure badly drawn! + + +Sec. 8. We recognize objects by their least important attributes. Compare + Part I., Sect. I., Chap. 4. + +A few such interrogations as these might indeed convict, if not convince +the mass of spectators of incapability, were it not for the universal +reply, that they can recognize what they cannot describe, and feel what +is truthful, though they do not know what is truth. And this is, to a +certain degree, true: a man may recognize the portrait of his friend, +though he cannot, if you ask him apart, tell you the shape of his nose +or the height of his forehead; and every one could tell nature herself +from an imitation; why not then, it will be asked, what is like her from +what is not? For this simple reason, that we constantly recognize things +by their least important attributes, and by help of very few of those, +and if these attributes exist not in the imitation, though there may be +thousands of others far higher and more valuable, yet if those be +wanting, or imperfectly rendered, by which we are accustomed to +recognize the object, we deny the likeness; while if these be given, +though all the great and valuable and important attributes may be +wanting, we affirm the likeness. Recognition is no proof of real and +intrinsic resemblance. We recognize our books by their bindings, though +the true and essential characteristics lie inside. A man is known to his +dog by the smell--to his tailor by the coat--to his friend by the smile: +each of these know him, but how little, or how much, depends on the +dignity of the intelligence. That which is truly and indeed +characteristic of the man, is known only to God. One portrait of a man +may possess exact accuracy of feature, and no atom of expression; it may +be, to use the ordinary terms of admiration bestowed on such portraits +by those whom they please, "as like as it can stare." Everybody, down to +his cat, would know this. Another portrait may have neglected or +misrepresented the features, but may have given the flash of the eye, +and the peculiar radiance of the lip, seen on him only in his hours of +highest mental excitement. None but his friends would know this. Another +may have given none of his ordinary expressions, but one which he wore +in the most excited instant of his life, when all his secret passions +and all his highest powers were brought into play at once. None but +those who had then seen him might recognize _this_ as like. But which +would be the most truthful portrait of the _man_? The first gives the +accidents of body--the sport of climate, and food, and time--which +corruption inhabits, and the worm waits for. The second gives the stamp +of the soul upon the flesh; but it is the soul seen in the emotions +which it shares with many--which may not be characteristic of its +essence--the results of habit, and education, and accident--a gloze, +whether purposely worn or unconsciously assumed, perhaps totally +contrary to all that is rooted and real in the mind that it conceals. +The third has caught the trace of all that was most hidden and most +mighty, when all hypocrisy, and all habit, and all petty and passing +emotion--the ice, and the bank, and the foam of the immortal river--were +shivered, and broken, and swallowed up in the awakening of its inward +strength; when the call and claim of some divine motive had brought into +visible being those latent forces and feelings which the spirit's own +volition could not summon, nor its consciousness comprehend; which God +only knew, and God only could awaken, the depth and the mystery of its +peculiar and separating attributes. And so it is with external Nature: +she has a body and a soul like man; but her soul is the Deity. It is +possible to represent the body without the spirit; and this shall be +like to those whose senses are only cognizant of body. It is possible to +represent the spirit in its ordinary and inferior manifestations; and +this shall be like to those who have not watched for its moments of +power. It is possible to represent the spirit in its secret and high +operations; and this shall be like only to those to whose watching they +have been revealed. All these are truth; but according to the dignity of +the truths he can represent or feel, is the power of the painter,--the +justice of the judge. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + OF THE RELATIVE IMPORTANCE OF TRUTHS:--FIRST, THAT PARTICULAR TRUTHS + ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN GENERAL ONES. + + +Sec. 1. Necessity of determining the relative importance of truths. + +I have in the last chapter affirmed that we usually recognize objects by +their least essential characteristics. This very naturally excites the +inquiry what I consider their important characteristics, and why I call +one truth more important than another. And this question must be +immediately determined, because it is evident, that in judging of the +truth of painters, we shall have to consider not only the accuracy with +which individual truths are given, but the relative importance of the +truths themselves; for as it constantly happens that the powers of art +are unable to render _all_ truths, that artist must be considered the +most truthful who has preserved the most important at the expense of the +most trifling. + + +Sec. 2. Misapplication of the aphorism: "General truths are more important + than particular ones." + +Sec. 3. Falseness of this maxim taken without explanation. + +Sec. 4. Generality important in the subject, particularity in the + predicate. + +Now if we are to begin our investigation in Aristotle's way, and look at +the [Greek: phainomena] of the subject, we shall immediately stumble +over a maxim which is in everybody's mouth, and which, as it is +understood in practice, is true and useful, as it is usually applied in +argument, false and misleading. "General truths are more important than +particular ones." Often, when in conversation, I have been praising +Turner for his perpetual variety, and for giving so particular and +separate a character to each of his compositions, that the mind of the +painter can only be estimated by seeing all that he has ever done, and +that nothing can be prophesied of a picture coming into existence on his +easel, but that it will be totally different in idea from all that he +has ever done before; and when I have opposed this inexhaustible +knowledge or imagination, whichever it may be, to the perpetual +repetition of some half-dozen conceptions by Claude and Poussin, I have +been met by the formidable objection, enunciated with much dignity and +self-satisfaction on the part of my antagonist--"That is not painting +general truths, that is painting particular truths." Now there must be +something wrong in that application of a principle which would make the +variety and abundance which we look for as the greatest sign of +intellect in the writer, the greatest sign of error in the painter; and +we shall accordingly see, by an application of it to other matters, +that, taken without limitation, the whole proposition is utterly false. +For instance, Mrs. Jameson somewhere mentions the exclamation of a lady +of her acquaintance, more desirous to fill a pause in conversation than +abundant in sources of observation: "What an excellent book the Bible +is!" This was a very general truth indeed, a truth predicable of the +Bible in common with many other books, but it certainly is neither +striking nor important. Had the lady exclaimed--"How evidently is the +Bible a divine revelation!" she would have expressed a particular truth, +one predicable of the Bible only; but certainly far more interesting and +important. Had she, on the contrary, informed us that the Bible was a +book, she would have been still more general, and still less +entertaining. If I ask any one who somebody else is, and receive for +answer that he is a man, I get little satisfaction for my pains; but if +I am told that he is Sir Isaac Newton, I immediately thank my neighbor +for his information. The fact is, and the above instances may serve at +once to prove it if it be not self-evident, that generality gives +importance to the _subject_, and limitation or particularity to the +_predicate_. If I say that such and such a man in China is an +opium-eater, I say nothing very interesting, because my subject (such a +man) is particular. If I say that all men in China are opium-eaters, I +say something interesting, because my subject (all men) is general. If I +say that all men in China eat, I say nothing interesting, because my +predicate (eat) is general. If I say that all men in China eat opium, I +say something interesting, because my predicate (eat opium) is +particular. + +Now almost everything which (with reference to a given subject) a +painter has to ask himself whether he shall represent or not, is a +predicate. Hence in art, particular truths are usually more important +than general ones. + +How is it then that anything so plain as this should be contradicted by +one of the most universally received aphorisms respecting art? A little +reflection will show us under what limitations this maxim may be true in +practice. + + +Sec. 5. The importance of truths of species is not owing to their + generality. + +Sec. 6. All truths valuable as they are characteristic. + +It is self-evident that when we are painting or describing anything, +those truths must be the most important which are most characteristic of +what is to be told or represented. Now that which is first and most +broadly characteristic of a thing, is that which distinguishes its +genus, or which makes it what it is. For instance, that which makes +drapery _be_ drapery, is not its being made of silk or worsted or flax, +for things are made of all these which are not drapery, but the ideas +peculiar to drapery; the properties which, when inherent in a thing, +make it drapery, are extension, non-elastic flexibility, unity and +comparative thinness. Everything which has these properties, a +waterfall, for instance, if united and extended, or a net of weeds over +a wall, is drapery, as much as silk or woollen stuff is. So that these +ideas separate drapery in our minds from everything else; they are +peculiarly characteristic of it, and therefore are the most important +group of ideas connected with it; and so with everything else, that +which makes the thing what it is, is the most important idea, or group +of ideas connected with the thing. But as this idea must necessarily be +common to all individuals of the species it belongs to, it is a general +idea with respect to that species; while other ideas, which are not +characteristic of the species, and are therefore in reality general, (as +black or white are terms applicable to more things than drapery,) are +yet particular with respect to that species, being predicable only of +certain individuals of it. Hence it is carelessly and falsely said, that +general ideas are more important than particular ones; carelessly and +falsely, I say, because the so-called general idea is important, not +because it is common to all the individuals of that species, but because +it separates that species from everything else. It is the +distinctiveness, not the universality of the truth, which renders it +important. And the so-called particular idea is unimportant, not +because it is not predicable of the whole species, but because it _is_ +predicable of things out of that species. It is not its individuality, +but its generality which renders it unimportant. So, then, truths are +important just in proportion as they are characteristic, and are +valuable, primarily, as they separate the species from all other created +things secondarily, as they separate the individuals of that species +from one another: thus "silken" or "woollen" are unimportant ideas with +respect to drapery, because they neither separate the species from other +things, nor even the individuals of that species from one another, +since, though not common to the whole of it, they are common to +indefinite numbers of it; but the particular folds into which any piece +of drapery may happen to fall, being different in many particulars from +those into which any other piece of drapery will fall, are expressive +not only of the characters of the species, flexibility, (non-elasticity, +etc.,) but of individuality and definite character in the case +immediately observed, and are consequently most important and necessary +ideas. So in a man, to be short-legged or long-nosed or anything else of +accidental quality, does not distinguish him from other short-legged or +long-nosed animals; but the important truths respecting a man are, +first, the marked development of that distinctive organization which +separates him as man from other animals, and secondly, that group of +qualities which distinguish the individual from all other men, which +make him Paul or Judas, Newton or Shakspeare. + + +Sec. 7. Otherwise truths of species are valuable because beautiful. + +Such are the real sources of importance in truths as far as they are +considered with reference merely to their being general, or particular; +but there are other sources of importance which give farther weight to +the ordinary opinion of the greater value of those which are general, +and which render this opinion right in practice; I mean the intrinsic +beauty of the truths themselves, a quality which it is not here the +place to investigate, but which must just be noticed, as invariably +adding value to truths of species rather than to those of individuality. +The qualities and properties which characterize man or any other animal +as a species, are the perfection of his or its form of mind, almost all +individual differences arising from imperfections; hence a truth of +species is the more valuable to art, because it must always be a beauty, +while a truth of individuals is commonly, in some sort or way, a defect. + + +Sec. 8. And many truths, valuable if separate, may be objectionable in + connection with others. + +Again, a truth which may be of great interest, when an object is viewed +by itself, may be objectionable when it is viewed in relation to other +objects. Thus if we were painting a piece of drapery as our whole +subject, it would be proper to give in it every source of entertainment, +which particular truths could supply, to give it varied color and +delicate texture; but if we paint this same piece of drapery, as part of +the dress of a Madonna, all these ideas of richness or texture become +thoroughly contemptible, and unfit to occupy the mind at the same moment +with the idea of the Virgin. The conception of drapery is then to be +suggested by the simplest and slightest means possible, and all notions +of texture and detail are to be rejected with utter reprobation; but +this, observe, is not because they are particular or general or anything +else, with respect to the drapery itself, but because they draw the +attention to the dress instead of the saint, and disturb and degrade the +imagination and the feelings; hence we ought to give the conception of +the drapery in the most unobtrusive way possible, by rendering those +essential qualities distinctly, which are necessary to the very +existence of drapery, and not one more. + +With these last two sources of the importance of truths, we have nothing +to do at present, as they are dependent upon ideas of beauty and +relation: I merely allude to them now, to show that all that is alleged +by Sir J. Reynolds and other scientific writers respecting the kind of +truths proper to be represented by the painter or sculptor is perfectly +just and right; while yet the principle on which they base their +selection (that general truths are more important than particular ones) +is altogether false. Canova's Perseus in the Vatican is entirely spoiled +by an unlucky _tassel_ in the folds of the mantle (which the next +admirer of Canova who passes would do well to knock off;) but it is +spoiled not because this is a particular truth, but because it is a +contemptible, unnecessary, and ugly truth. The button which fastens the +vest of the Sistine Daniel is as much a particular truth as this, but +it is a necessary one, and the idea of it is given by the simplest +possible means; hence it is right and beautiful. + + +Sec. 9. Recapitulation. + +Finally, then, it is to be remembered that all truths as far as their +being particular or general affects their value at all, are valuable in +proportion as they are particular, and valueless in proportion as they +are general; or to express the proposition in simpler terms, every truth +is valuable in proportion as it is characteristic of the thing of which +it is affirmed. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + OF THE RELATIVE IMPORTANCE OF TRUTHS:--SECONDLY, THAT RARE TRUTHS + ARE MORE IMPORTANT THAN FREQUENT ONES. + + +Sec. 1. No accidental violation of nature's principles should be + represented. + +It will be necessary next for us to determine how far frequency or +rarity can affect the importance of truths, and whether the artist is to +be considered the most truthful who paints what is common or what is +unusual in nature. + +Now the whole determination of this question depends upon whether the +unusual fact be a violation of nature's general principles, or the +application of some of those principles in a peculiar and striking way. +Nature sometimes, though very rarely, violates her own principles; it is +her principle to make everything beautiful, but now and then, for an +instant, she permits what, compared with the rest of her works, might be +called ugly; it is true that even these rare blemishes are permitted, as +I have above said, for a good purpose, (Part I. Sec. I. Chap. 5,) they +are valuable in nature, and used as she uses them, are equally valuable +(as instantaneous discords) in art; but the artist who should seek after +these exclusively, and paint nothing else, though he might be able to +point to something in nature as the original of every one of his +uglinesses, would yet be, in the strict sense of the word, false,--false +to nature, and disobedient to her laws. For instance, it is the practice +of nature to give character to the outlines of her clouds, by perpetual +angles and right lines. Perhaps once in a month, by diligent watching, +we might be able to see a cloud altogether rounded and made up of +curves; but the artist who paints nothing but curved clouds must yet be +considered thoroughly and inexcusably false. + + +Sec. 2. But the cases in which those principles have been strikingly + exemplified. + +Sec. 3. Which are comparatively rare. + +Sec. 4. All repetition is blamable. + +Sec. 5. The duty of the painter is the same as that of a preacher. + +But the case is widely different, when instead of a principle violated, +we have one extraordinarily carried out or manifested under unusual +circumstances. Though nature is constantly beautiful, she does not +exhibit her highest powers of beauty constantly, for then they would +satiate us and pall upon our senses. It is necessary to their +appreciation that they should be rarely shown. Her finest touches are +things which must be watched for; her most perfect passages of beauty +are the most evanescent. She is constantly doing something beautiful for +us, but it is something which she has not done before and will not do +again; some exhibition of her general powers in particular circumstances +which, if we do not catch at the instant it is passing, will not be +repeated for us. Now they are these evanescent passages of perfected +beauty, these perpetually varied examples of utmost power, which the +artist ought to seek for and arrest. No supposition can be more absurd +than that effects or truths frequently exhibited are more characteristic +of nature than those which are equally necessary by her laws, though +rarer in occurrence. Both the frequent and the rare are parts of the +same great system; to give either exclusively is imperfect truth, and to +repeat the same effect or thought in two pictures is wasted life. What +should we think of a poet who should keep all his life repeating the +same thought in different words? and why should we be more lenient to +the parrot-painter who has learned one lesson from the page of nature, +and keeps stammering it out with eternal repetition without turning the +leaf? Is it less tautology to describe a thing over and over again with +lines, than it is with words? The teaching of nature is as varied and +infinite as it is constant; and the duty of the painter is to watch for +every one of her lessons, and to give (for human life will admit of +nothing more) those in which she has manifested each of her principles +in the most peculiar and striking way. The deeper his research and the +rarer the phenomena he has noted, the more valuable will his works be; +to repeat himself, even in a single instance, is treachery to nature, +for a thousand human lives would not be enough to give one instance of +the perfect manifestation of each of her powers; and as for combining or +classifying them, as well might a preacher expect in one sermon to +express and explain every divine truth which can be gathered out of +God's revelation, as a painter expect in one composition to express and +illustrate every lesson which can be received from God's creation. Both +are commentators on infinity, and the duty of both is to take for each +discourse one essential truth, seeking particularly and insisting +especially on those which are less palpable to ordinary observation, and +more likely to escape an indolent research; and to impress that, and +that alone, upon those whom they address, with every illustration that +can be furnished by their knowledge, and every adornment attainable by +their power. And the real truthfulness of the painter is in proportion +to the number and variety of the facts he has so illustrated; those +facts being always, as above observed, the realization, not the +violation of a general principle. The quantity of truth is in proportion +to the number of such facts, and its value and instructiveness in +proportion to their rarity. All really great pictures, therefore, +exhibit the general habits of nature, manifested in some peculiar, rare, +and beautiful way. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + OF THE RELATIVE IMPORTANCE OF TRUTHS:--THIRDLY, THAT TRUTHS OF + COLOR ARE THE LEAST IMPORTANT OF ALL TRUTHS. + + +Sec. 1. Difference between primary and secondary qualities in bodies. + +In the two last chapters, we have pointed out general tests of the +importance of all truths, which will be sufficient at once to +distinguish certain classes of properties in bodies, as more necessary +to be told than others, because more characteristic, either of the +particular thing to be represented, or of the principles of nature. + +According to Locke, Book ii. chap. 8, there are three sorts of qualities +in bodies: first, the "bulk, figure, number, situation, and motion or +rest of their solid parts: those that are in them, whether we perceive +them or not." These he calls primary qualities. Secondly, "the power +that is in any body to operate after a peculiar manner on any of our +senses," (sensible qualities.) And thirdly, "the power that is in any +body to make such a change in another body as that it shall operate on +our senses differently from what it did before: these last being usually +called _powers_." + + +Sec. 2. The first are fully characteristic, the second imperfectly so. + +Hence he proceeds to prove that those which he calls primary qualities +are indeed part of the essence of the body, and characteristic of it; +but that the two other kinds of qualities which together he calls +secondary, are neither of them more than _powers_ of producing on other +objects, or in us, certain effects and sensations. Now a power of +influence is always equally characteristic of two objects--the active +and passive; for it is as much necessary that there should be a power in +the object suffering to receive the impression, as in the object acting +to give the impression. (Compare Locke, Book ii. chap. 21, sect. 2.) For +supposing two people, as is frequently the case, perceive different +scents in the same flower, it is evident that the power in the flower +to give this or that depends on the nature of their nerves, as well as +on that of its own particles; and that we are as correct in saying it is +a power in us to perceive, as in the object to impress. Every power, +therefore, being characteristic of the nature of two bodies, is +imperfectly and incompletely characteristic of either separately; but +the primary qualities, being characteristic only of the body in which +they are inherent, are the most important truths connected with it. For +the question, what the thing _is_, must precede, and be of more +importance than the question, what can it do. + + +Sec. 3. Color is a secondary quality, therefore less important than form. + +Now by Locke's definition above given, only bulk, figure, situation, and +motion or rest of solid parts, are primary qualities. Hence all truths +of color sink at once into the second rank. He, therefore, who has +neglected a truth of form for a truth of color, has neglected a greater +truth for a less one. + + +Sec. 4. Color no distinction between objects of the same species. + +And that color is indeed a most unimportant characteristic of objects, +will be farther evident on the slightest consideration. The color of +plants is constantly changing with the season, and of everything with +the quality of light falling on it; but the nature and essence of the +thing are independent of these changes. An oak is an oak, whether green +with spring or red with winter; a dahlia is a dahlia, whether it be +yellow or crimson; and if some monster-hunting botanist should ever +frighten the flower blue, still it will be a dahlia; but let one curve +of the petals--one groove of the stamens be wanting, and the flower +ceases to be the same. Let the roughness of the bark and the angles of +the boughs be smoothed or diminished, and the oak ceases to be an oak; +but let it retain its inward structure and outward form, and though its +leaves grew white, or pink, or blue, or tri-color, it would be a white +oak, or a pink oak, or a republican oak, but an oak still. Again, color +is hardly ever even a _possible_ distinction between two objects of the +same species. Two trees, of the same kind, at the same season, and of +the same age, are of absolutely the same color; but they are not of the +same form, nor anything like it. There can be no difference in the color +of two pieces of rock broken from the same place; but it is impossible +they should be of the same form. So that form is not only the chief +characteristic of species, but the only characteristic of individuals of +a species. + + +Sec. 5. And different in association from what it is alone. + +Again, a color, in association with other colors, is different from the +same color seen by itself. It has a distinct and peculiar power upon the +retina dependent on its association. Consequently, the color of any +object is not more dependent upon the nature of the object itself, and +the eye beholding it, than on the color of the objects near it; in this +respect also, therefore, it is no characteristic. + + +Sec. 6. It is not certain whether any two people see the same color in + things. + +And so great is the uncertainty with respect to those qualities or +powers which depend as much on the nature of the object suffering as of +the object acting, that it is totally impossible to prove that one man +sees in the same thing the same color that another does though he may +use the same name for it. One man may see yellow where another sees +blue, but as the effect is constant, they agree in the term to be used +for it, and both call it blue, or both yellow, having yet totally +different ideas attached to the term. And yet neither can be said to see +falsely, because the color is not in the thing, but in the thing and +them together. But if they see forms differently, one must see falsely, +because the form is positive in the object. My friend may see boars blue +for anything I know, but it is impossible he should see them with paws +instead of hoofs, unless his eyes or brain are diseased. (Compare Locke, +Book ii. chap. xxxii. Sec. 15.) But I do not speak of this uncertainty as +capable of having any effect on art, because, though perhaps Landseer +sees dogs of the color which I should call blue, yet the color he puts +on the canvas, being in the same way blue to him, will still be brown or +dog-color to me; and so we may argue on points of color just as if all +men saw alike, as indeed in all probability they do; but I merely +mention this uncertainty to show farther the vagueness and unimportance +of color as a characteristic of bodies. + + +Sec. 7. Form considered as an element of landscape, includes light and + shade. + +Sec. 8. Importance of light and shade in expressing the character of bodies + and unimportance of color. + +Before going farther, however, I must explain the sense in which I have +used the word "form," because painters have a most inaccurate and +careless habit of confining the term to the _outline_ of bodies, whereas +it necessarily implies light and shade. It is true that the outline and +the chiaroscuro must be separate subjects of investigation with the +student; but no form whatsoever can be known to the eye in the slightest +degree without its chiaroscuro; and, therefore, in speaking of form +generally as an element of landscape, I mean that perfect and harmonious +unity of outline with light and shade, by which all the parts and +projections and proportions of a body are fully explained to the eye, +being nevertheless perfectly independent of sight or power in other +objects, the presence of light upon a body being a positive existence, +whether we are aware of it or not, and in no degree dependent upon our +senses. This being understood, the most convincing proof of the +unimportance of color lies in the accurate observation of the way in +which any material object impresses itself on the mind. If we look at +nature carefully, we shall find that her colors are in a state of +perpetual confusion and indistinctness, while her forms, as told by +light and shade, are invariably clear, distinct, and speaking. The +stones and gravel of the bank catch green reflections from the boughs +above; the bushes receive grays and yellows from the ground; every +hairbreadth of polished surface gives a little bit of the blue of the +sky or the gold of the sun, like a star upon the local color; this local +color, changeful and uncertain in itself, is again disguised and +modified by the hue of the light, or quenched in the gray of the shadow; +and the confusion and blending of tint is altogether so great, that were +we left to find out what objects were by their colors only, we would +scarcely in places distinguish the boughs of a tree from the air beyond +them, or the ground beneath them. I know that people unpractised in art +will not believe this at first; but if they have accurate powers of +observation, they may soon ascertain it for themselves; they will find +that, while they can scarcely ever determine the _exact_ hue of +anything, except when it occurs in large masses, as in a green field or +the blue sky, the form, as told by light and shade, is always decided +and evident, and the source of the chief character of every object. +Light and shade indeed so completely conquer the distinctions of local +color, that the difference in hue between the illumined parts of a white +and black object is not so great as the difference (in sunshine) between +the illumined and dark side of either separately. + + +Sec. 9. Recapitulation. + +We shall see hereafter, in considering ideas of beauty, that color, even +as a source of pleasure, is feeble compared to form; but this we cannot +insist upon at present; we have only to do with simple truth, and the +observations we have made are sufficient to prove that the artist who +sacrifices or forgets a truth of form in the pursuit of a truth of +color, sacrifices what is definite to what is uncertain, and what is +essential to what is accidental. + + + + + CHAPTER VI. + + RECAPITULATION. + + +Sec. 1. The importance of historical truths. + +It ought farther to be observed respecting truths in general, that those +are always most valuable which are most historical, that is, which tell +us most about the past and future states of the object to which they +belong. In a tree, for instance, it is more important to give the +appearance of energy and elasticity in the limbs which is indicative of +growth and life, than any particular character of leaf, or texture of +bough. It is more important that we should feel that the uppermost +sprays are creeping higher and higher into the sky, and be impressed +with the current of life and motion which is animating every fibre, than +that we should know the exact pitch of relief with which those fibres +are thrown out against the sky. For the first truths tell us tales about +the tree, about what it has been, and will be, while the last are +characteristic of it only in its present state, and are in no way +talkative about themselves. Talkative facts are always more interesting +and more important than silent ones. So again the lines in a crag which +mark its stratification, and how it has been washed and rounded by +water, or twisted and drawn out in fire, are more important, because +they tell more than the stains of the lichens which change year by year, +and the accidental fissures of frost or decomposition; not but that both +of these are historical, but historical in a less distinct manner, and +for shorter periods. + + +Sec. 2. Form, as explained by light and shade, the first of all truths. + Tone, light and color are secondary. + +Hence in general the truths of specific form are the first and most +important of all; and next to them, those truths of chiaroscuro which +are necessary to make us understand every quality and part of forms, and +the relative distances of objects among each other, and in consequence +their relative bulks. Altogether lower than these, as truths, though +often most important as beauties, stand all effects of chiaroscuro which +are productive merely of imitations of light and tone, and all effects +of color. To make us understand the _space_ of the sky, is an end worthy +of the artist's highest powers; to hit its particular blue or gold is an +end to be thought of when we have accomplished the first, and not till +then. + + +Sec. 3. And deceptive chiaroscuro the lowest of all. + +Finally, far below all these come those particular accuraciesor tricks +of chiaroscuro which cause objects to look projecting from the canvas, +not worthy of the name of truths, because they require for their +attainment the sacrifice of all others; for not having at our disposal +the same intensity of light by which nature illustrates her objects, we +are obliged, if we would have perfect deception in one, to destroy its +relation to the rest. (Compare Sect. II. chap. V.) And thus he who +throws one object out of his picture, never lets the spectator into it. +Michael Angelo bids you follow his phantoms into the abyss of heaven, +but a modern French painter drops his hero out of the picture frame. + +This solidity or projection then, is the very lowest truth that art can +give; it is the painting of mere matter, giving that as food for the eye +which is properly only the subject of touch; it can neither instruct nor +exalt, nor please except as jugglery; it addresses no sense of beauty +nor of power; and wherever it characterizes the general aim of a +picture, it is the sign and the evidence of the vilest and lowest +mechanism which art can be insulted by giving name to. + + + + + CHAPTER VII. + + GENERAL APPLICATION OF THE FOREGOING PRINCIPLES. + + +Sec. 1. The different selection of facts consequent on the several aims at + imitation or at truth. + +We have seen, in the preceding chapters, some proof of what was before +asserted, that the truths necessary for deceptive imitation are not only +few, but of the very lowest order. We thus find painters ranging +themselves into two great classes; one aiming at the development of the +exquisite truths of specific form, refined color, and ethereal space, +and content with the clear and impressive suggestion of any of these, by +whatsoever means obtained; and the other casting all these aside, to +attain those particular truths of tone and chiaroscuro, which may trick +the spectator into a belief of reality. The first class, if they have to +paint a tree, are intent upon giving the exquisite designs of +intersecting undulation in its boughs, the grace of its leafage, the +intricacy of its organization, and all those qualities which make it +lovely or affecting of its kind. The second endeavor only to make you +believe that you are looking at wood. They are totally regardless of +truths or beauties of form; a stump is as good as a trunk for all their +purposes, so that they can only deceive the eye into the supposition +that it _is_ a stump and not canvas. + + +Sec. 2. The old masters, as a body, aim only at imitation. + +Sec. 3. What truths they gave. + +To which of these classes the great body of the old landscape painters +belonged, may be partly gathered from the kind of praise which is +bestowed upon them by those who admire them most, which either refers to +technical matters, dexterity of touch, clever oppositions of color, +etc., or is bestowed on the power of the painter to _deceive_. M. de +Marmontel, going into a connoisseur's gallery, pretends to mistake a +fine Berghem for a window. This, he says, was affirmed by its possessor +to be the greatest praise the picture had ever received. Such is indeed +the notion of art which is at the bottom of the veneration usually felt +for the old landscape painters; it is of course the palpable, first idea +of ignorance; it is the only notion which people unacquainted with art +can by any possibility have of its ends; the only test by which people +unacquainted with nature can pretend to form anything like judgment of +art. It is strange that, with the great historical painters of Italy +before them, who had broken so boldly and indignantly from the trammels +of this notion, and shaken the very dust of it from their feet, the +succeeding landscape painters should have wasted their lives in +jugglery: but so it is, and so it will be felt, the more we look into +their works, that the deception of the senses was the great and first +end of all their art. To attain this they paid deep and serious +attention to effects of light and tone, and to the exact degree of +relief which material objects take against light and atmosphere; and +sacrificing every other truth to these, not necessarily, but because +they required no others for deception, they succeeded in rendering these +particular facts with a fidelity and force which, in the pictures that +have come down to us uninjured, are as yet unequalled, and never can be +surpassed. They painted their foregrounds with laborious industry, +covering them with details so as to render them deceptive to the +ordinary eye, regardless of beauty or truth in the details themselves; +they painted their trees with careful attention to their pitch of shade +against the sky, utterly regardless of all that is beautiful or +essential in the anatomy of their foliage and boughs: they painted their +distances with exquisite use of transparent color and aerial tone, +totally neglectful of all facts and forms which nature uses such color +and tone to relieve and adorn. They had neither love of nature, nor +feeling of her beauty; they looked for her coldest and most commonplace +effects, because they were easiest to imitate; and for her most vulgar +forms, because they were most easily to be recognized by the untaught +eyes of those whom alone they could hope to please; they did it, like +the Pharisee of old, to be seen of men, and they had their reward. They +do deceive and delight the unpractised eye; they will to all ages, as +long as their colors endure, be the standards of excellence with all, +who, ignorant of nature, claim to be thought learned in art. And they +will to all ages be, to those who have thorough love and knowledge of +the creation which they libel, instructive proofs of the limited number +and low character of the truths which are necessary, and the accumulated +multitude of pure, broad, bold falsehoods which are admissible in +pictures meant only to deceive. + +There is of course more or less accuracy of knowledge and execution +combined with this aim at effect, according to the industry and +precision of eye possessed by the master, and more or less of beauty in +the forms selected, according to his natural taste; but both the beauty +and truth are sacrificed unhesitatingly where they interfere with the +great effort at deception. Claude had, if it had been cultivated, a fine +feeling for beauty of form, and is seldom ungraceful in his foliage; but +his picture, when examined with reference to essential truth, is one +mass of error from beginning to end. Cuyp, on the other hand, could +paint close truth of everything, except ground and water, with decision +and success, but he has no sense of beauty. Gaspar Poussin, more +ignorant of truth than Claude, and almost as dead to beauty as Cuyp, has +yet a perception of the feeling and moral truth of nature which often +redeems the picture; but yet in all of them, everything that they can do +is done for deception, and nothing for the sake or love of what they are +painting. + + +Sec. 4. The principles of selection adopted by modern artists. + +Modern landscape painters have looked at nature with totally different +eyes, seeking not for what is easiest to imitate, but for what is most +important to tell. Rejecting at once all idea of _bona fide_ imitation, +they think only of conveying the impression of nature into the mind of +the spectator. And there is, in consequence, a greater sum of valuable, +essential, and impressive truth in the works of two or three of our +leading modern landscape painters, than in those of all the old masters +put together, and of truth too, nearly unmixed with definite or +avoidable falsehood; while the unimportant and feeble truths of the old +masters are choked with a mass of perpetual defiance of the most +authoritative laws of nature. + + +Sec. 5. General feeling of Claude, Salvator, and G. Poussin, contrasted + with the freedom and vastness of nature. + +I do not expect this assertion to be believed at present; it must rest +for demonstration on the examination we are about to enter upon; yet, +even without reference to any intricate or deep-laid truths, it appears +strange to me, that any one familiar with nature, and fond of her, +should not grow weary and sick at heart among the melancholy and +monotonous transcripts of her which alone can be received from the old +school of art. A man accustomed to the broad, wild seashore, with its +bright breakers, and free winds, and sounding rocks, and eternal +sensation of tameless power, can scarcely but be angered when Claude +bids him stand still on some paltry, chipped and chiselled quay with +porters and wheelbarrows running against him, to watch a weak, rippling +bound and barriered water, that has not strength enough in one of its +waves to upset the flower-pots on the wall, or even to fling one jet of +spray over the confining stone. A man accustomed to the strength and +glory of God's mountains, with their soaring and radiant pinnacles, and +surging sweeps of measureless distance, kingdoms in their valleys, and +climates upon their crests, can scarcely but be angered when Salvator +bids him stand still under some contemptible fragment of splintery crag, +which an Alpine snow-wreath would smother in its first swell, with a +stunted bush or two growing out of it, and a volume of manufactory smoke +for a sky. A man accustomed to the grace and infinity of nature's +foliage, with every vista a cathedral, and every bough a revelation, can +scarcely but be angered when Poussin mocks him with a black round mass +of impenetrable paint, diverging into feathers instead of leaves, and +supported on a stick instead of a trunk. The fact is, there is one thing +wanting in all the doing of these men, and that is the very virtue by +which the work of human mind chiefly rises above that of the +Daguerreotype or Calotype, or any other mechanical means that ever have +been or may be invented, Love: There is no evidence of their ever having +gone to nature with any thirst, or received from her such emotion as +could make them, even for an instant, lose sight of themselves; there is +in them neither earnestness nor humility; there is no simple or honest +record of any single truth; none of the plain words nor straight efforts +that men speak and make when they once feel. + + +Sec. 6. Inadequacy of the landscape of Titian and Tintoret. + +Nor is it only by the professed landscape painters that the great +verities of the material world are betrayed: Grand as are the motives +of landscape in the works of the earlier and mightier men, there is yet +in them nothing approaching to a general view nor complete rendering of +natural phenomena; not that they are to be blamed for this; for they +took out of nature that which was fit for their purpose, and their +mission was to do no more; but we must be cautious to distinguish that +imaginative abstraction of landscape which alone we find in them, from +the entire statement of truth which has been attempted by the moderns. I +have said in the chapter on symmetry in the second volume, that all +landscape grandeur vanishes before that of Titian and Tintoret; and this +is true of whatever these two giants touched;--but they touched little. +A few level flakes of chestnut foliage; a blue abstraction of hill forms +from Cadore or the Euganeans; a grand mass or two of glowing ground and +mighty herbage, and a few burning fields of quiet cloud were all they +needed; there is evidence of Tintoret's having felt more than this, but +it occurs only in secondary fragments of rock, cloud, or pine, hardly +noticed among the accumulated interest of his human subject. From the +window of Titian's house at Venice, the chain of the Tyrolese Alps is +seen lifted in spectral power above the tufted plain of Treviso; every +dawn that reddens the towers of Murano lights also a line of pyramidal +fires along that colossal ridge; but there is, so far as I know, no +evidence in any of the master's works of his ever having beheld, much +less felt, the majesty of their burning. The dark firmament and saddened +twilight of Tintoret are sufficient for their end; but the sun never +plunges behind San Giorgio in Aliga without such retinue of radiant +cloud, such rest of zoned light on the green lagoon, as never received +image from his hand. More than this, of that which they loved and +rendered much is rendered conventionally; by noble conventionalities +indeed, but such nevertheless as would be inexcusable if the landscape +became the principal subject instead of an accompaniment. I will +instance only the San Pietro Martire, which, if not the most perfect, is +at least the most popular of Titian's landscapes; in which, to obtain +light on the flesh of the near figures the sky is made as dark as deep +sea, the mountains are laid in with violent and impossible blue, except +one of them on the left, which, to connect the distant light with the +foreground, is thrown into light relief, unexplained by its materials, +unlikely in its position, and in its degree impossible under any +circumstances. + + +Sec. 7. Causes of its want of influence on subsequent schools. + +I do not instance these as faults in the picture: there are no works of +very powerful color which are free from conventionality concentrated or +diffused, daring or disguised; but as the conventionality of this whole +picture is mainly thrown into the landscape, it is necessary, while we +acknowledge the virtue of this distance as a part of the great +composition, to be on our guard against the license it assumes and the +attractiveness of its overcharged color. Fragments of far purer truth +occur in the works of Tintoret; and in the drawing of foliage, whether +rapid or elaborate, of masses or details, the Venetian painters, taken +as a body, may be considered almost faultless models. But the whole +field of what they have done is so narrow, and therein is so much of +what is only relatively right, and in itself false or imperfect, that +the young and inexperienced painter could run no greater risk than the +too early taking them for teachers; and to the general spectator their +landscape is valuable rather as a means of peculiar and solemn emotion +than as ministering to, or inspiring the universal love of nature. Hence +while men of serious mind, especially those whose pursuits have brought +them into continued relations with the peopled rather than the lonely +world, will always look to the Venetian painters as having touched those +simple chords of landscape harmony which are most in unison with earnest +and melancholy feeling; those whose philosophy is more cheerful and more +extended, as having been trained and colored among simple and solitary +nature, will seek for a wider and more systematic circle of teaching: +they may grant that the barred horizontal gloom of the Titian sky, and +the massy leaves of the Titian forest are among the most sublime of the +conceivable forms of material things; but they know that the virtue of +these very forms is to be learned only by right comparison of them with +the cheerfulness, fulness and comparative inquietness of other hours and +scenes; that they are not intended for the continual food, but the +occasional soothing of the human heart; that there is a lesson of not +less value in its place, though of less concluding and sealing +authority, in every one of the more humble phases of material things: +and that there are some lessons of equal or greater authority which +these masters neither taught nor received. And until the school of +modern landscape arose Art had never noted the links of this mighty +chain; it mattered not that a fragment lay here and there, no heavenly +lightning could descend by it; the landscape of the Venetians was +without effect on any contemporary in subsequent schools; it still +remains on the continent as useless as if it had never existed; and at +this moment German and Italian landscapes, of which no words are +scornful enough to befit the utter degradation, hang in the Venetian +Academy in the next room to the Desert of Titian and the Paradise of +Tintoret.[6] + + +Sec. 8. The value of inferior works of art how to be estimated. + +That then which I would have the reader inquire respecting every work of +art of undetermined merit submitted to his judgment, is not whether it +be a work of especial grandeur, importance, or power; but whether it +have _any_ virtue or substance as a link in this chain of truth, whether +it have recorded or interpreted anything before unknown, whether it have +added one single stone to our heaven-pointing pyramid, cut away one dark +bough, or levelled one rugged hillock in our path. This, if it be an +honest work of art, it must have done, for no man ever yet worked +honestly without giving some such help to his race. God appoints to +every one of his creatures a separate mission, and if they discharge it +honorably, if they quit themselves like men and faithfully follow that +light which is in them, withdrawing from it all cold and quenching +influence, there will assuredly come of it such burning as, in its +appointed mode and measure, shall shine before men, and be of service +constant and holy. Degrees infinite of lustre there must always be, but +the weakest among us has a gift, however seemingly trivial, which is +peculiar to him, and which worthily used will be a gift also to his +race forever-- + +"Fool not," says George Herbert, + + "For all may have, + If they dare choose, a glorious life or grave." + +If, on the contrary, there be nothing of this freshness achieved, if +there be neither purpose nor fidelity in what is done, if it be an +envious or powerless imitation of other men's labors, if it be a display +of mere manual dexterity or curious manufacture, or if in any other mode +it show itself as having its origin in vanity,--Cast it out. It matters +not what powers of mind may have been concerned or corrupted in it, all +have lost their savor, it is worse than worthless;--perilous--Cast it +out. + +Works of art are indeed always of mixed kind, their honesty being more +or less corrupted by the various weaknesses of the painter, by his +vanity, his idleness, or his cowardice; (the fear of doing right has far +more influence on art than is commonly thought,) that only is altogether +to be rejected which is altogether vain, idle, and cowardly. Of the rest +the rank is to be estimated rather by the purity of their metal than the +coined value of it. + + +Sec. 9. Religious landscape of Italy. The admirableness of its completion. + +Keeping these principles in view, let us endeavor to obtain something +like a general view of the assistance which has been rendered to our +study of nature by the various occurrences of landscape in elder art, +and by the more exclusively directed labors of modern schools. + +To the ideal landscape of the early religious painters of Italy I have +alluded in the concluding chapter of the second volume. It is absolutely +right and beautiful in its peculiar application; but its grasp of nature +is narrow and its treatment in most respects too severe and conventional +to form a profitable example when the landscape is to be alone the +subject of thought. The great virtue of it is its entire, exquisite, and +humble realization of those objects it selects; in this respect +differing from such German imitations of it as I have met with, that +there is no effort of any fanciful or ornamental modifications, but +loving fidelity to the thing studied. The foreground plants are usually +neither exaggerated nor stiffened; they do not form arches or frames or +borders; their grace is unconfined, their simplicity undestroyed. Cima +da Conegliano, in his picture in the church of the Madonna dell' Orto at +Venice, has given us the oak, the fig, the beautiful "Erba della +Madonna" on the wall, precisely such a bunch of it as may be seen +growing at this day on the marble steps of that very church; ivy and +other creepers, and a strawberry plant in the foreground, with a blossom +and a berry just set, and one half ripe and one ripe, all patiently and +innocently painted from the real thing, and therefore most divine. Fra +Angelico's use of the oxalis acetosella is as faithful in representation +as touching in feeling.[7] The ferns that grow on the walls of Fiesole +may be seen in their simple verity on the architecture of Ghirlandajo. +The rose, the myrtle, and the lily, the olive and orange, pomegranate +and vine, have received their fairest portraiture where they bear a +sacred character; even the common plantains and mallows of the waysides +are touched with deep reverence by Raffaelle; and indeed for the perfect +treatment of details of this kind, treatment as delicate and +affectionate as it is elevated and manly, it is to the works of these +schools alone that we can refer. And on this their peculiar excellence I +should the more earnestly insist, because it is of a kind altogether +neglected by the English school, and with most unfortunate result, many +of our best painters missing their deserved rank solely from the want of +it, as Gainsborough; and all being more or less checked in their +progress or vulgarized in their aim. + + +Sec. 10. Finish, and the want of it, how right and how wrong. + +It is a misfortune for all honest critics, that hardly any quality of +art is independently to be praised, and without reference to the motive +from which it resulted, and the place in which it appears; so that no +principle can be simply enforced but it shall seem to countenance a +vice; while the work of qualification and explanation both weakens the +force of what is said, and is not perhaps always likely to be with +patience received: so also those who desire to misunderstand or to +oppose have it always in their power to become obtuse listeners or +specious opponents. Thus I hardly dare insist upon the virtue of +completion, lest I should be supposed a defender of Wouvermans or Gerard +Dow; neither can I adequately praise the power of Tintoret, without +fearing to be thought adverse to Holbein or Perugino. The fact is, that +both finish and impetuosity, specific minuteness, or large abstraction, +may be the signs of passion, or of its reverse; may result from +affection or indifference, intellect or dulness. Some men finish from +intense love of the beautiful in the smallest parts of what they do; +others in pure incapability of comprehending anything but parts; others +to show their dexterity with the brush, and prove expenditure of time. +Some are impetuous and bold in their handling, from having great +thoughts to express which are independent of detail; others because they +have bad taste or have been badly taught; others from vanity, and others +from indolence. (Compare Vol. II. Chap. IX. Sec. 8.) Now both the finish +and incompletion are right where they are the signs of passion or of +thought, and both are wrong, and I think the finish the more +contemptible of the two, when they cease to be so. The modern Italians +will paint every leaf of a laurel or rose-bush without the slightest +feeling of their beauty or character; and without showing one spark of +intellect or affection from beginning to end. Anything is better than +this; and yet the very highest schools _do_ the same thing, or nearly +so, but with totally different motives and perceptions, and the result +is divine. On the whole, I conceive that the extremes of good and evil +lie with the finishers, and that whatever glorious power we may admit in +men like Tintoret, whatever attractiveness of method to Rubens, +Rembrandt, or, though in far less degree, our own Reynolds, still the +thoroughly great men are those who have done everything thoroughly, and +who, in a word, have never despised anything, however small, of God's +making. And this is the chief fault of our English landscapists, that +they have not the intense all-observing penetration of well-balanced +mind; they have not, except in one or two instances, anything of that +feeling which Wordsworth shows in the following lines:-- + + "So fair, so sweet, withal so sensitive;-- + Would that the little flowers were born to live + Conscious of half the pleasure which they give. + That to this mountain daisy's self were known + _The beauty of its star-shaped shadow, thrown + On the smooth surface of this naked stone._" + +That is a little bit of good, downright, foreground painting--no mistake +about it; daisy, and shadow, and stone texture and all. Our painters +must come to this before they have done their duty; and yet, on the +other hand, let them beware of finishing, for the sake of finish, all +over their picture. The ground is not to be all over daisies, nor is +every daisy to have its star-shaped shadow; there is as much finish in +the right concealment of things as in the right exhibition of them; and +while I demand this amount of specific character where nature shows it, +I demand equal fidelity to her where she conceals it. To paint mist +rightly, space rightly, and light rightly, it may be often necessary to +paint nothing else rightly, but the rule is simple for all that; if the +artist is painting something that he knows and loves, as he knows it +because he loves it, whether it be the fair strawberry of Cima, or the +clear sky of Francia, or the blazing incomprehensible mist of Turner, he +is all right; but the moment he does anything as he thinks it ought to +be, because he does not care about it, he is all wrong. He has only to +ask himself whether he cares for anything except himself; so far as he +does he will make a good picture; so far as he thinks of himself a vile +one. This is the root of the viciousness of the whole French school. +Industry they have, learning they have, power they have, feeling they +have, yet not so much feeling as ever to force them to forget themselves +even for a moment; the ruling motive is invariably vanity, and the +picture therefore an abortion. + + +Sec. 11. The open skies of the religious schools, how valuable. Mountain + drawing of Masaccio. Landscape of the Bellinis and Giorgione. + +Returning to the pictures of the religious schools, we find that their +open skies are also of the highest value. Their preciousness is such +that no subsequent schools can by comparison be said to have painted sky +at all, but only clouds, or mist, or blue canopies. The golden sky of +Marco Basaiti in the Academy of Venice altogether overpowers and renders +valueless that of Titian beside it. Those of Francia in the gallery of +Bologna are even more wonderful, because cooler in tone and behind +figures in full light. The touches of white light in the horizon of +Angelico's Last Judgment are felt and wrought with equal truth. The +dignified and simple forms of cloud in repose are often by these +painters sublimely expressed, but of changeful cloud form they show no +examples. The architecture, mountains, and water of these distances are +commonly conventional; motives are to be found in them of the highest +beauty, and especially remarkable for quantity and meaning of incident; +but they can only be studied or accepted in the particular feeling that +produced them. It may generally be observed that whatever has been the +result of strong emotion is ill seen unless through the medium of such +emotion, and will lead to conclusions utterly false and perilous, if it +be made a subject of cold-hearted observance, or an object of systematic +imitation. One piece of genuine mountain drawing, however, occurs in the +landscape of Masaccio's Tribute Money. It is impossible to say what +strange results might have taken place in this particular field of art, +or how suddenly a great school of landscape might have arisen, had the +life of this great painter been prolonged. Of this particular fresco I +shall have much to say hereafter. The two brothers Bellini gave a marked +and vigorous impulse to the landscape of Venice, of Gentile's +architecture I shall speak presently. Giovanni's, though in style less +interesting and in place less prominent, occurring chiefly as a kind of +frame to his pictures, connecting them with the architecture of the +churches for which they were intended, is in refinement of realization, +I suppose, quite unrivalled, especially in passages requiring pure +gradation, as the hollows of vaultings. That of Veronese would look +ghostly beside it; that of Titian lightless. His landscape is +occasionally quaint and strange like Giorgione's, and as fine in color, +as that behind the Madonna in the Brera gallery at Milan; but a more +truthful fragment occurs in the picture in San Francesco della Vigna at +Venice; and in the picture of St. Jerome in the church of San +Grisostomo, the landscape is as perfect and beautiful as any background +may legitimately be, and finer, as far as it goes, than anything of +Titian's. It is remarkable for the absolute truth of its sky, whose +blue, clear as crystal, and though deep in tone bright as the open air, +is gradated to the horizon with a cautiousness and finish almost +inconceivable; and to obtain light at the horizon without contradicting +the system of chiaroscuro adopted in the figures which are lighted from +the right hand, it is barred across with some glowing white cirri which, +in their turn, are opposed by a single dark horizontal line of lower +cloud; and to throw the whole farther back, there is a wreath of rain +cloud of warmer color floating above the mountains, lighted on its under +edge, whose faithfulness to nature, both in hue and in its light and +shattering form, is altogether exemplary; the wandering of the light +among the hills is equally studied, and the whole is crowned by the +grand realization of the leaves of the fig-tree alluded to (Vol. II. +Part III. Chap. 5,) as well as of the herbage upon the rocks. +Considering that with all this care and completeness in the background, +there is nothing that is not of meaning and necessity in reference to +the figures, and that in the figures themselves the dignity and +heavenliness of the highest religious painters are combined with a force +and purity of color, greater I think than Titian's, it is a work which +may be set before the young artist as in every respect a nearly +faultless guide. Giorgione's landscape is inventive and solemn, but +owing to the rarity even of his nominal works I dare not speak of it in +general terms. It is certainly conventional, and is rather, I imagine, +to be studied for its color and its motives than its details. + + +Sec. 12. Landscape of Titian and Tintoret. + +Of Titian and Tintoret I have spoken already. The latter is every way +the greater master, never indulging in the exaggerated color of Titian, +and attaining far more perfect light; his grasp of nature is more +extensive, and his view of her more imaginative, (incidental notices of +his landscape will be found in the chapter on Imagination penetrative, +of the second volume,) but he is usually too impatient to carry his +thoughts as far out, or to realize with as much substantiality as +Titian. In the St. Jerome of the latter in the gallery of the Brera, +there is a superb example of the modes in which the objects of landscape +may be either suggested or elaborated according to their place and +claim. The larger features of the ground, foliage, and drapery, as well +as the lion in the lower angle, are executed with a slightness which +admits not of close examination, and which, if not in shade, would be +offensive to the generality of observers. But on the rock above the +lion, where it turns towards the light, and where the eye is intended to +dwell, there is a wreath of ivy of which every leaf is separately drawn +with the greatest accuracy and care, and beside it a lizard, studied +with equal earnestness, yet always with that right grandeur of manner to +which I have alluded in the preface. Tintoret seldom reaches or attempts +the elaboration in substance and color of these objects, but he is even +more truth-telling and certain in his rendering of all the great +characters of specific form, and as the painter of Space he stands +altogether alone among dead masters; being the first who introduced the +slightness and confusion of touch which are expressive of the effects of +luminous objects seen through large spaces of air, and the principles of +aerial color which have been since carried out in other fields by +Turner. I conceive him to be the most powerful painter whom the world +has seen, and that he was prevented from being also the most perfect, +partly by untoward circumstances in his position and education, partly +by the very fulness and impetuosity of his own mind, partly by the want +of religious feeling and its accompanying perception of beauty; for his +noble treatment of religious subject, of which I have given several +examples in the third part, appears to be the result only of that grasp +which a great and well-toned intellect necessarily takes of any subject +submitted to it, and is wanting in the signs of the more withdrawn and +sacred sympathies. + +But whatever advances were made by Tintoret in modes of artistical +treatment, he cannot be considered as having enlarged the sphere of +landscape conception. He took no cognizance even of the materials and +motives, so singularly rich in color, which were forever around him in +his own Venice. All portions of Venetian scenery introduced by him are +treated conventionally and carelessly; the architectural characters lost +altogether, the sea distinguished from the sky only by a darker green, +while of the sky itself only those forms were employed by him which had +been repeated again and again for centuries, though in less tangibility +and completion. Of mountain scenery he has left, I believe, no example +so far carried as that of John Bellini above instanced. + + +Sec. 13. Schools of Florence, Milan, and Bologna. + +The Florentine and Ambrian schools supply us with no examples of +landscape, except that introduced by their earliest masters, gradually +overwhelmed under renaissance architecture. + +Leonardo's landscape has been of unfortunate effect on art, so far as it +has had effect at all. In realization of detail he verges on the +ornamental, in his rock outlines he has all the deficiencies and little +of the feeling of the earlier men. Behind the "Sacrifice for the +Friends" of Giotto at Pisa, there is a sweet piece of rock incident, a +little fountain breaking out at the mountain foot, and trickling away, +its course marked by branches of reeds, the latter formal enough +certainly, and always in triplets, but still with a sense of nature +pervading the whole which is utterly wanting to the rocks of Leonardo in +the Holy Family in the Louvre. The latter are grotesque without being +ideal, and extraordinary without being impressive. The sketch in the +Uffizii of Florence has some fine foliage, and there is of course a +certain virtue in all the work of a man like Leonardo which I would not +depreciate, but our admiration of it in this particular field must be +qualified, and our following cautious. + +No advances were made in landscape, so far as I know, after the time of +Tintoret; the power of art ebbed gradually away from the derivative +schools; various degrees of cleverness or feeling being manifested in +more or less brilliant conventionalism. I once supposed there was some +life in the landscape of Domenichino, but in this I must have been +wrong. The man who painted the Madonna del Rosario and Martyrdom of St. +Agnes in the gallery of Bologna, is palpably incapable of doing anything +good, great, or right in any field, way, or kind, whatsoever.[8] + + +Sec. 14. Claude, Salvator, and the Poussins. + +Though, however, at this period the general grasp of the schools was +perpetually contracting, a gift was given to the world by Claude, for +which we are perhaps hardly enough grateful, owing to the very frequency +of our after enjoyment of it. He set the sun in heaven, and was, I +suppose, the first who attempted anything like the realization of actual +sunshine in misty air. He gives the first example of the study of nature +for her own sake, and allowing for the unfortunate circumstances of his +education, and for his evident inferiority of intellect, more could +hardly have been expected from him. His false taste, forced composition, +and ignorant rendering of detail have perhaps been of more detriment to +art than the gift he gave was of advantage. The character of his own +mind is singular; I know of no other instance of a man's working from +nature continually with the desire of being true, and never attaining +the power of drawing so much as a bough of a tree rightly. Salvator, a +man originally endowed with far higher power of mind than Claude, was +altogether unfaithful to his mission, and has left us, I believe, no +gift. Everything that he did is evidently for the sake of exhibiting his +own dexterity; there is no love of any kind for anything; his choice of +landscape features is dictated by no delight in the sublime, but by mere +animal restlessness or ferocity, guided by an imaginative power of which +he could not altogether deprive himself. He has done nothing which +others have not done better, or which it would not have been better not +to have done; in nature, he mistakes distortion for energy, and +savageness for sublimity; in man, mendicity for sanctity, and conspiracy +for heroism. + +The landscape of Nicolo Poussin shows much power, and is usually +composed and elaborated on right principles, (compare preface to second +edition,) but I am aware of nothing that it has attained of new or +peculiar excellence; it is a graceful mixture of qualities to be found +in other masters in higher degrees. In finish it is inferior to +Leonardo's, in invention to Giorgione's, in truth to Titian's, in grace +to Raffaelle's. The landscapes of Gaspar have serious feeling and often +valuable and solemn color; virtueless otherwise, they are full of the +most degraded mannerism, and I believe the admiration of them to have +been productive of extensive evil among recent schools. + + +Sec. 15. German and Flemish landscape. + +The development of landscape north of the Alps, presents us with the +same general phases under modifications dependent partly on less +intensity of feeling, partly on diminished availableness of landscape +material. That of the religious painters is treated with the same +affectionate completion; but exuberance of fancy sometimes diminishes +the influence of the imagination, and the absence of the Italian force +of passion admits of more patient and somewhat less intellectual +elaboration. A morbid habit of mind is evident in many, seeming to lose +sight of the balance and relations of things, so as to become intense in +trifles, gloomily minute, as in Albert Durer; and this mingled with a +feverish operation of the fancy, which appears to result from certain +habitual conditions of bodily health rather than of mental culture, (and +of which the sickness without the power is eminently characteristic of +the modern Germans;) but with all this there are virtues of the very +highest order in those schools, and I regret that my knowledge is +insufficient to admit of my giving any detailed account of them. + +In the landscape of Rembrandt and Rubens, we have the northern parallel +to the power of the Venetians. Among the etchings and drawings of +Rembrandt, landscape thoughts may be found not unworthy of Titian, and +studies from nature of sublime fidelity; but his system of chiaroscuro +was inconsistent with the gladness, and his peculiar modes of feeling +with the grace, of nature; nor from my present knowledge can I name any +work on canvas in which he has carried out the dignity of his etched +conceptions, or exhibited any perceptiveness of new truths. + +Not so Rubens, who perhaps furnishes us with the first instances of +complete unconventional unaffected landscape. His treatment is healthy, +manly, and rational, not very affectionate, yet often condescending to +minute and multitudinous detail; always as far as it goes pure, +forcible, and refreshing, consummate in composition, and marvellous in +color. In the Pitti palace, the best of its two Rubens landscapes has +been placed near a characteristic and highly-finished Titian, the +marriage of St. Catherine. But for the grandeur of line and solemn +feeling in the flock of sheep, and the figures of the latter work, I +doubt if all its glow and depth of tone could support its overcharged +green and blue against the open breezy sunshine of the Fleming. I do not +mean to rank the art of Rubens with that of Titian, but it is always to +be remembered that Titian hardly ever paints sunshine, but a certain +opalescent twilight which has as much of human emotion as of imitative +truth in it,-- + + "The clouds that gather round the setting sun + Do take a sober coloring from an eye + That hath kept watch o'er man's mortality:" + +and that art of this kind must always be liable to some appearance of +failure when compared with a less pathetic statement of facts. + +It is to be noted, however, that the licenses taken by Rubens in +particular instances are as bold as his general statements are sincere. +In the landscape just instanced the horizon is an oblique line; in the +Sunset of our own gallery many of the shadows fall at right angles to +the light; and in a picture in the Dulwich gallery a rainbow is seen by +the spectator at the side of the sun. + +These bold and frank licenses are not to be considered as detracting +from the rank of the painter; they are usually characteristic of those +minds whose grasp of nature is so certain and extensive as to enable +them fearlessly to sacrifice a truth of actuality to a truth of feeling. +Yet the young artist must keep in mind that the painter's greatness +consists not in his taking, but in his atoning for them. + + +Sec. 16. The lower Dutch schools. + +Among the professed landscapists of the Dutch school, we find much +dexterous imitation of certain kinds of nature, remarkable usually for +its persevering rejection of whatever is great, valuable, or affecting +in the object studied. Where, however, they show real desire to paint +what they saw as far as they saw it, there is of course much in them +that is instructive, as in Cuyp and in the etchings of Waterloo, which +have even very sweet and genuine feeling; and so in some of their +architectural painters. But the object of the great body of them is +merely to display manual dexterities of one kind or another, and their +effect on the public mind is so totally for evil, that though I do not +deny the advantage an artist of real judgment may derive from the study +of some of them, I conceive the best patronage that any monarch could +possibly bestow upon the arts, would be to collect the whole body of +them into a grand gallery and burn it to the ground. + + +Sec. 17. English school, Wilson and Gainsborough. + +Passing to the English school, we find a connecting link between them +and the Italians formed by Richard Wilson. Had this artist studied under +favorable circumstances, there is evidence of his having possessed power +enough to produce an original picture; but, corrupted by study of the +Poussins, and gathering his materials chiefly in their field, the +district about Rome--a district especially unfavorable, as exhibiting no +pure or healthy nature, but a diseased and overgrown Flora among +half-developed volcanic rocks, loose calcareous concretions, and +mouldering wrecks of buildings--and whose spirit, I conceive, to be +especially opposed to the natural tone of the English mind, his +originality was altogether overpowered, and, though he paints in a manly +way and occasionally reaches exquisite tones of color, as in the small +and very precious picture belonging to Mr. Rogers, and sometimes +manifests some freshness of feeling, as in the Villa of Maecenas of our +National Gallery, yet his pictures are in general mere diluted +adaptations from Poussin and Salvator, without the dignity of the one or +the fire of the other. + +Not so Gainsborough, a great name his whether of the English or any +other school. The greatest colorist since Rubens, and the last, I think, +of legitimate colorists; that is to say, of those who were fully +acquainted with the power of their material; pure in his English +feeling, profound in his seriousness, graceful in his gayety, there are +nevertheless certain deductions to be made from his worthiness which yet +I dread to make, because my knowledge of his landscape works is not +extensive enough to justify me in speaking of them decisively; but this +is to be noted of all that I know, that they are rather motives of +feeling and color than earnest studies; that their execution is in some +degree mannered, and always hasty; that they are altogether wanting in +the affectionate detail of which I have already spoken; and that their +color is in some measure dependent on a bituminous brown and +conventional green which have more of science than of truth in them. +These faults may be sufficiently noted in the magnificent picture +presented by him to the Royal Academy, and tested by a comparison of it +with the Turner (Llanberis,) in the same room. Nothing can be more +attractively luminous or aerial than the distance of the Gainsborough, +nothing more bold or inventive than the forms of its crags and the +diffusion of the broad distant light upon them, where a vulgar artist +would have thrown them into dark contrast. But it will be found that the +light of the distance is brought out by a violent exaggeration of the +gloom in the valley; that the forms of the green trees which bear the +chief light are careless and ineffective; that the markings of the crags +are equally hasty; and that no object in the foreground has realization +enough to enable the eye to rest upon it. The Turner, a much feebler +picture in its first impression, and altogether inferior in the quality +and value of its individual hues, will yet be found to the end more +forcible, because unexaggerated; its gloom is moderate and aerial, its +light deep in tone, its color entirely unconventional, and the forms of +its rocks studied with the most devoted care. With Gainsborough +terminates the series of painters connected with the elder schools. By +whom, among those yet living or lately lost, the impulse was first given +to modern landscape, I attempt not to decide. Such questions are rather +invidious than interesting; the particular tone or direction of any +school seems to me always to have resulted rather from certain phases +of national character, limited to particular periods, than from +individual teaching; and, especially among moderns, what has been good +in each master has been commonly original. + + +Sec. 18. Constable, Calcott. + +I have already alluded to the simplicity and earnestness of the mind of +Constable; to its vigorous rupture with school laws, and to its +unfortunate error on the opposite side. Unteachableness seems to have +been a main feature of his character, and there is corresponding want of +veneration in the way he approaches nature herself. His early education +and associations were also against him; they induced in him a morbid +preference of subjects of a low order. I have never seen any work of his +in which there were any signs of his being able to draw, and hence even +the most necessary details are painted by him inefficiently. His works +are also eminently wanting both in rest and refinement, and Fuseli's +jesting compliment is too true; for the showery weather in which the +artist delights, misses alike the majesty of storm and the loveliness of +calm weather: it is great-coat weather, and nothing more. There is +strange want of depth in the mind which has no pleasure in sunbeams but +when piercing painfully through clouds, nor in foliage but when shaken +by the wind, nor in light itself but when flickering, glistening, +restless, and feeble. Yet, with all these deductions, his works are to +be deeply respected as thoroughly original, thoroughly honest, free from +affectation, manly in manner, frequently successful in cool color, and +especially realizing certain motives of English scenery with perhaps as +much affection as such scenery, unless when regarded through media of +feeling derived from higher sources, is calculated to inspire. + +On the works of Calcott, high as his reputation stands, I should look +with far less respect; I see not any preference or affection in the +artist; there is no tendency in him with which we can sympathize, nor +does there appear any sign of aspiration, effort, or enjoyment in any +one of his works. He appears to have completed them methodically, to +have been content with them when completed, to have thought them good, +legitimate, regular pictures; perhaps in some respects better than +nature. He painted everything tolerably, and nothing excellently; he +has given us no gift, struck for us no light, and though he has +produced one or two valuable works, of which the finest I know is the +Marine in the possession of Sir J. Swinburne, they will, I believe, in +future have no place among those considered representative of the +English school. + + +Sec. 19. Peculiar tendency of recent landscape. + +Throughout the range of elder art it will be remembered we have found no +instance of the faithful painting of mountain scenery, except in a faded +background of Masaccio's: nothing more than rocky eminences, undulating +hills, or fantastic crags, and even these treated altogether under +typical forms. The more specific study of mountains seems to have +coincided with the most dexterous practice of water-color; but it admits +of doubt whether the choice of subject has been directed by the vehicle, +or whether, as I rather think, the tendency of national feeling has been +followed in the use of the most appropriate means. Something is to be +attributed to the increased demand for slighter works of art, and much +to the sense of the quality of objects now called picturesque, which +appears to be exclusively of modern origin. From what feeling the +character of middle-age architecture and costume arose, or with what +kind of affection their forms were regarded by the inventors, I am +utterly unable to guess; but of this I think we may be assured, that the +natural instinct and child-like wisdom of those days were altogether +different from the modern feeling, which appears to have taken its +origin in the absence of such objects, and to be based rather on the +strangeness of their occurrence than on any real affection for them; and +which is certainly so shallow and ineffective as to be instantly and +always sacrificed by the majority to fashion, comfort, or economy. Yet I +trust that there is a healthy though feeble love of nature mingled with +it, nature pure, separate, felicitous, which is also peculiar to the +moderns; and as signs of this feeling, or ministers to it, I look with +veneration upon many works which, in a technical point of view, are of +minor importance. + + +Sec. 20. G. Robson, D. Cox. False use of the term "style." + +I have been myself indebted for much teaching and more delight to those +of the late G. Robson. Weaknesses there are in them manifold, much bad +drawing, much forced color, much over finish, little of what artists +call composition; but there is thorough affection for the thing drawn; +they are serious and quiet in the highest degree, certain qualities of +atmosphere and texture in them have never been excelled, and certain +facts of mountain scenery never but by them expressed, as, for instance, +the stillness and depth of the mountain tarns, with the reversed imagery +of their darkness signed across by the soft lines of faintly touching +winds; the solemn flush of the brown fern and glowing heath under +evening light; the purple mass of mountains far removed, seen against +clear still twilight. With equal gratitude I look to the drawings of +David Cox, which, in spite of their loose and seemingly careless +execution, are not less serious in their meaning, nor less important in +their truth. I must, however, in reviewing those modern works in which +certain modes of execution are particularly manifested, insist +especially on this general principle, applicable to all times of art; +that what is usually called the style or manner of an artist is, in all +good art, nothing but the best means of getting at the particular truth +which the artist wanted; it is not a mode peculiar to himself of getting +at the same truths as other men, but the _only_ mode of getting the +particular facts he desires, and which mode, if others had desired to +express those facts, they also must have adopted. All habits of +execution persisted in under no such necessity, but because the artist +has invented them, or desires to show his dexterity in them, are utterly +base; for every good painter finds so much difficulty in reaching the +end he sees and desires, that he has no time nor power left for playing +tricks on the road to it; he catches at the easiest and best means he +can get; it is possible that such means may be singular, and then it +will be said that his _style_ is strange; but it is not a style at all, +it is the saying of a particular thing in the only way in which it +possibly can be said. Thus the reed pen outline and peculiar touch of +Prout, which are frequently considered as mere manner, are in fact the +only means of expressing the crumbling character of stone which the +artist loves and desires. That character never has been expressed except +by him, nor will it ever be expressed except by his means. And it is of +the greatest importance to distinguish this kind of necessary and +virtuous manner from the conventional manners very frequent in +derivative schools, and always utterly to be contemned, wherein an +artist, desiring nothing and feeling nothing, executes everything in his +own particular mode, and teaches emulous scholars how to do with +difficulty what might have been done with ease. It is true that there +are sometimes instances in which great masters have employed different +means of getting at the same end, but in these cases their choice has +been always of those which to them appeared the shortest and most +complete; their practice has never been prescribed by affectation or +continued from habit, except so far as must be expected from such +weakness as is common to all men; from hands that necessarily do most +readily what they are most accustomed to do, and minds always liable to +prescribe to the hands that which they can do most readily. + +The recollection of this will keep us from being offended with the loose +and blotted handling of David Cox. There is no other means by which his +object could be attained. The looseness, coolness, and moisture of his +herbage; the rustling crumpled freshness of his broad-leaved weeds; the +play of pleasant light across his deep heathered moor or plashing sand; +the melting of fragments of white mist into the dropping blue above; all +this has not been fully recorded except by him, and what there is of +accidental in his mode of reaching it, answers gracefully to the +accidental part of nature herself. Yet he is capable of more than this, +and if he suffers himself uniformly to paint beneath his capability, +that which began in feeling must necessarily end in manner. He paints +too many small pictures, and perhaps has of late permitted his peculiar +execution to be more manifest than is necessary. Of this, he is himself +the best judge. For almost all faults of this kind the public are +answerable, not the painter. I have alluded to one of his grander +works--such as I should wish always to see him paint--in the preface; +another, I think still finer, a red sunset on distant hills, almost +unequalled for truth and power of color, was painted by him several +years ago, and remains, I believe, in his own possession. + + +Sec. 21. Copley Fielding. Phenomena of distant color. + +The deserved popularity of Copley Fielding has rendered it less +necessary for me to allude frequently to his works in the following +pages than it would otherwise have been, more especially as my own +sympathies and enjoyments are so entirely directed in the channel which +his art has taken, that I am afraid of trusting them too far. Yet I +may, perhaps, be permitted to speak of myself so far as I suppose my own +feelings to be representative of those of a class; and I suppose that +there are many who, like myself, at some period of their life have +derived more intense and healthy pleasure from the works of this painter +than of any other whatsoever; healthy, because always based on his +faithful and simple rendering of nature, and that of very lovely and +impressive nature, altogether freed from coarseness, violence, or +vulgarity. Various references to that which he has attained will be +found subsequently: what I am now about to say respecting what he has +_not_ attained, is not in depreciation of what he has accomplished, but +in regret at his suffering powers of a high order to remain in any +measure dormant. + +He indulges himself too much in the use of crude color. Pure cobalt, +violent rose, and purple, are of frequent occurrence in his distances; +pure siennas and other browns in his foregrounds, and that not as +expressive of lighted but of local color. The reader will find in the +following chapters that I am no advocate for subdued coloring; but crude +color is not bright color, and there was never a noble or brilliant work +of color yet produced, whose real form did not depend on the subduing of +its tints rather than the elevation of them. + +It is perhaps one of the most difficult lessons to learn in art, that +the warm colors of distance, even the most glowing, are subdued by the +air so as in no wise to resemble the same color seen on a foreground +object; so that the rose of sunset on clouds or mountains has a gray in +it which distinguishes it from the rose color of the leaf of a flower; +and the mingling of this gray of distance, without in the slightest +degree taking away the expression of the intense and perfect purity of +the color in and by itself, is perhaps the last attainment of the great +landscape colorist. In the same way the blue of distance, however +intense, is not the blue of a bright blue flower, and it is not +distinguished from it by different texture merely, but by a certain +intermixture and under current of warm color, which is altogether +wanting in many of the blues of Fielding's distances; and so of every +bright distant color; while in foreground where colors may be, and ought +to be, pure, yet that any of them are expressive of light is only to be +felt where there is the accurate fitting of them to their relative +shadows which we find in the works of Giorgione, Titian, Tintoret, +Veronese, Turner, and all other great colorists in proportion as they +are so. Of this fitting of light to shadow Fielding is altogether +regardless, so that his foregrounds are constantly assuming the aspect +of overcharged local color instead of sunshine, and his figures and +cattle look transparent. + + +Sec. 22. Beauty of mountain foreground. + +Again, the finishing of Fielding's foregrounds, as regards their +drawing, is minute without accuracy, multitudinous without thought, and +confused without mystery. Where execution is seen to be in measure +accidental, as in Cox, it may be received as representative of what is +accidental in nature; but there is no part of Fielding's foreground that +is accidental; it is evidently worked and reworked, dotted, rubbed, and +finished with great labor, and where the virtue, playfulness, and +freedom of accident are thus removed, one of two virtues must be +substituted for them. Either we must have the deeply studied and +imaginative foreground, of which every part is necessary to every other, +and whose every spark of light is essential to the well-being of the +whole, of which the foregrounds of Turner in the Liber Studiorum are the +most eminent examples I know, or else we must have in some measure the +botanical faithfulness and realization of the early masters. Neither of +these virtues is to be found in Fielding's. Its features, though grouped +with feeling, are yet scattered and inessential. Any one of them might +be altered in many ways without doing harm; there is no proportioned, +necessary, unalterable relation among them; no evidence of invention or +of careful thought, while on the other hand there is no botanical or +geological accuracy, nor any point on which the eye may rest with +thorough contentment in its realization. + +It seems strange that to an artist of so quick feeling the details of a +mountain foreground should not prove irresistibly attractive, and entice +him to greater accuracy of study. There is not a fragment of its living +rock, nor a tuft of its heathery herbage, that has not adorable +manifestations of God's working thereupon. The harmonies of color among +the native lichens are better than Titian's; the interwoven bells of +campanula and heather are better than all the arabesques of the Vatican; +they need no improvement, arrangement, nor alteration, nothing but love, +and every combination of them is different from every other, so that a +painter need never repeat himself if he will only be true; yet all these +sources of power have been of late entirely neglected by Fielding; there +is evidence through all his foregrounds of their being mere home +inventions, and like all home inventions they exhibit perpetual +resemblances and repetitions; the painter is evidently embarrassed +without his rutted road in the middle, and his boggy pool at the side, +which pool he has of late painted in hard lines of violent blue: there +is not a stone, even of the nearest and most important, which has its +real lichens upon it, or a studied form or anything more to occupy the +mind than certain variations of dark and light browns. The same faults +must be found with his present painting of foliage, neither the stems +nor leafage being ever studied from nature; and this is the more to be +regretted, because in the earlier works of the artist there was much +admirable drawing, and even yet his power is occasionally developed in +his larger works, as in a Bolton Abbey on canvas, which was,--I cannot +say, exhibited,--but was in the rooms of the Royal Academy in 1843.[9] I +should have made the preceding remarks with more hesitation and +diffidence, but that, from a comparison of works of this kind with the +slighter ornaments of the water-color rooms, it seems evident that the +painter is not unaware of the deficiencies of these latter, and concedes +something of what he would himself desire to what he has found to be the +feeling of a majority of his admirers. This is a dangerous modesty, and +especially so in these days when the judgment of the many is palpably as +artificial as their feeling is cold. + + +Sec. 23. De Wint. + +There is much that is instructive and deserving of high praise in the +sketches of De Wint. Yet it is to be remembered that even the pursuit of +truth, however determined, will have results limited and imperfect when +its chief motive is the pride of being true; and I fear that these +works, sublime as many of them have unquestionably been, testify more +accuracy of eye and experience of color than exercise of thought. Their +truth of effect is often purchased at too great an expense by the loss +of all beauty of form, and of the higher refinements of color; +deficiencies, however, on which I shall not insist, since the value of +the sketches, as far as they go, is great; they have done good service +and set good example, and whatever their failings may be, there is +evidence in them that the painter has always done what he believed to be +right. + + +Sec. 24. Influence of Engraving. J. D. Harding. + +The influence of the masters of whom we have hitherto spoken is confined +to those who have access to their actual works, since the particular +qualities in which they excel, are in no wise to be rendered by the +engraver. Those of whom we have next to speak are known to the public in +a great measure by the help of the engraver; and while their influence +is thus very far extended, their modes of working are perhaps, in some +degree modified by the habitual reference to the future translation into +light and shade; reference which is indeed beneficial in the care it +induces respecting the arrangement of the chiaroscuro and the +explanation of the forms, but which is harmful, so far as it involves a +dependence rather on quantity of picturesque material than on +substantial color or simple treatment, and as it admits of indolent +diminution of size and slightness of execution. + +We should not be just to the present works of J. D. Harding unless we +took this influence into account. Some years back none of our artists +realized more laboriously, nor obtained more substantial color and +texture; a large drawing in the possession of B. G. Windus, Esq., of +Tottenham, is of great value as an example of his manner at the period; +a manner not only careful, but earnest, and free from any kind of +affectation. Partly from the habit of making slight and small drawings +for engravers, and partly also, I imagine, from an overstrained seeking +after appearances of dexterity in execution, his drawings have of late +years become both less solid and less complete; not, however, without +attaining certain brilliant qualities in exchange which are very +valuable in the treatment of some of the looser portions of subject. Of +the extended knowledge and various powers of this painter, frequent +instances are noted in the following pages. Neither, perhaps, are +rightly estimated among artists, owing to a certain coldness of +sentiment in his choice of subject, and a continual preference of the +picturesque to the impressive; proved perhaps in nothing so distinctly +as in the little interest usually attached to his skies, which, if +aerial and expressive of space and movement, content him, though +destitute of story, power, or character: an exception must be made in +favor of the very grand sunrise on the Swiss Alps, exhibited in 1844, +wherein the artist's real power was in some measure displayed, though I +am convinced he is still capable of doing far greater things. So in his +foliage he is apt to sacrifice the dignity of his trees to their +wildness, and lose the forest in the copse, neither is he at all +accurate enough in his expression of species or realization of near +portions. These are deficiencies, be it observed, of sentiment, not of +perception, as there are few who equal him in rapidity of seizure of +material truth. + + +Sec. 25. Samuel Prout. Early painting of architecture, how deficient. + +Very extensive influence in modern art must be attributed to the works +of Samuel Prout; and as there are some circumstances belonging to his +treatment of architectural subject which it does not come within the +sphere of the following chapters to examine, I shall endeavor to note +the more important of them here. + +Let us glance back for a moment to the architectural drawing of earlier +times. Before the time of the Bellinis at Venice, and of Ghirlandajo at +Florence, I believe there are no examples of anything beyond +conventional representation of architecture, often rich, quaint, and +full of interest, as Memmi's abstract of the Duomo at Florence at S^ta. +Maria Novella; but not to be classed with any genuine efforts at +representation. It is much to be regretted that the power and custom of +introducing well-drawn architecture should have taken place only when +architectural taste had been itself corrupted, and that the architecture +introduced by Bellini, Ghirlandajo, Francia, and the other patient and +powerful workmen of the fifteenth century, is exclusively of the +renaissance styles; while their drawing of it furnishes little that is +of much interest to the architectural draughtsman as such, being always +governed by a reference to its subordinate position, so that all +forceful shadow and play of color are (most justly) surrendered for +quiet and uniform hues of gray and chiaroscuro of extreme simplicity. +Whatever they chose to do they did with consummate grandeur, (note +especially the chiaroscuro of the square window of Ghirlandajo's which +so much delighted Vasari in S^ta. Maria Novella; and the daring +management of a piece of the perspective in the Salutation, opposite +where he has painted a flight of stairs descending in front, though the +picture is twelve feet above the eye); and yet this grandeur, in all +these men, results rather from the general power obtained in their +drawing of the figure than from any definite knowledge respecting the +things introduced in these accessory parts; so that while in some points +it is impossible for any painter to equal these accessories, unless he +were in all respects as great as Ghirlandajo or Bellini, in others it is +possible for him, with far inferior powers, to attain a representation +both more accurate and more interesting. + +In order to arrive at the knowledge of these, we must briefly take note +of a few of the modes in which architecture itself is agreeable to the +mind, especially of the influence upon the character of the building +which is to be attributed to the signs of age. + + +Sec. 26. Effects of age upon buildings, how far desirable. + +It is evident, first, that if the design of the building be originally +bad, the only virtue it can ever possess will be in signs of antiquity. +All that in this world enlarges the sphere of affection or imagination +is to be reverenced, and all those circumstances enlarge it which +strengthen our memory or quicken our conception of the dead; hence it is +no light sin to destroy anything that is old, more especially because, +even with the aid of all obtainable records of the past, we, the living, +occupy a space of too large importance and interest in our own eyes; we +look upon the world too much as our own, too much as if we had possessed +it and should possess it forever, and forget that it is a mere hostelry, +of which we occupy the apartments for a time, which others better than +we have sojourned in before, who are now where we should desire to be +with them. Fortunately for mankind, as some counterbalance to that +wretched love of novelty which originates in selfishness, shallowness, +and conceit, and which especially characterizes all vulgar minds, there +is set in the deeper places of the heart such affection for the signs of +age that the eye is delighted even by injuries which are the work of +time; not but that there is also real and absolute beauty in the forms +and colors so obtained, for which the original lines of the +architecture, unless they have been very grand indeed, are well +exchanged, so that there is hardly any building so ugly but that it may +be made an agreeable object by such appearances. It would not be easy, +for instance, to find a less pleasing piece of architecture than the +portion of the front of Queen's College, Oxford, which has just been +restored; yet I believe that few persons could have looked with total +indifference on the mouldering and peeled surface of the oolite +limestone previous to its restoration. If, however, the character of the +building consist in minute detail or multitudinous lines, the evil or +good effect of age upon it must depend in great measure on the kind of +art, the material, and the climate. The Parthenon, for instance, would +be injured by any markings which interfered with the contours of its +sculptures; and any lines of extreme purity, or colors of original +harmony and perfection are liable to injury, and are ill exchanged for +mouldering edges or brown weatherstains. + +But as all architecture is, or ought to be, meant to be durable, and to +derive part of its glory from its antiquity, all art that is liable to +mortal injury from effects of time is therein out of place, and this is +another reason for the principle I have asserted in the second part, +page 204. I do not at this instant recollect a single instance of any +very fine building which is not improved up to a certain period by all +its signs of age, after which period, like all other human works, it +necessarily declines, its decline being in almost all ages and countries +accelerated by neglect and abuse in its time of beauty, and alteration +or restoration in its time of age. + +Thus I conceive that all buildings dependent on color, whether of mosaic +or painting, have their effect improved by the richness of the +subsequent tones of age; for there are few arrangements of color so +perfect but that they are capable of improvement by some softening and +blending of this kind: with mosaic, the improvement may be considered as +proceeding almost so long as the design can be distinctly seen; with +painting, so long as the colors do not change or chip off. + +Again, upon all forms of sculptural ornament, the effect of time is +such, that if the design be poor, it will enrich it; if overcharged, +simplify it; if harsh and violent, soften it; if smooth and obscure, +exhibit it; whatever faults it may have are rapidly disguised, whatever +virtue it has still shines and steals out in the mellow light; and this +to such an extent, that the artist is always liable to be tempted to the +drawing of details in old buildings as of extreme beauty, which look +cold and hard in their architectural lines; and I have never yet seen +any restoration or cleaned portion of a building whose effect was not +inferior to the weathered parts, even to those of which the design had +in some parts almost disappeared. On the front of the church of San +Michele at Lucca, the mosaics have fallen out of half the columns, and +lie in weedy ruin beneath; in many, the frost has torn large masses of +the entire coating away, leaving a scarred unsightly surface. Two of the +shafts of the upper star window are eaten entirely away by the sea wind, +the rest have lost their proportions, the edges of the arches are hacked +into deep hollows, and cast indented shadows on the weed-grown wall. +The process has gone too far, and yet I doubt not but that this building +is seen to greater advantage now than when first built, always with +exception of one circumstance, that the French shattered the lower wheel +window, and set up in front of it an escutcheon with "Libertas" upon it, +which abomination of desolation, the Lucchese have not yet had +human-heartedness enough to pull down. + +Putting therefore the application of architecture as an accessory out of +the question, and supposing our object to be the exhibition of the most +impressive qualities of the building itself, it is evidently the duty of +the draughtsman to represent it under those conditions, and with that +amount of age-mark upon it which may best exalt and harmonize the +sources of its beauty: this is no pursuit of mere picturesqueness, it is +true following out of the ideal character of the building; nay, far +greater dilapidation than this may in portions be exhibited, for there +are beauties of other kinds, not otherwise attainable, brought out by +advanced dilapidation; but when the artist suffers the mere love of +ruinousness to interfere with his perception of the _art_ of the +building, and substitutes rude fractures and blotting stains for all its +fine chiselling and determined color, he has lost the end of his own +art. + + +Sec. 27. Effects of light, how necessary to the understanding of detail. + +So far of aging; next of effects of light and color. It is, I believe, +hardly enough observed among architects that the same decorations are of +totally different effect according to their position and the time of +day. A moulding which is of value on a building facing south, where it +takes deep shadows from steep sun, may be utterly ineffective if placed +west or east; and a moulding which is chaste and intelligible in shade +on a north side, may be grotesque, vulgar, or confused when it takes +black shadows on the south. Farther, there is a time of day in which +every architectural decoration is seen to best advantage, and certain +times in which its peculiar force and character are best explained; of +these niceties the architect takes little cognizance, as he must in some +sort calculate on the effect of ornament at all times; but to the artist +they are of infinite importance, and especially for this reason, that +there is always much detail on buildings which cannot be drawn as such, +which is too far off, or too minute, and which must consequently be set +down in short-hand of some kind or another; and, as it were, an +abstract, more or less philosophical, made of its general heads. Of the +style of this abstract, of the lightness, confusion, and mystery +necessary in it, I have spoken elsewhere; at present I insist only on +the arrangement and matter of it. All good ornament and all good +architecture are capable of being put into short-hand; that is, each has +a perfect system of parts, principal and subordinate, of which, even +when the complemental details vanish in distance, the system and anatomy +yet remain visible so long as anything is visible; so that the divisions +of a beautiful spire shall be known as beautiful even till their last +line vanishes in blue mist, and the effect of a well-designed moulding +shall be visibly disciplined, harmonious, and inventive, as long as it +is seen to be a moulding at all. Now the power of the artist of marking +this character depends not on his complete knowledge of the design, but +on his experimental knowledge of its salient and bearing parts, and of +the effects of light and shadow, by which their saliency is best told. +He must therefore be prepared, according to his subject, to use light, +steep or level, intense or feeble, and out of the resulting chiaroscuro +select those peculiar and hinging points on which the rest are based, +and by which all else that is essential may be explained. + +The thoughtful command of all these circumstances constitutes the real +architectural draughtsman; the habits of executing everything either +under one kind of effect or in one manner, or of using unintelligible +and meaningless abstracts of beautiful designs, are those which must +commonly take the place of it and are the most extensively esteemed.[10] + + +Sec. 28. Architectural painting of Gentile Bellini and Vittor Carpaccio; + +Let us now proceed with our review of those artists who have devoted +themselves more peculiarly to architectural subject. + +Foremost among them stand Gentile Bellini and Vittor Carpaccio, to whom +we are indebted for the only existing faithful statements of the +architecture of Old Venice, and who are the only authorities to whom we +can trust in conjecturing the former beauty of those few desecrated +fragments, the last of which are now being rapidly swept away by the +idiocy of modern Venetians. + +Nothing can be more careful, nothing more delicately finished, or more +dignified in feeling than the works of both these men; and as +architectural evidence they are the best we could have had, all the +gilded parts being gilt in the picture, so that there can be no mistake +or confusion of them with yellow color or light, and all the frescoes or +mosaics given with the most absolute precision and fidelity. At the same +time they are by no means examples of perfect architectural drawing; +there is little light and shade in them of any kind, and none whatever +of the thoughtful observance of temporary effect of which we have just +been speaking; so that, in rendering the character of the relieved +parts, their solidity, depth, or gloom, the representation fails +altogether, and it is moreover lifeless from its very completion, both +the signs of age and the effects of use and habitation being utterly +rejected; rightly so, indeed, in these instances, (all the architecture +of these painters being in background to religious subject,) but wrongly +so, if we look to the architecture alone. Neither is there anything like +aerial perspective attempted; the employment of actual gold in the +decoration of all the distances, and the entire realization of their +details, as far as is possible on the scale compelled by perspective, +being alone sufficient to prevent this, except in the hands of painters +far more practised in effect than either Gentile or Carpaccio. But with +all these discrepancies, Gentile Bellini's church of St. Mark's is the +best church of St. Mark's that has ever been painted, so far as I know; +and I believe the reconciliation of true aerial perspective and +chiaroscuro with the splendor and dignity obtained by the real gilding +and elaborate detail, is a problem yet to be accomplished. With the help +of the Daguerreotype, and the lessons of color given by the later +Venetians, we ought now to be able to accomplish it, more especially as +the right use of gold has been shown us by the greatest master of effect +whom Venice herself produced, Tintoret, who has employed it with +infinite grace on the steps ascended by the young Madonna, in his large +picture in the church of the Madonna dell' Orto. Perugino uses it also +with singular grace, often employing it for golden light on distant +trees, and continually on the high light of hair, and that without +losing relative distances. + + +Sec. 29. And of the Venetians generally. + +The great group of Venetian painters who brought landscape art, for that +time, to its culminating point, have left, as we have already seen, +little that is instructive in architectural painting. The causes of this +I cannot comprehend, for neither Titian nor Tintoret appears to despise +anything that affords them either variety of form or of color, the +latter especially condescending to very trivial details,--as in the +magnificent carpet painting of the Doge Mocenigo; so that it might have +been expected that in the rich colors of St. Mark's, and the magnificent +and fantastic masses of the Byzantine palaces, they would have found +where-upon to dwell with delighted elaboration. This is, however, never +the case, and although frequently compelled to introduce portions of +Venetian locality in their backgrounds, such portions are always treated +in a most hasty and faithless manner, missing frequently all character +of the building, and never advanced to realization. In Titian's picture +of Faith, the view of Venice below is laid in so rapidly and slightly, +the houses all leaning this way and that, and of no color, the sea a +dead gray green, and the ship-sails mere dashes of the brush, that the +most obscure of Turner's Venices would look substantial beside it; while +in the very picture of Tintoret in which he has dwelt so elaborately on +the carpet, he has substituted a piece of ordinary renaissance +composition for St. Mark's, and in the background has chosen the +Sansovino side of the Piazzetta, treating even that so carelessly as to +lose all the proportion and beauty of its design, and so flimsily that +the line of the distant sea which has been first laid in, is seen +through all the columns. Evidences of magnificent power of course exist +in whatever he touches, but his full power is never turned in this +direction. More space is allowed to his architecture by Paul Veronese, +but it is still entirely suggestive, and would be utterly false except +as a frame or background for figures. The same may be said with respect +to Raffaelle and the Roman school. + + +Sec. 30. Fresco painting of the Venetian exteriors. Canaletto. + +If, however, these men laid architecture little under contribution to +their own art, they made their own art a glorious gift to architecture, +and the walls of Venice, which before, I believe, had received color +only in arabesque patterns, were lighted with human life by Giorgione, +Titian, Tintoret, and Veronese. Of the works of Tintoret and Titian, +nothing now, I believe, remains; two figures of Giorgione's are still +traceable on the Fondaco de' Tedeschi, one of which, singularly +uninjured, is seen from far above and below the Rialto, flaming like the +reflection of a sunset. Two figures of Veronese were also traceable till +lately, the head and arms of one still remain, and some glorious +olive-branches which were beside the other; the figure having been +entirely effaced by an inscription in large black letters on a whitewash +tablet which we owe to the somewhat inopportunely expressed enthusiasm +of the inhabitants of the district in favor of their new pastor.[11] +Judging, however, from the rate at which destruction is at present +advancing, and seeing that, in about seven or eight years more, Venice +will have utterly lost every external claim to interest, except that +which attaches to the group of buildings immediately around St. Mark's +place, and to the larger churches, it may be conjectured that the +greater part of her present degradation has taken place, at any rate, +within the last forty years. Let the reader with such scraps of evidence +as may still be gleaned from under the stucco and paint of the Italian +committees of taste, and from among the drawing-room innovations of +English and German residents restore Venice in his imagination to +some resemblance of what she must have been before her fall. Let him, +looking from Lido or Fusina, replace in the forest of towers those of +the hundred and sixty-six churches which the French threw down; let him +sheet her walls with purple and scarlet, overlay her minarets with +gold,[12] cleanse from their pollution those choked canals which are now +the drains of hovels, where they were once vestibules of palaces, and +fill them with gilded barges and bannered ships; finally, let him +withdraw from this scene, already so brilliant, such sadness and stain +as had been set upon it by the declining energies of more than half a +century, and he will see Venice as it was seen by Canaletto; whose +miserable, virtueless, heartless mechanism, accepted as the +representation of such various glory, is, both in its existence and +acceptance, among the most striking signs of the lost sensation and +deadened intellect of the nation at that time; a numbness and darkness +more without hope than that of the grave itself, holding and wearing yet +the sceptre and the crown like the corpses of the Etruscan kings, ready +to sink into ashes at the first unbarring of the door of the sepulchre. + +[Illustration: CASA CONTARINI FASAN, VENICE. + From a drawing by Ruskin.] + +The mannerism of Canaletto is the most degraded that I know in the whole +range of art. Professing the most servile and mindless imitation, it +imitates nothing but the blackness of the shadows; it gives no one +single architectural ornament, however near, so much form as might +enable us even to guess at its actual one; and this I say not rashly, +for I shall prove it by placing portions of detail accurately copied +from Canaletto side by side with engravings from the Daguerreotype; it +gives the buildings neither their architectural beauty nor their +ancestral dignity, for there is no texture of stone nor character of age +in Canaletto's touch; which is invariably a violent, black, sharp, ruled +penmanlike line, as far removed from the grace of nature as from her +faintness and transparency; and for his truth of color, let the single +fact of his having omitted _all record, whatsoever, of the frescoes_ +whose wrecks are still to be found at least on one half of the +unrestored palaces, and, with still less excusableness, all record of +the magnificent colored marbles of many whose greens and purples are +still undimmed upon the Casa Dario, Casa Bianca Capello, and multitudes +besides, speak for him in this respect. + +Let it be observed that I find no fault with Canaletto, for his want of +poetry, of feeling, of artistical thoughtfulness in treatment, or of the +various other virtues which he does not so much as profess. He professes +nothing but colored Daguerreotypeism. Let us have it: most precious and +to be revered it would be: let us have fresco where fresco was, and that +copied faithfully; let us have carving where carving is, and that +architecturally true. I have seen Daguerreotypes in which every figure +and rosette, and crack and stain, and fissure are given on a scale of an +inch to Canaletto's three feet. What excuse is there to be offered for +his omitting, on that scale, as I shall hereafter show, all statement of +such ornament whatever? Among the Flemish schools, exquisite imitations +of architecture are found constantly, and that not with Canaletto's +vulgar, black exaggeration of shadow, but in the most pure and silvery +and luminous grays. I have little pleasure in such pictures; but I blame +not those who have more; they are what they profess to be, and they are +wonderful and instructive, and often graceful, and even affecting, but +Canaletto possesses no virtue except that of dexterous imitation of +commonplace light and shade, and perhaps, with the exception of +Salvator, no artist has ever fettered his unfortunate admirers more +securely from all healthy or vigorous perception of truth, or been of +more general detriment to all subsequent schools. + + +Sec. 31. Expression of the effects of age on architecture by S. Prout. + +Neither, however, by the Flemings, nor by any other of the elder +schools, was the effect of age or of human life upon architecture ever +adequately expressed. What ruins they drew looked as if broken down on +purpose, what weeds they put on seemed put on for ornament. Their +domestic buildings had never any domesticity, the people looked out of +their windows evidently to be drawn, or came into the street only to +stand there forever. A peculiar studiousness infected all accident; +bricks fell out methodically, windows opened and shut by rule; stones +were chipped at regular intervals; everything that happened seemed to +have been expected before; and above all, the street had been washed and +the houses dusted expressly to be painted in their best. We owe to +Prout, I believe, the first perception, and certainly the only existing +expression of precisely the characters which were wanting to old art, of +that feeling which results from the influence among the noble lines of +architecture, of the rent and the rust, the fissure, the lichen, and the +weed, and from the writing upon the pages of ancient walls of the +confused hieroglyphics of human history. I suppose, from the deserved +popularity of the artist, that the strange pleasure which I find myself +in the deciphering of these is common to many; the feeling has been +rashly and thoughtlessly contemned as mere love of the picturesque; +there is, as I have above shown, a deeper moral in it, and we owe much, +I am not prepared to say how much, to the artist by whom pre-eminently +it has been excited. For, numerous as have been his imitators, extended +as his influence, and simple as his means and manner, there has yet +appeared nothing at all to equal him; there is _no_ stone drawing, _no_ +vitality of architecture like Prout's. I say not this rashly, I have +Mackenzie in my eye and many other capital imitators; and I have +carefully reviewed the Architectural work of the Academicians, often +most accurate and elaborate. I repeat, there is nothing but the work of +Prout which is true, living, or right in its general impression, and +nothing, therefore, so inexhaustibly agreeable. Faults he has, manifold, +easily detected, and much declaimed against by second-rate artists; but +his excellence no one has ever touched, and his lithographic work, +(Sketches in Flanders and Germany,) which was, I believe, the first of +the kind, still remains the most valuable of all, numerous and elaborate +as its various successors have been. The second series (in Italy and +Switzerland) was of less value, the drawings seemed more laborious, and +had less of the life of the original sketches, being also for the most +part of subjects less adapted for the development of the artist's +peculiar powers; but both are fine, and the Brussels, Louvain, Cologne, +and Nuremberg, subjects of the one, together with the Tours, Amboise, +Geneva, and Sion of the other, exhibit substantial qualities of stone +and wood drawing, together with an ideal appreciation of the present +active vital being of the cities, such as nothing else has ever +approached. Their value is much increased by the circumstance of their +being drawn by the artist's own hand upon the stone, and by the +consequent manly recklessness of subordinate parts, (in works of this +kind, be it remembered, much _is_ subordinate,) which is of all +characters of execution the most refreshing. Note the scrawled middle +tint of the wall behind the Gothic well at Ratisbonne, and compare this +manly piece of work with the wretched smoothness of recent lithography. +Let it not be thought that there is any inconsistency between what I say +here and what I have said respecting finish. This piece of dead wall is +as much finished in relation to its _function_ as a wall of +Ghirlandajo's or Leonardo's in relation to theirs, and the refreshing +quality is the same in both, and manifest in _all_ great masters, +without exception, that of the utter regardlessness of the means so that +their end be reached. The same kind of scrawling occurs often in the +shade of Raffaelle. + + +Sec. 32. His excellent composition and color. + +It is not only, however, by his peculiar stone touch nor perception of +human character that he is distinguished. He is the most dexterous of +all our artists in a certain kind of composition. No one can place +figures like him, except Turner. It is one thing to know where a piece +of blue or white is wanted, and another to make the wearer of the blue +apron or white cap come there, and not look as if it were against her +will. Prout's streets are the only streets that are accidentally +crowded, his markets are the only markets where one feels inclined to +get out of the way. With others we feel the figures so right where they +are, that we have no expectation of their going anywhere else, and +approve of the position of the man with the wheelbarrow, without the +slightest fear of his running against our legs. One other merit he has, +far less generally acknowledged than it should be: he is among our most +sunny and substantial colorists. Much conventional color occurs in his +inferior pictures (for he is very unequal) and some in all; but portions +are always to be found of quality so luminous and pure that I have found +these works the only ones capable of bearing juxtaposition with Turner +and Hunt, who invariably destroy everything else that comes within +range of them. His most beautiful tones occur in those drawings in which +there is prevalent and powerful warm gray, his most failing ones in +those of sandy red. On his deficiencies I shall not insist, because I am +not prepared to say how far it is possible for him to avoid them. We +have never seen the reconciliation of the peculiar characters he has +obtained with the accurate following out of architectural detail. With +his present modes of execution, farther fidelity is impossible, nor has +any other mode of execution yet obtained the same results; and though +much is unaccomplished by him in certain subjects, and something of +over-mannerism may be traced in his treatment of others, as especially +in his mode of expressing the decorative parts of Greek or Roman +architecture, yet in his own peculiar Gothic territory, where the spirit +of the subject itself is somewhat rude and grotesque, his abstract of +decoration has more of the spirit of the reality than far more laborious +imitation. The spirit of the Flemish Hotel de Ville and decorated street +architecture has never been even in the slightest degree felt or +conveyed except by him, and by him, to my mind, faultlessly and +absolutely; and though his interpretation of architecture that contains +more refined art in its details is far less satisfactory, still it is +impossible, while walking on his favorite angle of the Piazzetta at +Venice, either to think of any other artist than Prout or _not_ to think +of _him_. + + +Sec. 33. Modern architectural painting generally. G. Cattermole. + +Many other dexterous and agreeable architectural artists we have of +various degrees of merit, but of all of whom, it may be generally said, +that they draw hats, faces, cloaks, and caps much better than Prout, but +figures not so well; that they draw walls and windows but not cities, +mouldings and buttresses but not cathedrals. Joseph Nash's work on the +architecture of the middle ages is, however, valuable, and I suppose +that Haghe's works may be depended on for fidelity. But it appears very +strange that a workman capable of producing the clever drawings he has, +from time to time, sent to the New Society of Painters in Water Colors, +should publish lithographs so conventional, forced, and lifeless. + +It is not without hesitation, that I mention a name respecting which +the reader may already have been surprised at my silence, that of G. +Cattermole. There are signs in his works of very peculiar gifts, and +perhaps also of powerful genius; their deficiencies I should willingly +attribute to the advice of ill-judging friends, and to the applause of a +public satisfied with shallow efforts, if brilliant; yet I cannot but +think it one necessary characteristic of all true genius to be misled by +no such false fires. The Antiquarian feeling of Cattermole is pure, +earnest, and natural; and I think his imagination originally vigorous, +certainly his fancy, his grasp of momentary passion considerable, his +sense of action in the human body vivid and ready. But no original +talent, however brilliant, can sustain its energy when the demands upon +it are constant, and all legitimate support and food withdrawn. I do not +recollect in any, even of the most important of Cattermole's works, so +much as a fold of drapery studied out from nature. Violent +conventionalism of light and shade, sketchy forms continually less and +less developed, the walls and the faces drawn with the same stucco +color, alike opaque, and all the shades on flesh, dress, or stone, laid +in with the same arbitrary brown, forever tell the same tale of a mind +wasting its strength and substance in the production of emptiness, and +seeking, by more and more blindly hazarded handling, to conceal the +weakness which the attempt at finish would betray. + +This tendency of late, has been painfully visible in his architecture. +Some drawings made several years ago for an annual illustrative of +Scott's works were for the most part pure and finely felt--(though +irrelevant to our present subject, a fall of the Clyde should be +noticed, admirable for breadth and grace of foliage, and for the bold +sweeping of the water, and another subject of which I regret that I can +only judge by the engraving; Glendearg at twilight--the monk Eustace +chased by Christie of the Clint hill--which I think must have been one +of the sweetest pieces of simple Border hill feeling ever painted)--and +about that time his architecture, though always conventionally brown in +the shadows, was generally well drawn, and always powerfully conceived. + +Since then, he has been tending gradually through exaggeration to +caricature, and vainly endeavoring to attain by inordinate bulk of +decorated parts, that dignity which is only to be reached by purity of +proportion and majesty of line. + + +Sec. 34. The evil in an archaeological point of view of misapplied invention + in architectural subject. + +It has pained me deeply, to see an artist of so great original power +indulging in childish fantasticism and exaggeration, and substituting +for the serious and subdued work of legitimate imagination, monstre +machicolations and colossal cusps and crockets. While there is so much +beautiful architecture daily in process of destruction around us, I +cannot but think it treason to _imagine_ anything; at least, if we must +have composition, let the design of the artist be such as the architect +would applaud. But it is surely very grievous, that while our idle +artists are helping their vain inventions by the fall of sponges on +soiled paper, glorious buildings with the whole intellect and history of +centuries concentrated in them, are suffered to fall into unrecorded +ruin. A day does not now pass in Italy without the destruction of some +mighty monument; the streets of all her cities echo to the hammer, half +of her fair buildings lie in separate stones about the places of their +foundation; would not time be better spent in telling us the truth about +these perishing remnants of majestic thought, than in perpetuating the +ill-digested fancies of idle hours? It is, I repeat, treason to the +cause of art for any man to invent, unless he invents something better +than has been invented before, or something differing in kind. There is +room enough for invention in the pictorial treatment of what exists. +There is no more honorable exhibition of imaginative power, than in the +selection of such place, choice of such treatment, introduction of such +incident, as may produce a noble picture without deviation from one line +of the actual truth; and such I believe to be, indeed, in the end the +most advantageous, as well as the most modest direction of the +invention, for I recollect no single instance of architectural +composition by any men except such as Leonardo or Veronese, who could +design their architecture thoroughly before they painted it, which has +not a look of inanity and absurdity. The best landscapes and the best +architectural studies have been views; and I would have the artist take +shame to himself in the exact degree in which he finds himself obliged +in the production of his picture to lose any, even of the smallest parts +or most trivial hues which bear a part in the great impression made by +the reality. The difference between the drawing of the architect and +artist[13] ought never to be, as it now commonly is, the difference +between lifeless formality and witless license; it ought to be between +giving the mere lines and measures of a building, and giving those lines +and measures with the impression and soul of it besides. All artists +should be ashamed of themselves when they find they have not the power +of being true; the right wit of drawing is like the right wit of +conversation, not hyperbole, not violence, not frivolity, only well +expressed, laconic truth. + + +Sec. 35. Works of David Roberts: their fidelity and grace. + +Among the members of the Academy, we have at present only one +professedly architectural draughtsman of note, David Roberts, whose +reputation is probably farther extended on the continent than that of +any other of our artists, except Landseer. I am not certain, however, +that I have any reason to congratulate either of my countrymen upon this +their European estimation; for I think it exceedingly probable that in +both instances it is exclusively based on their defects; and in the case +of Mr. Roberts, in particular, there has of late appeared more ground +for it than is altogether desirable in a smoothness and over-finish of +texture which bears dangerous fellowship with the work of our Gallic +neighbors. + +The fidelity of intention and honesty of system of Roberts have, +however, always been meritorious; his drawing of architecture is +dependent on no unintelligible lines, or blots, or substituted types: +the main lines of the real design are always there, and its hollowness +and undercuttings given with exquisite feeling; his sense of solidity of +form is very peculiar, leading him to dwell with great delight on the +roundings of edges and angles; his execution is dexterous and delicate, +singularly so in oil, and his sense of chiaroscuro refined. But he has +never done himself justice, and suffers his pictures to fall below the +rank they should assume, by the presence of several marring characters, +which I shall name, because it is perfectly in his power to avoid them. +In looking over the valuable series of drawing of the Holy Land, which +we owe to Mr. Roberts, we cannot but be amazed to find how frequently +it has happened that there was something very white immediately in the +foreground, and something very black exactly behind it. The same thing +happens perpetually with Mr. Roberts's pictures; a white column is +always coming out of a blue mist, or a white stone out of a green pool, +or a white monument out of a brown recess, and the artifice is not +always concealed with dexterity. This is unworthy of so skilful a +composer, and it has destroyed the impressiveness as well as the color +of some of his finest works. It shows a poverty of conception, which +appears to me to arise from a deficient habit of study. It will be +remembered that of the sketches for this work, several times exhibited +in London, every one was executed in the same manner, and with about the +same degree of completion: being all of them accurate records of the +main architectural lines, the shapes of the shadows, and the remnants of +artificial color, obtained, by means of the same grays, throughout, and +of the same yellow (a singularly false and cold though convenient color) +touched upon the lights. As far as they went, nothing could be more +valuable than these sketches, and the public, glancing rapidly at their +general and graceful effects, could hardly form anything like an +estimate of the endurance and determination which must have been +necessary in such a climate to obtain records so patient, entire, and +clear, of details so multitudinous as (especially) the hieroglyphics of +the Egyptian temples; an endurance which perhaps only artists can +estimate, and for which we owe a debt of gratitude to Mr. Roberts most +difficult to discharge. But if these sketches were all that the artist +brought home, whatever value is to be attached to them as statements of +fact, they are altogether insufficient for the producing of pictures. I +saw among them no single instance of a downright study; of a study in +which the real hues and shades of sky and earth had been honestly +realized or attempted; nor were there, on the other hand, any of those +invaluable-blotted-five-minutes works which record the unity of some +single and magnificent impressions. Hence the pictures which have been +painted from these sketches have been as much alike in their want of +impressiveness as the sketches themselves, and have never borne the +living aspect of the Egyptian light; it has always been impossible to +say whether the red in them (not a pleasant one) was meant for hot +sunshine or for red sandstone--their power has been farther destroyed by +the necessity the artist seems to feel himself under of eking out their +effect by points of bright foreground color, and thus we have been +encumbered with caftans, pipes, scymetars, and black hair, when all that +we wanted was a lizard, or an ibis. It is perhaps owing to this want of +earnestness in study rather than to deficiency of perception, that the +coloring of this artist is commonly untrue. Some time ago when he was +painting Spanish subjects, his habit was to bring out his whites in +relief from transparent bituminous browns, which though not exactly +right in color, were at any rate warm and agreeable; but of late his +color has become cold, waxy, and opaque, and in his deep shades he +sometimes permits himself the use of a violent black which is altogether +unjustifiable. A picture of Roslin Chapel exhibited in 1844, showed this +defect in the recess to which the stairs descend, in an extravagant +degree; and another exhibited in the British Institution, instead of +showing the exquisite crumbling and lichenous texture of the Roslin +stone, was polished to as vapid smoothness as every French historical +picture. The general feebleness of the effect is increased by the +insertion of the figures as violent pieces of local color unaffected by +the light and unblended with the hues around them, and bearing evidence +of having been painted from models or draperies in the dead light of a +room instead of sunshine. On these deficiencies I should not have +remarked, but that by honest and determined painting from and of nature, +it is perfectly in the power of the artist to supply them; and it is +bitterly to be regretted that the accuracy and elegance of his work +should not be aided by that genuineness of hue and effect which can only +be given by the uncompromising effort to paint not a fine picture but an +impressive and known _verity_. + +The two artists whose works it remains for us to review, are men who +have presented us with examples of the treatment of every kind of +subject, and among the rest with portions of architecture which the best +of our exclusively architectural draughtsmen could not excel. + + +Sec. 36. Clarkson Stanfield. + +The frequent references made to the works of Clarkson Stanfield +throughout the subsequent pages render it less necessary for me to +speak of him here at any length. He is the leader of the English +Realists, and perhaps among the more remarkable of his characteristics +is the look of common-sense and rationality which his compositions will +always bear when opposed to any kind of affectation. He appears to think +of no other artist. What he has learned, has been from his own +acquaintance with and affection for the steep hills and the deep sea; +and his modes of treatment are alike removed from sketchiness or +incompletion, and from exaggeration or effort. The somewhat over-prosaic +tone of his subjects is rather a condescension to what he supposes to be +public feeling, than a sign of want of feeling in himself; for in some +of his sketches from nature or from fancy, I have seen powers and +perceptions manifested of a far higher order than any that are traceable +in his Academy works, powers which I think him much to be blamed for +checking. The portion of his pictures usually most defective in this +respect is the sky, which is apt to be cold and uninventive, always well +drawn, but with a kind of hesitation in the clouds whether it is to be +fair or foul weather; they having neither the joyfulness of rest, nor +the majesty of storm. Their color is apt also to verge on a morbid +purple, as was eminently the case in the large picture of the wreck on +the coast of Holland exhibited in 1844, a work in which both his powers +and faults were prominently manifested, the picture being full of good +painting, but wanting in its entire appeal. There was no feeling of +wreck about it; and, but for the damage about her bowsprit, it would +have been impossible for a landsman to say whether the hull was meant +for a wreck or a guardship. Nevertheless, it is always to be +recollected, that in subjects of this kind it is probable that much +escapes us in consequence of our want of knowledge, and that to the eye +of the seaman much may be of interest and value which to us appears +cold. At all events, this healthy and rational regard of things is +incomparably preferable to the dramatic absurdities which weaker artists +commit in matters marine; and from copper-colored sunsets on green waves +sixty feet high, with cauliflower breakers, and ninepin rocks; from +drowning on planks, and starving on rafts, and lying naked on beaches, +it is really refreshing to turn to a surge of Stanfield's true salt, +serviceable, unsentimental sea. It would be well, however, if he would +sometimes take a higher flight. The castle of Ischia gave him a grand +subject, and a little more invention in the sky, a little less muddiness +in the rocks, and a little more savageness in the sea, would have made +it an impressive picture; it just misses the sublime, yet is a fine +work, and better engraved than usual by the Art Union. + +One fault we cannot but venture to find, even in our own extreme +ignorance, with Mr. Stanfield's boats; they never look weather-beaten. +There is something peculiarly precious in the rusty, dusty, +tar-trickled, fishy, phosphorescent brown of an old boat, and when this +has just dipped under a wave and rises to the sunshine it is enough to +drive Giorgione to despair. I have never seen any effort at this by +Stanfield; his boats always look new painted and clean; witness +especially the one before the ship in the wreck picture above noticed; +and there is some such absence of a right sense of color in other +portions of his subject; even his fishermen have always clean jackets +and unsoiled caps, and his very rocks are lichenless. And, by the way, +this ought to be noted respecting modern painters in general, that they +have not a proper sense of the value of dirt; cottage children never +appear but in fresh got-up caps and aprons, and white-handed beggars +excite compassion in unexceptionable rags. In reality, almost all the +colors of things associated with human life derive something of their +expression and value from the tones of impurity, and so enhance the +value of the entirely pure tints of nature herself. Of Stanfield's rock +and mountain drawing enough will be said hereafter. His foliage is +inferior; his architecture admirably drawn, but commonly wanting in +color. His picture of the Doge's palace at Venice was quite clay-cold +and untrue. Of late he has shown a marvellous predilection for the +realization, even to actually relieved texture, of old worm-eaten wood; +we trust he will not allow such fancies to carry him too far. + + +Sec. 37. J. M. W. Turner. Force of national feeling in all great painters. + +The name I have last to mention is that of J. M. W. Turner. I do not +intend to speak of this artist at present in general terms, because my +constant practice throughout this work is to say, when I speak of an +artist at all, the very truth of what I believe and feel respecting him; +and the truth of what I believe and feel respecting Turner would appear +in this place, unsupported by any proof, mere rhapsody. I shall +therefore here confine myself to a rapid glance at the relations of his +past and present works, and to some notice of what he has failed of +accomplishing: the greater part of the subsequent chapters will be +exclusively devoted to the examination of the new fields over which he +has extended the range of landscape art. + +It is a fact more universally acknowledged than enforced or acted upon, +that all great painters, of whatever school, have been great only in +their rendering of what they had seen and felt from early childhood; and +that the greatest among them have been the most frank in acknowledging +this their inability to treat anything successfully but that with which +they had been familiar. The Madonna of Raffaelle was born on the Urbino +mountains, Ghirlandajo's is a Florentine, Bellini's a Venetian; there is +not the slightest effort on the part of any one of these great men to +paint her as a Jewess. It is not the place here to insist farther on a +point so simple and so universally demonstrable. Expression, character, +types of countenance, costume, color, and accessories are with all great +painters whatsoever those of their native land, and that frankly and +entirely, without the slightest attempt at modification; and I assert +fearlessly that it is impossible that it should ever be otherwise, and +that no man ever painted or ever will paint well anything but what he +has early and long seen, early and long felt, and early and long loved. +How far it is possible for the mind of one nation or generation to be +healthily modified and taught by the work of another, I presume not to +determine; but it depends upon whether the energy of the mind which +receives the instruction be sufficient, while it takes out of what it +feeds upon that which is universal and common to all nature, to resist +all warping from national or temporary peculiarities. Nino Pisano got +nothing but good, the modern French nothing but evil, from the study of +the antique; but Nino Pisano had a God and a character. All artists who +have attempted to assume, or in their weakness have been affected by, +the national peculiarities of other times and countries, have instantly, +whatever their original power, fallen to third-rate rank, or fallen +altogether, and have invariably lost their birthright and blessing, +lost their power over the human heart, lost all capability of teaching +or benefiting others. Compare the hybrid classification of Wilson with +the rich English purity of Gainsborough; compare the recent exhibition +of middle-age cartoons for the Houses of Parliament with the works of +Hogarth; compare the sickly modern German imitations of the great +Italians with Albert Durer and Holbein; compare the vile classicality of +Canova and the modern Italians with Mino da Fiesole, Luca della Robbia, +and Andrea del Verrocchio. The manner of Nicolo Poussin is said to be +Greek--it may be so; this only I know, that it is heartless and +profitless. The severity of the rule, however, extends not in full force +to the nationality, but only to the visibility of things; for it is very +possible for an artist of powerful mind to throw himself well into the +feeling of foreign nations of his own time. Thus John Lewis has been +eminently successful in his seizing of Spanish character. Yet it may be +doubted if the seizure be such as Spaniards themselves would +acknowledge; it is probably of the habits of the people more than their +hearts; continued efforts of this kind, especially if their subjects be +varied, assuredly end in failure; Lewis, who seemed so eminently +penetrative in Spain, sent nothing from Italy but complexions and +costumes, and I expect no good from his stay in Egypt. English artists +are usually entirely ruined by residence in Italy, but for this there +are collateral causes which it is not here the place to examine. Be this +as it may, and whatever success may be attained in pictures of slight +and unpretending aim, of genre, as they are called, in the rendering of +foreign character, of this I am certain, that whatever is to be truly +great and affecting must have on it the strong stamp of the native land; +not a law this, but a necessity, from the intense hold on their country +of the affections of all truly great men; all classicality, all +middle-age patent reviving, is utterly vain and absurd; if we are now to +do anything great, good, awful, religious, it must be got out of our own +little island, and out of this year 1846, railroads and all: if a +British painter, I say this in earnest seriousness, cannot make +historical characters out of the British House of Peers, he cannot paint +history; and if he cannot make a Madonna of a British girl of the +nineteenth century, he cannot paint one at all. + + +Sec. 38. Influence of this feeling on the choice of Landscape subject. + +The rule, of course, holds in landscape; yet so far less +authoritatively, that the material nature of all countries and times is +in many points actually, and in all, in principle, the same; so that +feelings educated in Cumberland, may find their food in Switzerland, and +impressions first received among the rocks of Cornwall, be recalled upon +the precipices of Genoa. Add to this actual sameness, the power of every +great mind to possess itself of the spirit of things once presented to +it, and it is evident, that little limitation can be set to the +landscape painter as to the choice of his field; and that the law of +nationality will hold with him only so far as a certain joyfulness and +completion will be by preference found in those parts of his subject +which remind him of his own land. But if he attempt to impress on his +landscapes any other spirit than that he has felt, and to make them +landscapes of other times, it is all over with him, at least, in the +degree in which such reflected moonshine takes place of the genuine +light of the present day. + +The reader will at once perceive how much trouble this simple principle +will save both the painter and the critic; it at once sets aside the +whole school of common composition, and exonerates us from the labor of +minutely examining any landscape which has nymphs or philosophers in it. + +It is hardly necessary for us to illustrate this principle by any +reference to the works of early landscape painters, as I suppose it is +universally acknowledged with respect to them; Titian being the most +remarkable instance of the influence of the native air on a strong mind, +and Claude, of that of the classical poison on a weak one; but it is +very necessary to keep it in mind in reviewing the works of our great +modern landscape painter. + + +Sec. 39. Its peculiar manifestation in Turner. + +I do not know in what district of England Turner first or longest +studied, but the scenery whose influence I can trace most definitely +throughout his works, varied as they are, is that of Yorkshire. Of all +his drawings, I think, those of the Yorkshire series have the most heart +in them, the most affectionate, simple, unwearied, serious finishing of +truth. There is in them little seeking after effect, but a strong love +of place, little exhibition of the artist's own powers or peculiarities, +but intense appreciation of the smallest local minutiae. These drawings +have unfortunately changed hands frequently, and have been abused and +ill treated by picture dealers and cleaners; the greater number of them, +are now mere wrecks. I name them not as instances, but as proofs of the +artist's study in this district; for the affection to which they owe +their excellence, must have been grounded long years before. It is to be +traced, not only in these drawings of the places themselves, but in the +peculiar love of the painter for rounded forms of hills; not but that he +is right in this on general principles, for I doubt not, that, with his +peculiar feeling for beauty of line, his hills would have been rounded +still, even if he had studied first among the peaks of Cadore; but +rounded to the same extent and with the same delight in their roundness, +they would not have been. It is, I believe, to those broad wooded steeps +and swells of the Yorkshire downs that we in part owe the singular +massiveness that prevails in Turner's mountain drawing, and gives it one +of its chief elements of grandeur. Let the reader open the Liber +Studiorum, and compare the painter's enjoyment of the lines in the Ben +Arthur, with his comparative uncomfortableness among those of the +aiguilles about the Mer de Glace. Great as he is, those peaks would have +been touched very differently by a Savoyard as great as he. + +I am in the habit of looking to the Yorkshire drawings, as indicating +one of the culminating points in Turner's career. In these he attained +the highest degree of what he had up to that time attempted, namely, +finish and quantity of form united with expression of atmosphere, and +light without color. His early drawings are singularly instructive in +this definiteness and simplicity of aim. No complicated or brilliant +color is ever thought of in them; they are little more than exquisite +studies in light and shade, very green blues being used for the shadows, +and golden browns for the lights. The difficulty and treachery of color +being thus avoided, the artist was able to bend his whole mind upon the +drawing, and thus to attain such decision, delicacy, and completeness as +have never in any wise been equalled, and as might serve him for a +secure foundation in all after experiments. Of the quantity and +precision of his details, the drawings made for Hakewill's Italy, are +singular examples. The most perfect gem in execution is a little bit on +the Rhine, with reeds in the foreground, in the possession of B. G. +Windus, Esq., of Tottenham; but the Yorkshire drawings seem to be on the +whole the most noble representatives of his art at this period. + +About the time of their production, the artist seems to have felt that +he had done either all that could be done, or all that was necessary, in +that manner, and began to reach after something beyond it. The element +of color begins to mingle with his work, and in the first efforts to +reconcile his intense feeling for it with his careful form, several +anomalies begin to be visible, and some unfortunate or uninteresting +works necessarily belong to the period. The England drawings, which are +very characteristic of it, are exceedingly unequal,--some, as the +Oakhampton, Kilgarren, Alnwick, and Llanthony, being among his finest +works; others, as the Windsor from Eton, the Eton College, and the +Bedford, showing coarseness and conventionality. + + +Sec. 40. The domestic subjects of the Liber Studiorum. + +I do not know at what time the painter first went abroad, but among the +earliest of the series of the Liber Studiorum (dates 1808, 1809,) occur +the magnificent Mont St. Gothard, and little Devil's Bridge. Now it is +remarkable that after his acquaintance with this scenery, so congenial +in almost all respects with the energy of his mind, and supplying him +with materials of which in these two subjects, and in the Chartreuse, +and several others afterwards, he showed both his entire appreciation +and command, the proportion of English to foreign subjects should in the +rest of the work be more than two to one; and that those English +subjects should be--many of them--of a kind peculiarly simple, and of +every-day occurrence, such as the Pembury Mill, the Farm Yard +Composition with the White Horse, that with the Cocks and Pigs, Hedging +and Ditching, Watercress Gatherers (scene at Twickenham,) and the +beautiful and solemn rustic subject called a Watermill; and that the +architectural subjects instead of being taken, as might have been +expected of an artist so fond of treating effects of extended space, +from some of the enormous continental masses are almost exclusively +British; Rivaulx, Holy Island, Dumblain, Dunstanborough, Chepstow, St. +Catherine's, Greenwich Hospital, an English Parish Church, a Saxon Ruin, +and an exquisite Reminiscence of the English Lowland Castle in the +pastoral, with the brook, wooden bridge, and wild duck, to all of which +we have nothing foreign to oppose but three slight, ill-considered, and +unsatisfactory subjects, from Basle, Lauffenbourg, and another Swiss +village; and, further, not only is the preponderance of subject British, +but of affection also; for it is strange with what fulness and +completion the home subjects are treated in comparison with the greater +part of the foreign ones. Compare the figures and sheep in the Hedging +and Ditching, and the East Gate Winchelsea, together with the near +leafage, with the puzzled foreground and inappropriate figures of the +Lake of Thun; or the cattle and road of the St. Catherine's Hill, with +the foreground of the Bonneville; or the exquisite figure with the sheaf +of corn, in the Watermill, with the vintages of the Grenoble subject. + +In his foliage the same predilections are remarkable. Reminiscences of +English willows by the brooks, and English forest glades mingle even +with the heroic foliage of the Aesacus and Hesperie, and the Cephalus; +into the pine, whether of Switzerland or the glorious Stone, he cannot +enter, or enters at his peril, like Ariel. Those of the Valley of +Chamounix are fine masses, better pines than other people's, but not a +bit like pines for all that; he feels his weakness, and tears them off +the distant mountains with the mercilessness of an avalanche. The Stone +pines of the two Italian compositions are fine in their arrangement, but +they are very pitiful pines; the glory of the Alpine rose he never +touches; he munches chestnuts with no relish; never has learned to like +olives; and, by the vine, we find him in the foreground of the Grenoble +Alps laid utterly and incontrovertibly on his back. + +I adduce these evidences of Turner's nationality (and innumerable others +might be given if need were) not as proofs of weakness but of power; not +so much as testifying want of perception in foreign lands, as strong +hold on his own will; for I am sure that no artist who has not this hold +upon his own will ever get good out of any other. Keeping this principle +in mind, it is instructive to observe the depth and solemnity which +Turner's feeling received from the scenery of the continent, the keen +appreciation up to a certain point of all that is locally +characteristic, and the ready seizure for future use of all valuable +material. + + +Sec. 41. Turner's painting of French and Swiss landscape. The latter + deficient. + +Of all foreign countries he has most entirely entered into the spirit of +France; partly because here he found more fellowship of scene with his +own England, partly because an amount of thought which will miss of +Italy or Switzerland, will fathom France; partly because there is in the +French foliage and forms of ground, much that is especially congenial +with his own peculiar choice of form. To what cause it is owing I cannot +tell, nor is it generally allowed or felt; but of the fact I am certain, +that for grace of stem and perfection of form in their transparent +foliage, the French trees are altogether unmatched; and their modes of +grouping and massing are so perfectly and constantly beautiful that I +think of all countries for educating an artist to the perception of +grace, France bears the bell; and that not romantic nor mountainous +France, not the Vosges, nor Auvergne, nor Provence, but lowland France, +Picardy and Normandy, the valleys of the Loire and Seine, and even the +district, so thoughtlessly and mindlessly abused by English travellers, +as uninteresting, traversed between Calais and Dijon; of which there is +not a single valley but is full of the most lovely pictures, nor a mile +from which the artist may not receive instruction; the district +immediately about Sens being perhaps the most valuable from the grandeur +of its lines of poplars and the unimaginable finish and beauty of the +tree forms in the two great avenues without the walls. Of this kind of +beauty Turner was the first to take cognizance, and he still remains the +only, but in himself the sufficient painter of French landscape. One of +the most beautiful examples is the drawing of trees engraved for the +Keepsake, now in the possession of B. G. Windus, Esq.; the drawings made +to illustrate the scenery of the Rivers of France supply instances of +the most varied character. + +The artist appears, until very lately, rather to have taken from +Switzerland thoughts and general conceptions of size and of grand form +and effect to be used in his after compositions, than to have attempted +the seizing of its actual character. This was beforehand to be expected +from the utter physical impossibility of rendering certain effects of +Swiss scenery, and the monotony and unmanageableness of others. The +Valley of Chamounix in the collection of Walter Fawkes, Esq., I have +never seen; it has a high reputation; the Hannibal passing the Alps in +its present state exhibits nothing but a heavy shower and a crowd of +people getting wet; another picture in the artist's gallery of a +land-fall is most masterly and interesting, but more daring than +agreeable. The Snowstorm, avalanche, and inundation, is one of his +mightiest works, but the amount of mountain drawing in it is less than +of cloud and effect; the subjects in the Liber Studiorum are on the +whole the most intensely felt, and next to them the vignettes to +Rogers's Poems and Italy. Of some recent drawings of Swiss subject I +shall speak presently. + + +Sec. 42. His rendering of Italian character still less successful. His + large compositions how failing. + +The effect of Italy upon his mind is very puzzling. On the one hand, it +gave him the solemnity and power which are manifested in the historical +compositions of the Liber Studiorum, more especially the Rizpah, the +Cephalus, the scene from the Fairy Queen, and the Aesacus and Hesperie: +on the other, he seems never to have entered thoroughly into the spirit +of Italy, and the materials he obtained there were afterwards but +awkwardly introduced in his large compositions. + +Of these there are very few at all worthy of him; none but the Liber +Studiorum subjects are thoroughly great, and these are great because +there is in them the seriousness without the materials of other +countries and times. There is nothing particularly indicative of +Palestine in the Barley Harvest of the Rizpah, nor in those round and +awful trees; only the solemnity of the south in the lifting of the near +burning moon. The rocks of the Jason may be seen in any quarry of +Warwickshire sandstone. Jason himself has not a bit of Greek about +him--he is a simple warrior of no period in particular, nay, I think +there is something of the nineteenth century about his legs. When local +character of this classical kind is attempted, the painter is visibly +cramped: awkward resemblances to Claude testify the want of his usual +forceful originality: in the tenth Plague of Egypt, he makes us think of +Belzoni rather than of Moses; the fifth is a total failure, the pyramids +look like brick-kilns, and the fire running along the ground bears +brotherly resemblance to the burning of manure. The realization of the +tenth plague now in his gallery is finer than the study, but still +uninteresting; and of the large compositions which have much of Italy in +them, the greater part are overwhelmed with quantity and deficient in +emotion. The Crossing the Brook is one of the best of these hybrid +pictures; incomparable in its tree drawing, it yet leaves us doubtful +where we are to look and what we are to feel; it is northern in its +color, southern in its foliage, Italy in its details, and England in its +sensations, without the grandeur of the one, or the healthiness of the +other. + +The two Carthages are mere rationalizations of Claude, one of them +excessively bad in color, the other a grand thought, and yet one of the +kind which does no one any good, because everything in it is +reciprocally sacrificed; the foliage is sacrificed to the architecture, +the architecture to the water, the water is neither sea, nor river, nor +lake, nor brook, nor canal, and savors of Regent's Park; the foreground +is uncomfortable ground,--let on building leases. So the Caligula's +Bridge, Temple of Jupiter, Departure of Regulus, Ancient Italy, Cicero's +Villa, and such others, come they from whose hand they may, I class +under the general head of "nonsense pictures." There never can be any +wholesome feeling developed in these preposterous accumulations, and +where the artist's feeling fails, his art follows; so that the worst +possible examples of Turner's color are found in pictures of this class; +in one or two instances he has broken through the conventional rules, +and then is always fine, as in the Hero and Leander; but in general the +picture rises in value as it approaches to a view, as the Fountain of +Fallacy, a piece of rich northern Italy, with some fairy waterworks; +this picture was unrivalled in color once, but is now a mere wreck. So +the Rape of Proserpine, though it is singular that in his Academy +pictures even his simplicity fails of reaching ideality; in this picture +of Proserpine the nature is not the grand nature of all time, it is +indubitably modern,[14] and we are perfectly electrified at anybody's +being carried away in the corner except by people with spiky hats and +carabines. This is traceable to several causes; partly to the want of +any grand specific form, partly to the too evident middle-age character +of the ruins crowning the hills, and to a multiplicity of minor causes +which we cannot at present enter into. + + +Sec. 43. His views of Italy destroyed by brilliancy and redundant quantity. + +Neither in his actual views of Italy has Turner ever caught her true +spirit, except in the little vignettes to Rogers's Poems. The Villa of +Galileo, the nameless composition with stone pines, the several villa +moonlights, and the convent compositions in the Voyage of Columbus, are +altogether exquisite; but this is owing chiefly to their simplicity and +perhaps in some measure to their smallness of size. None of his large +pictures at all equal them; the Bay of Baiae is encumbered with +material, it contains ten times as much as is necessary to a good +picture, and yet is so crude in color as to look unfinished. The +Palestrina is fall of raw white, and has a look of Hampton Court about +its long avenue; the modern Italy is purely English in its near foliage; +it is composed from Tivoli material enriched and arranged most +dexterously, but it has the look of a rich arrangement, and not the +virtue of the real thing. The early Tivoli, a large drawing taken from +below the falls, was as little true, and still less fortunate, the trees +there being altogether affected and artificial. The Florence engraved in +the Keepsake is a glorious drawing, as far as regards the passage with +the bridge and sunlight on the Arno, the Cascine foliage, and distant +plain, and the towers of the fortress on the left; but the details of +the duomo and the city are entirely missed, and with them the majesty of +the whole scene. The vines and melons of the foreground are disorderly, +and its cypresses conventional; in fact, I recollect no instance of +Turner's drawing a cypress except in general terms. + +The chief reason of these failures I imagine to be the effort of the +artist to put joyousness and brilliancy of effect upon scenes eminently +pensive, to substitute radiance for serenity of light, and to force the +freedom and breadth of line which he learned to love on English downs +and Highland moors, out of a country dotted by campaniles and square +convents, bristled with cypresses, partitioned by walls, and gone up and +down by steps. + +In one of the cities of Italy he had no such difficulties to encounter. +At Venice he found freedom of space, brilliancy of light, variety of +color, massy simplicity of general form; and to Venice we owe many of +the motives in which his highest powers of color have been displayed +after that change in his system of which we must now take note. + + +Sec. 44. Changes introduced by him in the received system of art. + +Among the earlier paintings of Turner, the culminating period, marked by +the Yorkshire series in his drawings, is distinguished by great +solemnity and simplicity of subject, prevalent gloom in light and shade, +and brown in the hue, the drawing manly but careful, the minutiae +sometimes exquisitely delicate. All the finest works of this period are, +I believe, without exception, views, or quiet single thoughts. The +Calder Bridge, belonging to E. Bicknell, Esq., is a most pure and +beautiful example. The Ivy Bridge I imagine to be later, but its rock +foreground is altogether unrivalled and remarkable for its delicacy of +detail; a butterfly is seen settled on one of the large brown stones in +the midst of the torrent. Two paintings of Bonneville, in Savoy, one in +the possession of Abel Allnutt, Esq., the other, and, I think, the +finest, in a collection at Birmingham, show more variety of color than +is usual with him at the period, and are in every respect magnificent +examples. Pictures of this class are of peculiar value, for the larger +compositions of the same period are all poor in color, and most of them +much damaged, but the smaller works have been far finer originally, and +their color seems secure. There is nothing in the range of landscape art +equal to them in their way, but the full character and capacity of the +painter is not in them. Grand as they are in their sobriety, they still +leave much to be desired; there is great heaviness in their shadows, the +material is never thoroughly vanquished, (though this partly for a very +noble reason, that the painter is always thinking of and referring to +nature, and indulges in no artistical conventionalities,) and sometimes +the handling appears feeble. In warmth, lightness, and transparency they +have no chance against Gainsborough; in clear skies and air tone they +are alike unfortunate when they provoke comparison with Claude; and in +force and solemnity they can in no wise stand with the landscape of the +Venetians. + +The painter evidently felt that he had farther powers, and pressed +forward into the field where alone they could be brought into play. It +was impossible for him, with all his keen and long-disciplined +perceptions, not to feel that the real color of nature had never been +attempted by any school; and that though conventional representations +had been given by the Venetians of sunlight and twilight, by invariably +rendering the whites golden and the blues green, yet of the actual, +joyous, pure, roseate hues of the external world no record had ever been +given. He saw also that the finish and specific grandeur of nature had +been given, but her fulness, space, and mystery never; and he saw that +the great landscape painters had always sunk the lower middle tints of +nature in extreme shade, bringing the entire melody of color as many +degrees down as their possible light was inferior to nature's; and that +in so doing a gloomy principle had influenced them even in their choice +of subject. + +For the conventional color he substituted a pure straightforward +rendering of fact, as far as was in his power; and that not of such fact +as had been before even suggested, but of all that is _most_ brilliant, +beautiful, and inimitable; he went to the cataract for its iris, to the +conflagration for its flames, asked of the sea its intensest azure, of +the sky its clearest gold. For the limited space and defined forms of +elder landscape, he substituted the quantity and the mystery of the +vastest scenes of earth; and for the subdued chiaroscuro he substituted +first a balanced diminution of oppositions throughout the scale, and +afterwards, in one or two instances, attempted the reverse of the old +principle, taking the lowest portion of the scale truly, and merging the +upper part in high light. + + +Sec. 45. Difficulties of his later manner. Resultant deficiencies. + +Innovations so daring and so various could not be introduced without +corresponding peril: the difficulties that lay in his way were more than +any human intellect could altogether surmount. In his time there has +been no one system of color generally approved; every artist has his own +method and his own vehicle; how to do what Gainsborough did, we know +not; much less what Titian; to invent a new system of color can hardly +be expected of those who cannot recover the old. To obtain perfectly +satisfactory results in color under the new conditions introduced by +Turner, would at least have required the exertion of all his energies in +that sole direction. But color has always been only his second object. +The effects of space and form, in which he delights, often require the +employment of means and method totally at variance with those necessary +for the obtaining of pure color. It is physically impossible, for +instance, rightly to draw certain forms of the upper clouds with the +brush; nothing will do it but the pallet knife with loaded white after +the blue ground is prepared. Now it is impossible that a cloud so drawn, +however glazed afterwards, should have the virtue of a thin warm tint of +Titian's, showing the canvas throughout. So it happens continually. Add +to these difficulties, those of the peculiar subjects attempted, and to +these again, all that belong to the altered system of chiaroscuro, and +it is evident that we must not be surprised at finding many deficiencies +or faults in such works, especially in the earlier of them, nor even +suffer ourselves to be withdrawn by the pursuit of what seems censurable +from our devotion to what is mighty. + +Notwithstanding, in some chosen examples of pictures of this kind, I +will name three: Juliet and her Nurse; the Old Temeraire, and the Slave +Ship: I do not admit that there are at the time of their first appearing +on the walls of the Royal Academy, any demonstrably avoidable faults. I +do not deny that there may be, nay, that it is likely there are; but +there is no living artist in Europe whose judgment might safely be taken +on the subject, or who could without arrogance affirm of any part of +such a picture, that it was _wrong_; I am perfectly willing to allow, +that the lemon yellow is not properly representative of the yellow of +the sky, that the loading of the color is in many places disagreeable, +that many of the details are drawn with a kind of imperfection different +from what they would have in nature, and that many of the parts fail of +imitation, especially to an uneducated eye. But no living authority is +of weight enough to prove that the virtues of the picture could have +been obtained at a less sacrifice, or that they are not worth the +sacrifice; and though it is perfectly possible that such may be the +case, and that what Turner has done may hereafter in some respects be +done better, I believe myself that these works are at the time of their +first appearing as perfect as those of Phidias or Leonardo; that is to +say, incapable in their way, of any improvement conceivable by human +mind. + +Also, it is only by comparison with such that we are authorized to +affirm definite faults in any of his others, for we should have been +bound to speak, at least for the present, with the same modesty +respecting even his worst pictures of this class, had not his more noble +efforts given us canons of criticism. + +But, as was beforehand to be expected from the difficulties he grappled +with, Turner is exceedingly unequal; he appears always as a champion in +the thick of fight, sometimes with his foot on his enemies' necks, +sometimes staggered or struck to his knee; once or twice altogether +down. He has failed most frequently, as before noticed, in elaborate +compositions, from redundant quantity; sometimes, like most other men, +from over-care, as very signally in a large and most labored drawing of +Bamborough; sometimes, unaccountably, his eye for color seeming to fail +him for a time, as in a large painting of Rome from the Forum, and in +the Cicero's Villa, Building of Carthage, and the picture of this year +in the British Institution; and sometimes I am sorry to say, criminally, +from taking licenses which he must know to be illegitimate, or indulging +in conventionalities which he does not require. + +[Illustration: THE DOGANA, AND SANTA MARIA DELLA SALUTE, VENICE. + From a painting by Turner.] + + +Sec. 46. Reflection of his very recent works. + +On such instances I shall not insist, for the finding fault with Turner +is not, I think, either decorous in myself or like to be beneficial to +the reader.[15] The greater number of failures took place in the +transition period, when the artist was feeling for the new qualities, +and endeavoring to reconcile them with more careful elaboration of form +than was properly consistent with them. Gradually his hand became more +free, his perception and grasp of the new truths more certain, and his +choice of subject more adapted to the exhibition of them. But his powers +did not attain their highest results till towards the year 1840, about +which period they did so suddenly, and with a vigor and concentration +which rendered his pictures at that time almost incomparable with those +which had preceded them. The drawings of Nemi, and Oberwesel, in the +possession of B. G. Windus, Esq., were among the first evidences of this +sudden advance; only the foliage in both of these is inferior; and it is +remarkable that in this phase of his art, Turner has drawn little +foliage, and that little badly--the great characteristic of it being +its power, beauty, and majesty of color, and its abandonment of all +littleness and division of thought to a single impression. In the year +1842, he made some drawings from recent sketches in Switzerland; these, +with some produced in the following years, all of Swiss subject, I +consider to be, on the whole, the most characteristic and perfect works +he has ever produced. The Academy pictures were far inferior to them; +but among these examples of the same power were not wanting, more +especially in the smaller pictures of Venice. The Sun of Venice, going +to sea; the San Benedetto, looking towards Fusina; and a view of Murano, +with the Cemetery, were all faultless: another of Venice, seen from near +Fusina, with sunlight and moonlight mixed (1844) was, I think, when I +first saw it, (and it still remains little injured,) the most perfectly +_beautiful_ piece of color of all that I have seen produced by human +hands, by any means, or at any period. Of the exhibition of 1845, I have +only seen a small Venice, (still I believe in the artist's possession,) +and the two whaling subjects. The Venice is a second-rate work, and the +two others altogether unworthy of him. + +In conclusion of our present sketch of the course of landscape art, it +may be generally stated that Turner is the only painter, so far as I +know, who has ever drawn the sky, (not the clear sky, which we before +saw belonged exclusively to the religious schools, but the various forms +and phenomena of the cloudy heavens,) all previous artists having only +represented it typically or partially; but he absolutely and +universally: he is the only painter who has ever drawn a mountain, or a +stone; no other man ever having learned their organization, or possessed +himself of their spirit, except in part and obscurely, (the one or two +stones noted of Tintoret's, (Vol. II., Part III. Ch. 3,) are perhaps +hardly enough on which to found an exception in his favor.) He is the +only painter who ever drew the stem of a tree, Titian having come the +nearest before him, and excelling him in the muscular development of the +larger trunks, (though sometimes losing the woody strength in a +serpent-like flaccidity,) but missing the grace and character of the +ramifications. He is the only painter who has ever represented the +surface of calm, or the force of agitated water; who has represented the +effects of space on distant objects, or who has rendered the abstract +beauty of natural color. These assertions I make deliberately, after +careful weighing and consideration, in no spirit of dispute, or +momentary zeal; but from strong and convinced feeling, and with the +consciousness of being able to prove them. + + +Sec. 47. Difficulty of demonstration in such subjects. + +This proof is only partially and incidentally attempted in the present +portion of this work, which was originally written, as before explained, +for a temporary purpose, and which, therefore, I should have gladly +cancelled, but that, relating as it does only to simple matters of fact +and not to those of feeling, it may still, perhaps, be of service to +some readers who would be unwilling to enter into the more speculative +fields with which the succeeding sections are concerned. I leave, +therefore, nearly as it was originally written, the following +examination of the relative truthfulness of elder and of recent art; +always requesting the reader to remember, as some excuse for the +inadequate execution, even of what I have here attempted, how difficult +it is to express or explain, by language only, those delicate qualities +of the object of sense, on the seizing of which all refined truth of +representation depends. Try, for instance, to explain in language the +exact qualities of the lines on which depend the whole truth and beauty +of expression about the half-opened lips of Raffaelle's St. Catherine. +There is, indeed, nothing in landscape so ineffable as this; but there +is no part nor portion of God's works in which the delicacy appreciable +by a cultivated eye, and necessary to be rendered in art, is not beyond +all expression and explanation; I cannot tell it you, if you do not see +it. And thus I have been entirely unable, in the following pages, to +demonstrate clearly anything of really deep and perfect truth; nothing +but what is coarse and commonplace, in matters to be judged of by the +senses, is within the reach of argument. How much or how little I have +done must be judged of by the reader: how much it is impossible to do I +have more fully shown in the concluding section. + +I shall first take into consideration those general truths, common to +all the objects of nature, which are productive of what is usually +called "effect," that is to say, truths of tone, general color, space, +and light. I shall then investigate the truths of specific form and +color, in the four great component parts of landscape--sky, earth, +water, and vegetation. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [6] Not the large Paradise, but the Fall of Adam, a small picture + chiefly in brown and gray, near Titian's Assumption. Its companion, + the Death of Abel, is remarkable as containing a group of trees + which Turner, I believe accidentally, has repeated nearly mass for + mass in the "Marly." Both are among the most noble works of this or + any other master, whether for preciousness of color or energy of + thought. + + [7] The triple leaf of this plant, and white flower, stained purple, + probably gave it strange typical interest among the Christian + painters. Angelico, in using its leaves mixed with daisies in the + foreground of his Crucifixion had, I imagine, a view also to its + chemical property. + + [8] This is no rash method of judgment, sweeping and hasty as it may + appear. From the weaknesses of an artist, or failures, however + numerous, we have no right to conjecture his total inability; a time + may come when he may rise into sudden strength, or an instance occur + when his efforts shall be successful. But there are some pictures + which rank not under the head of failures, but of perpetrations or + commissions; some things which a man cannot do nor say without + sealing forever his character and capacity. The angel holding the + cross with his finger in his eye, the roaring red-faced children + about the crown of thorns, the blasphemous (I speak deliberately and + determinedly) head of Christ upon the handkerchief, and the mode in + which the martyrdom of the saint is exhibited (I do not choose to + use the expressions which alone could characterize it) are perfect, + sufficient, incontrovertible proofs that whatever appears good in + any of the doings of such a painter must be deceptive, and that we + may be assured that our taste is corrupted and false whenever we + feel disposed to admire him. I am prepared to support this position, + however uncharitable it may seem; a man may be tempted into a gross + sin by passion, and forgiven; and yet there are some kinds of sins + into which only men of a certain kind can be tempted, and which + cannot be forgiven. It should be added, however, that the artistical + qualities of these pictures are in every way worthy of the + conceptions they realize; I do not recollect any instances of color + or execution so coarse and feelingless. + + [9] It appears not to be sufficiently understood by those artists + who complain acrimoniously of their positions on the Academy walls, + that the Academicians have in their own rooms a right to the line + and the best places near it; in their taking this position there is + no abuse nor injustice; but the Academicians should remember that + with their rights they have their duties, and their duty is to + determine among the works of artists not belonging to their body + those which are most likely to advance public knowledge and + judgment, and to give these the best places next their own; neither + would it detract from their dignity if they occasionally ceded a + square even of their own territory, as they did gracefully and + rightly, and, I am sorry to add, disinterestedly, to the picture of + Paul de la Roche in 1844. Now the Academicians know perfectly well + that the mass of portrait which encumbers their walls at half height + is worse than useless, seriously harmful to the public taste, and it + was highly criminal (I use the word advisedly) that the valuable and + interesting work of Fielding, of which I have above spoken, should + have been placed where it was, above three rows of eye-glasses and + waistcoats. A very beautiful work of Harding's was treated either in + the same or the following exhibition with still greater injustice. + Fielding's was merely put out of sight; Harding's where its faults + were conspicuous and its virtues lost. It was an Alpine scene, of + which the foreground, rocks, and torrents were painted with + unrivalled fidelity and precision; the foliage was dexterous, the + aerial gradations of the mountains tender and multitudinous, their + forms carefully studied and very grand. The blemish of the picture + was a buff-colored tower with a red roof; singularly meagre in + detail, and conventionally relieved from a mass of gloom. The + picture was placed where nothing but this tower could be seen. + + [10] I have not given any examples in this place, because it is + difficult to explain such circumstances of effect without diagrams: + I purpose entering into fuller discussion of the subject with the + aid of illustration. + + [11] The inscription is to the following effect,--a pleasant thing + to see upon the walls, were it but more innocently placed:-- + + CAMPO. DI. S. MAURIZIO + ______ + + D I O + CONSERVI A NOI. + LUNGAMENTE + LO ZELANTIS. E. REVERENDIS + D. LUIGI. PICCINI. + NOSTRO + N O V E L L O P I E V A N O. + ______ + + G L I E S U L T A N T. + PARROCCHIANI + + [12] The quantity of gold with which the decorations of Venice were + once covered could not now be traced or credited without reference + to the authority of Gentile Bellini. The greater part of the marble + mouldings have been touched with it in lines and points, the + minarets of St. Mark's, and all the florid carving of the arches + entirely sheeted. The Casa d'Oro retained it on its lions until the + recent commencement of its Restoration. + + [13] Indeed there should be no such difference at all. Every + architect ought to be an artist; every very great artist is + necessarily an architect. + + [14] This passage seems at variance with what has been said of the + necessity of painting present times and objects. It is not so. A + great painter makes out of that which he finds before him something + which is independent of _all_ time. He can only do this out of the + materials ready to his hand, but that which he builds has the + dignity of dateless age. A little painter is annihilated by an + anachronism, and is conventionally antique, and involuntarily + modern. + + [15] One point, however, it is incumbent upon me to notice, being no + question of art but of material. The reader will have observed that + I strictly limited the perfection of Turner's works to the time of + their first appearing on the walls of the Royal Academy. It bitterly + grieves me to have to do this, but the fact is indeed so. No + _picture_ of Turner's is seen in perfection a month after it is + painted. The Walhalla cracked before it had been eight days in the + Academy rooms; the vermilions frequently lose lustre long before the + exhibition is over; and when all the colors begin to get hard a year + or two after the picture is painted, a painful deadness and opacity + comes over them, the whites especially becoming lifeless, and many + of the warmer passages settling into a hard valueless brown, even if + the paint remains perfectly firm, which is far from being always the + case. I believe that in some measure these results are unavoidable, + the colors being so peculiarly blended and mingled in Turner's + present manner as almost to necessitate their irregular drying; but + that they are not necessary to the extent in which they sometimes + take place, is proved by the comparative safety of some even of the + more brilliant works. Thus the Old Temeraire is nearly safe in + color, and quite firm; while the Juliet and her Nurse is now the + ghost of what it was; the Slaver shows no cracks, though it is + chilled in some of the darker passages, while the Walhalla and + several of the recent Venices cracked in the Royal Academy. It is + true that the damage makes no further progress after the first year + or two, and that even in its altered state the picture is always + valuable and records its intention; but it is bitterly to be + regretted that so great a painter should not leave a single work by + which in succeeding ages he might be estimated. The fact of his + using means so imperfect, together with that of his utter neglect of + the pictures in his own gallery, are a phenomenon in human mind + which appears to me utterly inexplicable; and both are without + excuse. If the effects he desires cannot be to their full extent + produced except by these treacherous means, one picture only should + be painted each year as an exhibition of immediate power, and the + rest should be carried out, whatever the expense of labor and time + in safe materials, even at the risk of some deterioration of + immediate effect. That which is greatest in him is entirely + independent of means; much of what he now accomplishes + illegitimately might without doubt be attained in securer + modes--what cannot should without hesitation be abandoned. + Fortunately the drawings appear subject to no such deterioration. + Many of them are now almost destroyed, but this has been I think + always through ill treatment, or has been the case only with very + early works. I have myself known no instance of a drawing properly + protected, and not rashly exposed to light suffering the slightest + change. The great foes of Turner, as of all other great colorists + especially, are the picture cleaner and the mounter. + + + + + SECTION II. + + OF GENERAL TRUTHS. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + OF TRUTH OF TONE. + + +Sec. 1. Meaning of the word "tone:" First, the right relation of objects in + shadow to the principal light. + +As I have already allowed, that in effects of tone, the old masters have +never yet been equalled; and as this is the first, and nearly the last, +concession I shall have to make to them, I wish it at once to be +thoroughly understood how far it extends. + + +Sec. 2. Secondly, the quality of color by which it is felt to owe part of + its brightness to the hue of light upon it. + +I understand two things by the word "tone:"--first, the exact relief and +relation of objects against and to each other in substance and darkness, +as they are nearer or more distant, and the perfect relation of the +shades of all of them to the chief light of the picture, whether that be +sky, water, or anything else. Secondly, the exact relation of the colors +to the shadows to the colors of the lights, so that they may be at once +felt to be merely different degrees of the same light; and the accurate +relation among the illuminated parts themselves, with respect to the +degree in which they are influenced by the color of the light itself, +whether warm or cold; so that the whole of the picture (or, where +several tones are united, those parts of it which are under each,) may +be felt to be in one climate, under one kind of light, and in one kind +of atmosphere; this being chiefly dependent on that peculiar and +inexplicable quality of each color laid on, which makes the eye feel +both what is the actual color of the object represented, and that it is +raised to its apparent pitch by illumination. A very bright brown, for +instance, out of sunshine, may be precisely of the same shade of color +as a very dead or cold brown in sunshine, but it will be totally +different in _quality_; and that quality by which the illuminated dead +color would be felt in nature different from the unilluminated bright +one, is what artists are perpetually aiming at, and connoisseurs talking +nonsense about, under the name of "tone." The want of tone in pictures +is caused by objects looking bright in their own positive hue, and not +by illumination, and by the consequent want of sensation of the raising +of their hues by light. + + +Sec. 3. Difference between tone in its first sense and aerial perspective. + +The first of these meanings of the word "tone" is liable to be +confounded with what is commonly called "aerial perspective." But aerial +perspective is the expression of space, by any means whatsoever, +sharpness of edge, vividness of color, etc., assisted by greater pitch +of shadow, and requires only that objects should be detached from each +other, by degrees of intensity in _proportion_ to their distance, +without requiring that the difference between the farthest and nearest +should be in positive quantity the same that nature has put. But what I +have called "tone" requires that there should be the same sum of +difference, as well as the same division of differences. + + +Sec. 4. The pictures of the old masters perfect in relation of middle tints + to light. + +Now the finely toned pictures of the old masters are, in this respect, +some of the notes of nature played two or three octaves below her key; +the dark objects in the middle distance having precisely the same +relation to the light of the sky which they have in nature, but the +light being necessarily infinitely lowered, and the mass of the shadow +deepened in the same degree. I have often been struck, when looking at a +camera-obscuro on a dark day, with the exact resemblance the image bore +to one of the finest pictures of the old masters; all the foliage coming +dark against the sky, and nothing being seen in its mass but here and +there the isolated light of a silvery stem or an unusually illumined +cluster of leafage. + + +Sec. 5. And consequently totally false in relation of middle tints to + darkness. + +Now if this could be done consistently, and all the notes of nature +given in this way an octave or two down, it would be right and necessary +so to do: but be it observed, not only does nature surpass us in power +of obtaining light as much as the sun surpasses white paper, but she +also infinitely surpasses us in her power of shade. Her deepest shades +are void spaces from which no light whatever is reflected to the eye; +ours are black surfaces from which, paint as black as we may, a great +deal of light is still reflected, and which, placed against one of +nature's deep bits of gloom, would tell as distinct light. Here we are +then, with white paper for our highest light, and visible illumined +surface for our deepest shadow, set to run the gauntlet against nature, +with the sun for her light, and vacuity for her gloom. It is evident +that _she_ can well afford to throw her material objects dark against +the brilliant aerial tone of her sky, and yet give in those objects +themselves a thousand intermediate distances and tones before she comes +to black, or to anything like it--all the illumined surfaces of her +objects being as distinctly and vividly brighter than her nearest and +darkest shadows, as the sky is brighter than those illumined surfaces. +But if we, against our poor, dull obscurity of yellow paint, instead of +sky, insist on having the same relation of shade in material objects, we +go down to the bottom of our scale at once; and what in the world are we +to do then? Where are all our intermediate distances to come from?--how +are we to express the aerial relations among the parts themselves, for +instance, of foliage, whose most distant boughs are already almost +black?--how are we to come up from this to the foreground, and when we +have done so, how are we to express the distinction between its solid +parts, already as dark as we can make them, and its vacant hollows, +which nature has marked sharp and clear and black, among its lighted +surfaces? It cannot but be evident at a glance, that if to any one of +the steps from one distance to another, we give the same quantity of +difference in pitch of shade which nature does, we must pay for this +expenditure of our means by totally missing half a dozen distances, not +a whit less important or marked, and so sacrifice a multitude of truths, +to obtain one. And this, accordingly was the means by which the old +masters obtained their (truth?) of tone. They chose those steps of +distance which are the most conspicuous and noticeable--that for +instance from sky to foliage, or from clouds to hills--and they gave +these their precise pitch of difference in shade with exquisite accuracy +of imitation. Their means were then exhausted, and they were obliged to +leave their trees flat masses of mere filled-up outline, and to omit +the truths of space in every individual part of their picture by the +thousand. But this they did not care for; it saved them trouble; they +reached their grand end, imitative effect; they thrust home just at the +places where the common and careless eye looks for imitation, and they +attained the broadest and most faithful appearance of truth of tone +which art can exhibit. + + +Sec. 6. General falsehood of such a system. + +But they are prodigals, and foolish prodigals, in art; they lavish their +whole means to get one truth, and leave themselves powerless when they +should seize a thousand. And is it indeed worthy of being called a +truth, when we have a vast history given us to relate, to the fulness of +which neither our limits nor our language are adequate, instead of +giving all its parts abridged in the order of their importance, to omit +or deny the greater part of them, that we may dwell with verbal fidelity +on two or three? Nay, the very truth to which the rest are sacrificed is +rendered falsehood by their absence, the relation of the tree to the sky +is marked as an impossibility by the want of relation of its parts to +each other. + + +Sec. 7. The principle of Turner in this respect. + +Turner starts from the beginning with a totally different principle. He +boldly takes pure white (and justly, for it is the sign of the most +intense sunbeams) for his highest light, and lampblack for his deepest +shade; and between these he makes every degree of shade indicative of +separate degree of distance,[16] giving each step of approach, not the +exact difference in pitch which it would have in nature, but a +difference bearing the same proportion to that which his sum of possible +shade bears to the sum of nature's shade; so that an object half way +between his horizon and his foreground, will be exactly in half tint of +force, and every minute division of intermediate space will have just +its proportionate share of the lesser sum, and no more. Hence where the +old masters expressed one distance, he expresses a hundred; and where +they said furlongs, he says leagues. Which of these modes of procedure +be most agreeable with truth, I think I may safely leave the reader to +decide for himself. He will see in this very first instance, one proof +of what we above asserted, that the deceptive imitation of nature is +inconsistent with real truth; for the very means by which the old +masters attained the apparent accuracy of tone which is so satisfying to +the eye, compelled them to give up all idea of real relations of +retirement, and to represent a few successive and marked stages of +distance, like the scenes of a theatre, instead of the imperceptible, +multitudinous, symmetrical retirement of nature, who is not more careful +to separate her nearest bush from her farthest one, than to separate the +nearest bough of that bush from the one next to it. + + +Sec. 8. Comparison of N. Poussin's "Phocion," + +Take for instance, one of the finest landscapes that ancient art has +produced--the work of a really great and intellectual mind, the quiet +Nicholas Poussin, in our own National Gallery, with the traveller +washing his feet. The first idea we receive from this picture is, that +it is evening, and all the light coming from the horizon. Not so. It is +full moon, the light coming steep from the left, as is shown by the +shadow of the stick on the right-hand pedestal,--(for if the sun were +not very high, that shadow could not lose itself half way down, and if +it were not lateral, the shadow would slope, instead of being vertical.) +Now, ask yourself, and answer candidly, if those black masses of +foliage, in which scarcely any form is seen but the outline, be a true +representation of trees under noonday sunlight, sloping from the left, +bringing out, as it necessarily would do, their masses into golden +green, and marking every leaf and bough with sharp shadow and sparkling +light. The only truth in the picture is the exact pitch of relief +against the sky of both trees and hills, and to this the organization of +the hills, the intricacy of the foliage, and everything indicative +either of the nature of the light, or the character of the objects, are +unhesitatingly sacrificed. So much falsehood does it cost to obtain two +apparent truths of tone. Or take, as a still more glaring instance, No. +260 in the Dulwich Gallery, where the trunks of the trees, even of those +farthest off, on the left, are as black as paint can make them, and +there is not, and cannot be, the slightest increase of force, or any +marking whatsoever of distance by color, or any other means, between +them and the foreground. + + +Sec. 9. With Turner's "Mercury and Argus." + +Compare with these, Turner's treatment of his materials in the Mercury +and Argus. He has here his light actually coming from the distance, the +sun being nearly in the centre of the picture, and a violent relief of +objects against it would be far more justifiable than in Poussin's case. +But this dark relief is used in its full force only with the nearest +_leaves_ of the nearest group of foliage overhanging the foreground +from the left; and between these and the more distant members of the +same group, though only three or four yards separate, distinct aerial +perspective and intervening mist and light are shown; while the large +tree in the centre, though very dark, as being very near, compared with +all the distance, is much diminished in intensity of shade from this +nearest group of leaves, and is faint compared with all the foreground. +It is true that this tree has not, in consequence, the actual pitch of +shade against the sky which it would have in nature; but it has +precisely as much as it possibly can have, to leave it the same +proportionate relation to the objects near at hand. And it cannot but be +evident to the thoughtful reader, that whatever trickery or deception +may be the result of a contrary mode of treatment, this is the only +scientific or essentially truthful system, and that what it loses in +tone it gains in aerial perspective. + + +Sec. 10. And with the "Datur Hora Quieti." + +Compare again the last vignette in Rogers's Poems, the "Datur Hora +Quieti," where everything, even the darkest parts of the trees, is kept +pale and full of graduation; even the bridge where it crosses the +descending stream of sunshine, rather lost in the light than relieved +against it, until we come up to the foreground, and then the vigorous +local black of the plough throws the whole picture into distance and +sunshine. I do not know anything in art which can for a moment be set +beside this drawing for united intensity of light and repose. + +Observe, I am not at present speaking of the beauty or desirableness of +the system of the old masters; it may be sublime, and affecting, and +ideal, and intellectual, and a great deal more; but all I am concerned +with at present is, that it is not _true_; while Turner's is the +closest and most studied approach to truth of which the materials of art +admit. + + +Sec. 11. The second sense of the word "tone." + +Sec. 12. Remarkable difference in this respect between the paintings and + drawings of Turner. + +Sec. 13. Not owing to want of power over the material. + +It was not, therefore, with reference to this division of the subject +that I admitted inferiority in our great modern master to Claude or +Poussin, but with reference to the second and more usual meaning of the +word "tone"--the exact relation and fitness of shadow and light, and of +the hues of all objects under them; and more especially that precious +quality of each color laid on, which makes it appear a quiet color +illuminated, not a bright color in shade. But I allow this inferiority +only with respect to the paintings of Turner, not to his drawings. I +could select from among the works named in Chap. VI. of this section, +pieces of tone absolutely faultless and perfect, from the coolest grays +of wintry dawn to the intense fire of summer noon. And the difference +between the prevailing character of these and that of nearly all the +paintings, (for the early oil pictures of Turner are far less perfect in +tone than the most recent,) it is difficult to account for, but on the +supposition that there is something in the material which modern artists +in general are incapable of mastering, and which compels Turner himself +to think less of tone in oil color, than of other and more important +qualities. The total failures of Callcott, whose struggles after tone +ended so invariably in shivering winter or brown paint, the misfortune +of Landseer with his evening sky in 1842, the frigidity of Stanfield, +and the earthiness and opacity which all the magnificent power and +admirable science of Etty are unable entirely to conquer, are too fatal +and convincing proofs of the want of knowledge of means, rather than of +the absence of aim, in modern artists as a body. Yet, with respect to +Turner, however much the want of tone in his early paintings (the Fall +of Carthage, for instance, and others painted at a time when he was +producing the most exquisite hues of light in water-color) might seem to +favor such a supposition, there are passages in his recent works (such, +for instance, as the sunlight along the sea, in the Slaver) which +directly contradict it, and which prove to us that where he now errs in +tone, (as in the Cicero's Villa,) it is less owing to want of power to +reach it, than to the pursuit of some different and nobler end. I shall +therefore glance at the particular modes in which Turner manages his +tone in his present Academy pictures; the early ones must be given up at +once. Place a genuine untouched Claude beside the Crossing the Brook, +and the difference in value and tenderness of tone will be felt in an +instant, and felt the more painfully because all the cool and +transparent qualities of Claude would have been here desirable, and in +their place, and appear to have been aimed at. The foreground of the +Building of Carthage, and the greater part of the architecture of the +Fall, are equally heavy and evidently paint, if we compare them with +genuine passages of Claude's sunshine. There is a very grand and simple +piece of tone in the possession of J. Allnutt, Esq., a sunset behind +willows, but even this is wanting in refinement of shadow, and is crude +in its extreme distance. Not so with the recent Academy pictures; many +of their passages are absolutely faultless; all are refined and +marvellous, and with the exception of the Cicero's Villa, we shall find +few pictures painted within the last ten years which do not either +present us with perfect tone, or with some higher beauty, to which it is +necessarily sacrificed. If we glance at the requirements of nature, and +her superiority of means to ours, we shall see why and how it is +sacrificed. + + +Sec. 14. The two distinct qualities of light to be considered. + +Light, with reference to the tone it induces on objects, is either to be +considered as neutral and white, bringing out local colors with +fidelity; or colored, and consequently modifying these local tints, with +its own. But the power of pure white light to exhibit local color is +strangely variable. The morning light of about nine or ten is usually +very pure; but the difference of its effect on different days, +independently of mere brilliancy, is as inconceivable as inexplicable. +Every one knows how capriciously the colors of a fine opal vary from day +to day, and how rare the lights are which bring them fully out. Now the +expression of the strange, penetrating, deep, neutral light, which, +while it _alters_ no color, brings every color up to the highest +possible pitch and key of pure, harmonious intensity, is the chief +attribute of finely-toned pictures by the great _colorists_ as opposed +to pictures of equally high tone, by masters who, careless of color, are +content, like Cuyp, to lose local tints in the golden blaze of absorbing +light. + + +Sec. 15. Falsehoods by which Titian attains the appearance of quality in + light. + +Falsehood, in this neutral tone, if it may be so called, is a matter far +more of feeling than of proof, for any color is _possible_ under such +lights; it is meagreness and feebleness only which are to be avoided; +and these are rather matters of sensation than of reasoning. But it is +yet easy enough to prove by what exaggerated and false means the +pictures most celebrated for this quality are endowed with their +richness and solemnity of color. In the Bacchus and Ariadne of Titian, +it is difficult to imagine anything more magnificently impossible than +the blue of the distant landscape;--impossible, not from its vividness, +but because it is not faint and aerial enough to account for its purity +of color; it is too dark and blue at the same time; and there is indeed +so total a want of atmosphere in it, that, but for the difference of +form, it would be impossible to tell the mountains (intended to be ten +miles off) from the robe of Ariadne close to the spectator. Yet make +this blue faint, aerial, and distant--make it in the slightest degree to +resemble the truth of nature's color--and all the tone of the picture, +all its intensity and splendor, will vanish on the instant. So again, in +the exquisite and inimitable little bit of color, the Europa in the +Dulwich Gallery; the blue of the dark promontory on the left is +thoroughly absurd and impossible, and the warm tones of the clouds +equally so, unless it were sunset; but the blue especially, because it +is nearer than several points of land which are equally in shadow, and +yet are rendered in warm gray. But the whole value and tone of the +picture would be destroyed if this blue were altered. + + +Sec. 16. Turner will not use such means. + +Sec. 17. But gains in essential truth by the sacrifice. + +Sec. 18. The second quality of light. + +Now, as much of this kind of richness of tone is always given by Turner +as is compatible with truth of aerial effect; but he will not sacrifice +the higher truths of his landscape to mere pitch of color as Titian +does. He infinitely prefers having the power of giving extension of +space, and fulness of form, to that of giving deep melodies of tone; he +feels too much the incapacity of art, with its feeble means of light, to +give the abundance of nature's gradations; and therefore it is, that +taking pure white for his highest expression of light, that even pure +yellow may give him one more step in the scale of shade, he becomes +necessarily inferior in richness of effect to the old masters of tone, +(who always used a golden highest light,) but gains by the sacrifice a +thousand more essential truths. For, though we all know how much more +like light, in the abstract, a finely-toned warm hue will be to the +feelings than white, yet it is utterly impossible to mark the same +number of gradations between such a sobered high light and the deepest +shadow, which we can between this and white; and as these gradations are +absolutely necessary to give the facts of form and distance, which, as +we have above shown, are more important than any truths of tone,[17] +Turner sacrifices the richness of his picture to its completeness--the +manner of the statement to its matter. And not only is he right in doing +this for the sake of space, but he is right also in the abstract +question of color; for as we observed above (Sect. 14,) it is only the +white light--the perfect unmodified group of rays--which will bring out +local color perfectly; and if the picture, therefore, is to be complete +in its system of color, that is, if it is to have each of the three +primitives in their purity, it _must_ have white for its highest light, +otherwise the purity of one of them at least will be impossible. And +this leads us to notice the second and more frequent quality of light, +(which is assumed if we make our highest representation of it yellow,) +the positive hue, namely, which it may itself possess, of course +modifying whatever local tints it exhibits, and thereby rendering +certain colors necessary, and certain colors impossible. Under the +direct yellow light of a descending sun, for instance, pure white and +pure blue are both impossible; because the purest whites and blues that +nature could produce would be turned in some degree into gold or green +by it; and when the sun is within half a degree of the horizon, if the +sky be clear, a rose light supersedes the golden one, still more +overwhelming in its effect on local color. I have seen the pale fresh +green of spring vegetation in the gardens of Venice, on the Lido side, +turned pure russet, or between that and crimson, by a vivid sunset of +this kind, every particle of green color being absolutely annihilated. +And so under all colored lights, (and there are few, from dawn to +twilight, which are not slightly tinted by some accident of +atmosphere,) there is a change of local color, which, when in a picture +it is so exactly proportioned that we feel at once both what the local +colors are in themselves, and what is the color and strength of the +light upon them, gives us truth of tone. + + +Sec. 19. The perfection of Cuyp in this respect interfered with by numerous + solecisms. + +For expression of effects of yellow sunlight, parts might be chosen out +of the good pictures of Cuyp, which have never been equalled in art. But +I much doubt if there be a single _bright_ Cuyp in the world, which, +taken as a whole, does not present many glaring solecisms in tone. I +have not seen many fine pictures of his, which were not utterly spoiled +by the vermilion dress of some principal figure, a vermilion totally +unaffected and unwarmed by the golden hue of the rest of the picture; +and, what is worse, with little distinction, between its own illumined +and shaded parts, so that it appears altogether out of sunshine, the +color of a bright vermilion in dead, cold daylight. It is possible that +the original color may have gone down in all cases, or that these parts +may have been villanously repainted: but I am the rather disposed to +believe them genuine, because even throughout the best of his pictures +there are evident recurrences of the same kind of solecism in other +colors--greens for instance--as in the steep bank on the right of the +largest picture in the Dulwich Gallery; and browns, as in the lying cow +in the same picture, which is in most visible and painful contrast with +the one standing beside it, the flank of the standing one being bathed +in breathing sunshine, and the reposing one laid in with as dead, +opaque, and lifeless brown as ever came raw from a novice's pallet. And +again, in that marked 83, while the figures on the right are walking in +the most precious light, and those just beyond them in the distance +leave a furlong or two of pure visible sunbeams between us and them, the +cows in the centre are entirely deprived, poor things, of both light and +air. And these failing parts, though they often escape the eye when we +are near the picture and able to dwell upon what is beautiful in it, yet +so injure its whole effect that I question if there be many Cuyps in +which vivid colors occur, which will not lose their effect, and become +cold and flat at a distance of ten or twelve paces, retaining their +influence only when the eye is close enough to rest on the right parts +without including the whole. Take, for instance, the large one in our +National Gallery, seen from the opposite door, where the black cow +appears a great deal nearer than the dogs, and the golden tones of the +distance look like a sepia drawing rather than like sunshine, owing +chiefly to the utter want of aerial grays indicated through them. + + +Sec. 20. Turner is not so perfect in parts--far more so in the whole. + +Now, there is no instance in the works of Turner of anything so faithful +and imitative of sunshine as the best parts of Cuyp; but at the same +time, there is not a single vestige of the same kind of solecism. It is +true, that in his fondness for color, Turner is in the habit of allowing +excessively cold fragments in big warmest pictures; but these are never, +observe, warm colors with no light upon them, useless as contrasts while +they are discords in the tone; but they are bits of the very coolest +tints, partially removed from the general influence, and exquisitely +valuable as color, though, with all deference be it spoken, I think them +sometimes slightly destructive of what would otherwise be perfect tone. +For instance, the two blue and white stripes on the drifting flag of the +Slave Ship, are, I think, the least degree too purely cool. I think both +the blue and white would be impossible under such a light; and in the +same way the white parts of the dress of the Napoleon interfered by +their coolness with the perfectly managed warmth of all the rest of the +picture. But both these lights are reflexes, and it is nearly impossible +to say what tones may be assumed even by the warmest light reflected +from a cool surface; so that we cannot actually convict these parts of +falsehood, and though we should have liked the _tone_ of the picture +better had they been slightly warmer, we cannot but like the _color_ of +the picture better with them as they are; while Cuyp's failing portions +are not only evidently and demonstrably false, being in direct light, +but are as disagreeable in color as false in tone, and injurious to +everything near them. And the best proof of the grammatical accuracy of +the tones of Turner is in the perfect and unchanging influence of all +his pictures at any distance. We approach only to follow the sunshine +into every cranny of the leafage, and retire only to feel it diffused +over the scene, the whole picture glowing like a sun or star at +whatever distance we stand, and lighting the air between us and it; +while many even of the best pictures of Claude must be looked close into +to be felt, and lose light every foot that we retire. The smallest of +the three seaports in the National Gallery is valuable and right in tone +when we are close to it; but ten yards off, it is all brick-dust, +offensively and evidently false in its whole hue. + + +Sec. 21. The power in Turner of uniting a number of tones. + +The comparison of Turner with Cuyp and Claude may sound strange in most +ears; but this is chiefly because we are not in the habit of analyzing +and dwelling upon those difficult and daring passages of the modern +master which do not at first appeal to our ordinary notions of truth, +owing to his habit of uniting two, three, or even more separate tones in +the same composition. In this also he strictly follows nature, for +wherever climate changes, tone changes, and the climate changes with +every 200 feet of elevation, so that the upper clouds are always +different in tone from the lower ones, these from the rest of the +landscape, and in all probability, some part of the horizon from the +rest. And when nature allows this in a high degree, as in her most +gorgeous effects she always will, she does not herself impress at once +with intensity of tone, as in the deep and quiet yellows of a July +evening, but rather with the magnificence and variety of associated +color, in which, if we give time and attention to it, we shall gradually +find the solemnity and the depth of twenty tones instead of one. Now in +Turner's power of associating cold with warm light, no one has ever +approached, or even ventured into the same field with him. The old +masters, content with one simple tone, sacrificed to its unity all the +exquisite gradations and varied touches of relief and change by which +nature unites her hours with each other. They gave the warmth of the +sinking sun, overwhelming all things in its gold; but they did not give +those gray passages about the horizon where, seen through its dying +light, the cool and the gloom of night gather themselves for their +victory. Whether it was in them impotence or judgment, it is not for me +to decide. I have only to point to the daring of Turner in this respect, +as something to which art affords no matter of comparison, as that in +which the mere attempt is, in itself, superiority. Take the evening +effect with the Temeraire. That picture will not, at the first glance, +deceive as a piece of actual sunlight; but this is because there is in +it more than sunlight, because under the blazing veil of vaulted fire +which lights the vessel on her last path, there is a blue, deep, +desolate hollow of darkness, out of which you can hear the voice of the +night wind, and the dull boom of the disturbed sea; because the cold, +deadly shadows of the twilight are gathering through every sunbeam, and +moment by moment as you look, you will fancy some new film and faintness +of the night has risen over the vastness of the departing form. + + +Sec. 22. Recapitulation. + +And if, in effects of this kind, time be taken to dwell upon the +individual tones, and to study the laws of their reconcilement, there +will be found in the recent Academy pictures of this great artist a mass +of various truth to which nothing can be brought for comparison, which +stands not only unrivalled, but uncontended with, and which, when in +carrying out it may be inferior to some of the picked passages of the +old masters, is so through deliberate choice rather to suggest a +multitude of truths than to imitate one, and through a strife with +difficulties of effect of which art can afford no parallel example. Nay, +in the next chapter, respecting color, we shall see farther reason for +doubting the truth of Claude, Cuyp, and Poussin, in tone,--reason so +palpable that if these were all that were to be contended with, I should +scarcely have allowed any inferiority in Turner whatsoever;[18] but I +allow it, not so much with reference to the deceptive imitations of +sunlight, wrought out with desperate exaggerations of shade, of the +professed landscape painters, as with reference to the glory of Rubens, +the glow of Titian, the silver tenderness of Cagliari, and perhaps more +than all to the precious and pure passages of intense feeling and +heavenly light, holy and undefiled, and glorious with the changeless +passion of eternity, which sanctify with their shadeless peace the deep +and noble conceptions of the early school of Italy,--of Fra Bartolomeo, +Perugino, and the early mind of Raffaelle. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [16] Of course I am not speaking here of treatment of chiaroscuro, + but of that quantity of depth of shade by which, _coeteris + paribus_, a near object will exceed a distant one. For the truth of + the systems of Turner and the old masters, as regards chiaroscuro, + vide Chapter III. of this Section, Sec. 8. + + [17] More important, observe, _as matters of truth or fact_. It may + often chance that, as a matter of feeling, the tone is the more + important of the two; but with this we have here no concern. + + [18] We must not leave the subject of tone without alluding to the + works of the late George Barrett, which afford glorious and exalted + passages of light; and John Varley, who, though less truthful in his + aim, was frequently deep in his feeling. Some of the sketches of De + Wint are also admirable in this respect. As for our oil pictures, + the less that is said about them the better. Callcott has the truest + aim; but not having any eye for color, it is impossible for him to + succeed in tone. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + OF TRUTH OF COLOR. + + +Sec. 1. Observations on the color of G. Poussin's La Riccia. + +There is, in the first room of the National Gallery, a landscape +attributed to Gaspar Poussin, called sometimes Aricia, sometimes Le or +La Riccia, according to the fancy of catalogue printers. Whether it can +be supposed to resemble the ancient Aricia, now La Riccia, close to +Albano, I will not take upon me to determine, seeing that most of the +towns of these old masters are quite as like one place as another; but, +at any rate, it is a town on a hill, wooded with two-and-thirty bushes, +of very uniform size, and possessing about the same number of leaves +each. These bushes are all painted in with one dull opaque brown, +becoming very slightly greenish towards the lights, and discover in one +place a bit of rock, which of course would in nature have been cool and +gray beside the lustrous hues of foliage, and which, therefore, being +moreover completely in shade, is consistently and scientifically painted +of a very clear, pretty, and positive brick-red, the only thing like +color in the picture. The foreground is a piece of road, which in order +to make allowance for its greater nearness, for its being completely in +light, and, it may be presumed, for the quantity of vegetation usually +present on carriage-roads, is given in a very cool green gray, and the +truth of the picture is completed by a number of dots in the sky on the +right, with a stalk to them, of a sober and similar brown. + + +Sec. 2. As compared with the actual scene. + +Not long ago, I was slowly descending this very bit of carriage-road, +the first turn after you leave Albano, not a little impeded by the +worthy successors of the ancient prototypes of Veiento.[19] It had been +wild weather when I left Rome, and all across the Campagna the clouds +were sweeping in sulphurous blue, with a clap of thunder or two, and +breaking gleams of sun along the Claudian aqueduct lighting up the +infinity of its arches like the bridge of chaos. But as I climbed the +long slope of the Alban mount, the storm swept finally to the north, and +the noble outline of the domes of Albano and graceful darkness of its +ilex grove rose against pure streaks of alternate blue and amber, the +upper sky gradually flushing through the last fragments of rain-cloud in +deep, palpitating azure, half ether and half dew. The noonday sun came +slanting down the rocky slopes of La Riccia, and its masses of entangled +and tall foliage, whose autumnal tints were mixed with the wet verdure +of a thousand evergreens, were penetrated with it as with rain. I cannot +call it color, it was conflagration. Purple, and crimson, and scarlet, +like the curtains of God's tabernacle, the rejoicing trees sank into the +valley in showers of light, every separate leaf quivering with buoyant +and burning life; each, as it turned to reflect or to transmit the +sunbeam, first a torch and then an emerald. Far up into the recesses of +the valley, the green vistas arched like the hollows of mighty waves of +some crystalline sea, with the arbutus flowers dashed along their flanks +for foam, and silver flakes of orange spray tossed into the air around +them, breaking over the gray walls of rock into a thousand separate +stars, fading and kindling alternately as the weak wind lifted and let +them fall. Every glade of grass burned like the golden floor of heaven, +opening in sudden gleams as the foliage broke and closed above it, as +sheet-lightning opens in a cloud at sunset; the motionless masses of +dark rock--dark though flushed with scarlet lichen,--casting their quiet +shadows across its restless radiance, the fountain underneath them +filling its marble hollow with blue mist and fitful sound, and over +all--the multitudinous bars of amber and rose, the sacred clouds that +have no darkness, and only exist to illumine, were seen in fathomless +intervals between the solemn and orbed repose of the stone pines, +passing to lose themselves in the last, white, blinding lustre of the +measureless line where the Campagna melted into the blaze of the sea. + + +Sec. 3. Turner himself is inferior in brilliancy to nature. + +Tell me who is likest this, Poussin or Turner? Not in his most daring +and dazzling efforts could Turner himself come near it; but you could +not at the time have thought or remembered the work of any other man as +having the remotest hue or resemblance of what you saw. Nor am I +speaking of what is uncommon or unnatural; there is no climate, no +place, and scarcely an hour, in which nature does not exhibit color +which no mortal effort can imitate or approach. For all our artificial +pigments are, even when seen under the same circumstances, dead and +lightless beside her living color; the green of a growing leaf, the +scarlet of a fresh flower, no art nor expedient can reach; but in +addition to this, nature exhibits her hues under an intensity of +sunlight which trebles their brilliancy, while the painter, deprived of +this splendid aid, works still with what is actually a gray shadow +compared to the force of nature's color. Take a blade of grass and a +scarlet flower, and place them so as to receive sunlight beside the +brightest canvas that ever left Turner's easel, and the picture will be +extinguished. So far from out-facing nature, he does not, as far as mere +vividness of color goes, one-half reach her;--but does he use this +brilliancy of color on objects to which it does not properly belong? Let +us compare his works in this respect with a few instances from the old +masters. + + +Sec. 4. Impossible colors of Salvator, Titian; + +There is, on the left hand side of Salvator's Mercury and the Woodman in +our National Gallery, something, without doubt intended for a rocky +mountain, in the middle distance, near enough for all its fissures and +crags to be distinctly visible, or, rather, for a great many awkward +scratches of the brush over it to be visible, which, though not +particularly representative either of one thing or another, are without +doubt intended to be symbolical of rocks. Now no mountain in full light, +and near enough for its details of crag to be seen, is without great +variety of delicate color. Salvator has painted it throughout without +one instant of variation; but this, I suppose, is simplicity and +generalization;--let it pass: but what is the color? _Pure sky blue_, +without one grain of gray, or any modifying hue whatsoever;--the same +brush which had just given the bluest parts of the sky, has been more +loaded at the same part of the pallet, and the whole mountain thrown in +with unmitigated ultramarine. Now mountains only can become pure blue +when there is so much air between us and them that they become mere +flat, dark shades, every detail being totally lost: they become blue +when they become air, and not till then. Consequently this part of +Salvator's painting, being of hills perfectly clear and near, with all +their details visible, is, as far as color is concerned, broad, bold +falsehood--the direct assertion of direct impossibility. + +In the whole range of Turner's works, recent or of old date, you will +not find an instance of anything near enough to have details visible, +painted in sky blue. Wherever Turner gives blue, there he gives +atmosphere; it is air, not object. Blue he gives to his sea; so does +nature;--blue he gives, sapphire-deep, to his extreme distance; so does +nature;--blue he gives to the misty shadows and hollows of his hills; so +does nature: but blue he gives _not_, where detail and illumined surface +are visible; as he comes into light and character, so he breaks into +warmth and varied hue; nor is there in one of his works, and I speak of +the Academy pictures especially, one touch of cold color which is not to +be accounted for, and proved right and full of meaning. + +I do not say that Salvator's distance is not artist-like; both in that, +and in the yet more glaringly false distances of Titian above alluded +to, and in hundreds of others of equal boldness of exaggeration, I can +take delight, and perhaps should be sorry to see them other than they +are; but it is somewhat singular to hear people talking of Turner's +exquisite care and watchfulness in color as false, while they receive +such cases of preposterous and audacious fiction with the most generous +and simple credulity. + + +Sec. 5. Poussin, and Claude. + +Again, in the upper sky of the picture of Nicolas Poussin, before +noticed, the clouds are of a very fine clear olive-green, about the same +tint as the brightest parts of the trees beneath them. They cannot have +altered, (or else the trees must have been painted in gray,) for the hue +is harmonious and well united with the rest of the picture, and the blue +and white in the centre of the sky are still fresh and pure. Now a green +sky in open and illumined distance is very frequent, and very beautiful; +but rich olive-green clouds, as far as I am acquainted with nature, are +a piece of color in which she is not apt to indulge. You will be +puzzled to show me such a thing in the recent works of Turner.[20] +Again, take any important group of trees, I do not care whose--Claude's, +Salvator's, or Poussin's--with lateral light (that in the Marriage of +Isaac and Rebecca, or Gaspar's sacrifice of Isaac, for instance:) Can it +be seriously supposed that those murky browns and melancholy greens are +representative of the tints of leaves under full noonday sun? I know +that you cannot help looking upon all these pictures as pieces of dark +relief against a light wholly proceeding from the distances; but they +are nothing of the kind--they are noon and morning effects with full +lateral light. Be so kind as to match the color of a leaf in the sun +(the darkest you like) as nearly as you can, and bring your matched +color and set it beside one of these groups of trees, and take a blade +of common grass, and set it beside any part of the fullest light of +their foregrounds, and then talk about the truth of color of the old +masters! + +And let not arguments respecting the sublimity or fidelity of +_impression_ be brought forward here. I have nothing whatever to do with +this at present. I am not talking about what is sublime, but about what +is true. People attack Turner on this ground;--they never speak of +beauty or sublimity with respect to him, but of nature and truth, and +let them support their own favorite masters on the same grounds. Perhaps +I may have the very deepest veneration for the _feeling_ of the old +masters, but I must not let it influence me now--my business is to match +colors, not to talk sentiment. Neither let it be said that I am going +too much into details, and that general truths may be obtained by local +falsehood. Truth is only to be measured by close comparison of actual +facts; we may talk forever about it in generals, and prove nothing. We +cannot tell what effect falsehood may produce on this or that person, +but we can very well tell what is false and what is not, and if it +produce on our senses the effect of truth, that only demonstrates their +imperfection and inaccuracy, and need of cultivation. Turner's color is +glaring to one person's sensations, and beautiful to another's. This +proves nothing. Poussin's color is right to one, soot to another. This +proves nothing. There is no means of arriving at any conclusion but +close comparison of both with the known and demonstrable hues of nature, +and this comparison will invariably turn Claude or Poussin into +blackness, and even Turner into gray. + +Whatever depth of gloom may seem to invest the objects of a real +landscape, yet a window with that landscape seen through it, will +invariably appear a broad space of light as compared with the shade of +the room walls; and this single circumstance may prove to us both the +intensity and the diffusion of daylight in open air, and the necessity, +if a picture is to be truthful in effect of color, that it should tell +as a broad space of graduated illumination--not, as do those of the old +masters, as a patch-work of black shades. Their works are nature in +mourning weeds,--[Greek: oud hen helio katharo tethrammenoi, all hypo +symmigei skia]. + + +Sec. 6. Turner's translation of colors. + +It is true that there are, here and there, in the Academy pictures, +passages in which Turner has translated the unattainable intensity of +one tone of color, into the attainable pitch of a higher one: the golden +green for instance, of intense sunshine on verdure, into pure yellow, +because he knows it to be impossible, with any mixture of blue +whatsoever, to give faithfully its relative intensity of light, and +Turner always will have his light and shade right, whatever it costs him +in color. But he does this in rare cases, and even then over very small +spaces; and I should be obliged to his critics if they would go out to +some warm, mossy green bank in full summer sunshine, and try to reach +its tone; and when they find, as find they will, Indian yellow and +chrome look dark beside it, let them tell me candidly which is nearest +truth, the gold of Turner, or the mourning and murky olive browns and +verdigris greens in which Claude, with the industry and intelligence of +a Sevres china painter, drags the laborious bramble leaves over his +childish foreground. + + +Sec. 7. Notice of effects in which no brilliancy of art can even approach + that of reality. + +Sec. 8. Reasons for the usual incredulity of the observer with respect to + their representation. + +Sec. 9. Color of the Napoleon. + +But it is singular enough that the chief attacks on Turner for +overcharged brilliancy, are made, not when there could by any +possibility be any chance of his outstepping nature, but when he has +taken subjects which no colors of earth could ever vie with or reach, +such, for instance, as his sunsets among the high clouds. When I come to +speak of skies, I shall point out what divisions, proportioned to their +elevation, exist in the character of clouds. It is the highest +region,--that exclusively characterized by white, filmy, multitudinous, +and quiet clouds, arranged in bars, or streaks, or flakes, of which I +speak at present, a region which no landscape painters have ever made +one effort to represent, except Rubens and Turner--the latter taking it +for his most favorite and frequent study. Now we have been speaking +hitherto of what is constant and necessary in nature, of the ordinary +effects of daylight on ordinary colors, and we repeat again, that no +gorgeousness of the pallet can reach even these. But it is a widely +different thing when nature herself takes a coloring fit, and does +something extraordinary, something really to exhibit her power. She has +a thousand ways and means of rising above herself, but incomparably the +noblest manifestations of her capability of color are in these sunsets +among the high clouds. I speak especially of the moment before the sun +sinks, when his light turns pure rose-color, and when this light falls +upon a zenith covered with countless cloud-forms of inconceivable +delicacy, threads and flakes of vapor, which would in common daylight be +pure snow white, and which give therefore fair field to the tone of +light. There is then no limit to the multitude, and no check to the +intensity of the hues assumed. The whole sky from the zenith to the +horizon becomes one molten, mantling sea of color and fire; every black +bar turns into massy gold, every ripple and wave into unsullied, +shadowless, crimson, and purple, and scarlet, and colors for which there +are no words in language, and no ideas in the mind,--things which can +only be conceived while they are visible,--the intense hollow blue of +the upper sky melting through it all,--showing here deep, and pure, and +lightless, there, modulated by the filmy, formless body of the +transparent vapor, till it is lost imperceptibly in its crimson and +gold. Now there is no connection, no one link of association or +resemblance, between those skies and the work of any mortal hand but +Turner's. He alone has followed nature in these her highest efforts; he +follows her faithfully, but far behind; follows at such a distance below +her intensity that the Napoleon of last year's exhibition, and the +Temeraire of the year before, would look colorless and cold if the eye +came upon them after one of nature's sunsets among the high clouds. But +there are a thousand reasons why this should not be believed. The +concurrence of circumstances necessary to produce the sunsets of which I +speak does not take place above five or six times in the summer, and +then only for a space of from five to ten minutes, just as the sun +reaches the horizon. Considering how seldom people think of looking for +sunset at all, and how seldom, if they do, they are in a position from +which it can be fully seen, the chances that their attention should be +awake, and their position favorable, during these few flying instants of +the year, is almost as nothing. What can the citizen, who can see only +the red light on the canvas of the wagon at the end of the street, and +the crimson color of the bricks of his neighbor's chimney, know of the +flood of fire which deluges the sky from the horizon to the zenith? What +can even the quiet inhabitant of the English lowlands, whose scene for +the manifestation of the fire of heaven is limited to the tops of +hayricks, and the rooks' nests in the old elm-trees, know of the mighty +passages of splendor which are tossed from Alp to Alp over the azure of +a thousand miles of champaign? Even granting the constant vigor of +observation, and supposing the possession of such impossible knowledge, +it needs but a moment's reflection to prove how incapable the memory is +of retaining for any time the distinct image of the sources even of its +most vivid impressions. What recollection have we of the sunsets which +delighted us last year? We may know that they were magnificent, or +glowing, but no distinct image of color or form is retained--nothing of +whose _degree_ (for the great difficulty with the memory is to retain, +not facts, but _degrees_ of fact) we could be so certain as to say of +anything now presented to us, that it is like it. If we did say so, we +should be wrong; for we may be quite certain that the energy of an +impression fades from the memory, and becomes more and more indistinct +every day; and thus we compare a faded and indistinct image with the +decision and certainty of one present to the senses. How constantly do +we affirm that the thunder-storm of last week was the most terrible one +we ever saw in our lives, because we compare it, not with the +thunder-storm of last year, but with the faded and feeble recollection +of it. And so, when we enter an exhibition, as we have no definite +standard of truth before us, our feelings are toned down and subdued to +the quietness of color which is all that human power can ordinarily +attain to; and when we turn to a piece of higher and closer truth, +approaching the pitch of the color of nature, but to which we are not +guided, as we should be in nature, by corresponding gradations of light +everywhere around us, but which is isolated and cut off suddenly by a +frame and a wall, and surrounded by darkness and coldness, what can we +expect but that it should surprise and shock the feelings? Suppose, +where the Napoleon hung in the Academy last year, there could have been +left, instead, an opening in the wall, and through that opening, in the +midst of the obscurity of the dim room and the smoke-laden atmosphere, +there could suddenly have been poured the full glory of a tropical +sunset, reverberated from the sea: How would you have shrunk, blinded, +from its scarlet and intolerable lightnings! What picture in the room +would not have been blackness after it? And why then do you blame Turner +because he dazzles you? Does not the falsehood rest with those who do +_not_? There was not one hue in this whole picture which was not far +below what nature would have used in the same circumstances, nor was +there one inharmonious or at variance with the rest;--the stormy +blood-red of the horizon, the scarlet of the breaking sunlight, the rich +crimson browns of the wet and illumined sea-weed; the pure gold and +purple of the upper sky, and, shed through it all, the deep passage of +solemn blue, where the cold moonlight fell on one pensive spot of the +limitless shore--all were given with harmony as perfect as their color +was intense; and if, instead of passing, as I doubt not you did, in the +hurry of your unreflecting prejudice, you had paused but so much as one +quarter of an hour before the picture, you would have found the sense of +air and space blended with every line, and breathing in every cloud, and +every color instinct and radiant with visible, glowing, absorbing light. + + +Sec. 10. Necessary discrepancy between the attainable brilliancy of color + and light. + +It is to be observed, however, in general, that wherever in brilliant +effects of this kind, we approach to anything like a true statement of +nature's color, there must yet be a distinct difference in the +impression we convey, because we cannot approach her _light_. All such +hues are usually given by her with an accompanying intensity of sunbeams +which dazzles and overpowers the eye, so that it cannot rest on the +actual colors, nor understand what they are; and hence in art, in +rendering all effects of this kind, there must be a want of the ideas of +_imitation_, which are the great source of enjoyment to the ordinary +observer; because we can only give one series of truths, those of color, +and are unable to give the accompanying truths of light, so that the +more true we are in color, the greater, ordinarily, will be the +discrepancy felt between the intensity of hue and the feebleness of +light. But the painter who really loves nature will not, on this +account, give you a faded and feeble image, which indeed may appear to +you to be right, because your feelings can detect no discrepancy in its +parts, but which he knows to derive its apparent truth from a +systematized falsehood. No; he will make you understand and feel that +art _cannot_ imitate nature--that where it appears to do so, it must +malign her, and mock her. He will give you, or state to you, such truths +as are in his power, completely and perfectly; and those which he cannot +give, he will leave to your imagination. If you are acquainted with +nature, you will know all he has given to be true, and you will supply +from your memory and from your heart that light which he cannot give. If +you are unacquainted with nature, seek elsewhere for whatever may happen +to satisfy your feelings; but do not ask for the truth which you would +not acknowledge and could not enjoy. + + +Sec. 11. This discrepancy less in Turner than in other colorists. + +Sec. 12. Its great extent in a landscape attributed to Rubens. + +Nevertheless the aim and struggle of the artist must always be to do +away with this discrepancy as far as the powers of art admit, not by +lowering his color, but by increasing his light. And it is indeed by +this that the works of Turner are peculiarly distinguished from those of +all other colorists, by the dazzling intensity, namely, of the light +which he sheds through every hue, and which, far more than their +brilliant color, is the real source of their overpowering effect upon +the eye, an effect so _reasonably_ made the subject of perpetual +animadversion, as if the sun which they represent were quite a quiet, +and subdued, and gentle, and manageable luminary, and never dazzled +anybody, under any circumstances whatsoever. I am fond of standing by a +bright Turner in the Academy, to listen to the unintentional compliments +of the crowd--"What a glaring thing!" "I declare I can't look at it!" +"Don't it hurt your eyes?"--expressed as if they were in the constant +habit of looking the sun full in the face, with the most perfect comfort +and entire facility of vision. It is curious after hearing people malign +some of Turner's noble passages of light, to pass to some really +ungrammatical and false picture of the old masters, in which we have +color given _without_ light. Take, for instance, the landscape +attributed to Rubens, No. 175, in the Dulwich Gallery. I never have +spoken, and I never will speak of Rubens but with the most reverential +feeling; and whatever imperfections in his art may have resulted from +his unfortunate want of seriousness and incapability of true passion, +his calibre of mind was originally such that I believe the world may see +another Titian and another Raffaelle, before it sees another Rubens. But +I have before alluded to the violent license he occasionally assumes; +and there is an instance of it in this picture apposite to the immediate +question. The sudden streak and circle of yellow and crimson in the +middle of the sky of that picture, being the occurrence of a fragment of +a sunset color in pure daylight, and in perfect isolation, while at the +same time it is rather darker, when translated into light and shade, +than brighter than the rest of the sky, is a case of such bold +absurdity, come from whose pencil it may, that if every error which +Turner has fallen into in the whole course of his life were concentrated +into one, that one would not equal it; and as our connoisseurs gaze upon +this with never-ending approbation, we must not be surprised that the +accurate perceptions which thus take delight in pure fiction, should +consistently be disgusted by Turner's fidelity and truth. + + +Sec. 13. Turner scarcely ever uses pure or vivid color. + +Hitherto, however, we have been speaking of vividness of pure color, and +showing that it is used by Turner only where nature uses it, and in no +less degree. But we have hitherto, therefore, been speaking of a most +limited and uncharacteristic portion of his works; for Turner, like all +great colorists, is distinguished not more for his power of dazzling and +overwhelming the eye with intensity of effect, than for his power of +doing so by the use of subdued and gentle means. There is no man living +more cautious and sparing in the use of pure color than Turner. To say +that he never perpetrates anything like the blue excrescences of +foreground, or hills _shot_ like a housekeeper's best silk gown, with +blue and red, which certain of our celebrated artists consider the +essence of the sublime, would be but a poor compliment. I might as well +praise the portraits of Titian because they have not the grimace and +paint of a clown in a pantomime; but I do say, and say with confidence, +that there is scarcely a landscape artist of the present day, however +sober and lightless their effects may look, who does not employ more +pure and raw color than Turner; and that the ordinary tinsel and trash, +or rather vicious and perilous stuff, according to the power of the mind +producing it, with which the walls of our Academy are half covered, +disgracing, in weak hands, or in more powerful, degrading and corrupting +our whole school of art, is based on a system of color beside which +Turner's is as Vesta to Cotytto--the chastity of fire to the foulness of +earth. Every picture of this great colorist has, in one or two parts of +it, (key-notes of the whole,) points where the system of each individual +color is concentrated by a single stroke, as pure as it can come from +the pallet; but throughout the great space and extent of even the most +brilliant of his works, there will not be found a raw color; that is to +say, there is no warmth which has not gray in it, and no blue which has +not warmth in it; and the tints in which he most excels and distances +all other men, the most cherished and inimitable portions of his color, +are, as with all perfect colorists they must be, his grays. + +It is instructive in this respect, to compare the sky of the Mercury +and Argus with the various illustrations of the serenity, space, and +sublimity naturally inherent in blue and pink, of which every year's +exhibition brings forward enough and to spare. In the Mercury and Argus, +the pale and vaporous blue of the heated sky is broken with gray and +pearly white, the gold color of the light warming it more or less as it +approaches or retires from the sun; but throughout, there is not a grain +of pure blue; all is subdued and warmed at the same time by the mingling +gray and gold, up to the very zenith, where, breaking through the flaky +mist, the transparent and deep azure of the sky is expressed with a +single crumbling touch; the key-note of the whole is given, and every +part of it passes at once far into glowing and aerial space. The reader +can scarcely fail to remember at once sundry works in contradistinction +to this, with great names attached to them, in which the sky is a sheer +piece of plumber's and glazier's work, and should be valued per yard, +with heavy extra charge for ultramarine. + + +Sec. 14. The basis of gray, under all his vivid hues. + +Throughout the works of Turner, the same truthful principle of delicate +and subdued color is carried out with a care and labor of which it is +difficult to form a conception. He gives a dash of pure white for his +highest light; but all the other whites of his picture are pearled down +with gray or gold. He gives a fold of pure crimson to the drapery of his +nearest figure; but all his other crimsons will be deepened with black, +or warmed with yellow. In one deep reflection of his distant sea, we +catch a trace of the purest blue; but all the rest is palpitating with a +varied and delicate gradation of harmonized tint, which indeed looks +vivid blue as a mass, but is only so by opposition. It is the most +difficult, the most rare thing, to find in his works a definite space, +however small, of unconnected color; that is, either of a blue which has +nothing to connect it with the warmth, or of a warm color which has +nothing to connect it with the grays of the whole; and the result is, +that there is a general system and undercurrent of gray pervading the +whole of his color, out of which his highest lights, and those local +touches of pure color, which are, as I said before, the key-notes of the +picture, flash with the peculiar brilliancy and intensity in which he +stands alone. + + +Sec. 15. The variety and fulness even of his most simple tones. + +Sec. 16. Following the infinite and unapproachable variety of nature. + +Intimately associated with this toning down and connection of the colors +actually used, is his inimitable power of varying and blending them, so +as never to give a quarter of an inch of canvas without a change in it, +a melody as well as a harmony of one kind or another. Observe, I am not +at present speaking of this as artistical or desirable in itself, not as +a characteristic of the great colorist, but as the aim of the simple +follower of nature. For it is strange to see how marvellously nature +varies the most general and simple of her tones. A mass of mountain seen +against the light, may, at first, appear all of one blue; and so it is, +blue as a whole, by comparison with other parts of the landscape. But +look how that blue is made up. There are black shadows in it under the +crags, there are green shadows along the turf, there are gray +half-lights upon the rocks, there are faint touches of stealthy warmth +and cautious light along their edges; every bush, every stone, every +tuft of moss has its voice in the matter, and joins with individual +character in the universal will. Who is there who can do this as Turner +will? The old masters would have settled the matter at once with a +transparent, agreeable, but monotonous gray. Many among the moderns +would probably be equally monotonous with absurd and false colors. +Turner only would give the uncertainty--the palpitating, perpetual +change--the subjection of all to a great influence, without one part or +portion being lost or merged in it--the unity of action with infinity of +agent. And I wish to insist on this the more particularly, because it is +one of the eternal principles of nature, that she will not have one line +nor color, nor one portion nor atom of space without a change in it. +There is not one of her shadows, tints, or lines that is not in a state +of perpetual variation: I do not mean in time, but in space. There is +not a leaf in the world which has the _same color_ visible over its +whole surface; it has a white high light somewhere; and in proportion as +it curves to or from that focus, the color is brighter or grayer. Pick +up a common flint from the roadside, and count, if you can, its changes +and hues of color. Every bit of bare ground under your feet has in it a +thousand such--the gray pebbles, the warm ochre, the green of incipient +vegetation, the grays and blacks of its reflexes and shadows, might +keep a painter at work for a month, if he were obliged to follow them +touch for touch: how much more, when the same infinity of change is +carried out with vastness of object and space. The extreme of distance +may appear at first monotonous; but the least examination will show it +to be full of every kind of change--that its outlines are perpetually +melting and appearing again--sharp here, vague there--now lost +altogether, now just hinted and still confused among each other--and so +forever in a state and necessity of change. Hence, wherever in a +painting we have unvaried color extended even over a small space, there +is falsehood. Nothing can be natural which is monotonous; nothing true +which only tells one story. The brown foreground and rocks of Claude's +Sinon before Priam are as false as color can be: first, because there +never was such a brown under sunlight, for even the sand and cinders +(volcanic tufa) about Naples, granting that he had studied from these +ugliest of all formations, are, where they are fresh fractured, golden +and lustrous in full light compared to these ideals of crag, and become, +like all other rocks, quiet and gray when weathered; and secondly, +because no rock that ever nature stained is without its countless +breaking tints of varied vegetation. And even Stanfield, master as he is +of rock form, is apt in the same way to give us here and there a little +bit of mud, instead of stone. + + +Sec. 17. His dislike of purple and fondness for the opposition of yellow and + black. The principles of nature in this respect. + +What I am next about to say with respect to Turner's color, I should +wish to be received with caution, as it admits of dispute. I think that +the first approach to viciousness of color in any master is commonly +indicated chiefly by a prevalence of purple, and an absence of yellow. I +think nature mixes yellow with almost every one of her hues, never, or +very rarely, using red without it, but frequently using yellow with +scarcely any red; and I believe it will be in consequence found that her +favorite opposition, that which generally characterizes and gives tone +to her color, is yellow and black, passing, as it retires, into white +and blue. It is beyond dispute that the great fundamental opposition of +Rubens is yellow and black; and that on this, concentrated in one part +of the picture, and modified in various grays throughout, chiefly depend +the tones of all his finest works. And in Titian, though there is a far +greater tendency to the purple than in Rubens, I believe no red is ever +mixed with the pure blue, or glazed over it, which has not in it a +modifying quantity of yellow. At all events, I am nearly certain that +whatever rich and pure purples are introduced locally, by the great +colorists, nothing is so destructive of all fine color as the slightest +tendency to purple in general tone; and I am equally certain that Turner +is distinguished from all the vicious colorists of the present day, by +the foundation of all his tones being black, yellow, and the +intermediate grays, while the tendency of our common glare-seekers is +invariably to pure, cold, impossible purples. So fond indeed is Turner +of black and yellow, that he has given us more than one composition, +both drawings and paintings, based on these two colors alone, of which +the magnificent Quilleboeuf, which I consider one of the most perfect +pieces of simple color existing, is a most striking example; and I think +that where, as in some of the late Venices, there has been something +like a marked appearance of purple tones, even though exquisitely +corrected by vivid orange and warm green in the foreground, the general +color has not been so perfect or truthful: my own feelings would always +guide me rather to the warm grays of such pictures as the Snow Storm, or +the glowing scarlet and gold of the Napoleon and Slave Ship. But I do +not insist at present on this part of the subject, as being perhaps more +proper for future examination, when we are considering the ideal of +color. + + +Sec. 18. His early works are false in color. + +The above remarks have been made entirely with reference to the recent +Academy pictures, which have been chiefly attacked for their color. I by +no means intend them to apply to the early works of Turner, those which +the enlightened newspaper critics are perpetually talking about as +characteristic of a time when Turner was "really great." He is, and was, +really great, from the time when he first could hold a brush, but he +never was so great as he is now. The Crossing the Brook, glorious as it +is as a composition, and perfect in all that is most desirable and most +ennobling in art, is scarcely to be looked upon as a piece of color; it +is an agreeable, cool, gray rendering of space and form, but it is not +color; if it be regarded as such, it is thoroughly false and vapid, and +very far inferior to the tones of the same kind given by Claude. The +reddish brown in the foreground of the Fall of Carthage, with all +diffidence be it spoken, is, as far as my feelings are competent to +judge, crude, sunless, and in every way wrong; and both this picture and +the Building of Carthage, though this latter is far the finer of the +two, are quite unworthy of Turner as a colorist. + + +Sec. 19. His drawings invariably perfect. + +Not so with the drawings; these, countless as they are, from the +earliest to the latest, though presenting an unbroken chain of +increasing difficulty overcome, and truth illustrated, are all, +according to their aim, equally faultless as to color. Whatever we have +hitherto said, applies to them in its fullest extent; though each, being +generally the realization of some effect actually seen, and realized but +once, requires almost a separate essay. As a class, they are far quieter +and chaster than the Academy pictures, and, were they better known, +might enable our connoisseurs to form a somewhat more accurate judgment +of the intense study of nature on which all Turner's color is based. + + +Sec. 20. The subjection of his system of color to that of chiaroscuro. + +One point only remains to be noted respecting his system of color +generally--its entire subordination to light and shade, a subordination +which there is no need to prove here, as every engraving from his +works--and few are unengraved--is sufficient demonstration of it. I have +before shown the inferiority and unimportance in nature of color, as a +truth, compared with light and shade. That inferiority is maintained and +asserted by all really great works of color; but most by Turner's as +their color is most intense. Whatever brilliancy he may choose to +assume, is subjected to an inviolable law of chiaroscuro, from which +there is no appeal. No richness nor depth of tint is considered of value +enough to atone for the loss of one particle of arranged light. No +brilliancy of hue is permitted to interfere with the depth of a +determined shadow. And hence it is, that while engravings from works far +less splendid in color are often vapid and cold, because the little +color employed has not been rightly based on light and shade, an +engraving from Turner is always beautiful and forcible in proportion as +the color of the original has been intense, and never in a single +instance has failed to express the picture as a perfect +composition.[21] Powerful and captivating and faithful as his color is, +it is the least important of all his excellences, because it is the +least important feature of nature. He paints in color, but he thinks in +light and shade; and were it necessary, rather than lose one line of his +forms, or one ray of his sunshine, would, I apprehend, be content to +paint in black and white to the end of his life. It is by mistaking the +shadow for the substance, and aiming at the brilliancy and the fire, +without perceiving of what deep-studied shade and inimitable form +it is at once the result and the illustration, that the host of his +imitators sink into deserved disgrace. With him, as with all the +greatest painters, and in Turner's more than all, the hue is a beautiful +auxiliary in working out the great impression to be conveyed, but is not +the source nor the essence of that impression; it is little more than a +visible melody, given to raise and assist the mind in the reception of +nobler ideas--as sacred passages of sweet sound, to prepare the feelings +for the reading of the mysteries of God. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [19] "Caecus adulator-- + Dignus Aricinos qui mendicaret ad axes, + Blandaque devexae iactaret basia rhedae." + + [20] There is perhaps nothing more characteristic of a great + colorist than his power of using greens in strange places without + their being felt as such, or at least than a constant preference of + green gray to purple gray. And this hue of Poussin's clouds would + have been perfectly agreeable and allowable, had there been gold or + crimson enough in the rest of the picture to have thrown it into + gray. It is only because the lower clouds are pure white and blue, + and because the trees are of the same color as the clouds, that the + cloud color becomes false. There is a fine instance of a sky, green + in itself, but turned gray by the opposition of warm color, in + Turner's Devonport with the Dockyards. + + [21] This is saying too much; for it not unfrequently happens that + the light and shade of the original is lost in the engraving, the + effect of which is afterwards partially recovered, with the aid of + the artist himself, by introductions of new features. Sometimes, + when a drawing depends chiefly on color, the engraver gets + unavoidably embarrassed, and must be assisted by some change or + exaggeration of the effect; but the more frequent case is, that the + engraver's difficulties result merely from his inattention to, or + wilful deviations from his original; and that the artist is obliged + to assist him by such expedients as the error itself suggests. + + Not unfrequently in reviewing a plate, as very constantly in + reviewing a picture after some time has elapsed since its + completion, even the painter is liable to make unnecessary or + hurtful changes. In the plate of the Old Temeraire, lately published + in Finden's gallery, I do not know whether it was Turner or the + engraver who broke up the water into sparkling ripple, but it was a + grievous mistake, and has destroyed the whole dignity and value of + the conception. The flash of lightning in the Winchelsea of the + England series does not exist in the original; it is put in to + withdraw the attention of the spectator from the sky which the + engraver destroyed. + + There is an unfortunate persuasion among modern engravers that color + can be expressed by particular characters of line; and in the + endeavor to distinguish by different lines, different colors of + equal depth, they frequently lose the whole system of light and + shade. It will hardly be credited that the piece of foreground on + the left of Turner's Modern Italy, represented in the Art-Union + engraving as nearly coal black, is in the original of a pale warm + gray, hardly darker than the sky. All attempt to record color in + engraving, is heraldry out of its place: the engraver has no power + beyond that of expressing transparency or opacity by greater or less + openness of line, (for the same depth of tint is producible by lines + with very different intervals.) + + Texture of surface is only in a measure in the power of the steel, + and ought not to be laboriously sought after; nature's surfaces are + distinguished more by form than texture; a stone is often smoother + than a leaf; but if texture is to be given, let the engraver at + least be sure that he knows what the texture of the object actually + is, and how to represent it. The leaves in the foreground of the + engraved Mercury and Argus have all of them three or four black + lines across them. What sort of leaf texture is supposed to be + represented by these? The stones in the foreground of Turner's + Llanthony received from the artist the powdery texture of sandstone; + the engraver covered them with contorted lines and turned them into + old timber. + + A still more fatal cause of failure is the practice of making out or + finishing what the artist left incomplete. In the England plate of + Dudley, there are two offensive blank windows in the large building + with the chimney on the left. These _are_ engraver's improvements; + in the original they are barely traceable, their lines being + excessively faint and tremulous as with the movement of heated air + between them and the spectator: their vulgarity is thus taken away, + and the whole building left in one grand unbroken mass. It is almost + impossible to break engravers of this unfortunate habit. I have even + heard of their taking journeys of some distance in order to obtain + knowledge of the details which the artist intentionally omitted; and + the evil will necessarily continue until they receive something like + legitimate artistical education. In one or two instances, however, + especially in small plates, they have shown great feeling; the + plates of Miller (especially those of the Turner illustrations to + Scott) are in most instances perfect and beautiful interpretations + of the originals; so those of Goodall in Rogers's works, and + Cousens's in the Rivers of France; those of the Yorkshire series are + also very valuable, though singularly inferior to the drawings. But + none even of these men appear capable of producing a large plate. + They have no knowledge of the means of rendering their lines vital + or valuable; cross-hatching stands for everything; and inexcusably, + for though we cannot expect every engraver to etch like Rembrandt or + Albert Durer, or every wood-cutter to draw like Titian, at least + something of the system and power of the grand works of those men + might be preserved, and some mind and meaning stolen into the + reticulation of the restless modern lines. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + OF TRUTH OF CHIAROSCURO. + + +Sec. 1. We are not at present to examine particular effects of light. + +It is not my intention to enter, in the present portion of the work, +upon any examination of Turner's particular effects of light. We must +know something about what is beautiful before we speak of these. + +At present I wish only to insist upon two great principles of +chiaroscuro, which are observed throughout the works of the great modern +master, and set at defiance by the ancients--great general laws, which +may, or may not, be sources of beauty, but whose observance is +indisputably necessary to truth. + +Go out some bright sunny day in winter, and look for a tree with a broad +trunk, having rather delicate boughs hanging down on the sunny side, +near the trunk. Stand four or five yards from it, with your back to the +sun. You will find that the boughs between you and the trunk of the tree +are very indistinct, that you confound them in places with the trunk +itself, and cannot possibly trace one of them from its insertion to its +extremity. But the shadows which they cast upon the trunk, you will find +clear, dark, and distinct, perfectly traceable through their whole +course, except when they are interrupted by the crossing boughs. And if +you retire backwards, you will come to a point where you cannot see the +intervening boughs at all, or only a fragment of them here and there, +but can still see their shadows perfectly plain. Now, this may serve to +show you the immense prominence and importance of shadows where there is +anything like bright light. They are, in fact, commonly far more +conspicuous than the thing which casts them, for being as large as the +casting object, and altogether made up of a blackness deeper than the +darkest part of the casting object, (while that object is also broken up +with positive and reflected lights,) their large, broad, unbroken +spaces, tell strongly on the eye, especially as all form is rendered +partially, often totally invisible within them, and as they are suddenly +terminated by the sharpest lines which nature ever shows. For no outline +of objects whatsoever is so sharp as the edge of a close shadow. Put +your finger over a piece of white paper in the sun, and observe the +difference between the softness of the outline of the finger itself and +the decision of the edge of the shadow. And note also the excessive +gloom of the latter. A piece of black cloth, laid in the light, will not +attain one-fourth of the blackness of the paper under the shadow. + + +Sec. 2. And therefore the distinctness of shadows is the chief means of + expressing vividness of light. + +Sec. 3. Total absence of such distinctness in the works of the Italian + school. + +Sec. 4. And partial absence in the Dutch. + +Hence shadows are in reality, when the sun is shining, the most +conspicuous thing in a landscape, next to the highest lights. All forms +are understood and explained chiefly by their agency: the roughness of +the bark of a tree, for instance, is not seen in the light, nor in the +shade: it is only seen between the two, where the shadows of the ridges +explain it. And hence, if we have to express vivid light, our very first +aim must be to get the shadows sharp and visible; and this is not to be +done by blackness, (though indeed chalk on white paper is the only thing +which comes up to the intensity of real shadows,) but by keeping them +perfectly flat, keen, and even. A very pale shadow, if it be quite +flat--if it conceal the details of the objects it crosses--if it be gray +and cold compared to their color, and very sharp edged, will be far more +conspicuous, and make everything out of it look a great deal more like +sunlight, than a shadow ten times its depth, shaded off at the edge, and +confounded with the color of the objects on which it falls. Now the old +masters of the Italian school, in almost all of their works, directly +reverse this principle: they blacken their shadows till the picture +becomes quite appalling, and everything in it invisible; but they make a +point of losing their edges, and carrying them off by gradation; in +consequence utterly destroying every appearance of sunlight. All their +shadows are the faint, secondary darknesses of mere _daylight_; the sun +has nothing whatever to do with them. The shadow between the pages of +the book which you hold in your hand is distinct and visible enough, +(though you are, I suppose, reading it by the ordinary daylight of your +room,) out of the sun; and this weak and secondary shadow is all that we +ever find in the Italian masters, as indicative of sunshine. Even Cuyp +and Berghem, though they know thoroughly well what they are about in +their foregrounds, forget the principle in their distances; and though +in Claude's seaports, where he has plain architecture to deal with, he +gives us something like real shadows along the stones, the moment we +come to ground and foliage with lateral light, away go the shadows and +the sun together. In the Marriage of Isaac and Rebecca, in our own +gallery, the trunks of the trees between the water-wheel and the white +figure in the middle distance, are dark and visible; but their shadows +are scarcely discernible on the ground, and are quite vague and lost in +the building. In nature, every bit of the shadow would have been darker +than the darkest part of the trunks, and both on the ground and building +would have been defined and conspicuous; while the trunks themselves +would have been faint, confused, and indistinguishable, in their +illumined parts, from the grass or distance. So in Poussin's Phocion, +the shadow of the stick on the stone in the right-hand corner, is shaded +off and lost, while you see the stick plain all the way. In nature's +sunlight it would have been the direct reverse--you would have seen the +shadow black and sharp all the way down, but you would have had to look +for the stick, which in all probability would in several places have +been confused with the stone behind it. + +And so throughout the works of Claude, Poussin, and Salvator, we shall +find, especially in their conventional foliage, and unarticulated +barbarisms of rock, that their whole sum and substance of chiaroscuro is +merely the gradation and variation which nature gives in the _body_ of +her shadows, and that all which they do to express sunshine, she does to +vary shade. They take only one step, while she always takes two; +marking, in the first place, with violent decision, the great transition +from sun to shade, and then varying the shade itself with a thousand +gentle gradations and double shadows, in themselves equivalent, and more +than equivalent, to all that the old masters did for their entire +chiaroscuro. + + +Sec. 5. The perfection of Turner's works in this respect. + +Now if there be one principle, or secret more than another, on which +Turner depends for attaining brilliancy of light, it is his clear and +exquisite drawing of the _shadows_. Whatever is obscure, misty, or +undefined in his objects or his atmosphere, he takes care that the +shadows be sharp and clear--and then he knows that the light will take +care of itself, and he makes them clear, not by blackness, but by +excessive evenness, unity, and sharpness of edge. He will keep them +clear and distinct, and make them felt as shadows, though they are so +faint, that, but for their decisive forms, we should not have observed +them for darkness at all. He will throw them one after another like +transparent veils, along the earth and upon the air, till the whole +picture palpitates with them, and yet the darkest of them will be a +faint gray, imbued and penetrated with light. The pavement on the left +of the Hero and Leander, is about the most thorough piece of this kind +of sorcery that I remember in art; but of the general principle, not one +of his works is without constant evidence. Take the vignette of the +garden opposite the title-page of Rogers's Poems, and note the drawing +of the nearest balustrade on the right. The balusters themselves are +faint and misty, and the light through them feeble; but the shadows of +them are sharp and dark, and the intervening light as intense as it can +be left. And see how much more distinct the shadow of the running figure +is on the pavement, than the checkers of the pavement itself. Observe +the shadows on the trunk of the tree at page 91, how they conquer all +the details of the trunk itself, and become darker and more conspicuous +than any part of the boughs or limbs, and so in the vignette to +Campbell's Beechtree's Petition. Take the beautiful concentration of all +that is most characteristic of Italy as she is, at page 168 of Rogers's +Italy, where we have the long shadows of the trunks made by far the most +conspicuous thing in the whole foreground, and hear how Wordsworth, the +keenest-eyed of all modern poets for what is deep and essential in +nature, illustrates Turner here, as we shall find him doing in all other +points. + + "At the root + Of that tall pine, the shadow of whose bare + And slender stem, while here I sit at eve, + Oft stretches tow'rds me, like a long straight path, + Traced faintly in the greensward." + + EXCURSION, Book VI + + +Sec. 6. The effect of his shadows upon the light. + +So again in the Rhymer's Glen, (Illustrations to Scott,) note the +intertwining of the shadows across the path, and the checkering of the +trunks by them; and again on the bridge in the Armstrong's Tower; and +yet more in the long avenue of Brienne, where we have a length of two or +three miles expressed by the playing shadows alone, and the whole +picture filled with sunshine by the long lines of darkness cast by the +figures on the snow. The Hampton Court in the England series, is another +very striking instance. In fact, the general system of execution +observable in all Turner's drawings, is to work his grounds richly and +fully, sometimes stippling, and giving infinity of delicate, mysterious, +and ceaseless detail; and on the ground so prepared to cast his shadows +with one dash of the brush, leaving an excessively sharp edge of watery +color. Such at least is commonly the case in such coarse and broad +instances as those I have above given. Words are not accurate enough, +nor delicate enough to express or trace the constant, all-pervading +influence of the finer and vaguer shadows throughout his works, that +thrilling influence which gives to the light they leave, its passion and +its power. There is not a stone, not a leaf, not a cloud, over which +light is not felt to be actually passing and palpitating before our +eyes. There is the motion, the actual wave and radiation of the darted +beam--not the dull universal daylight, which falls on the landscape +without life, or direction, or speculation, equal on all things and dead +on all things; but the breathing, animated, exulting light, which feels, +and receives, and rejoices, and acts--which chooses one thing and +rejects another--which seeks, and finds, and loses again--leaping from +rock to rock, from leaf to leaf, from wave to wave,--glowing, or +flashing, or scintillating, according to what it strikes, or in its +holier moods, absorbing and enfolding all things in the deep fulness of +its repose, and then again losing itself in bewilderment, and doubt, and +dimness; or perishing and passing away, entangled in drifting mist, or +melted into melancholy air, but still,--kindling, or declining, +sparkling or still, it is the living light, which breathes in its +deepest, most entranced rest, which sleeps, but never dies. + + +Sec. 7. The distinction holds good between almost all the works of the + ancient and modern schools. + +I need scarcely insist farther on the marked distinction between the works +of the old masters and those of the great modern landscape-painters in +this respect. It is one which the reader can perfectly well work out for +himself, by the slightest systematic attention,--one which he will find +existing, not merely between this work and that, but throughout the whole +body of their productions, and down to every leaf and line. And a little +careful watching of nature, especially in her foliage and foregrounds, +and comparison of her with Claude, Gaspar Poussin, and Salvator, will +soon show him that those artists worked entirely on conventional +principles, not representing what they saw, but what they thought would +make a handsome picture; and even when they went to nature, which I +believe to have been a very much rarer practice with them than their +biographers would have us suppose, they copied her like children, drawing +what they knew to be there, but not what they saw there.[22] I believe +you may search the foregrounds of Claude, from one end of Europe to +another, and you will not find the shadow of one leaf cast upon another. +You will find leaf after leaf painted more or less boldly or brightly out +of the black ground, and you will find dark leaves defined in perfect +form upon the light; but you will not find the form of a single leaf +disguised or interrupted by the shadow of another. And Poussin and +Salvator are still farther from anything like genuine truth. There is +nothing in their pictures which might not be manufactured in their +painting-room, with a branch or two of brambles and a bunch or two of +weeds before them, to give them the form of the leaves. And it is +refreshing to turn from their ignorant and impotent repetitions of +childish conception, to the clear, close, genuine studies of modern +artists; for it is not Turner only, (though here, as in all other points, +the first,) who is remarkable for fine and expressive decision of +chiaroscuro. Some passages by J. D. Harding are thoroughly admirable in +this respect, though this master is getting a little too much into a +habit of general keen execution, which prevents the parts which ought to +be especially decisive from being felt as such, and which makes his +pictures, especially the large ones, look a little thin. But some of his +later passages of rock foreground have, taken in the abstract, been +beyond all praise, owing to the exquisite forms and firm expressiveness +of their shadows. And the chiaroscuro of Stanfield is equally deserving +of the most attentive study. + + +Sec. 8. Second great principle of chiaroscuro. Both high light and deep + shadow are used in equal quantity and only in points. + +The second point to which I wish at present to direct attention has +reference to the _arrangement_ of light and shade. It is the constant +habit of nature to use both her highest lights and deepest shadows in +exceedingly small quantity; always in points, never in masses. She will +give a large mass of tender light in sky or water, impressive by its +quantity, and a large mass of tender shadow relieved against it, in +foliage, or hill, or building; but the light is always subdued if it be +extensive--the shadow always feeble if it be broad. She will then fill +up all the rest of her picture with middle tints and pale grays of some +sort or another, and on this quiet and harmonious whole, she will touch +her high lights in spots--the foam of an isolated wave--the sail of a +solitary vessel--the flash of the sun from a wet roof--the gleam of a +single whitewashed cottage--or some such sources of local brilliancy, +she will use so vividly and delicately as to throw everything else into +definite shade by comparison. And then taking up the gloom, she will use +the black hollows of some overhanging bank, or the black dress of some +shaded figure, or the depth of some sunless chink of wall or window, so +sharply as to throw everything else into definite light by comparison; +thus reducing the whole mass of her picture to a delicate middle tint, +approaching, of course, here to light, and there to gloom; but yet +sharply separated from the utmost degrees either of the one or the +other. + + +Sec. 9. Neglect or contradiction of this principle by writers on art. + +Sec. 10. And consequent misguiding of the student. + +Now it is a curious thing that none of our writers on art seem to have +noticed the great principle of nature in this respect. They all talk of +deep shadow as a thing that may be given in quantity,--one fourth of the +picture, or, in certain effects, much more. Barry, for instance, says +that the practice of the great painters, who "best understood the +effects of chiaroscuro," was, for the most part, to make the mass of +middle tint larger than the light, and the mass of dark larger than the +masses of light and middle tint together, _i.e._, occupying more than +one-half of the picture. Now I do not know what we are to suppose is +meant by "understanding chiaroscuro." If it means being able to +manufacture agreeable patterns in the shape of pyramids, and crosses, +and zigzags, into which arms and legs are to be persuaded, and passion +and motion arranged, for the promotion and encouragement of the cant of +criticism, such a principle may be productive of the most advantageous +results. But if it means, being acquainted with the deep, perpetual, +systematic, unintrusive simplicity and unwearied variety of nature's +chiaroscuro--if it means the perception that blackness and sublimity are +not synonymous, and that space and light may possibly be +coadjutors--then no man, who ever advocated or dreamed of such a +principle, is anything more than a novice, blunderer and trickster in +chiaroscuro. And my firm belief is, that though color is inveighed +against by all artists, as the great Circe of art--the great transformer +of mind into sensuality--no fondness for it, no study of it, is half so +great a peril and stumbling-block to the young student, as the +admiration he hears bestowed on such artificial, false, and juggling +chiaroscuro, and the instruction he receives, based on such principles +as that given us by Fuseli--that "mere natural light and shade, however +separately or individually true, is not always legitimate chiaroscuro in +art." It may not always be _agreeable_ to a sophisticated, unfeeling, +and perverted mind; but the student had better throw up his art at once, +than proceed on the conviction that any other can ever be _legitimate_. +I believe I shall be perfectly well able to prove, in following parts of +the work, that "mere natural light and shade" is the only fit and +faithful attendant of the highest art; and that all tricks--all visible, +intended arrangement--all extended shadows and narrow lights--everything +in fact, in the least degree artificial, or tending to make the mind +dwell upon light and shade as such, is an injury, instead of an aid, to +conceptions of high ideal dignity. I believe I shall be able also to +show, that nature manages her chiaroscuro a great deal more neatly and +cleverly than people fancy;--that "mere natural light and shade" is a +very much finer thing than most artists can put together, and that none +think they can improve upon it but those who never understood it. + + +Sec. 11. The great value of a simple chiaroscuro. + +But however this may be, it is beyond dispute that every permission +given to the student to amuse himself with painting one figure all +black, and the next all white, and throwing them out with a background +of nothing--every permission given to him to spoil his pocketbook with +sixths of sunshine and sevenths of shade, and other such fractional +sublimities, is so much more difficulty laid in the way of his ever +becoming a master; and that none are in the right road to real +excellence, but those who are struggling to render the simplicity, +purity, and inexhaustible variety of nature's own chiaroscuro in open, +cloudless daylight, giving the expanse of harmonious light--the +speaking, decisive shadow--and the exquisite grace, tenderness, and +grandeur of aerial opposition of local color and equally illuminated +lines. No chiaroscuro is so difficult as this; and none so noble, +chaste, or impressive. On this part of the subject, however, I must not +enlarge at present. I wish now only to speak of those great principles +of chiaroscuro, which nature observes, even when she is most working for +effect--when she is playing with thunder-clouds and sunbeams, and +throwing one thing out and obscuring another, with the most marked +artistical feeling and intention;--even then, she never forgets her +great rule, to give precisely the same quantity of deepest shade which +she does of highest light, and no more; points of the one answering to +points of the other, and both vividly conspicuous and separated from all +the rest of the landscape. + + +Sec. 12. The sharp separation of nature's lights from her middle tint. + +And it is most singular that this separation, which is the great source +of brilliancy in nature, should not only be unobserved, but absolutely +forbidden by our great writers on art, who are always talking about +connecting the light with the shade by _imperceptible gradations_. Now +so surely as this is done, all sunshine is lost, for imperceptible +gradation from light to dark is the characteristic of objects seen out +of sunshine, in what is, in landscape, shadow. Nature's principle of +getting light is the direct reverse. She will cover her whole landscape +with middle tint, in which she will have as many gradations as you +please, and a great many more than you can paint; but on this middle +tint she touches her extreme lights, and extreme darks, isolated and +sharp, so that the eye goes to them directly, and feels them to be +key-notes of the whole composition. And although the dark touches are +less attractive than the light ones, it is not because they are less +distinct, but because they exhibit nothing; while the bright touches are +in parts where everything is seen, and where in consequence the eye goes +to rest. But yet the high lights do not exhibit anything in themselves, +they are too bright and dazzle the eye; and having no shadows in them, +cannot exhibit form, for form can only be seen by shadow of some kind or +another. Hence the highest lights and deepest darks agree in this, that +nothing is seen in either of them; that both are in exceedingly small +quantity, and both are marked and distinct from the middle tones of the +landscape--the one by their brilliancy, the other by their sharp edges, +even though many of the more energetic middle tints may approach their +intensity very closely. + + +Sec. 13. The truth of Turner. + +I need scarcely do more than tell you to glance at any one of the works +of Turner, and you will perceive in a moment the exquisite observation +of all these principles; the sharpness, decision, conspicuousness, and +excessively small quantity, both of extreme light and extreme shade, all +the mass of the picture being graduated and delicate middle tint. Take +up the Rivers of France, for instance, and turn over a few of the plates +in succession. + + 1. Chateau Gaillard (vignette.)--Black figures and boats, points of +shade; sun-touches on castle, and wake of boat, of light. See how the +eye rests on both, and observe how sharp and separate all the lights +are, falling in spots, edged by shadow, but not melting off into it. + + 2. Orleans.--The crowded figures supply both points of shade and light. +Observe the delicate middle tint of both in the whole mass of buildings, +and compare this with the blackness of Canaletto's shadows, against +which neither figures nor anything else can ever tell, as points of +shade. + + 3. Blois.--White figures in boats, buttresses of bridge, dome of church +on the right, for light; woman on horseback, heads of boats, for shadow. +Note especially the isolation of the light on the church dome. + + 4. Chateau de Blois.--Torches and white figures for light, roof of +chapel and monks' dresses for shade. + + 5. Beaugency.--Sails and spire opposed to buoy and boats. An exquisite +instance of brilliant, sparkling, isolated touches of morning light. + + 6. Amboise.--White sail and clouds; cypresses under castle. + + 7. Chateau of Amboise.--The boat in the centre, with its reflections, +needs no comment. Note the glancing lights under the bridge. This is a +very glorious and perfect instance. + + 8. St. Julien, Tours.--Especially remarkable for its preservation of +deep points of gloom, because the whole picture is one of extended +shade. + +I need scarcely go on. The above instances are taken as they happen to +come, without selection. The reader can proceed for himself. I may, +however, name a few cases of chiaroscuro more especially deserving of +his study. Scene between Quilleboeuf and Villequier,--Honfleur,--Light +Towers of the Heve,--On the Seine between Mantes and Vernon,--The +Lantern at St. Cloud,--Confluence of Seine and Marne,--Troyes,--the +first and last vignette, and those at pages 36, 63, 95, 184, 192, 203, +of Rogers's poems; the first and second in Campbell, St. Maurice in the +Italy, where note the black stork; Brienne, Skiddaw, Mayburgh, Melrose, +Jedburgh, in the illustrations to Scott, and the vignettes to Milton, +not because these are one whit superior to others of his works, but +because the laws of which we have been speaking are more strikingly +developed in them, and because they have been well engraved. It is +impossible to reason from the larger plates, in which half the +chiaroscuro is totally destroyed by the haggling, blackening, and +"making out" of the engravers. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [22] Compare Sect. II. Chap. II. Sec. 6. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + OF TRUTH OF SPACE:--FIRST AS DEPENDENT ON THE FOCUS OF THE EYE.[23] + + +Sec. 1. Space is more clearly indicated by the drawing of objects than by + their hue. + +In the first chapter of this section I noticed the distinction between +real aerial perspective, and that overcharged contrast of light and +shade by which the old masters obtained their deceptive effect; and I +showed that, though inferior to them in the precise quality or tone of +aerial color, our great modern master is altogether more truthful in the +expression of the proportionate relation of all his distances to one +another. I am now about to examine those modes of expressing space, both +in nature and art by far the most important, which are dependent, not on +the relative hues of objects, but on the _drawing_ of them: by far the +most important, I say, because the most constant and certain; for nature +herself is not always aerial. Local effects are frequent which interrupt +and violate the laws of aerial tone, and induce strange deception in our +ideas of distance. I have often seen the summit of a snowy mountain look +nearer than its base, owing to the perfect clearness of the upper air. +But the _drawing_ of objects, that is to say, the degree in which their +details and parts are distinct or confused, is an unfailing and certain +criterion of their distance; and if this be rightly rendered in a +painting, we shall have genuine truth of space, in spite of many errors +in aerial tone; while, if this be neglected, all space will be +destroyed, whatever dexterity of tint may be employed to conceal the +defective drawing. + + +Sec. 2. It is impossible to see objects at unequal distances distinctly at + one moment. + +First, then, it is to be noticed, that the eye, like any other lens, +must have its focus altered, in order to convey a distinct image of +objects at different distances; so that it is totally impossible to see +distinctly, at the same moment, two objects, one of which is much +farther off than another. Of this, any one may convince himself in an +instant. Look at the bars of your window-frame, so as to get a clear +image of their lines and form, and you cannot, while your eye is fixed +on them, perceive anything but the most indistinct and shadowy images of +whatever objects may be visible beyond. But fix your eyes on those +objects, so as to see them clearly, and though they are just beyond and +apparently beside the window-frame, that frame will only be felt or seen +as a vague, flitting, obscure interruption to whatever is perceived +beyond it. A little attention directed to this fact will convince every +one of its universality, and prove beyond dispute that objects at +unequal distances cannot be seen together, not from the intervention of +air or mist, but from the impossibility of the rays proceeding from +both, converging to the same focus, so that the whole impression, either +of one or the other, must necessarily be confused, indistinct, and +inadequate. + + +Sec. 3. Especially such as are both comparatively near. + +But, be it observed (and I have only to request that whatever I say may +be tested by immediate experiment,) the difference of focus necessary is +greatest within the first five hundred yards, and therefore, though it +is totally impossible to see an object ten yards from the eye, and one a +quarter of a mile beyond it, at the same moment, it is perfectly +possible to see one a quarter of a mile off, and one five miles beyond +it, at the same moment. The consequence of this is, practically, that in +a real landscape, we can see the whole of what would be called the +middle distance and distance together, with facility and clearness; but +while we do so we can see nothing in the foreground beyond a vague and +indistinct arrangement of lines and colors; and that if, on the +contrary, we look at any foreground object, so as to receive a distinct +impression of it, the distance and middle distance become all disorder +and mystery. + + +Sec. 4. In painting, therefore, either the foreground or distance must be + partially sacrificed. + +And therefore, if in a painting our foreground is anything, our distance +must be nothing, and _vice versa_; for if we represent our near and +distant objects as giving both at once that distinct image to the eye, +which we receive in nature from each, when we look at them +separately;[24] and if we distinguish them from each other only by the +air-tone; and indistinctness dependent on positive distance, we violate +one of the most essential principles of nature; we represent that as +seen at once which can only be seen by two separate acts of seeing, and +tell a falsehood as gross as if we had represented four sides of a cubic +object visible together. + + +Sec. 5. Which not being done by the old masters, they could not express + space. + +Sec. 6. But modern artists have succeeded in fully carrying out this + principle. + +Sec. 7. Especially of Turner. + +Now, to this fact and principle, no landscape painter of the old school, +as far as I remember, ever paid the slightest attention. Finishing their +foregrounds clearly and sharply, and with vigorous impression on the +eye, giving even the leaves of their bushes and grass with perfect edge +and shape, they proceeded into the distance with equal attention to what +they could see of its details--they gave all that the eye can perceive +in a distance, when it is fully and entirely devoted to it, and +therefore, though masters of aerial tone, though employing every +expedient that art could supply to conceal the intersection of lines, +though caricaturing the force and shadow of near objects to throw them +close upon the eye, they _never_ succeeded in truly representing space. +Turner introduced a new era in landscape art, by showing that the +foreground might be sunk for the distance, and that it was possible to +express immediate proximity to the spectator, without giving anything +like completeness to the forms of the near objects. This is not done by +slurred or soft lines, observe, (always the sign of vice in art,) but by +a decisive imperfection, a firm, but partial assertion of form, which +the eye feels indeed to be close home to it, and yet cannot rest upon, +or cling to, nor entirely understand, and from which it is driven away +of necessity, to those parts of distance on which it is intended to +repose. And this principle, originated by Turner, though fully carried +out by him only, has yet been acted on with judgment and success by +several less powerful artists of the English school. Some six years ago, +the brown moorland foregrounds of Copley Fielding were very instructive +in this respect. Not a line in them was made out, not a single object +clearly distinguishable. Wet broad sweeps of the brush, sparkling, +careless, and accidental as nature herself, always truthful as far as +they went, implying knowledge, though not expressing it, suggested +everything, while they represented nothing. But far off into the +mountain distance came the sharp edge and the delicate form; the whole +intention and execution of the picture being guided and exerted where +the great impression of space and size was to be given. The spectator +was compelled to go forward into the waste of hills--there, where the +sun broke wide upon the moor, he must walk and wander--he could not +stumble and hesitate over the near rocks, nor stop to botanize on the +first inches of his path.[25] And the impression of these pictures was +always great and enduring, as it was simple and truthful. I do not know +anything in art which has expressed more completely the force and +feeling of nature in these particular scenes. And it is a farther +illustration[26] of the principle we are insisting upon, that where, as +in some of his later works, he has bestowed more labor on the +foreground, the picture has lost both in space and sublimity. And among +artists in general, who are either not aware of the principle, or fear +to act upon it, (for it requires no small courage, as well as skill, to +treat a foreground with that indistinctness and mystery which they have +been accustomed to consider as characteristic of distance,) the +foreground is not only felt, as every landscape painter will confess, to +be the most embarrassing and unmanageable part of the picture, but, in +ninety-nine cases out of a hundred, will go near to destroy the effect +of the rest of the composition. Thus Callcott's Trent is severely +injured by the harsh group of foreground figures; and Stanfield very +rarely gets through an Academy picture without destroying much of its +space, by too much determination of near form; while Harding constantly +sacrifices his distance, and compels the spectator to dwell on the +foreground altogether, though indeed, with such foregrounds as he gives +us, we are most happy so to do. But it is in Turner only that we see a +bold and decisive choice of the distance and middle distance, as his +great object of attention; and by him only that the foreground is united +and adapted to it, not by any want of drawing, or coarseness, or +carelessness of execution, but by the most precise and beautiful +indication or suggestion of just so much of even the minutest forms as +the eye can see when its focus is not adapted to them. And herein is +another reason for the vigor and wholeness of the effect of Turner's +works at any distance; while those of almost all other artists are sure +to lose space as soon as we lose sight of the details. + + +Sec. 8. Justification of the want of drawing in Turner's figures. + +And now we see the reason for the singular, and to the ignorant in art, +the offensive execution of Turner's figures. I do not mean to assert +that there is any reason whatsoever, for _bad_ drawing, (though in +landscape it matters exceedingly little;) but that there is both reason +and necessity for that _want_ of drawing which gives even the nearest +figures round balls with four pink spots in them instead of faces, and +four dashes of the brush instead of hands and feet; for it is totally +impossible that if the eye be adapted to receive the rays proceeding +from the utmost distance, and some partial impression from all the +distances, it should be capable of perceiving more of the forms and +features of near figures than Turner gives. And how absolutely necessary +to the faithful representation of space this indecision really is, might +be proved with the utmost ease by any one who had veneration enough for +the artist to sacrifice one of his pictures to his fame; who would take +some one of his works in which the figures were most incomplete, and +have them painted in by any of our delicate and first-rate +figure-painters, absolutely preserving every color and shade of Turner's +group, so as not to lose one atom of the composition, but giving eyes +for the pink spots, and feet for the white ones. Let the picture be so +exhibited in the Academy, and even novices in art would feel at a glance +that its truth of space was gone, that every one of its beauties and +harmonies had undergone decomposition, that it was now a grammatical +solecism, a painting of impossibilities, a thing to torture the eye, and +offend the mind. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [23] I have left this chapter in its original place, because I am + more than ever convinced of the truth of the position advanced in + the 8th paragraph; nor can I at present assign any other cause, than + that here given, for what is there asserted; and yet I cannot but + think that I have allowed far too much influence to a change so + slight as that which we insensibly make in the focus of the eye; and + that the real justification of Turner's practice, with respect to + some of his foregrounds, is to be elsewhere sought. I leave the + subject, therefore, to the reader's consideration. + + [24] This incapacity of the eye must not be confounded with its + incapability to comprehend a large portion of _lateral_ space at + once. We indeed can see, at any one moment, little more than one + point, the objects beside it being confused and indistinct; but we + need pay no attention to this in art, because we can see just as + little of the picture as we can of the landscape without turning the + eye, and hence any slurring or confusing of one part of it, + laterally, more than another, is not founded on any truth of nature, + but is an expedient of the artist--and often an excellent and + desirable one--to make the eye rest where he wishes it. But as the + touch expressive of a distant object is as near upon the canvas as + that expressive of a near one, both are seen distinctly and with the + same focus of the eye, and hence an immediate contradiction of + nature results, unless one or other be given with an artificial and + increased indistinctness, expressive of the appearance peculiar to + the unadapted focus. On the other hand, it must be noted that the + greater part of the effect above described is consequent not on + variation of focus, but on the different angle at which near objects + are seen by each of the two eyes, when both are directed towards the + distance. + + [25] There is no inconsistency, observe, between this passage and + what was before asserted respecting the necessity of botanical + fidelity--where the foreground is the object of attention. Compare + Part II. Sect. I. Chap. VII. Sec. 10:--"To paint mist rightly, space + rightly, and light rightly, it may be often necessary to paint + _nothing else_ rightly." + + [26] Hardly. It would have been so only had the recently finished + foregrounds been as accurate in detail as they are abundant: they + are painful, I believe, not from their finish, but their falseness. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + OF TRUTH OF SPACE:--SECONDLY, AS ITS APPEARANCE IS DEPENDENT ON + THE POWER OF THE EYE. + + +Sec. 1. The peculiar indistinctness dependent on the retirement of objects + from the eye. + +In the last chapter, we have seen how indistinctness of individual +distances becomes necessary in order to express the adaptation of the +eye to one or other of them; we have now to examine that kind of +indistinctness which is dependent on real retirement of the object even +when the focus of the eye is fully concentrated upon it. The first kind +of indecision is that which belongs to all objects which the eye is not +adapted to, whether near or far off: the second is that consequent upon +the want of power in the eye to receive a clear image of objects at a +great distance from it, however attentively it may regard them. + +Draw on a piece of white paper, a square and a circle, each about a +twelfth or eighth of an inch in diameter, and blacken them so that their +forms may be very distinct; place your paper against the wall at the end +of the room, and retire from it a greater or less distance according as +you have drawn the figures larger or smaller. You will come to a point +where, though you can see both the spots with perfect plainness, you +cannot tell which is the square and which the circle. + + +Sec. 2. Causes confusion, but not annihilation of details. + +Now this takes place of course with every object in a landscape, in +proportion to its distance and size. The definite forms of the leaves of +a tree, however sharply and separately they may appear to come against +the sky, are quite indistinguishable at fifty yards off, and the form of +everything becomes confused before we finally lose sight of it. Now if +the character of an object, say the front of a house, be explained by a +variety of forms in it, as the shadows in the tops of the windows, the +lines of the architraves, the seams of the masonry, etc.; these lesser +details, as the object falls into distance, become confused and +undecided, each of them losing their definite forms, but all being +perfectly visible as something, a white or a dark spot or stroke, not +lost sight of, observe, but yet so seen that we cannot tell what they +are. As the distance increases, the confusion becomes greater, until at +last the whole front of the house becomes merely a flat, pale space, in +which, however, there is still observable a kind of richness and +checkering, caused by the details in it, which, though totally merged +and lost in the mass, have still an influence on the texture of that +mass; until at last the whole house itself becomes a mere light or dark +spot which we can plainly see, but cannot tell what it is, nor +distinguish it from a stone or any other object. + + +Sec. 3. Instances in various objects. + +Now what I particularly wish to insist upon, is the state of vision in +which all the details of an object are seen, and yet seen in such +confusion and disorder that we cannot in the least tell what they are, +or what they mean. It is not mist between us and the object, still less +is it shade, still less is it want of character; it is a confusion, a +mystery, an interfering of undecided lines with each other, not a +diminution of their number; window and door, architrave and frieze, all +are there: it is no cold and vacant mass, it is full and rich and +abundant, and yet you cannot see a single form so as to know what it is. +Observe your friend's face as he is coming up to you; first it is +nothing more than a white spot; now it is a face, but you cannot see the +two eyes, nor the mouth, even as spots; you see a confusion of lines, a +something which you know from experience to be indicative of a face, and +yet you cannot tell how it is so. Now he is nearer, and you can see the +spots for the eyes and mouth, but they are not blank spots neither; +there is detail in them; you cannot see the lips, nor the teeth, nor the +brows, and yet you see more than mere spots; it is a mouth and an eye, +and there is light and sparkle and expression in them, but nothing +distinct. Now he is nearer still, and you can see that he is like your +friend, but you cannot tell whether he is or not; there is a vagueness +and indecision of line still. Now you are sure, but even yet there are a +thousand things in his face which have their effect in inducing the +recognition, but which you cannot see so as to know what they are. + + +Sec. 4. Two great resultant truths; that nature is never distinct, and + never vacant. + +Changes like these, and states of vision corresponding to them, take +place with each and all of the objects of nature, and two great +principles of truth are deducible from their observation. First, place +an object as close to the eye as you like, there is always something in +it which you _cannot_ see, except in the hinted and mysterious manner +above described. You can see the texture of a piece of dress, but you +cannot see the individual threads which compose it, though they are all +felt, and have each of them influence on the eye. Secondly, place an +object as far from the eye as you like, and until it becomes itself a +mere spot, there is always something in it which you _can_ see, though +only in the hinted manner above described. Its shadows and lines and +local colors are not lost sight of as it retires; they get mixed and +indistinguishable, but they are still there, and there is a difference +always perceivable between an object possessing such details and a flat +or vacant space. The grass blades of a meadow a mile off, are so far +discernible that there will be a marked difference between its +appearance and that of a piece of wood painted green. And thus nature is +never distinct and never vacant, she is always mysterious, but always +abundant; you always see something, but you never see all. + +And thus arise that exquisite finish and fulness which God has appointed +to be the perpetual source of fresh pleasure to the cultivated and +observant eye,--a finish which no distance can render invisible, and no +nearness comprehensible; which in every stone, every bough, every cloud, +and every wave is multiplied around us, forever presented, and forever +exhaustless. And hence in art, every space or touch in which we can see +everything, or in which we can see nothing, is false. Nothing can be +true which is either complete or vacant; every touch is false which does +not suggest more than it represents, and every space is false which +represents nothing. + + +Sec. 5. Complete violation of both these principles by the old masters. + They are either distinct or vacant. + +Now, I would not wish for any more illustrative or marked examples of +the total contradiction of these two great principles, than the +landscape works of the old masters, taken as a body:--the Dutch masters +furnishing the cases of seeing everything, and the Italians of seeing +nothing. The rule with both is indeed the same, differently applied. +"You shall see the bricks in the wall, and be able to count them, or you +shall see nothing but a dead flat;" but the Dutch give you the bricks, +and the Italians the flat. Nature's rule being the precise reverse--"You +shall never be able to count the bricks, but you shall never see a dead +space." + + +Sec. 6. Instances from Nicholas Poussin. + +Take, for instance, the street in the centre of the really great +landscape of Poussin (great in feeling at least) marked 260 in the +Dulwich Gallery. The houses are dead square masses with a light side and +a dark side, and black touches for windows. There is no suggestion of +anything in any of the spaces, the light wall is dead gray, the dark +wall dead gray, and the windows dead black. How differently would nature +have treated us. She would have let us see the Indian corn hanging on +the walls, and the image of the Virgin at the angles, and the sharp, +broken, broad shadows of the tiled eaves, and the deep ribbed tiles with +the doves upon them, and the carved Roman capital built into the wall, +and the white and blue stripes of the mattresses stuffed out of the +windows, and the flapping corners of the mat blinds. All would have been +there; not as such, not like the corn, nor blinds, nor tiles, not to be +comprehended nor understood, but a confusion of yellow and black spots +and strokes, carried far too fine for the eye to follow, microscopic in +its minuteness, and filling every atom and part of space with mystery, +out of which would have arranged itself the general impression of truth +and life. + + +Sec. 7. From Claude. + +Again, take the distant city on the right bank of the river in Claude's +Marriage of Isaac and Rebecca, in the National Gallery. I have seen many +cities in my life, and drawn not a few; and I have seen many +fortifications, fancy ones included, which frequently supply us with +very new ideas indeed, especially in matters of proportion; but I do not +remember ever having met with either a city or a fortress _entirely_ +composed of round towers of various heights and sizes, all facsimiles of +each other, and absolutely agreeing in the number of battlements. I +have, indeed, some faint recollection of having delineated such an one +in the first page of a spelling-book when I was four years old; but, +somehow or other, the dignity and perfection of the ideal were not +appreciated, and the volume was not considered to be increased in value +by the frontispiece. Without, however, venturing to doubt the entire +sublimity of the same ideal as it occurs in Claude, let us consider how +nature, if she had been fortunate enough to originate so perfect a +conception, would have managed it in its details. Claude has permitted +us to see every battlement, and the first impulse we feel upon looking +at the picture is to count how many there are. Nature would have given +us a peculiar confused roughness of the upper lines, a multitude of +intersections and spots, which we should have known from experience was +indicative of battlements, but which we might as well have thought of +creating as of counting. Claude has given you the walls below in one +dead void of uniform gray. There is nothing to be seen, nor felt, nor +guessed at in it; it is gray paint or gray shade, whichever you may +choose to call it, but it is nothing more. Nature would have let you +see, nay, would have compelled you to see, thousands of spots and lines, +not one to be absolutely understood or accounted for, but yet all +characteristic and different from each other; breaking lights on +shattered stones, vague shadows from waving vegetation, irregular stains +of time and weather, mouldering hollows, sparkling casements--all would +have been there--none, indeed, seen as such, none comprehensible or like +themselves, but all visible; little shadows, and sparkles, and +scratches, making that whole space of color a transparent, palpitating, +various infinity. + + +Sec. 8. And G. Poussin. + +Or take one of Poussin's extreme distances, such as that in the +Sacrifice of Isaac. It is luminous, retiring, delicate and perfect in +tone, and is quite complete enough to deceive and delight the careless +eye to which all distances are alike; nay, it is perfect and masterly, +and absolutely right if we consider it as a sketch,--as a first plan of +a distance, afterwards to be carried out in detail. But we must remember +that all these alternate spaces of gray and gold are not the landscape +itself, but the treatment of it--not its substance, but its light and +shade. They are just what nature would cast over it, and write upon it +with every cloud, but which she would cast in play, and without +carefulness, as matters of the very smallest possible importance. All +her work and her attention would be given to bring out from underneath +this, and through this, the forms and the material character which this +can only be valuable to illustrate, not to conceal. Every one of those +broad spaces she would linger over in protracted delight, teaching you +fresh lessons in every hairsbreadth of it, and pouring her fulness of +invention into it, until the mind lost itself in following her,--now +fringing the dark edge of the shadow with a tufted line of level +forest--now losing it for an instant in a breath of mist--then breaking +it with the white gleaming angle of a narrow brook--then dwelling upon +it again in a gentle, mounded, melting undulation, over the other side +of which she would carry you down into a dusty space of soft, crowded +light, with the hedges, and the paths, and the sprinkled cottages and +scattered trees mixed up and mingled together in one beautiful, +delicate, impenetrable mystery--sparkling and melting, and passing away +into the sky, without one line of distinctness, or one instant of +vacancy. + + +Sec. 9. The imperative necessity, in landscape painting, of fulness and + finish. + +Now it is, indeed, impossible for the painter to follow all this--he +cannot come up to the same degree and order of infinity--but he can give +us a lesser kind of infinity. He has not one-thousandth part of the +space to occupy which nature has; but he can, at least, leave no part of +that space vacant and unprofitable. If nature carries out her minutiae +over miles, he has no excuse for generalizing in inches. And if he will +only give us all he can, if he will give us a fulness as complete and as +mysterious as nature's, we will pardon him for its being the fulness of +a cup instead of an ocean. But we will not pardon him, if, because he +has not the mile to occupy, he will not occupy the inch, and because he +has fewer means at his command, will leave half of those in his power +unexerted. Still less will we pardon him for mistaking the sport of +nature for her labor, and for following her only in her hour of rest, +without observing how she has worked for it. After spending centuries in +raising the forest, and guiding the river, and modelling the mountain, +she exults over her work in buoyancy of spirit, with playful sunbeam and +flying cloud; but the painter must go through the same labor, or he must +not have the same recreation. Let him chisel his rock faithfully, and +tuft his forest delicately, and then we will allow him his freaks of +light and shade, and thank him for them; but we will not be put off with +the play before the lesson--with the adjunct instead of the +essence--with the illustration instead of the fact. + + +Sec. 10. Breadth is not vacancy. + +I am somewhat anticipating my subject here, because I can scarcely help +answering the objections which I know must arise in the minds of most +readers, especially of those who are _partially_ artistical, respecting +"generalization," "breadth," "effect," etc. It were to be wished that +our writers on art would not dwell so frequently on the necessity of +breadth, without explaining what it means; and that we had more constant +reference made to the principle which I can only remember having seen +once clearly explained and insisted on,--that breadth is not vacancy. +Generalization is unity, not destruction of parts; and composition is +not annihilation, but arrangement of materials. The breadth which unites +the truths of nature with her harmonies, is meritorious and beautiful; +but the breadth which annihilates those truths by the million, is not +painting nature, but painting over her. And so the masses which result +from right concords and relations of details, are sublime and +impressive; but the masses which result from the eclipse of details are +contemptible and painful.[27] And we shall show, in following parts of +the work, that distances like those of Poussin are mere meaningless +tricks of clever execution, which, when once discovered, the artist may +repeat over and over again, with mechanical contentment and perfect +satisfaction, both to himself and to his superficial admirers, with no +more exertion of intellect nor awakening of feeling than any tradesman +has in multiplying some ornamental pattern of furniture. Be this as it +may, however, (for we cannot enter upon the discussion of the question +here,) the falsity and imperfection of such distances admit of no +dispute. Beautiful and ideal they may be; true they are not: and in the +same way we might go through every part and portion of the works of the +old masters, showing throughout, either that you have every leaf and +blade of grass staring defiance to the mystery of nature, or that you +have dead spaces of absolute vacuity, equally determined in their +denial of her fulness. And even if we ever find (as here and there, in +their better pictures, we do) changeful passages of agreeable playing +color, or mellow and transparent modulations of mysterious atmosphere, +even here the touches, though satisfactory to the eye, are suggestive of +nothing,--they are characterless,--they have none of the peculiar +expressiveness and meaning by which nature maintains the variety and +interest even of what she most conceals. She always tells a story, +however hintedly and vaguely; each of her touches is different from all +the others; and we feel with every one, that though we cannot tell what +it is, it cannot be _anything_; while even the most dexterous distances +of the old masters pretend to secrecy without having anything to +conceal, and are ambiguous, not from the concentration of meaning, but +from the want of it. + + +Sec. 11. The fulness and mystery of Turner's distances. + +And now, take up one of Turner's distances, it matters not which, or of +what kind,--drawing or painting, small or great, done thirty years ago, +or for last year's Academy, as you like; say that of the Mercury and +Argus, and look if every fact which I have just been pointing out in +nature be not carried out in it. Abundant, beyond the power of the eye +to embrace or follow, vast and various, beyond the power of the mind to +comprehend, there is yet not one atom in its whole extent and mass which +does not suggest more than it represents; nor does it suggest vaguely, +but in such a manner as to prove that the conception of each individual +inch of that distance is absolutely clear and complete in the master's +mind, a separate picture fully worked out: but yet, clearly and fully as +the idea is formed, just so much of it is given, and no more, as nature +would have allowed us to feel or see; just so much as would enable a +spectator of experience and knowledge to understand almost every minute +fragment of separate detail, but appears, to the unpractised and +careless eye, just what a distance of nature's own would appear, an +unintelligible mass. Not one line out of the millions there is without +meaning, yet there is not one which is not affected and disguised by the +dazzle and indecision of distance. No form is made out, and yet no form +is unknown. + + +Sec. 12. Farther illustrations in architectural drawing. + +Perhaps the truth of this system of drawing is better to be understood +by observing the distant character of rich architecture, than of any +other object. Go to the top of Highgate Hill on a clear summer morning +at five o'clock, and look at Westminster Abbey. You will receive an +impression of a building enriched with multitudinous vertical lines. Try +to distinguish one of those lines all the way down from the one next to +it: You cannot. Try to count them: You cannot. Try to make out the +beginning or end of any one of them: You cannot. Look at it generally, +and it is all symmetry and arrangement. Look at in its parts, and it is +all inextricable confusion. Am not I, at this moment, describing a piece +of Turner's drawing, with the same words by which I describe nature? And +what would one of the old masters have done with such a building as this +in his distance? Either he would only have given the shadows of the +buttresses, and the light and dark sides of the two towers, and two dots +for the windows; or if more ignorant and more ambitious, he had +attempted to render some of the detail, it would have been done by +distinct lines,--would have been broad caricature of the delicate +building, felt at once to be false, ridiculous, and offensive. His most +successful effort would only have given us, through his carefully toned +atmosphere, the effect of a colossal parish church, without one line of +carving on its economic sides. Turner, and Turner only, would follow and +render on the canvas that mystery of decided line,--that distinct, +sharp, visible, but unintelligible and inextricable richness, which, +examined part by part, is to the eye nothing but confusion and defeat, +which, taken as a whole, is all unity, symmetry, and truth.[28] + + +Sec. 13. In near objects as well as distances. + +Sec. 14. Vacancy and falsehood of Canaletto. + +Nor is this mode of representation true only with respect to distances. +Every object, however near the eye, has something about it which you +cannot see, and which brings the mystery of distance even into every +part and portion of what we suppose ourselves to see most distinctly. +Stand in the Piazza di St. Marco at Venice, as close to the church as +you can, without losing sight of the top of it. Look at the capitals of +the columns on the second story. You see that they are exquisitely rich, +carved all over. Tell me their patterns: You cannot. Tell me the +direction of a single line in them: You cannot. Yet you see a multitude +of lines, and you have so much feeling of a certain tendency and +arrangement in those lines, that you are quite sure the capitals are +beautiful, and that they are all different from each other. But I defy +you to make out one single line in any one of them. Now go to +Canaletto's painting of this church, in the Palazzo Manfrini, taken from +the very spot on which you stood. How much has he represented of all +this? A black dot under each capital for the shadow, and a yellow one +above it for the light. There is not a vestige nor indication of carving +or decoration of any sort or kind. + +Very different from this, but erring on the other side, is the ordinary +drawing of the architect, who gives the principal lines of the design +with delicate clearness and precision, but with no uncertainty or +mystery about them; which mystery being removed, all space and size are +destroyed with it, and we have a drawing of a model, not of a building. +But in the capital lying on the foreground in Turner's Daphne hunting +with Leucippus, we have the perfect truth. Not one jag of the acanthus +leaves is absolutely visible, the lines are all disorder, but you feel +in an instant that all are there. And so it will invariably be found +through every portion of detail in his late and most perfect works. + + +Sec. 15. Still greater fulness and finish in landscape foregrounds. + +But if there be this mystery and inexhaustible finish merely in the more +delicate instances of architectural decoration, how much more in the +ceaseless and incomparable decoration of nature. The detail of a single +weedy bank laughs the carving of ages to scorn. Every leaf and stalk has +a design and tracery upon it,--every knot of grass an intricacy of shade +which the labor of years could never imitate, and which, if such labor +could follow it out even to the last fibres of the leaflets, would yet +be falsely represented, for, as in all other cases brought forward, it +is not clearly seen, but confusedly and mysteriously. That which is +nearness for the bank, is distance for its details; and however near it +may be, the greater part of those details are still a beautiful +incomprehensibility.[29] + + +Sec. 16. Space and size are destroyed alike by distinctness and by + vacancy. + +Hence, throughout the picture, the expression of space and size is +dependent upon obscurity, united with, or rather resultant from, +exceeding fulness. We destroy both space and size, either by the +vacancy, which affords us no measure of space, or by the distinctness, +which gives us a false one. The distance of Poussin, having no +indication of trees, nor of meadows, nor of character of any kind, may +be fifty miles off, or may be five; we cannot tell--we have no measure, +and in consequence, no vivid impression. But a middle distance of +Hobbima's involves a contradiction in terms; it states a distance by +perspective, which it contradicts by distinctness of detail. + + +Sec. 17. Swift execution best secures perfection of details. + +Sec. 18. Finish is far more necessary in landscape than in historical + subjects. + +A single dusty roll of Turner's brush is more truly expressive of the +infinity of foliage, than the niggling of Hobbima could have rendered +his canvas, if he had worked on it till doomsday. What Sir J. Reynolds +says of the misplaced labor of his Roman acquaintance on separate leaves +of foliage, and the certainty he expresses that a man who attended to +general character would in five minutes produce a more faithful +representation of a tree, than the unfortunate mechanist in as many +years, is thus perfectly true and well founded; but this is not because +details are undesirable, but because they are best given by swift +execution, and because, individually, they cannot be given at all. But +it should be observed (though we shall be better able to insist upon +this point in future) that much of harm and error has arisen from the +supposition and assertions of swift and brilliant historical painters, +that the same principles of execution are entirely applicable to +landscape, which are right for the figure. The artist who falls into +extreme detail in drawing the human form, is apt to become disgusting +rather than pleasing. It is more agreeable that the general outline and +soft hues of flesh should alone be given, than its hairs, and veins, and +lines of intersection. And even the most rapid and generalizing +expression of the human body, if directed by perfect knowledge, and +rigidly faithful in drawing, will commonly omit very little of what is +agreeable or impressive. But the exclusively generalizing landscape +painter omits the whole of what is valuable in his subject,--omits +thoughts, designs, and beauties by the million, everything, indeed, +which can furnish him with variety or expression. A distance in +Lincolnshire, or in Lombardy, might both be generalized into such blue +and yellow stripes as we see in Poussin; but whatever there is of beauty +or character in either, depends altogether on our understanding the +details, and feeling the difference between the morasses and ditches of +the one, and the rolling sea of mulberry trees of the other. And so in +every part of the subject. I have no hesitation in asserting that it is +_impossible_ to go too fine, or think too much about details in +landscape, so that they be rightly arranged and rightly massed; but that +it is equally impossible to render anything like the fulness or the +space of nature, except by that mystery and obscurity of execution which +she herself uses, and in which Turner only has followed her. + + +Sec. 19. Recapitulation of the section. + +We have now rapidly glanced at such general truths of nature as can be +investigated without much knowledge of what is beautiful. Questions of +arrangement, massing, and generalization, I prefer leaving untouched, +until we know something about details, and something about what is +beautiful. All that is desirable, even in these mere technical and +artificial points, is based upon truths and habits of nature; but we +cannot understand those truths until we are acquainted with the specific +forms and minor details which they affect, or out of which they arise. I +shall, therefore, proceed to examine the invaluable and essential truths +of specific character and form--briefly and imperfectly, indeed, as +needs must be, but yet at length sufficient to enable the reader to +pursue, if he will, the subject for himself. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [27] Of course much depends upon the kind of detail so lost. An + artist may generalize the trunk of a tree, where he only loses lines + of bark, and do us a kindness; but he must not generalize the + details of a champaign, in which there is a history of creation. The + full discussion of the subject belongs to a future part of our + investigation. + + [28] Vide, for illustration, Fontainebleau, in the Illustrations to + Scott; Vignette at opening of Human Life, in Rogers's Poems; Venice, + in the Italy; Chateau de Blois; the Rouen, and Pont Neuf, Paris, in + the Rivers of France. The distances of all the Academy pictures of + Venice, especially the Shylock, are most instructive. + + [29] It is to be remembered, however, that these truths present + themselves in all probability under very different phases to + individuals of different powers of vision. Many artists who appear + to generalize rudely or rashly are perhaps faithfully endeavoring to + render the appearance which nature bears to sight of limited range. + Others may be led by their singular keenness of sight into + inexpedient detail. Works which are painted for effect at a certain + distance must be always seen at disadvantage by those whose sight is + of different range from the painter's. Another circumstance to which + I ought above to have alluded is the scale of the picture; for there + are different degrees of generalization, and different necessities + of symbolism, belonging to every scale: the stipple of the miniature + painter would be offensive on features of the life size, and the + leaves with Tintoret may articulate on a canvas of sixty feet by + twenty-five, must be generalized by Turner on one of four by three. + Another circumstance of some importance is the assumed distance of + the foreground; many landscape painters seem to think their nearest + foreground is always equally near, whereas its distance from the + spectator varies not a little, being always at least its own + calculable breadth from side to side as estimated by figures or any + other object of known size at the nearest part of it. With Claude + almost always; with Turner often, as in the Daphne and Leucippus, + this breadth is forty or fifty yards; and as the nearest foreground + object _must_ then be at least that distance removed, and _may_ be + much more, it is evident that no completion of close detail is in + such cases allowable, (see here another proof of Claude's erroneous + practice;) with Titian and Tintoret, on the contrary, the foreground + is rarely more than five or six yards broad, and its objects + therefore being only five or six yards distant are entirely + detailed. + + None of these circumstances, however, in any wise affect the great + principle, the confusion of detail taking place sooner or later in + all cases. I ought to have noted, however, that many of the pictures + of Turner in which the confused drawing has been least understood, + have been luminous _twilights_; and that the uncertainty of twilight + is therefore added to that of general distance. In the evenings of + the south it not unfrequently happens that objects touched with the + reflected light of the western sky, continue even for the space of + half an hour after sunset, glowing, ruddy, and intense in color, and + almost as bright as if they were still beneath actual sunshine, even + till the moon begins to cast a shadow: but in spite of this + brilliancy of color all the details become ghostly and ill-defined. + This is a favorite moment of Turner's, and he invariably + characterizes it, not by gloom, but by uncertainty of detail. I have + never seen the effect of clear twilight thoroughly rendered by art; + that effect in which all details are lost, while intense clearness + and light are still felt in the atmosphere, in which nothing is + distinctly seen, and yet it is not darkness, far less mist, that is + the cause of concealment. Turner's efforts at rendering this effect + (as the Wilderness of Engedi, Assos, Chateau de Blois, + Caerlaverock, and others innumerable,) have always some slight + appearance of mistiness, owing to the indistinctness of details; but + it remains to be shown that any closer approximation to the effect + is possible. + + + + + SECTION III. + + OF TRUTH OF SKIES. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + OF THE OPEN SKY. + + +Sec. 1. The peculiar adaptation of the sky to the pleasing and teaching of + man. + +Sec. 2. The carelessness with which its lessons are received. + +Sec. 3. The most essential of these lessons are the gentlest. + +Sec. 4. Many of our ideas of sky altogether conventional. + +It is a strange thing how little in general people know about the sky. +It is the part of creation in which nature has done more for the sake of +pleasing man, more for the sole and evident purpose of talking to him +and teaching him, than in any other of her works, and it is just the +part in which we least attend to her. There are not many of her other +works in which some more material or essential purpose than the mere +pleasing of man is not answered by every part of their organization; but +every essential purpose of the sky might, so far as we know, be +answered, if once in three days, or thereabouts, a great ugly black rain +cloud were brought up over the blue, and everything well watered, and so +all left blue again till next time, with perhaps a film of morning and +evening mist for dew. And instead of this, there is not a moment of any +day of our lives, when nature is not producing scene after scene, +picture after picture, glory after glory, and working still upon such +exquisite and constant principles of the most perfect beauty, that it is +quite certain it is all done for us, and intended for our perpetual +pleasure. And every man, wherever placed, however far from other sources +of interest or of beauty, has this doing for him constantly. The noblest +scenes of the earth can be seen and known but by few; it is not intended +that man should live always in the midst of them, he injures them by his +presence, he ceases to feel them if he be always with them; but the sky +is for all; bright as it is, it is not "too bright, nor good, for human +nature's daily food;" it is fitted in all its functions for the +perpetual comfort and exalting of the heart, for the soothing it and +purifying it from its dross and dust. Sometimes gentle, sometimes +capricious, sometimes awful, never the same for two moments together; +almost human in its passions, almost spiritual in its tenderness, almost +divine in its infinity, its appeal to what is immortal in us, is as +distinct, as its ministry of chastisement or of blessing to what is +mortal is essential. And yet we never attend to it, we never make it a +subject of thought, but as it has to do with our animal sensations; we +look upon all by which it speaks to us more clearly than to brutes, upon +all which bears witness to the intention of the Supreme, that we are to +receive more from the covering vault than the light and the dew which we +share with the weed and the worm, only as a succession of meaningless +and monotonous accident, too common and too vain to be worthy of a +moment of watchfulness, or a glance of admiration. If in our moments of +utter idleness and insipidity, we turn to the sky as a last resource, +which of its phenomena do we speak of? One says it has been wet, and +another it has been windy, and another it has been warm. Who, among the +whole chattering crowd, can tell me of the forms and the precipices of +the chain of tall white mountains that girded the horizon at noon +yesterday? Who saw the narrow sunbeam that came out of the south, and +smote upon their summits until they melted and mouldered away in a dust +of blue rain? Who saw the dance of the dead clouds when the sunlight +left them last night, and the west wind blew them before it like +withered leaves? All has passed, unregretted as unseen; or if the apathy +be ever shaken off, even for an instant, it is only by what is gross, or +what is extraordinary; and yet it is not in the broad and fierce +manifestations of the elemental energies, not in the clash of the hail, +nor the drift of the whirlwind, that the highest characters of the +sublime are developed. God is not in the earthquake, nor in the fire, +but in the still small voice. They are but the blunt and the low +faculties of our nature, which can only be addressed through lampblack +and lightning. It is in quiet and subdued passages of unobtrusive +majesty, the deep, and the calm, and the perpetual,--that which must be +sought ere it is seen, and loved ere it is understood,--things which +the angels work out for us daily, and yet vary eternally, which are +never wanting, and never repeated, which are to be found always yet each +found but once; it is through these that the lesson of devotion is +chiefly taught, and the blessing of beauty given. These are what the +artist of highest aim must study; it is these, by the combination of +which his ideal is to be created; these, of which so little notice is +ordinarily taken by common observers, that I fully believe, little as +people in general are concerned with art, more of their ideas of sky are +derived from pictures than from reality, and that if we could examine +the conception formed in the minds of most educated persons when we talk +of clouds, it would frequently be found composed of fragments of blue +and white reminiscences of the old masters. + +I shall enter upon the examination of what is true in sky at greater +length, because it is the only part of a picture of which all, if they +will, may be competent judges. What I may have to assert respecting the +rocks of Salvator, or the boughs of Claude, I can scarcely prove, except +to those whom I can immure for a month or two in the fastnesses of the +Apennines, or guide in their summer walks again and again through the +ravines of Sorrento. But what I say of the sky can be brought to an +immediate test by all, and I write the more decisively, in the hope that +it may be so. + + +Sec. 5. Nature and essential qualities of the open blue. + +Sec. 6. Its connection with clouds. + +Sec. 7. Its exceeding depth. + +Sec. 8. These qualities are especially given by modern masters. + +Sec. 9. And by Claude. + +Sec. 10. Total absence of them in Poussin. Physical errors in his general + treatment of open sky. + +Sec. 11. Errors of Cuyp in graduation of color. + +Let us begin then with the simple open blue of the sky. This is of +course the color of the pure atmospheric air, not the aqueous vapor, but +the pure azote and oxygen, and it is the total color of the whole mass +of that air between us and the void of space. It is modified by the +varying quantity of aqueous vapor suspended in it, whose color, in its +most imperfect, and therefore most visible, state of solution, is pure +white, (as in steam,) which receives, like any other white, the warm +hues of the rays of the sun, and, according to its quantity and +imperfect solution, makes the sky paler, and at the same time more or +less gray, by mixing warm tones with its blue. This gray aqueous vapor, +when very decided, becomes mist, and when local, cloud. Hence the sky is +to be considered as a transparent blue liquid, in which, at various +elevations, clouds are suspended, those clouds being themselves only +particular visible spaces of a substance with which the whole mass of +this liquid is more or less impregnated. Now, we all know this perfectly +well, and yet we so far forget it in practice, that we little notice the +constant connection kept up by nature between her blue and her clouds, +and we are not offended by the constant habit of the old masters, of +considering the blue sky as totally distinct in its nature, and far +separated from the vapors which float in it. With them, cloud is cloud, +and blue is blue, and no kind of connection between them is ever hinted +at. The sky is thought of as a clear, high material dome, the clouds as +separate bodies, suspended beneath it, and in consequence, however +delicate and exquisitely removed in tone their skies may be, you always +look _at_ them, not _through_ them. Now, if there be one characteristic +of the sky more valuable or necessary to be rendered than another, it is +that which Wordsworth has given in the second book of the Excursion:-- + + "The chasm of sky above my head + Is Heaven's profoundest azure. No domain + For fickle, short-lived clouds, to occupy, + Or to pass through;--but rather an _abyss_ + In which the everlasting stars abide, + And whose soft gloom, and boundless depth, might tempt + The curious eye to look for them by day." + +And, in his American Notes, I remember Dickens notices the same truth, +describing himself as lying drowsily on the barge deck, looking not at, +but _through_ the sky. And if you look intensely at the pure blue of a +serene sky, you will see that there is a variety and fulness in its very +repose. It is not flat dead color, but a deep, quivering, transparent +body of penetrable air, in which you trace or imagine short, falling +spots of deceiving light, and dim shades, faint, veiled vestiges of dark +vapor; and it is this trembling transparency which our great modern +master has especially aimed at and given. His blue is never laid on in +smooth coats, but in breaking, mingling, melting hues, a quarter of an +inch of which, cut off from all the rest of the picture, is still +_spacious_, still infinite and immeasurable in depth. It is a painting +of the air, something into which you can see, through the parts which +are near you into those which are far off; something which has no +surface, and through which we can plunge far and farther, and without +stay or end, into the profundity of space;--whereas, with all the old +landscape painters, except Claude, you may indeed go a long way before +you come to the sky, but you will strike hard against it at last. A +perfectly genuine and untouched sky of Claude is indeed most perfect, +and beyond praise, in all qualities of air; though even with him, I +often feel rather that there is a great deal of pleasant air between me +and the firmament, than that the firmament itself is only air. I do not +mean, however, to say a word against such skies as that of the Enchanted +Castle, or that marked 30 in the National Gallery, or one or two which I +remember at Rome; but how little and by how few these fine passages of +Claude are appreciated, is sufficiently proved by the sufferance of such +villainous and unpalliated copies as we meet with all over Europe, like +the Marriage of Isaac, in our own Gallery, to remain under his name. In +fact, I do not remember above ten pictures of Claude's, in which the +skies, whether repainted or altogether copies, or perhaps from Claude's +hand, but carelessly laid in, like that marked 241, Dulwich Gallery, +were not fully as feelingless and false as those of other masters; +while, with the Poussins, there are no favorable exceptions. Their skies +are systematically wrong; take, for instance, the sky of the Sacrifice +of Isaac. It is here high noon, as is shown by the shadow of the +figures; and what sort of color is the sky at the top of the picture? Is +it pale and gray with heat, full of sunshine, and unfathomable in depth? +On the contrary, it is of a pitch of darkness which, except on the Mont +Blanc or Chimborazo, is as purely impossible as color can be. He might +as well have painted it coal black; and it is laid on with a dead coat +of flat paint, having no one quality or resemblance of sky about it. It +cannot have altered, because the land horizon is as delicate and tender +in tone as possible, and is evidently unchanged; and to complete the +absurdity of the whole thing, this color holds its own, without +graduation or alteration, to within three or four degrees of the +horizon, where it suddenly becomes bold and unmixed yellow. Now the +horizon at noon may be yellow when the whole sky is covered with dark +clouds, and only _one_ open streak of light left in the distance from +which the whole light proceeds; but with a clear, open sky, and opposite +the sun, at noon, such a yellow horizon as this is physically +impossible. Even supposing that the upper part of the sky were pale and +warm, and that the transition from the one hue to the other were +effected imperceptibly and gradually, as is invariably the case in +reality, instead of taking place within a space of two or three +degrees;--even then, this gold yellow would be altogether absurd; but as +it is, we have in this sky (and it is a fine picture--one of the best of +Gaspar's that I know,) a notable example of the truth of the old +masters--two impossible colors impossibly united! Find such a color in +Turner's noonday zenith as the blue at the top, or such a color at a +noonday horizon as the yellow at the bottom, or such a connection of any +colors whatsoever as that in the centre, and then you may talk about his +being false to nature if you will. Nor is this a solitary instance; it +is Gaspar Poussin's favorite and characteristic effect. I remember +twenty such, most of them worse than this, in the downright surface and +opacity of blue. Again, look at the large Cuyp in the Dulwich Gallery, +which Mr. Hazlitt considers the "finest in the world," and of which he +very complimentarily says, "The tender green of the valleys, the +gleaming lake, the purple light of the hills, have an effect like the +_down_ on an unripe nectarine!" I ought to have apologized before now, +for not having studied sufficiently in Covent Garden to be provided with +terms of correct and classical criticism. One of my friends begged me to +observe, the other day, that Claude was "pulpy;" another added the yet +more gratifying information that he was "juicy;" and it is now happily +discovered that Cuyp is "downy." Now I dare say that the sky of this +first-rate Cuyp is very like an unripe nectarine: all that I have to say +about it is, that it is exceedingly unlike a sky. The blue remains +unchanged and ungraduated over three-fourths of it, down to the horizon; +while the sun, in the left-hand corner, is surrounded with a halo, first +of yellow, and then of crude pink, both being separated from each other, +and the last from the blue, as sharply as the belts of a rainbow, and +both together not ascending ten degrees in the sky. Now it is difficult +to conceive how any man calling himself a painter could impose such a +thing on the public, and still more how the public can receive it, as a +representation of that sunset purple which invariably extends its +influence to the zenith, so that there is no pure blue anywhere, but a +purple increasing in purity gradually down to its point of greatest +intensity, (about forty-five degrees from the horizon,) and then melting +imperceptibly into the gold, the three colors extending their influence +over the whole sky; so that throughout the whole sweep of the heaven, +there is no one spot where the color is not in an equal state of +transition--passing from gold into orange, from that into rose, from +that into purple, from that into blue, with absolute equality of change, +so that in no place can it be said, "here it changes," and in no place, +"here it is unchanging." This is invariably the case. There is no such +thing--there never was, and never will be such a thing, while God's +heaven remains as it is made--as a serene, sunset sky, with its purple +and rose in _belts_ about the sun. + + +Sec. 12. The exceeding value of the skies of the early Italian and Dutch + schools. Their qualities are unattainable in modern times. + +Such bold, broad examples of ignorance as these would soon set aside all +the claims of the professed landscape painters to truth, with whatever +delicacy of color or manipulation they may be disguised. But there are +some skies, of the Dutch school, in which clearness and coolness have +been aimed at, instead of depth; and some introduced merely as +backgrounds to the historical subjects of the older Italians, which +there is no matching in modern times; one would think angels had painted +them, for all is now clay and oil in comparison. It seems as if we had +totally lost the art, for surely otherwise, however little our painters +might aim at it or feel it, they would touch the chord sometimes by +accident; but they never do, and the mechanical incapacity is still more +strongly evidenced by the muddy struggles of the unhappy Germans, who +have the feeling, partially strained, artificial, and diseased, indeed, +but still genuine enough to bring out the tone, if they had the +mechanical means and technical knowledge. But, however they were +obtained, the clear tones of this kind of the older Italians are +glorious and enviable in the highest degree; and we shall show, when we +come to speak of the beautiful, that they are one of the most just +grounds of the fame of the old masters. + + +Sec. 13. Phenomena of visible sunbeams. Their nature and cause. + +But there is a series of phenomena connected with the open blue of the +sky, which we must take especial notice of, as it is of constant +occurrence in the works of Turner and Claude, the effects, namely, of +visible sunbeams. It will be necessary for us thoroughly to understand +the circumstances under which such effects take place. + +Aqueous vapor or mist, suspended in the atmosphere, becomes visible +exactly as dust does in the air of a room. In the shadows you not only +cannot see the dust itself, because unillumined, but you can see other +objects through the dust without obscurity, the air being thus actually +rendered more transparent by a deprivation of light. Where a sunbeam +enters, every particle of dust becomes visible, and a palpable +interruption to the sight, so that a transverse sunbeam is a real +obstacle to the vision, you cannot see things clearly through it. + +In the same way, wherever vapor is illuminated by transverse rays, there +it becomes visible as a whiteness more or less affecting the purity of +the blue, and destroying it exactly in proportion to the degree of +illumination. But where vapor is in shade, it has very little effect on +the sky, perhaps making it a little deeper and grayer than it otherwise +would be, but not itself, unless very dense, distinguishable or felt as +mist. + + +Sec. 14. They are only illuminated mist, and cannot appear when the sky is + free from vapor, nor when it is without clouds. + +The appearance of mist or whiteness in the blue of the sky, is thus a +circumstance which more or less accompanies sunshine, and which, +supposing the quantity of vapor constant, is greatest in the brightest +sunlight. When there are no clouds in the sky, the whiteness, as it +affects the whole sky equally, is not particularly noticeable. But when +there are clouds between us and the sun, the sun being low, those clouds +cast shadows along and through the mass of suspended vapor. Within the +space of these shadows, the vapor, as above stated, becomes transparent +and invisible, and the sky appears of a pure blue. But where the +sunbeams strike, the vapor becomes visible in the form of the beams, +occasioning those radiating shafts of light which are one of the most +valuable and constant accompaniments of a low sun. The denser the mist, +the more distinct and sharp-edged will these rays be; when the air is +very clear, they are mere vague, flushing, gradated passages of light; +when it is very thick, they are keen-edged and decisive in a high +degree. + +We see then, first, that a quantity of mist dispersed through the whole +space of the sky, is necessary to this phenomenon; and secondly, that +what we usually think of as beams of greater brightness than the rest of +the sky, are in reality only a part of that sky in its natural state of +illumination, cut off and rendered brilliant by the shadows from the +clouds,--that these shadows are in reality the source of the appearance +of beams,--that, therefore, no part of the sky can present such an +appearance, except when there are broken clouds between it and the sun; +and lastly, that the shadows cast from such clouds are not necessarily +gray or dark, but very nearly of the natural pure blue of a sky +destitute of vapor. + + +Sec. 15. Erroneous tendency in the representation of such phenomena by the + old masters. + +Sec. 16. The ray which appears in the dazzled eye should not be + represented. + +Sec. 17. The practice of Turner. His keen perception of the more delicate + phenomena of rays. + +Sec. 18. The total absence of any evidence of such perception in the works + of the old masters. + +Now, as it has been proved that the appearance of beams can only take +place in a part of the sky which has clouds between it and the sun, it +is evident that no appearance of beams can ever begin from the orb +itself, except when there is a cloud or solid body of some kind between +us and it; but that such appearances will almost invariably begin on the +dark side of some of the clouds around it, the orb itself remaining the +centre of a broad blaze of united light. Wordsworth has given us in two +lines, the only circumstances under which rays can ever appear to have +origin in the orb itself:-- + + "But rays of light, + Now _suddenly_ diverging from the orb, + _Retired behind the mountain tops, or veiled + By the dense air_, shot upwards." + + EXCURSION, Book IX. + +And Turner has given us the effect magnificently in the Dartmouth of the +River Scenery. It is frequent among the old masters, and constant in +Claude; though the latter, from drawing his beams too fine, represents +the effect upon the dazzled eye rather than the light which actually +exists, and approximates very closely to the ideal which we see in the +sign of the Rising Sun; nay, I am nearly sure that I remember cases in +which he has given us the diverging beam, without any cloud or hill +interfering with the orb. It may, perhaps, be somewhat difficult to say +how far it is allowable to represent that kind of ray which is seen by +the dazzled eye. It is very certain that we never look towards a bright +sun without seeing glancing rays issue from it; but it is equally +certain that those rays are no more real existences than the red and +blue circles which we see after having been so dazzled, and that if we +are to represent the rays we ought also to cover our sky with pink and +blue circles. I should on the whole consider it utterly false in +principle to represent the visionary beam, and that we ought only to +show that which has actual existence. Such we find to be the constant +practice of Turner. Even where, owing to interposed clouds, he has beams +appearing to issue from the orb itself, they are broad bursts of light, +not spiky rays; and his more usual practice is to keep all near the sun +in one simple blaze of intense light, and from the first clouds to throw +beams to the zenith, though he often does not permit any appearance of +rays until close to the zenith itself. Open at the 80th page of the +Illustrated edition of Rogers's poems. You have there a sky blazing with +sunbeams; but they all begin a long way from the sun, and they are +accounted for by a mass of dense clouds surrounding the orb itself. Turn +to the 7th page. Behind the old oak, where the sun is supposed to be, +you have only a blaze of undistinguished light; but up on the left, over +the edge of the cloud, on its dark side, the sunbeam. Turn to page +192,--blazing rays again, but all beginning where the clouds do, not one +can you trace to the sun; and observe how carefully the long shadow on +the mountain is accounted for by the dim dark promontory projecting out +near the sun. I need not multiply examples; you will find various +modifications and uses of these effects throughout his works. But you +will not find a single trace of them in the old masters. They give you +the rays issuing from behind black clouds, and because they are a coarse +and common effect which could not possibly escape their observation, and +because they are easily imitated. They give you the spiky shafts +issuing from the orb itself, because these are partially symbolical of +light, and assist a tardy imagination, as two or three rays scratched +round the sun with a pen would, though they would be rays of darkness +instead of light.[30] But of the most beautiful phenomenon of all, the +appearance of the delicate ray far in the sky, threading its way among +the thin, transparent clouds, while all around the sun is unshadowed +fire, there is no record nor example whatsoever in their works. It was +too delicate and spiritual for them; probably their blunt and +feelingless eyes never perceived it in nature, and their untaught +imaginations were not likely to originate it in the study. + + +Sec. 19. Truth of the skies of modern drawings. + +Little is to be said of the skies of our other landscape artists. In +paintings, they are commonly toneless, crude, and wanting in depth and +transparency; but in drawings, some very perfect and delicate examples +have been produced by various members of the old water color Society, +and one or two others; but with respect to the qualities of which we are +at present speaking, it is not right to compare drawings with paintings, +as the wash or spunging, or other artifices peculiar to water color, are +capable of producing an appearance of quality which it needs much higher +art to produce in oils. + + +Sec. 20. Recapitulation. The best skies of the ancients are, in quality, + inimitable, but in rendering of various truth, childish. + +Taken generally, the open skies of the moderns are inferior in quality +to picked and untouched skies of the greatest of the ancients, but far +superior to the average class of pictures which we have every day +fathered upon their reputation. Nine or ten skies of Claude might be +named which are not to be contended with, in their way, and as many of +Cuyp. Teniers has given some very wonderful passages, and the clearness +of the early Italian and Dutch schools is beyond all imitation. But the +common blue daubing which we hear every day in our best galleries +attributed to Claude and Cuyp, and the genuine skies of Salvator, and of +both the Poussins, are not to be compared for an instant with the best +works of modern times, even in quality and transparency; while in all +matters requiring delicate observation or accurate science,--in all +which was not attainable by technicalities of art, and which depended +upon the artist's knowledge and understanding of nature, all the works +of the ancients are alike the productions of mere children, sometimes +manifesting great sensibility, but proving at the same time, feebly +developed intelligence and ill-regulated observation. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [30] I have left this passage as it stood originally, because it is + right as far as it goes; yet it speaks with too little respect of + symbolism, which is often of the highest use in religious art, and + in some measure is allowable in all art. In the works of almost all + the greatest masters there are portions which are explanatory rather + than representative, and typical rather than imitative; nor could + these be parted with but at infinite loss. Note, with respect to the + present question, the daring black sunbeams of Titian, in his + woodcut of St. Francis receiving the stigmata, and compare here Part + III. Sect. II. Chap. IV. Sec. 18; Chap. V. Sec. 13. And though I believe + that I am right in considering all such symbolism as out of place in + pure landscape, and in attributing that of Claude to ignorance or + inability, and not to feeling, yet I praise Turner not so much for + his absolute refusal to represent the spiky ray about the sun, as + for his perceiving and rendering that which Claude never perceived, + the multitudinous presence of radiating light in the upper sky and + on all its countless ranks of subtile cloud. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + OF TRUTH OF CLOUDS:--FIRST, OF THE REGION OF THE CIRRUS. + + +Sec. 1. Difficulty of ascertaining wherein the truth of clouds consists. + +Our next subject of investigation must be the specific character of +clouds, a species of truth which is especially neglected by artists; +first, because as it is within the limits of possibility that a cloud +may assume almost any form, it is difficult to point out and not always +easy to feel, where in error consists; and secondly, because it is +totally impossible to study the forms of clouds from nature with care +and accuracy, as a change in the subject takes place between every touch +of the following pencil, and parts of an outline sketched at different +instants cannot harmonize, nature never having intended them to come +together. Still if artists were more in the habit of sketching clouds +rapidly, and as accurately as possible in the outline, from nature, +instead of daubing down what they call "effects" with the brush, they +would soon find there is more beauty about their forms than can be +arrived at by any random felicity of invention, however brilliant, and +more essential character than can be violated without incurring the +charge of falsehood,--falsehood as direct and definite, though not as +traceable as error in the less varied features of organic form. + + +Sec. 2. Variation of their character at different elevations. The three + regions to which they may conveniently be considered as + belonging. + +The first and most important character of clouds, is dependent on the +different altitudes at which they are formed. The atmosphere may be +conveniently considered as divided into three spaces, each inhabited by +clouds of specific character altogether different, though, in reality +there is no distinct limit fixed between them by nature, clouds being +formed at _every_ altitude, and partaking according to their altitude, +more or less of the characters of the upper or lower regions. The +scenery of the sky is thus formed of an infinitely graduated series of +systematic forms of cloud, each of which has its own region in which +alone it is formed, and each of which has specific characters which can +only be properly determined by comparing them as they are found clearly +distinguished by intervals of considerable space. I shall therefore +consider the sky as divided into three regions--the upper region, or +region of the cirrus; the central region, or region of the stratus; the +lower region, or the region of the rain-cloud. + + +Sec. 3. Extent of the upper region. + +Sec. 4. The symmetrical arrangement of its clouds. + +The clouds which I wish to consider as included in the upper region, +never touch even the highest mountains of Europe, and may therefore be +looked upon as never formed below an of at least 15,000 feet; they are +the motionless multitudinous lines of delicate vapor with which the blue +of the open sky is commonly streaked or speckled after several days of +fine weather. I must be pardoned for giving a detailed description of +their specific characters as they are of constant occurrence in the +works of modern artists, and I shall have occasion to speak frequently +of them in future parts of the work. Their chief characters are--first, +Symmetry: They are nearly always arranged in some definite and evident +order, commonly in long ranks reaching sometimes from the zenith to the +horizon, each rank composed of an infinite number of transverse bars of +about the same length, each bar thickest in the middle, and terminating +in a traceless vaporous point at each side; the ranks are in the +direction of the wind, and the bars of course at right angles to it; +these latter are commonly slightly bent in the middle. Frequently two +systems of this kind, indicative of two currents of wind, at different +altitudes intersect one another, forming a network. Another frequent +arrangement is in groups of excessively fine, silky, parallel fibres, +commonly radiating, or having a tendency to radiate, from one of their +extremities, and terminating in a plumy sweep at the other:--these are +vulgarly known as "mares' tails." The plumy and expanded extremity of +these is often bent upwards, sometimes back and up again, giving an +appearance of great flexibility and unity at the same time, as if the +clouds were tough, and would hold together however bent. The narrow +extremity is invariably turned to the wind, and the fibres are parallel +with its direction. The upper clouds always fall into some modification +of one or other of these arrangements. They thus differ from all other +clouds, in having a plan and system; whereas other clouds, though there +are certain laws which they cannot break, have yet perfect freedom from +anything like a relative and general system of government. The upper +clouds are to the lower, what soldiers on parade are to a mixed +multitude; no men walk on their heads or their hands, and so there are +certain laws which no clouds violate; but there is nothing except in the +upper clouds resembling symmetrical discipline. + + +Sec. 5. Their exceeding delicacy. + +Secondly, Sharpness of Edge: The edges of the bars of the upper clouds +which are turned to the wind, are often the sharpest which the sky +shows; no outline whatever of any other kind of cloud, however marked +and energetic, ever approaches the delicate decision of these edges. The +outline of a black thunder-cloud is striking, from the great energy of +the color or shade of the general mass; but as a line, it is soft and +indistinct, compared with the edge of the cirrus, in a clear sky with a +brisk breeze. On the other hand, the edge of the bar turned away from +the wind is always soft, often imperceptible, melting into the blue +interstice between it and its next neighbor. Commonly the sharper one +edge is, the softer is the other, and the clouds look flat, and as if +they slipped over each other like the scales of a fish. When both edges +are soft, as is always the case when the sky is clear and windless, the +cloud looks solid, round, and fleecy. + + +Sec. 6. Their number. + +Thirdly, Multitude: The delicacy of these vapors is sometimes carried +into such an infinity of division, that no other sensation of number +that the earth or heaven can give is so impressive. Number is always +most felt when it is symmetrical, (vide Burke on "Sublime," Part ii. +sect. 8,) and, therefore, no sea-waves nor fresh leaves make their +number so evident or so impressive as these vapors. Nor is nature +content with an infinity of bars or lines alone--each bar is in its turn +severed into a number of small undulatory masses, more or less connected +according to the violence of the wind. When this division is merely +effected by undulation, the cloud exactly resembles sea-sand ribbed by +the tide; but when the division amounts to real separation we have the +mottled or mackerel skies. Commonly, the greater the division of its +bars, the broader and more shapeless is the rank or field, so that in +the mottled sky it is lost altogether, and we have large irregular +fields of equal size, masses like flocks of sheep; such clouds are three +or four thousand feet below the legitimate cirrus. I have seen them cast +a shadow on the Mont Blanc at sunset, so that they must descend nearly +to within fifteen thousand feet of the earth. + + +Sec. 7. Causes of their peculiarly delicate coloring. + +Fourthly, Purity of Color: The nearest of these clouds--those over the +observer's head, being at least three miles above him, and nearly all +entering the ordinary sphere of vision, farther from him still,--their +dark sides are much grayer and cooler than those of other clouds, owing +to their distance. They are composed of the purest aqueous vapor, free +from all foulness of earthy gases, and of this in the lightest and most +ethereal state in which it can be, to be visible. Farther, they receive +the light of the sun in a state of far greater intensity than lower +objects, the beams being transmitted to them through atmospheric air far +less dense, and wholly unaffected by mist, smoke, or any other impurity. +Hence their colors are more pure and vivid, and their white less sullied +than those of any other clouds. + + +Sec. 8. Their variety of form. + +Lastly, Variety: Variety is never so conspicuous, as when it is united +with symmetry. The perpetual change of form in other clouds, is +monotonous in its very dissimilarity, nor is difference striking where +no connection is implied; but if through a range of barred clouds, +crossing half the heaven, all governed by the same forces and falling +into one general form, there be yet a marked and evident dissimilarity +between each member of the great mass--one more finely drawn, the next +more delicately moulded, the next more gracefully bent--each broken into +differently modelled and variously numbered groups, the variety is +doubly striking, because contrasted with the perfect symmetry of which +it forms a part. Hence, the importance of the truth, that nature never +lets one of the members of even her most disciplined groups of cloud be +like another; but though each is adapted for the same function, and in +its great features resembles all the others, not one, out of the +millions with which the sky is checkered, is without a separate beauty +and character, appearing to have had distinct thought occupied in +its conception, and distinct forces in its production; and in addition +to this perpetual invention, visible in each member of each system, we +find systems of separate cloud intersecting one another, the sweeping +lines mingled and interwoven with the rigid bars, these in their turn +melting into banks of sand-like ripple and flakes of drifted and +irregular foam; under all, perhaps the massy outline of some lower cloud +moves heavily across the motionless buoyancy of the upper lines, and +indicates at once their elevation and their repose. + + +Sec. 9. Total absence of even the slightest effort at their representation, + in ancient landscape. + +Such are the great attributes of the upper cloud region; whether they +are beautiful, valuable, or impressive, it is not our present business +to decide, nor to endeavor to discover the reason of the somewhat +remarkable fact, that the whole field of ancient landscape art affords, +as far as we remember, but one instance of any effort whatever to +represent the character of this cloud region. That one instance is the +landscape of Rubens in our own gallery, in which the mottled or fleecy +sky is given with perfect truth and exquisite beauty. To this should +perhaps be added, some of the backgrounds of the historical painters, +where horizontal lines were required, and a few level bars of white or +warm color cross the serenity of the blue. These, as far as they go, are +often very perfect, and the elevation and repose of their effect might, +we should have thought, have pointed out to the landscape painters that +there was something (I do not say much, but certainly something) to be +made out of the high clouds. Not one of them, however, took the hint. To +whom, among them all, can we look for the slightest realization of the +fine and faithful descriptive passage of the "Excursion," already +alluded to:-- + + "But rays of light, + Now suddenly diverging from the orb, + Retired behind the mountain tops, or veiled + By the dense air, shot upwards to the crown + Of the blue firmament--aloft--and wide: + And multitudes of little floating clouds, + Ere we, who saw, of change were conscious, pierced + Through their ethereal texture, had become + Vivid as fire,--Clouds separately poised, + Innumerable multitude of forms + Scattered through half the circle of the sky; + And giving back, and shedding each on each, + With prodigal communion, the bright hues + Which from the unapparent fount of glory + They had imbibed, and ceased not to receive. + That which the heavens displayed the liquid deep + Repeated, but with unity sublime." + + +Sec. 10. The intense and constant study of them by Turner. + +There is but one master whose works we can think of while we read this; +one alone has taken notice of the neglected upper sky; it is his +peculiar and favorite field; he has watched its every modification, and +given its every phase and feature; at all hours, in all seasons, he has +followed its passions and its changes, and has brought down and laid +open to the world another apocalypse of heaven. + +There is scarcely a painting of Turner's, in which serenity of sky and +intensity of light are aimed at together, in which these clouds are not +used, though there are not two cases in which they are used altogether +alike. Sometimes they are crowded together in masses of mingling light, +as in the Shylock; every part and atom sympathizing in that continuous +expression of slow movement which Shelley has so beautifully touched:-- + + "Underneath the young gray dawn + A multitude of dense, white fleecy clouds, + Were wandering in thick flocks along the mountains, + _Shepherded by the slow, unwilling wind_." + +At other times they are blended with the sky itself, felt only here and +there by a ray of light calling them into existence out of its misty +shade, as in the Mercury and Argus; sometimes, where great repose is to +be given, they appear in a few detached, equal, rounded flakes, which +seem to hang motionless, each like the shadow of the other, in the deep +blue of the zenith, as in the Acro-Corinth; sometimes they are scattered +in fiery flying fragments, each burning with separate energy, as in the +Temeraire; sometimes woven together with fine threads of intermediate +darkness, melting into the blue as in the Napoleon. But in all cases the +exquisite manipulation of the master gives to each atom of the multitude +its own character and expression. Though they be countless as leaves, +each has its portion of light, its shadow, its reflex, its peculiar and +separating form. + + +Sec. 11. His vignette, Sunrise on the Sea. + +Take for instance the illustrated edition of Rogers's Poems,[31] and +open it at the 80th page, and observe how every attribute which I have +pointed out in the upper sky, is there rendered with the faithfulness of +a mirror; the long lines of parallel bars, the delicate curvature from +the wind, which the inclination of the sail shows you to be from the +west; the excessive sharpness of every edge which is turned to the wind, +the faintness of every opposite one, the breaking up of each bar into +rounded masses, and finally, the inconceivable variety with which +individual form has been given to every member of the multitude, and not +only individual form, but roundness and substance even where there is +scarcely a hairbreadth of cloud to express it in. Observe, above +everything, the varying indication of space and depth in the whole, so +that you may look through and through from one cloud to another, feeling +not merely how they retire to the horizon, but how they melt back into +the recesses of the sky; every interval being filled with absolute air, +and all its spaces so melting and fluctuating, and fraught with change +as with repose, that as you look, you will fancy that the rays shoot +higher and higher into the vault of light, and that the pale streak of +horizontal vapor is melting away from the cloud that it crosses. Now +watch for the next barred sunrise, and take this vignette to the window, +and test it by nature's own clouds, among which you will find forms and +passages, I do not say merely _like_, but apparently the actual +originals of parts of this very drawing. And with whom will you do this, +except with Turner? Will you do it with Claude, and set that blank +square yard of blue, with its round, white, flat fixtures of similar +cloud, beside the purple infinity of nature, with her countless +multitude of shadowy lines, and flaky waves, and folded veils of +variable mist? Will you do it with Poussin, and set those massy steps of +unyielding solidity, with the chariot-and-four driving up them, by the +side of the delicate forms which terminate in threads too fine for the +eye to follow them, and of texture so thin woven that the earliest stars +shine through them? Will you do it with Salvator, and set that volume of +violent and restless manufactory smoke beside those calm and quiet bars, +which pause in the heaven as if they would never leave it more? + + +Sec. 12. His use of the cirrus in expressing mist. + +Now we have just seen how Turner uses the sharp-edged cirri when he aims +at giving great transparency of air. But it was shown in the preceding +chapter that sunbeams, or the appearance of them, are always sharper in +their edge in proportion as the air is more misty, as they are most +defined in a room where there is most dust flying about in it. +Consequently, in the vignette we have been just noticing, where +transparency is to be given, though there is a blaze of light, its beams +are never edged; a tendency to rays is visible, but you cannot in any +part find a single marked edge of a rising sunbeam, the sky is merely +more flushed in one place than another. Now let us see what Turner does +when he wants mist. Turn to the Alps at Daybreak, page 193, in the same +book. Here we have the cirri used again, but now they have no sharp +edges, they are all fleecy and mingling with each other, though every +one of them has the most exquisite indication of individual form, and +they melt back, not till they are lost in exceeding light, as in the +other plate, but into a mysterious, fluctuating, shadowy sky, of which, +though the light penetrates through it all, you perceive every part to +be charged with vapor. Notice particularly the half-indicated forms even +where it is most serene, behind the snowy mountains. And now, how are +the sunbeams drawn? no longer indecisive, flushing, palpitating, every +one is sharp and clear, and terminated by definite shadow; note +especially the marked lines on the upper cloud; finally, observe the +difference in the mode of indicating the figures, which are here misty +and indistinguishable, telling only as shadows, though they are near and +large, while those in the former vignette came clear upon the eye, +though they were so far off as to appear mere points. + + +Sec. 13. His consistency in every minor feature. + +Now is this perpetual consistency in all points, this concentration of +every fact which can possibly bear upon what we are to be told, this +watchfulness of the entire meaning and system of nature, which fills +every part and space of the picture with coincidences of witness, which +come out upon us, as they would from the reality, more fully and deeply +in proportion to the knowledge we possess and the attention we give, +admirable or not? I could go on writing page after page on every sky of +Turner's, and pointing out fresh truths in every one. In the Havre, for +instance, of the Rivers of France we have a new fact pointed out to us +with respect to these cirri, namely, their being so faint and +transparent as not to be distinguishable from the blue of the sky, (a +frequent case,) except in the course of a sunbeam, which, however, does +not illumine their edges, they being not solid enough to reflect light, +but penetrates their whole substance, and renders them flat, luminous +forms in its path, instantly and totally lost at its edge. And thus a +separate essay would be required by every picture, to make fully +understood the new phenomena which it treated and illustrated. But after +once showing what are the prevailing characteristics of these clouds, we +can only leave it to the reader to trace them wherever they occur. There +are some fine and characteristic passages of this kind of cloud given by +Stanfield, though he dares not use them in multitude, and is wanting in +those refined qualities of form which it is totally impossible to +explain in words, but which, perhaps, by simple outlines, on a large +scale, selected from the cloud forms of various artists, I may in +following portions of the work illustrate with the pencil. + + +Sec. 14. The color of the upper clouds. + +Of the colors of these clouds I have spoken before, (Sec. I. Chap. II.;) +but though I then alluded to their purity and vividness, I scarcely took +proper notice of their variety; there is indeed in nature variety in all +things, and it would be absurd to insist on it in each case, yet the +colors of these clouds are so marvellous in their changefulness, that +they require particular notice. If you watch for the next sunset, when +there are a considerable number of these cirri in the sky, you will see, +especially at the zenith, that the sky does not remain of the same color +for two inches together; one cloud has a dark side of cold blue, and a +fringe of milky white; another, above it, has a dark side of purple and +an edge of red; another, nearer the sun, has an under-side of orange +and an edge of gold; these you will find mingled with, and passing into +the blue of the sky, which in places you will not be able to distinguish +from the cool gray of the darker clouds, and which will be itself full +of gradation, now pure and deep, now faint and feeble; and all this is +done, not in large pieces, nor on a large scale, but over and over again +in every square yard, so that there is no single part nor portion of the +whole sky which has not in itself variety of color enough for a separate +picture, and yet no single part which is like another, or which has not +some peculiar source of beauty, and some peculiar arrangement of color +of its own. Now, instead of this, you get in the old masters--Cuyp, or +Claude, or whoever they may be--a field of blue, delicately, +beautifully, and uniformly shaded down to the yellow sun, with a certain +number of similar clouds, each with a dark side of the same gray, and an +edge of the same yellow. I do not say that nature never does anything +like this, but I say that her _principle_ is to do a great deal more, +and that what she does more than this,--what I have above described, and +what you may see in nine sunsets out of ten,--has been observed, +attempted, and rendered by Turner only, and by him with a fidelity and +force which presents us with more essential truth, and more clear +expression and illustration of natural laws, in every wreath of vapor, +than composed the whole stock of heavenly information, which lasted Cuyp +and Claude their lives. + + +Sec. 15. Recapitulation. + +We close then our present consideration of the upper clouds, to return +to them when we know what is beautiful; we have at present only to +remember that of these clouds, and the truths connected with them, none +before Turner had taken any notice whatsoever; that had they therefore +been even feebly and imperfectly represented by him, they would yet have +given him a claim to be considered more extended and universal in his +statement of truths than any of his predecessors; how much more when we +find that deep fidelity in his studied and perfect skies which opens new +sources of delight to every advancement of our knowledge, and to every +added moment of our contemplation. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [31] I use this work frequently for illustration, because it is the + only one I know in which the engraver has worked with delicacy + enough to give the real forms and touches of Turner. I can reason + from these plates, (in questions of form only,) nearly as well as I + could from the drawings. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + OF TRUTH OF CLOUDS:--SECONDLY, OF THE CENTRAL CLOUD REGION. + + +Sec. 1. Extent and typical character of the central cloud region. + +We have next to investigate the character of the Central Cloud Region, +which I consider as including all clouds which are the usual +characteristic of ordinary serene weather, and which touch and envelop +the mountains of Switzerland, but never affect those of our own island; +they may therefore be considered as occupying a space of air ten +thousand feet in height, extending from five to fifteen thousand feet +above the sea. + + +Sec. 2. Its characteristic clouds, requiring no attention nor thought for + their representation, are therefore favorite subjects with the + old masters. + +These clouds, according to their elevation, appear with great variety of +form, often partaking of the streaked or mottled character of the higher +region, and as often, when the precursors of storm, manifesting forms +closely connected with the lowest rain clouds; but the species +especially characteristic of the central region is a white, ragged, +irregular, and scattered vapor, which has little form and less color, +and of which a good example may be seen in the largest landscape of +Cuyp, in the Dulwich Gallery. When this vapor collects into masses, it +is partially rounded, clumsy, and ponderous, as if it would tumble out +of the sky, shaded with a dull gray, and totally devoid of any +appearance of energy or motion. Even in nature, these clouds are +comparatively uninteresting, scarcely worth raising our heads to look +at; and on canvas, valuable only as a means of introducing light, and +breaking the monotony of blue; yet they are, perhaps, beyond all others +the favorite clouds of the Dutch masters. Whether they had any motive +for the adoption of such materials, beyond the extreme facility with +which acres of canvas might thus be covered without any troublesome +exertion of thought; or any temptation to such selections beyond the +impossibility of error where nature shows no form, and the +impossibility of deficiency where she shows no beauty, it is not here +the place to determine. Such skies are happily beyond the reach of +criticism, for he who tells you nothing cannot tell you a falsehood. A +little flake-white, glazed with a light brush over the carefully toned +blue, permitted to fall into whatever forms chance might determine, with +the single precaution that their edges should be tolerably irregular, +supplied, in hundreds of instances, a sky quite good enough for all +ordinary purposes--quite good enough for cattle to graze, or boors to +play at nine-pins under--and equally devoid of all that could gratify, +inform, or offend. + + +Sec. 3. The clouds of Salvator and Poussin. + +But although this kind of cloud is, as I have said, typical of the +central region, it is not one which nature is fond of. She scarcely ever +lets an hour pass without some manifestation of finer forms, sometimes +approaching the upper cirri, sometimes the lower cumulus. And then in +the lower outlines, we have the nearest approximation which nature ever +presents to the clouds of Claude, Salvator, and Poussin, to the +characters of which I must request especial attention, as it is here +only that we shall have a fair opportunity of comparing their skies with +those of the modern school. I shall, as before, glance rapidly at the +great laws of specific form, and so put it in the power of the reader to +judge for himself of the truth of representation. + + +Sec. 4. Their essential characters. + +Sec. 5. Their angular forms and general decision of outline. + +Clouds, it is to be remembered, are not so much local vapor, as vapor +rendered locally visible by a fall of temperature. Thus a cloud, whose +parts are in constant motion, will hover on a snowy mountain, pursuing +constantly the same track upon its flanks, and yet remaining of the same +size, the same form, and in the same place, for half a day together. No +matter how violent or how capricious the wind may be, the instant it +approaches the spot where the chilly influence of the snow extends, the +moisture it carries becomes visible, and then and there the cloud forms +on the instant, apparently maintaining its form against the wind, though +the careful and keen eye can see all its parts in the most rapid motion +across the mountain. The outlines of such a cloud are of course not +determined by the irregular impulses of the wind, but by the fixed lines +of radiant heat which regulate the temperature of the atmosphere of the +mountain. It is terminated, therefore, not by changing curves, but by +steady right lines of more or less decision, often exactly correspondent +with the outline of the mountain on which it is formed, and falling +therefore into grotesque peaks and precipices. I have seen the marked +and angular outline of the Grandes Jorasses, at Chamounix, mimicked in +its every jag by a line of clouds above it. Another resultant phenomenon +is the formation of cloud in the calm air to leeward of a steep summit; +cloud whose edges are in rapid motion, where they are affected by the +current of the wind above, and stream from the peak like the smoke of a +volcano, yet always vanish at a certain distance from it as steam +issuing from a chimney. When wet weather of some duration is +approaching, a small white spot of cloud will sometimes appear low on +the hill flanks; it will not move, but will increase gradually for some +little time, then diminish, still without moving; disappear altogether, +reappear ten minutes afterwards, exactly in the same spot; increase to a +greater extent than before, again disappear, again return, and at last +permanently; other similar spots of cloud forming simultaneously, with +various fluctuations, each in its own spot, and at the same level on the +hill-side, until all expand, join together, and form an unbroken veil of +threatening gray, which darkens gradually into storm. What in such cases +takes place palpably and remarkably, is more or less a law of formation +in all clouds whatsoever; they being bounded rather by lines expressive +of changes of temperature in the atmosphere, than by the impulses of the +currents of wind in which those changes take place. Even when in rapid +and visible motion across the sky, the variations which take place in +their outlines are not so much alterations of position and arrangement +of parts, as they are the alternate formation and disappearance of +parts. There is, therefore, usually a parallelism and consistency in +their great outlines, which give system to the smaller curves of which +they are composed; and if these great lines be taken, rejecting the +minutiae of variation, the resultant form will almost always be angular, +and full of character and decision. In the flock-like fields of equal +masses, each individual mass has the effect, not of an ellipse or +circle, but of a rhomboid; the sky is crossed and checkered, not +honeycombed; in the lower cumuli, even though the most rounded of all +clouds, the groups are not like balloons or bubbles, but like towers or +mountains. And the result of this arrangement in masses more or less +angular, varied with, and chiefly constructed of, curves of the utmost +freedom and beauty, is that appearance of exhaustless and fantastic +energy which gives every cloud a marked character of its own, suggesting +resemblances to the specific outlines of organic objects. I do not say +that such accidental resemblances are a character to be imitated; but +merely that they bear witness to the originality and vigor of separate +conception in cloud forms, which give to the scenery of the sky a force +and variety no less delightful than that of the changes of mountain +outline in a hill district of great elevation; and that there is added +to this a spirit-like feeling, a capricious, mocking imagery of passion +and life, totally different from any effects of inanimate form that the +earth can show. + + +Sec. 6. The composition of their minor curves. + +The minor contours, out of which the larger outlines are composed, are +indeed beautifully curvilinear; but they are never monotonous in their +curves. First comes a concave line, then a convex one, then an angular +jag, breaking off into spray, then a downright straight line, then a +curve again, then a deep gap, and a place where all is lost and melted +away, and so on; displaying in every inch of the form renewed and +ceaseless invention, setting off grace with rigidity, and relieving +flexibility with force, in a manner scarcely less admirable, and far +more changeful than even in the muscular forms of the human frame. Nay, +such is the exquisite composition of all this, that you may take any +single fragment of any cloud in the sky, and you will find it put +together as if there had been a year's thought over the plan of it, +arranged with the most studied inequality--with the most delicate +symmetry--with the most elaborate contrast, a picture in itself. You may +try every other piece of cloud in the heaven, and you will find them +every one as perfect, and yet not one in the least like another. + + +Sec. 7. Their characters, as given by S. Rosa. + +Now it may perhaps, for anything we know, or have yet proved, be highly +expedient and proper, in art, that this variety, individuality, and +angular character should be changed into a mass of convex curves, each +precisely like its neighbor in all respects, and unbroken from beginning +to end;--it may be highly original, masterly, bold, whatever you choose +to call it; but it is _false_. I do not take upon me to assert that the +clouds which in ancient Germany were more especially and peculiarly +devoted to the business of catching princesses off desert islands, and +carrying them to enchanted castles, might not have possessed something +of the pillowy organization which we may suppose best adapted for +functions of such delicacy and dispatch. But I do mean to say that the +clouds which God sends upon his earth as the ministers of dew, and rain, +and shade, and with which he adorns his heaven, setting them in its +vault for the thrones of his spirits, have not in one instant or atom of +their existence, one feature in common with such conceptions and +creations. And there are, beyond dispute, more direct and unmitigated +falsehoods told, and more laws of nature set at open defiance in _one_ +of the "rolling" skies of Salvator, such as that marked 159 in the +Dulwich Gallery, than were ever attributed, even by the ignorant and +unfeeling, to all the wildest flights of Turner put together. + + +Sec. 8. Monotony and falsehood of the clouds of the Italian School + generally. + +And it is not as if the error were only occasional. It is systematic and +constant in all the Italian masters of the seventeenth century, and in +most of the Dutch. They looked at clouds as at everything else which did +not particularly help them in their great end of deception, with utter +carelessness and bluntness of feeling,--saw that there were a great many +rounded passages in them,--found it much easier to sweep circles than to +design beauties, and sat down in their studies, contented with perpetual +repetitions of the same spherical conceptions, having about the same +relation to the clouds of nature, that a child's carving of a turnip has +to the head of the Apollo. Look at the round things about the sun in the +bricky Claude, the smallest of the three Seaports in the National +Gallery. They are a great deal more like half-crowns than clouds. Take +the ropy, tough-looking wreath in the Sacrifice of Isaac, and find one +part of it, if you can, which is not the repetition of every other part +of it, all together being as round and vapid as the brush could draw +them; or take the two cauliflower-like protuberances in No. 220 of the +Dulwich Gallery, and admire the studied similarity between them; you +cannot tell which is which; or take the so-called Nicholas Poussin, No. +212, Dulwich Gallery, in which, from the brown trees to the right-hand +side of the picture, there is not one line which is not physically +impossible. + + +Sec. 9. Vast size of congregated masses of cloud. + +Sec. 10. Demonstrable by comparison with mountain ranges. + +But it is not the outline only which is thus systematically false. The +drawing of the solid form is worse still, for it is to be remembered +that although clouds of course arrange themselves more or less into +broad masses, with a light side and dark side, both their light and +shade are invariably composed of a series of divided masses, each of +which has in its outline as much variety and character as the great +outline of the cloud; presenting, therefore, a thousand times repeated, +all that I have described as characteristic of the general form. Nor are +these multitudinous divisions a truth of slight importance in the +character of sky, for they are dependent on, and illustrative of, a +quality which is usually in a great degree overlooked,--the enormous +retiring spaces of solid clouds. Between the illumined edge of a heaped +cloud, and that part of its body which turns into shadow, there will +generally be a clear distance of several miles, more or less of course, +according to the general size of the cloud, but in such large masses as +in Poussin and others of the old masters, occupy the fourth or fifth of +the visible sky; the clear illumined breadth of vapor, from the edge to +the shadow, involves at least a distance of five or six miles. We are +little apt, in watching the changes of a mountainous range of cloud, to +reflect that the masses of vapor which compose it, are huger and higher +than any mountain range of the earth; and the distances between mass and +mass are not yards of air traversed in an instant by the flying form, +but valleys of changing atmosphere leagues over; that the slow motion of +ascending curves, which we can scarcely trace, is a boiling energy of +exulting vapor rushing into the heaven a thousand feet in a minute; and +that the toppling angle whose sharp edge almost escapes notice in the +multitudinous forms around it, is a nodding precipice of storms, 3000 +feet from base to summit. It is not until we have actually compared the +forms of the sky with the hill ranges of the earth, and seen the soaring +Alp overtopped and buried in one surge of the sky, that we begin to +conceive or appreciate the colossal scale of the phenomena of the +latter. But of this there can be no doubt in the mind of any one +accustomed to trace the forms of clouds among hill ranges--as it is +there a demonstrable and evident fact, that the space of vapor visibly +extended over an ordinarily cloudy sky, is not less, from the point +nearest to the observer to the horizon, than twenty leagues; that the +size of every mass of separate form, if it be at all largely divided, is +to be expressed in terms of _miles_; and that every boiling heap of +illuminated mist in the nearer sky, is an enormous mountain, fifteen or +twenty thousand feet in height, six or seven miles over an illuminated +surface, furrowed by a thousand colossal ravines, torn by local tempests +into peaks and promontories, and changing its features with the majestic +velocity of the volcano. + + +Sec. 11. And consequent divisions and varieties of feature. + +To those who have once convinced themselves of these proportions of the +heaven, it will be immediately evident, that though we might, without +much violation of truth, omit the minor divisions of a cloud four yards +over, it is the veriest audacity of falsehood to omit those of masses +where for yards we have to read miles; first, because it is physically +impossible that such a space should be without many and vast divisions; +secondly, because divisions at such distances must be sharply and +forcibly marked by aerial perspective, so that not only they must be +there, but they must be visible and evident to the eye; and thirdly, +because these multitudinous divisions are absolutely necessary, in order +to express this space and distance, which cannot but be fully and +imperfectly felt, even with every aid and evidence that art can give of +it. + + +Sec. 12. Not lightly to be omitted. + +Now if an artist taking for his subject a chain of vast mountains, +several leagues long, were to unite all their varieties of ravine, crag, +chasm, and precipice, into one solid, unbroken mass, with one light side +and one dark side, looking like a white ball or parallelopiped two yards +broad, the words "breadth," "boldness," or, "generalization," would +scarcely be received as a sufficient apology for a proceeding so +glaringly false, and so painfully degrading. But when, instead of the +really large and simple forms of mountains, united, as they commonly +are, by some great principle of common organization, and so closely +resembling each other as often to correspond in line, and join in +effect; when instead of this, we have to do with spaces of cloud twice +as vast, broken up into a multiplicity of forms necessary to, and +characteristic of, their very nature--those forms subject to a thousand +local changes, having no association with each other, and rendered +visible in a thousand places by their own transparency or cavities, +where the mountain forms would be lost in shade,--that this far greater +space, and this far more complicated arrangement, should be all summed +up into one round mass, with one swell of white, and one flat side of +unbroken gray, is considered an evidence of the sublimest powers in the +artist of generalization and breadth. Now it may be broad, it may be +grand, it may be beautiful, artistical, and in every way desirable. I +don't say it is not--I merely say it is a concentration of every kind of +falsehood: it is depriving heaven of its space, clouds of their +buoyancy, winds of their motion, and distance of its blue. + + +Sec. 13. Imperfect conceptions of this size and extent in ancient + landscape. + +This is done, more or less, by all the old masters, without an +exception.[32] Their idea of clouds was altogether similar; more or less +perfectly carried out, according to their power of hand and accuracy of +eye, but universally the same in conception. It was the idea of a +comparatively small, round, puffed-up white body, irregularly associated +with other round and puffed-up white bodies, each with a white light +side, and a gray dark side, and a soft reflected light, floating a great +way below a blue dome. Such is the idea of a cloud formed by most +people; it is the first, general, uncultivated notion of what we see +every day. People think of the clouds as about as large as they +look--forty yards over, perhaps; they see generally that they are solid +bodies subject to the same laws as other solid bodies, roundish, +whitish, and apparently suspended a great way under a high blue +concavity. So that these ideas be tolerably given with smooth paint, +they are content, and call it nature. How different it is from anything +that nature ever did, or ever will do, I have endeavored to show; but I +cannot, and do not, expect the contrast to be fully felt, unless the +reader will actually go out on days when, either before or after rain, +the clouds arrange themselves into vigorous masses, and after arriving +at something like a conception of their distance and size, from the mode +in which they retire over the horizon, will for himself trace and watch +their varieties of form and outline, as mass rises over mass in their +illuminated bodies. Let him climb from step to step over their craggy +and broken slopes, let him plunge into the long vistas of immeasurable +perspective, that guide back to the blue sky; and when he finds his +imagination lost in their immensity, and his senses confused with their +multitude, let him go to Claude, to Salvator, or to Poussin, and ask +them for a like space, or like infinity. + + +Sec. 14. Total want of transparency and evanescence in the clouds of + ancient landscape. + +But perhaps the most grievous fault of all, in the clouds of these +painters, is the utter want of transparency. Not in her most ponderous +and lightless masses will nature ever leave us without some evidence of +transmitted sunshine; and she perpetually gives us passages in which the +vapor becomes visible only by the sunshine which it arrests and holds +within itself, not caught on its surface, but entangled in its +mass--floating fleeces, precious with the gold of heaven; and this +translucency is especially indicated on the dark sides even of her +heaviest wreaths, which possess opalescent and delicate hues of partial +illumination, far more dependent upon the beams which pass through them +than on those which are reflected upon them. Nothing, on the contrary, +can be more painfully and ponderously opaque than the clouds of the old +masters universally. However far removed in aerial distance, and however +brilliant in light, they never appear filmy or evanescent, and their +light is always on them, not in them. And this effect is much increased +by the positive and persevering determination on the part of their +outlines not to be broken in upon, nor interfered with in the slightest +degree, by any presumptuous blue, or impertinent winds. There is no +inequality, no variation, no losing or disguising of line, no melting +into nothingness, nor shattering into spray; edge succeeds edge with +imperturbable equanimity, and nothing short of the most decided +interference on the part of tree-tops, or the edge of the picture, +prevents us from being able to follow them all the way round, like the +coast of an island. + + +Sec. 15. Farther proof of their deficiency in space. + +Sec. 16. Instance of perfect truth in the sky of Turner's Babylon. + +And be it remembered that all these faults and deficiencies are to be +found in their drawing merely of the separate masses of the solid +cumulus, the easiest drawn of all clouds. But nature scarcely ever +confines herself to such masses; they form but the thousandth part of +her variety of effect. She builds up a pyramid of their boiling volumes, +bars this across like a mountain with the gray cirrus, envelops it in +black, ragged, drifting vapor, covers the open part of the sky with +mottled horizontal fields, breaks through these with sudden and long +sunbeams, tears up their edges with local winds, scatters over the gaps +of blue the infinity of multitude of the high cirri, and melts even the +unoccupied azure into palpitating shades. And all this is done over and +over again in every quarter of a mile. Where Poussin or Claude have +three similar masses, nature has fifty pictures, made up each of +millions of minor thoughts--fifty aisles penetrating through angelic +chapels to the Shechinah of the blue--fifty hollow ways among bewildered +hills--each with their own nodding rocks, and cloven precipices, and +radiant summits, and robing vapors, but all unlike each other, except in +beauty, all bearing witness to the unwearied, exhaustless operation of +the Infinite Mind. Now, in cases like these especially, as we observed +before of general nature, though it is altogether hopeless to follow out +in the space of any one picture this incalculable and inconceivable +glory, yet the painter can at least see that the space he has at his +command, narrow and confined as it is, is made complete use of, and that +no part of it shall be without entertainment and food for thought. If he +could subdivide it by millionths of inches, he could not reach the +multitudinous majesty of nature; but it is at least incumbent upon him +to make the most of what he has, and not, by exaggerating the +proportions, banishing the variety and repeating the forms of his +clouds, to set at defiance the eternal principles of the +heavens--fitfulness and infinity. And now let us, keeping in memory what +we have seen of Poussin and Salvator, take up one of Turner's skies, +and see whether _he_ is as narrow in his conception, or as niggardly in +his space. It does not matter which we take, his sublime Babylon[33] is +a fair example for our present purpose. Ten miles away, down the +Euphrates, where it gleams last along the plain, he gives us a drift of +dark elongated vapor, melting beneath into a dim haze which embraces the +hills on the horizon. It is exhausted with its own motion, and broken up +by the wind in its own body into numberless groups of billowy and +tossing fragments, which, beaten by the weight of storm down to the +earth, are just lifting themselves again on wearied wings, and perishing +in the effort. Above these, and far beyond them, the eye goes back to a +broad sea of white, illuminated mist, or rather cloud melted into rain, +and absorbed again before that rain has fallen, but penetrated +throughout, whether it be vapor or whether it be dew, with soft +sunshine, turning it as white as snow. Gradually as it rises, the rainy +fusion ceases, you cannot tell where the film of blue on the left +begins--but it is deepening, deepening still,--and the cloud, with its +edge first invisible, then all but imaginary, then just felt when the +eye is _not_ fixed on it, and lost when it is, at last rises, keen from +excessive distance, but soft and mantling in its body, as a swan's bosom +fretted by faint wind, heaving fitfully against the delicate deep blue, +with white waves, whose forms are traced by the pale lines of opalescent +shadow, shade only because the light is within it, and not upon it, and +which break with their own swiftness into a driven line of level spray, +winnowed into threads by the wind, and flung before the following vapor +like those swift shafts of arrowy water which a great cataract shoots +into the air beside it, trying to find the earth. Beyond these, again, +rises a colossal mountain of gray cumulus, through whose shadowed sides +the sunbeams penetrate in dim, sloping, rain-like shafts; and over which +they fall in a broad burst of streaming light, sinking to the earth, and +showing through their own visible radiance the three successive ranges +of hills which connect its desolate plain with space. Above, the edgy +summit of the cumulus, broken into fragments, recedes into the sky, +which is peopled in its serenity with quiet multitudes of the white, +soft, silent cirrus; and under these again, drift near the zenith, +disturbed and impatient shadows of a darker spirit, seeking rest and +finding none. + + +Sec. 17. And in his Pools of Solomon. + +Now this is nature! It is the exhaustless living energy with which the +universe is filled; and what will you set beside it of the works of +other men? Show me a single picture, in the whole compass of ancient +art, in which I can pass from cloud to cloud, from region to region, +from first to second and third heaven, as I can here, and you may talk +of Turner's want of truth. Turn to the Pools of Solomon, and walk +through the passages of mist as they melt on the one hand into those +stormy fragments of fiery cloud, or, on the other, into the cold +solitary shadows that compass the sweeping hill, and when you find an +inch without air and transparency, and a hairbreadth without +changefulness and thought; and when you can count the torn waves of +tossing radiance that gush from the sun, as you can count the fixed, +white, insipidities of Claude; or when you can measure the modulation +and the depth of that hollow mist, as you can the flourishes of the +brush upon the canvas of Salvator, talk of Turner's want of truth! + +But let us take up simpler and less elaborate works, for there is too +much in these to admit of being analyzed. + + +Sec. 18. Truths of outline and character in his Como. + +In the vignette of the Lake of Como, in Rogers's Italy, the space is so +small that the details have been partially lost by the engraver; but +enough remain to illustrate the great principles of cloud from which we +have endeavored to explain. Observe first the general angular outline of +the volumes on the left of the sun. If you mark the points where the +direction of their outline changes, and connect those points by right +lines, the cloud will touch, but will not cut, those lines throughout. +Yet its contour is as graceful as it is full of character--toppling, +ready to change--fragile as enormous--evanescent as colossal. Observe +how, where it crosses the line of the sun, it becomes luminous, +illustrating what has been observed of the visibility of mist in +sunlight. Observe, above all, the multiplicity of its solid form, the +depth of its shadows in perpetual transition: it is not round and +swelled, half light and half dark, but full of breaking irregular +shadow and transparency--variable as the wind, and melting +imperceptibly above into the haziness of the sunlighted atmosphere, +contrasted in all its vast forms with the delicacy and the multitude of +the brightly touched cirri. Nothing can surpass the truth of this; the +cloud is as gigantic in its simplicity as the Alp which it opposes; but +how various, how transparent, how infinite in its organization! + + +Sec. 19. Association of the cirrostratus with the cumulus. + +I would draw especial attention, both here and in all other works of +Turner, to the beautiful use of the low horizontal bars or fields of +cloud, (cirrostratus,) which associate themselves so frequently--more +especially before storms--with the true cumulus, floating on its flanks, +or capping it, as if it were a mountain, and seldom mingling with its +substance, unless in the very formation of rain. They supply us with one +of those beautiful instances of natural composition, by which the artist +is superseded and excelled--for, by the occurrence of these horizontal +flakes, the rolling form of the cumulus is both opposed in its principal +lines, and gifted with an apparent solidity and vastness, which no other +expedient could have exhibited, and which far exceed in awfulness the +impression of the noblest mountains of the earth. I have seen in the +evening light of Italy, the Alps themselves out-towered by ranges of +these mighty clouds, alternately white in the starlight, and inhabited +by fire. + + +Sec. 20. The deep-based knowledge of the Alps in Turner's Lake of Geneva. + +Turn back to the first vignette in the Italy. The angular outlines and +variety of modulation in the clouds above the sail, and the delicate +atmosphere of morning into which they are dissolved about the breathing +hills, require no comment; but one part of this vignette demands +especial notice; it is the repetition of the outline of the snowy +mountain by the light cloud above it. The cause of this I have already +explained (vide page 228,) and its occurrence here is especially +valuable as bearing witness to the thorough and scientific knowledge +thrown by Turner into his slightest works. The thing cannot be seen once +in six months; it would not have been noticed, much less introduced by +an ordinary artist, and to the public it is a dead letter, or an +offence. Ninety-nine persons in a hundred would not have observed this +pale wreath of parallel cloud above the hill, and the hundredth in all +probability says it is unnatural. It requires the most intimate and +accurate knowledge of the Alps before such a piece of refined truth can +be understood. + + +Sec. 21. Further principles of cloud form exemplified in his Amalfi. + +At the 216th page we have another and a new case, in which clouds in +perfect repose, unaffected by wind, or any influence but that of their +own elastic force, boil, rise, and melt in the heaven with more approach +to globular form than under any other circumstances is possible. I name +this vignette, not only because it is most remarkable for the buoyancy +and elasticity of inward energy, indicated through the most ponderous +forms, and affords us a beautiful instance of the junction of the +cirrostratus with the cumulus, of which we have just been speaking (Sec. +19,) but because it is a characteristic example of Turner's use of one +of the facts of nature not hitherto noticed, that the edge of a +partially transparent body is often darker than its central surface, +because at the edge the light penetrates and passes through, which from +the centre is reflected to the eye. The sharp, cutting edge of a wave, +if not broken into foam, frequently appears for an instant almost black; +and the outlines of these massy clouds, where their projecting forms +rise in relief against the light of their bodies, are almost always +marked clearly and firmly by very dark edges. Hence we have frequently, +if not constantly, multitudinous forms indicated only by outline, giving +character and solidity to the great masses of light, without taking away +from their breadth. And Turner avails himself of these boldly and +constantly,--outlining forms with the brush of which no other indication +is given. All the grace and solidity of the white cloud on the +right-hand side of the vignette before us, depends upon such outlines. + + +Sec. 22. Reasons for insisting on the _infinity_ of Turner's works. + Infinity is almost an unerring test of _all_ truth. + +As I before observed of mere execution, that one of the best tests of +its excellence was the expression of _infinity_; so it may be noticed +with respect to the painting of details generally, that more difference +lies between one artist and another, in the attainment of this quality, +than in any other of the efforts of art; and that if we wish, without +reference to beauty of composition, or any other interfering +circumstances, to form a judgment of the truth of painting, perhaps the +very first thing we should look for, whether in one thing or +another--foliage, or clouds, or waves--should be the expression of +_infinity_ always and everywhere, in all parts and divisions of parts. +For we may be quite sure that what is not infinite, cannot be true; it +does not, indeed, follow that what is infinite, always is true, but it +cannot be altogether false, for this simple reason; that it is +impossible for mortal mind to compose an infinity of any kind for +itself, or to form an idea of perpetual variation, and to avoid all +repetition, merely by its own combining resources. The moment that we +trust to ourselves, we repeat ourselves, and therefore the moment we see +in a work of any kind whatsoever, the expression of infinity, we may be +certain that the workman has gone to nature for it; while, on the other +hand, the moment we see repetition, or want of infinity, we may be +certain that the workman has _not_ gone to nature for it. + + +Sec. 23. Instances of the total want of it in the works of Salvator. + +Sec. 24. And of the universal presence of it in those of Turner. The + conclusions which may be arrived at from it. + +Sec. 25. The multiplication of objects, or increase of their size, will not + give the impression of infinity, but is the resource of novices. + +For instance, in the picture of Salvator before noticed, No. 220 in the +Dulwich Gallery, as we see at once that the two masses of cloud +absolutely repeat each other in every one of their forms, and that each +is composed of about twelve white sweeps of the brush, all forming the +same curve, and all of the same length; and as we can count these, and +measure their common diameter, and by stating the same to anybody else, +convey to him a full and perfect idea and knowledge of that sky in all +its parts and proportions,--as we can do this, we may be absolutely +certain, without reference to the real sky, or to any other part of +nature, without even knowing what the white things were intended for, we +may be certain that they cannot possibly resemble _anything_; that +whatever they were meant for, they can be nothing but a violent +contradiction of all nature's principles and forms. When, on the other +hand, we take up such a sky as that of Turner's Rouen, seen from St. +Catherine's Hill, in the Rivers of France, and find, in the first place, +that he has given us a distance over the hills in the horizon, into +which, when we are tired of penetrating, we must turn and come back +again, there being not the remotest chance of getting to the end of it; +and when we see that from this measureless distance up to the zenith, +the whole sky is one ocean of alternate waves of cloud and light, so +blended together that the eye cannot rest on any one without being +guided to the next, and so to a hundred more, till it is lost over and +over again in every wreath--that if it divides the sky into quarters of +inches, and tries to count or comprehend the component parts of any +single one of those divisions, it is still as utterly defied and +defeated by the part as by the whole--that there is not one line out of +the millions there which repeats another, not one which is unconnected +with another, not one which does not in itself convey histories of +distance and space, and suggest new and changeful form; then we may be +all but certain, though these forms are too mysterious and too delicate +for us to analyze--though all is so crowded and so connected that it is +impossible to test any single part by particular laws--yet without any +such tests, we may be sure that this infinity can only be based on +truth--that it _must_ be nature, because man could not have originated +it, and that every form must be faithful, because none is like another. +And therefore it is that I insist so constantly on this great quality of +landscape painting, as it appears in Turner; because it is not merely a +constant and most important truth in itself, but it almost amounts to a +demonstration of every other truth. And it will be found a far rarer +attainment in the works of other men than is commonly supposed, and the +sign, wherever it is really found, of the very highest art. For we are +apt to forget that the greatest _number_ is no nearer infinity than the +least, if it be definite number; and the vastest bulk is no nearer +infinity than the most minute, if it be definite bulk; so that a man may +multiply his objects forever and ever, and be no nearer infinity than he +had reached with one, if he do not vary them and confuse them; and a man +may reach infinity in every touch and line, and part, and unit, if in +these he be truthfully various and obscure. And we shall find, the more +we examine the works of the old masters, that always, and in all parts, +they are totally wanting in every feeling of infinity, and therefore in +_all_ truth: and even in the works of the moderns, though the aim is far +more just, we shall frequently perceive an erroneous choice of means, +and a substitution of mere number or bulk for real infinity. + + +Sec. 26. Farther instances of infinity in the gray skies of Turner. + +And therefore, in concluding our notice of the central cloud region, I +should wish to dwell particularly on those skies of Turner's, in which +we have the whole space of the heaven covered with the delicate dim +flakes of gathering vapor, which are the intermediate link between the +central region and that of the rain-cloud, and which assemble and grow +out of the air; shutting up the heaven with a gray interwoven veil, +before the approach of storm, faint, but universal, letting the light of +the upper sky pass pallidly through their body, but never rending a +passage for the ray. We have the first approach and gathering of this +kind of sky most gloriously given in the vignette at page 115 of +Rogers's Italy, which is one of the most perfect pieces of feeling (if I +may transgress my usual rules for an instant) extant in art, owing to +the extreme grandeur and stern simplicity of the strange and ominous +forms of level cloud behind the building. In that at page 223, there are +passages of the same kind, of exceeding perfection. The sky through +which the dawn is breaking in the Voyage of Columbus, and that with the +Moonlight under the Rialto, in Rogers's Poems, the skies of the +Bethlehem, and the Pyramids in Finden's Bible series, and among the +Academy pictures, that of the Hero and Leander, and Flight into Egypt, +are characteristic and noble examples, as far as any individual works +can be characteristic of the universality of this mighty mind. I ought +not to forget the magnificent solemnity and fulness of the wreaths of +gathering darkness in the Folkestone. + + +Sec. 27. The excellence of the cloud-drawing of Stanfield. + +Sec. 28. The average standing of the English school. + +We must not pass from the consideration of the central cloud region +without noticing the general high quality of the cloud-drawing of +Stanfield. He is limited in his range, and is apt in extensive +compositions to repeat himself, neither is he ever very refined; but his +cloud-form is firmly and fearlessly chiselled, with perfect knowledge, +though usually with some want of feeling. As far as it goes, it is very +grand and very tasteful, beautifully developed in the space of its solid +parts and full of action. Next to Turner, he is incomparably the noblest +master of cloud-form of all our artists; in fact, he is the only one +among them who really can _draw_ a cloud. For it is a very different +thing to rub out an irregular white space neatly with the handkerchief, +or to leave a bright little bit of paper in the middle of a wash, and +to give the real anatomy of cloud-form with perfect articulation of +chiaroscuro. We have multitudes of painters who can throw a light bit of +straggling vapor across their sky, or leave in it delicate and tender +passages of breaking light; but this is a very different thing from +taking up each of those bits or passages, and giving it structure, and +parts, and solidity. The eye is satisfied with exceedingly little, as an +indication of cloud, and a few clever sweeps of the brush on wet paper +may give all that it requires; but this is not _drawing_ clouds, nor +will it ever appeal fully and deeply to the mind, except when it occurs +only as a part of a higher system. And there is not one of our modern +artists, except Stanfield, who can do much more than this. As soon as +they attempt to lay detail upon their clouds, they appear to get +bewildered, forget that they are dealing with forms regulated by +precisely the same simple laws of light and shade as more substantial +matter, overcharge their color, confuse their shadows and dark sides, +and end in mere ragged confusion. I believe the evil arises from their +never attempting to render clouds except with the brush; other objects, +at some period of study, they take up with the chalk or lead, and so +learn something of their form; but they appear to consider clouds as +altogether dependent on cobalt and camel's hair, and so never understand +anything of their real anatomy. But whatever the cause, I cannot point +to any central clouds of the moderns, except those of Turner and +Stanfield, as really showing much knowledge of, or feeling for, nature, +though _all_ are superior to the conventional and narrow conceptions of +the ancients. We are all right as far as we go, our work may be +incomplete, but it is not false; and it is far better, far less +injurious to the mind, that we should be little attracted to the sky, +and taught to be satisfied with a light suggestion of truthful form, +than that we should be drawn to it by violently pronounced outline and +intense color, to find in its finished falsehood everything to displease +or to mislead--to hurt our feelings, if we have foundation for them, and +corrupt them, if we have none. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [32] Here I include even the great ones--even Titian and + Veronese,--excepting only Tintoret and the religious schools. + + [33] Engraved in Findel's Bible Illustrations. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + OF TRUTH OF CLOUDS: THIRDLY, OF THE REGION OF THE RAIN-CLOUD. + + +Sec. 1. The apparent difference in character between the lower and central + clouds is dependent chiefly on proximity. + +The clouds which I wish to consider as characteristic of the lower, or +rainy region, differ not so much in their real nature from those of the +central and uppermost regions, as in appearance, owing to their greater +nearness. For the central clouds, and perhaps even the high cirri, +deposit moisture, if not distinctly rain, as is sufficiently proved by +the existence of snow on the highest peaks of the Himaleh; and when, on +any such mountains, we are brought into close contact with the central +clouds,[34] we find them little differing from the ordinary rain-cloud +of the plains, except by being slightly less dense and dark. But the +apparent differences, dependent on proximity, are most marked and +important. + + +Sec. 2. Their marked difference in color. + +In the first place, the clouds of the central region have, as has been +before observed, pure and aerial grays for their dark sides, owing to +their necessary distance from the observer; and as this distance permits +a multitude of local phenomena capable of influencing color, such as +accidental sunbeams, refractions, transparencies, or local mists and +showers, to be collected into a space comparatively small, the colors of +these clouds are always changeful and palpitating; and whatever degree +of gray or of gloom may be mixed with them is invariably pure and +aerial. But the nearness of the rain-cloud rendering it impossible for a +number of phenomena to be at once visible, makes its hue of gray +monotonous, and (by losing the blue of distance) warm and brown compared +to that of the upper clouds. This is especially remarkable on any part +of it which may happen to be illumined, which is of a brown, bricky, +ochreous tone, never bright, always coming in dark outline on the lights +of the central clouds. But it is seldom that this takes place, and when +it does, never over large spaces, little being usually seen of the +rain-cloud but its under and dark side. This, when the cloud above is +dense, becomes of an inky and cold gray, and sulphureous and lurid if +there be thunder in the air. + + +Sec. 3. And in definiteness of form. + +Sec. 4. They are subject to precisely the same great laws. + +With these striking differences in color, it presents no fewer nor less +important in form, chiefly from losing almost all definiteness of +character and outline. It is sometimes nothing more than a thin mist, +whose outline cannot be traced, rendering the landscape locally +indistinct or dark; if its outline be visible, it is ragged and torn; +rather a spray of cloud, taken off its edge and sifted by the wind, than +an edge of the cloud itself. In fact, it rather partakes of the nature, +and assumes the appearance, of real water in the state of spray, than of +elastic vapor. This appearance is enhanced by the usual presence of +formed rain, carried along with it in a columnar form, ordinarily, of +course, reaching the ground like a veil, but very often suspended with +the cloud, and hanging from it like a jagged fringe, or over it in +light, rain being always lighter than the cloud it falls from. These +columns, or fringes, of rain are often waved and bent by the wind, or +twisted, sometimes even swept upwards from the cloud. The velocity of +these vapors, though not necessarily in reality greater than that of the +central clouds, appears greater, owing to their proximity, and, of +course, also to the usual presence of a more violent wind. They are also +apparently much more in the power of the wind, having less elastic force +in themselves; but they are precisely subject to the same great laws of +form which regulate the upper clouds. They are not solid bodies borne +about with the wind, but they carry the wind with them, and cause it. +Every one knows, who has ever been out in a storm, that the time when it +rains heaviest is precisely the time when he cannot hold up his +umbrella; that the wind is carried with the cloud, and lulls when it has +passed. Every one who has ever seen rain in a hill country, knows that +a rain-cloud, like any other, may have all its parts in rapid motion, +and yet, as a whole, remain in one spot. I remember once, when in +crossing the Tete Noire, I had turned up the valley towards Trient, I +noticed a rain-cloud forming on the Glacier de Trient. With a west wind, +it proceeded towards the Col de Balme, being followed by a prolonged +wreath of vapor, always forming exactly at the same spot over the +glacier. This long, serpent-like line of cloud went on at a great rate +till it reached the valley leading down from the Col de Balme, under the +slate rocks of the Croix de Fer. There it turned sharp round, and came +down this valley, at right angles to its former progress, and finally +directly contrary to it, till it came down within five hundred feet of +the village, where it disappeared; the line behind always advancing, and +always disappearing, at the same spot. This continued for half an hour, +the long line describing the curve of a horseshoe; always coming into +existence, and always vanishing at exactly the same places; traversing +the space between with enormous swiftness. This cloud, ten miles off, +would have looked like a perfectly motionless wreath, in the form of a +horseshoe, hanging over the hills. + + +Sec. 5. Value, to the painter, of the rain-cloud. + +Sec. 6. The old masters have not left a single instance of the painting of + the rain-cloud, and very few efforts at it. Gaspar Poussin's + storms. + +To the region of the rain-cloud belong also all those phenomena of +drifted smoke, heat-haze, local mists in the morning or evening; in +valleys, or over water, mirage, white steaming vapor rising in +evaporation from moist and open surfaces, and everything which visibly +affects the condition of the atmosphere without actually assuming the +form of cloud. These phenomena are as perpetual in all countries as they +are beautiful, and afford by far the most effective and valuable means +which the painter possesses, for modification of the forms of fixed +objects. The upper clouds are distinct and comparatively opaque, they do +not modify, but conceal; but through the rain-cloud, and its accessory +phenomena, all that is beautiful may be made manifest, and all that is +hurtful concealed; what is paltry may be made to look vast, and what is +ponderous, aerial; mystery may be obtained without obscurity, and +decoration without disguise. And, accordingly, nature herself uses it +constantly, as one of her chief means of most perfect effect; not in one +country, nor another, but everywhere--everywhere; at least, where there +is anything worth calling landscape. I cannot answer for the desert of +the Sahara, but I know that there can be no greater mistake, than +supposing that delicate and variable effects of mist and rain-cloud are +peculiar to northern climates. I have never seen in any place or country +effects of mist more perfect than in the Campagna of Rome, and among the +hills of Sorrento. It is therefore matter of no little marvel to me, and +I conceive that it can scarcely be otherwise to any reflecting person, +that throughout the whole range of ancient landscape art, there occurs +no instance of the painting of a real rain-cloud, still less of any of +the more delicate phenomena characteristic of the region. "Storms" +indeed, as the innocent public persist in calling such abuses of nature +and abortions of art as the two windy Gaspars in our National Gallery, +are common enough; massive concretions of ink and indigo, wrung and +twisted very hard, apparently in a vain effort to get some moisture out +of them; bearing up courageously and successfully against a wind, whose +effects on the trees in the foreground can be accounted for only on the +supposition that they are all of the India-rubber species. Enough of +this in all conscience, we have, and to spare; but for the legitimate +rain-cloud, with its ragged and spray-like edge, its veilly +transparency, and its columnar burden of blessing, neither it, nor +anything like it, or approaching it, occurs in any painting of the old +masters that I have ever seen; and I have seen enough to warrant my +affirming that if it occur anywhere, it must be through accident rather +than intention. Nor is there stronger evidence of any perception, on the +part of these much respected artists, that there were such things in the +world as mists or vapors. If a cloud under their direction ever touches +a mountain, it does it effectually and as if it meant to do it. There is +no mystifying the matter; here is a cloud, and there is a hill; if it is +to come on at all, it comes on to some purpose, and there is no hope of +its ever going off again. We have, therefore, little to say of the +efforts of the old masters, in any scenes which might naturally have +been connected with the clouds of the lowest region, except that the +faults of form specified in considering the central clouds, are, by way +of being energetic or sublime, more glaringly and audaciously committed +in their "storms;" and that what is a wrong form among clouds possessing +form, is there given with increased generosity of fiction to clouds +which have no form at all. + + +Sec. 7. The great power of the moderns in this respect. + +Sec. 8. Works of Copley Fielding. + +Sec. 9. His peculiar truth. + +Sec. 10. His weakness and its probable cause. + +Supposing that we had nothing to show in modern art, of the region of +the rain-cloud, but the dash of Cox, the blot of de Wint, or even the +ordinary stormy skies of the body of our inferior water-color painters, +we might yet laugh all efforts of the old masters to utter scorn. But +one among our water-color artists, deserves especial notice--before we +ascend the steps of the solitary throne--as having done in his peculiar +walk, what for faithful and pure truth, truth indeed of a limited range +and unstudied application, but yet most faithful and most pure, will +remain unsurpassed if not unrivalled,--Copley Fielding. We are well +aware how much of what he has done depends in a great degree upon +particular tricks of execution, or on a labor somewhat too mechanical to +be meritorious; that it is rather the _texture_ than the _plan_ of his +sky which is to be admired, and that the greater part of what is +pleasurable in it will fall rather under the head of dexterous imitation +than of definite thought. But whatever detractions from his merit we may +be compelled to make on these grounds, in considering art as the +embodying of beauty, or the channel of mind, it is impossible, when we +are speaking of truth only, to pass by his down scenes and moorland +showers, of some years ago, in which he produced some of the most +perfect and faultless passages of mist and rain-cloud which art has ever +seen. Wet, transparent, formless, full of motion, felt rather by their +shadows on the hills than by their presence in the sky, becoming dark +only through increased depth of space, most translucent where most +sombre, and light only through increased buoyancy of motion, letting the +blue through their interstices, and the sunlight through their chasms, +with the irregular playfulness and traceless gradation of nature +herself, his skies will remain, as long as their colors stand, among the +most simple, unadulterated, and complete transcripts of a particular +nature which art can point to. Had he painted five instead of five +hundred such, and gone on to other sources of beauty, he might, there +can be little doubt, have been one of our greatest artists. But it often +grieves us to see how his power is limited to a particular moment, to +that easiest moment for imitation, when knowledge of form may be +superseded by management of the brush, and the judgment of the colorist +by the manufacture of a color; the moment when all form is melted down +and drifted away in the descending veil of rain, and when the variable +and fitful colors of the heaven are lost in the monotonous gray of its +storm tones.[35] We can only account for this by supposing that there is +something radically wrong in his method of study; for a man of his +evident depth of feeling and pure love of truth ought not to be, cannot +be, except from some strange error in his mode of out-of-door practice, +thus limited in his range, and liable to decline of power. We have +little doubt that almost all such failures arise from the artist's +neglecting the use of the chalk, and supposing that either the power of +drawing forms, or the sense of their beauty, can be maintained +unweakened or unblunted, without constant and laborious studies in +simple light and shade, of form only. The brush is at once the artist's +greatest aid and enemy; it enables him to make his power available, but +at the same time, it undermines his power, and unless it be constantly +rejected for the pencil, never can be rightly used. But whatever the +obstacle be, we do not doubt that it is one which, once seen, may be +overcome or removed; and we are in the constant hope of seeing this +finely-minded artist shake off his lethargy, break the shackles of +habit, seek in extended and right study the sources of real power, and +become, what we have full faith in his capability of being, one of the +leading artists of his time. + + +Sec. 11. Impossibility of reasoning on the rain-clouds of Turner from + engravings. + +In passing to the works of our greatest modern master, it must be +premised that the qualities which constitute a most essential part of +the truth of the rain-cloud, are in no degree to be rendered by +engraving. Its indefiniteness of torn and transparent form is far beyond +the power of even our best engravers: I do not say beyond their +_possible_ power, if they would make themselves artists as well as +workmen, but far beyond the power they actually possess; while the depth +and delicacy of the grays which Turner employs or produces, as well as +the refinement of his execution, are, in the nature of things, utterly +beyond all imitation by the opaque and lifeless darkness of the steel. +What we say of his works, therefore, must be understood as referring +only to the original drawings; though we may name one or two instances +in which the engraver has, to a certain degree, succeeded in distantly +following the intention of the master. + + +Sec. 12. His rendering of Fielding's particular moment in the Jumieges. + +Sec. 13. Illustration of the nature of clouds in the opposed forms of smoke + and steam. + +Jumieges, in the Rivers of France, ought perhaps, after what we have +said of Fielding, to be our first object of attention, because it is a +rendering by Turner of Fielding's particular moment, and the only one +existing, for Turner never repeats himself. One picture is allotted to +one truth; the statement is perfectly and gloriously made, and he passes +on to speak of a fresh portion of God's revelation.[36] The haze of +sunlit rain of this most magnificent picture, the gradual retirement of +the dark wood into its depth, and the sparkling and evanescent light +which sends its variable flashes on the abbey, figures, foliage, and +foam, require no comment--they speak home at once. But there is added to +this noble composition an incident which may serve us at once for a +farther illustration of the nature and forms of cloud, and for a final +proof how deeply and philosophically Turner has studied them. + +We have on the right of the picture, the steam and the smoke of a +passing steamboat. Now steam is nothing but an artificial cloud in the +process of dissipation; it is as much a cloud as those of the sky +itself, that is, a quantity of moisture rendered visible in the air by +imperfect solution. Accordingly, observe how exquisitely irregular and +broken are its forms, how sharp and spray-like; but with all the facts +observed which were pointed out in Chap. II. of this Section, the convex +side to the wind, the sharp edge on that side, the other soft and lost. +Smoke, on the contrary, is an actual substance existing independently in +the air, a solid opaque body, subject to no absorption nor dissipation +but that of tenuity. Observe its volumes; there is no breaking up nor +disappearing here; the wind carries its elastic globes before it, but +does not dissolve nor break them.[37] Equally convex and void of angles +on all sides, they are the exact representatives of the clouds of the +old masters, and serve at once to show the ignorance and falsehood of +these latter, and the accuracy of study which has guided Turner to the +truth. + + +Sec. 14. Moment of retiring rain in the Llanthony. + +From this picture we should pass to the Llanthony,[38] which is the +rendering of the moment immediately following that given in the +Jumieges. The shower is here half exhausted, half passed by, the last +drops are rattling faintly through the glimmering hazel boughs, the +white torrent, swelled by the sudden storm, flings up its hasty jets of +springing spray to meet the returning light; and these, as if the heaven +regretted what it had given, and were taking it back, pass, as they +leap, into vapor, and fall not again, but vanish in the shafts of the +sunlight[39]--hurrying, fitful, wind-woven sunlight--which glides +through the thick leaves, and paces along the pale rocks like rain; +half conquering, half quenched by the very mists which it summons itself +from the lighted pastures as it passes, and gathers out of the drooping +herbage and from the streaming crags; sending them with messages of +peace to the far summits of the yet unveiled mountains whose silence is +still broken by the sound of the rushing rain. + + +Sec. 15. And of commencing, chosen with peculiar meaning for Loch Coriskin. + +With this noble work we should compare one of which we can better judge +by the engraving--the Loch Coriskin, in the illustrations to Scott, +because it introduces us to another and a most remarkable instance of +the artist's vast and varied knowledge. When rain falls on a mountain +composed chiefly of barren rocks, their surfaces, being violently heated +by the sun, whose most intense warmth always precedes rain, occasion +sudden and violent evaporation, actually converting the first shower +into steam. Consequently, upon all such hills, on the commencement of +rain, white volumes of vapor are instantaneously and universally formed, +which rise, are absorbed by the atmosphere, and again descend in rain, +to rise in fresh volumes until the surfaces of the hills are cooled. +Where there is grass or vegetation, this effect is diminished; where +there is foliage it scarcely takes place at all. Now this effect has +evidently been especially chosen by Turner for Loch Coriskin, not only +because it enabled him to relieve its jagged forms with veiling vapor, +but to tell the tale which no pencilling could, the story of its utter +absolute barrenness of unlichened, dead, desolated rock:-- + + "The wildest glen, but this, can show + Some touch of nature's genial glow, + On high Benmore green mosses grow, + And heath-bells bud in deep Glencoe. + And copse on Cruchan Ben; + But here, above, around, below, + On mountain, or in glen, + Nor tree, nor plant, nor shrub, nor flower, + Nor aught of vegetative power, + The wearied eye may ken; + But all its rocks at random thrown, + Black waves, bare crags, and banks of stone." + + LORD OF THE ISLES, Canto III + +Here, again, we see the absolute necessity of scientific and entire +acquaintance with nature, before this great artist can be understood. +That which, to the ignorant, is little more than an unnatural and +meaningless confusion of steam-like vapor, is to the experienced such a +full and perfect expression of the character of the spot, as no means of +art could have otherwise given. + + +Sec. 16. The drawing of transparent vapor in the Land's End. + +Sec. 17. The individual character of its parts. + +In the Long Ships Lighthouse, Land's End, we have clouds without +rain--at twilight--enveloping the cliffs of the coast, but concealing +nothing, every outline being visible through their gloom; and not only +the outline--for it is easy to do this--but the _surface_. The bank of +rocky coast approaches the spectator inch by inch, felt clearer and +clearer as it withdraws from the garment of cloud--not by edges more and +more defined, but by a surface more and more unveiled. We have thus the +painting, not of a mere transparent veil, but of a solid body of cloud, +every inch of whose increasing distance is marked and felt. But the +great wonder of the picture is the intensity of gloom which is attained +in pure warm gray, without either blackness or blueness. It is a gloom, +dependent rather on the enormous space and depth indicated, than on +actual pitch of color, distant by real drawing, without a grain of blue, +dark by real substance, without a stroke of blackness; and with all +this, it is not formless, but full of indications of character, wild, +irregular, shattered, and indefinite--full of the energy of storm, fiery +in haste, and yet flinging back out of its motion the fitful swirls of +bounding drift, of tortured vapor tossed up like men's hands, as in +defiance of the tempest, the jets of resulting whirlwind, hurled back +from the rocks into the face of the coming darkness; which, beyond all +other characters, mark the raised passion of the elements. It is this +untraceable, unconnected, yet perpetual form--this fulness of character +absorbed in the universal energy--which distinguish nature and Turner +from all their imitators. To roll a volume of smoke before the wind, to +indicate motion or violence by monotonous similarity of line and +direction, is for the multitude; but to mark the independent passion, +the tumultuous separate existence of every wreath of writhing vapor, yet +swept away and overpowered by one omnipotence of storm, and thus to bid +us + + "Be as a Presence or a motion--one + Among the many there----while the mists + Flying, and rainy vapors, call out shapes + And phantoms from the crags and solid earth, + As fast as a musician scatters sounds + Out of an instrument,"-- + +this belongs only to nature and to him. + + +Sec. 18. Deep studied form of swift rain-cloud in the Coventry. + +Sec. 19. Compared with forms given by Salvator. + +The drawing of Coventry may be particularized as a farther example of +this fine suggestion of irregularity and fitfulness, through very +constant parallelism of direction, both in rain and clouds. The great +mass of cloud, which traverses the whole picture, is characterized +throughout by severe right lines, nearly parallel with each other, into +which every one of its wreaths has a tendency to range itself; but no +one of these right lines is actually and entirely parallel to any other, +though all have a certain tendency, more or less defined in each, which +impresses the mind with the most distinct _idea_ of parallelism. Neither +are any of the lines actually straight and unbroken; on the contrary, +they are all made up of the most exquisite and varied curves, and it is +the imagined line which joins the apices of these--a tangent to them +all, which is in reality straight.[40] They are suggested, not +represented, right lines; but the whole volume of cloud is visibly and +totally bounded by them; and, in consequence, its whole body is felt to +be dragged out and elongated by the force of the tempest which it +carries with it, and every one of its wreaths to be (as was before +explained) not so much something borne _before_ or _by_ the wind, as the +visible form and presence of the wind itself. We could not possibly +point out a more magnificent piece of drawing as a contrast to such +works of Salvator as that before alluded to (159 Dulwich Gallery). Both +are rolling masses of connected cloud; but in Turner's, there is not one +curve that repeats another, nor one curve in itself monotonous, nor +without character, and yet every part and portion of the cloud is +rigidly subjected to the same forward, fierce, inevitable influence of +storm. In Salvator's, every curve repeats its neighbor, every curve is +monotonous in itself, and yet the whole cloud is curling about hither +and thither, evidently without the slightest notion where it is going +to, and unregulated by any general influence whatsoever. I could not +bring together two finer or more instructive examples, the one of +everything that is perfect, the other of everything that is childish or +abominable, in the representation of the same facts. + + +Sec. 20. Entire expression of tempest by minute touches and circumstances + in the Coventry. + +But there is yet more to be noticed in this noble sky of Turner's. Not +only are the lines of the rolling cloud thus irregular in their +parallelism, but those of the falling rain are equally varied in their +direction, indicating the gusty changefulness of the wind, and yet kept +so straight and stern in their individual descent, that we are not +suffered to forget its strength. This impression is still farther +enhanced by the drawing of the smoke, which blows every way at once, yet +turning perpetually in each of its swirls back in the direction of the +wind, but so suddenly and violently, as almost to assume the angular +lines of lightning. Farther, to complete the impression, be it observed +that all the cattle, both upon the near and distant hill-side, have left +off grazing, and are standing stock still and stiff, with their heads +down and their backs to the wind; and finally, that we may be told not +only what the storm is, but what it has been, the gutter at the side of +the road is gushing in a complete torrent, and particular attention is +directed to it by the full burst of light in the sky being brought just +above it, so that all its waves are bright with the reflection. + + +Sec. 21. Especially by contrast with a passage of extreme repose. + +But I have not quite done with this noble picture yet. Impetuous clouds, +twisted rain, flickering sunshine, fleeting shadow, gushing water, and +oppressed cattle, all speak the same story of tumult, fitfulness, power, +and velocity. Only one thing is wanted, a passage of repose to contrast +with it all, and it is given. High and far above the dark volumes of the +swift rain-cloud, are seen on the left, through their opening, the +quiet, horizontal, silent flakes of the highest cirrus, resting in the +repose of the deep sky. Of all else that we have noticed in this +drawing, some faint idea can be formed from the engraving: but not the +slightest of the delicate and soft forms of these pausing vapors, and +still less of the exquisite depth and palpitating tenderness of the blue +with which they are islanded. Engravers, indeed, invariably lose the +effect of all passages of cold color, under the mistaken idea that it is +to be kept _pale_ in order to indicate distance; whereas it ought +commonly to be darker than the rest of the sky. + + +Sec. 22. The truth of this particular passage. Perfectly pure blue sky only + seen after rain, and how seen. + +Sec. 23. Absence of this effect in the works of the old masters. + +To appreciate the full truth of this passage, we must understand another +effect peculiar to the rain-cloud, that its openings exhibit the purest +blue which the sky ever shows. For, as we saw in the first chapter of +this section, that aqueous vapor always turns the sky more or less gray, +it follows that we never can see the azure so intense as when the +greater part of this vapor has just fallen in rain. Then, and then only, +pure blue sky becomes visible in the first openings, distinguished +especially by the manner in which the clouds melt into it; their edges +passing off in faint white threads and fringes, through which the blue +shines more and more intensely, till the last trace of vapor is lost in +its perfect color. It is only the upper white clouds, however, which do +this, or the last fragments of rain-clouds, becoming white as they +disappear, so that the blue is never _corrupted_ by the cloud, but only +paled and broken with pure white, the purest white which the sky ever +shows. Thus we have a melting and palpitating color, never the same for +two inches together, deepening and broadening here and there into +intensity of perfect azure, then drifted and dying away through every +tone of pure pale sky, into the snow white of the filmy cloud. Over this +roll the determined edges of the rain-clouds, throwing it all far back, +as a retired scene, into the upper sky. Of this effect the old masters, +as far as I remember, have taken no cognizance whatsoever; all with them +is, as we partially noticed before, either white cloud or pure blue: +they have no notion of any double-dealing or middle measures. They bore +a hole in the sky, and let you up into a pool of deep, stagnant blue, +marked off by the clear round edges of imperturbable, impenetrable cloud +on all sides--beautiful in positive color, but totally destitute of that +exquisite gradation and change, that fleeting, panting, hesitating +effort, with which the first glance of the natural sky is shed through +the turbulence of the earth-storm. + + +Sec. 24. Success of our water-color artists in its rendering. Use of it by + Turner. + +They have some excuse, however, for not attempting this, in the nature +of their material, as one accidental dash of the brush with water-color +on a piece of wet or damp paper, will come nearer the truth and +transparency of this rain-blue than the labor of a day in oils; and the +purity and felicity of some of the careless, melting water-color skies +of Cox and Tayler may well make us fastidious in all effects of this +kind. It is, however, only in the drawings of Turner that we have this +perfect transparency and variation of blue, given in association with +the perfection of considered form. In Tayler and Cox the forms are +always partially accidental and unconsidered, often essentially bad, and +always incomplete; in Turner the dash of the brush is as completely +under the rule of thought and feeling as its slowest line; all that it +does is perfect, and could not be altered, even in a hairbreadth, +without injury; in addition to this, peculiar management and execution +are used in obtaining quality in the color itself, totally different +from the manipulation of any other artist; and none, who have ever spent +so much as one hour of their lives over his drawing, can forget those +dim passages of dreamy blue, barred and severed with a thousand delicate +and soft and snowy forms, which, gleaming in their patience of hope +between the troubled rushing of the racked earth-cloud, melt farther and +farther back into the height of heaven, until the eye is bewildered and +the heart lost in the intensity of their peace. I do not say that this +is beautiful--I do not say it is ideal, nor refined--I only ask you to +watch for the first opening of the clouds after the next south rain, and +tell me if it be not _true_? + + +Sec. 25. Expression of near rain-cloud in the Gosport, and other works. + +Sec. 26. Contrasted with Gaspar Poussin's rain-cloud in the Dido and Aeneas. + +The Gosport affords us an instance more exquisite even than the passage +above named in the Coventry, of the use of this melting and dewy blue, +accompanied by two distances of rain-cloud, one towering over the +horizon, seen blue with excessive distance through crystal atmosphere; +the other breaking overhead in the warm, sulphurous fragments of spray, +whose loose and shattering transparency, being the most essential +characteristic of the near rain-cloud, is precisely that which the old +masters are sure to contradict. Look, for instance, at the wreaths of +_cloud_? in the Dido and Aeneas of Gaspar Poussin, with their unpleasant +edges cut as hard and solid and opaque and smooth as thick black paint +can make them, rolled up over one another like a dirty sail badly +reefed; or look at the agreeable transparency and variety of the +cloud-edge where it cuts the Mountain in N. Poussin's Phocion, and +compare this with the wreaths which float across the precipice in the +second vignette in Campbell, or which gather around the Ben Lomond, the +white rain gleaming beneath their dark transparent shadows; or which +drift up along the flanks of the wooded hills, called from the river by +the morning light, in the Oakhampton; or which island the crags of +Snowdon in the Llanberis, or melt along the Cumberland hills, while +Turner leads us across the sands of Morecambe Bay. This last drawing +deserves especial notice; it is of an evening in spring, when the south +rain has ceased at sunset, and through the lulled and golden air, the +confused and fantastic mists float up along the hollows of the +mountains, white and pure, the resurrection in spirit of the new-fallen +rain, catching shadows from the precipices, and mocking the dark peaks +with their own mountain-like but melting forms till the solid mountains +seem in motion like those waves of cloud, emerging and vanishing as the +weak wind passes by their summits; while the blue, level night advances +along the sea, and the surging breakers leap up to catch the last light +from the path of the sunset. + +[Illustration: OKEHAMPTON CASTLE. + From a painting by Turner.] + + +Sec. 27. Turner's power of rendering mist. + +Sec. 28. His effects of mist so perfect, that if not at once understood, + they can no more be explained or reasoned on than nature + herself. + +I need not, however, insist upon Turner's peculiar power of rendering +_mist_, and all those passages of intermediate mystery, between earth +and air, when the mountain is melting into the cloud, or the horizon +into the twilight; because his supremacy in these points is altogether +undisputed, except by persons to whom it would be impossible to prove +anything which did not fall under the form of a Rule of Three. Nothing +is more natural than that the studied form and color of this great +artist should be little understood, because they require for the full +perception of their meaning and truth, such knowledge and such time as +not one in a thousand possesses, or can bestow; but yet the truth of +them for that very reason is capable of demonstration, and there is hope +of our being able to make it in some degree felt and comprehended even +by those to whom it is now a dead letter, or an offence. But the +aerial and misty effects of landscape, being matters of which the eye +should be simply cognizant, and without effort of thought, as it is of +light, must, where they are exquisitely rendered, either be felt at +once, or prove that degree of blindness and bluntness in the feelings of +the observer which there is little hope of ever conquering. Of course +for persons who have never seen in their lives a cloud vanishing on a +mountain-side, and whose conceptions of mist or vapor are limited to +ambiguous outlines of spectral hackney-coaches and bodiless lamp-posts, +discern through a brown combination of sulphur, soot, and gaslight, +there is yet some hope; we cannot, indeed, tell them what the morning +mist is like in mountain air, but far be it from us to tell them that +they are incapable of feeling its beauty if they will seek it for +themselves. But if you have ever in your life had one opportunity with +your eyes and heart open, of seeing the dew rise from a hill-pasture, or +the storm gather on a sea-cliff, and if you have yet no feeling for the +glorious passages of mingled earth and heaven which Turner calls up +before you into breathing, tangible being, there is indeed no hope for +your apathy--art will never touch you, nor nature inform. + + +Sec. 29. Various instances. + +It would be utterly absurd, among the innumerable passages of this kind +given throughout his works, to point to one as more characteristic or +more perfect than another. The Simmer Lake, near Askrig, for expression +of mist pervaded with sunlight,--the Lake Lucerne, a recent and +unengraved drawing, for the recession of near mountain form, not into +dark, but into _luminous_ cloud, the most difficult thing to do in +art,--the Harlech, for expression of the same phenomena, shown over vast +spaces in distant ranges of hills, the Ehrenbreitstein, a recent +drawing, for expression of mist, rising from the surface of water at +sunset,--and, finally, the glorious Oberwesel and Nemi,[41] for passages +of all united, may, however, be named, as noble instances, though in +naming five works I insult five hundred. + + +Sec. 30. Turner's more violent effects of tempest are never rendered by + engravers. + +Sec. 31. General system of landscape engraving. + +Sec. 32. The storm in the Stonehenge. + +One word respecting Turner's more violent storms, for we have hitherto +been speaking only of the softer rain-clouds, associated with gusty +tempest, but not of the thunder-cloud and the whirlwind. If there be any +one point in which engravers disgrace themselves more than in another, +it is in their rendering of dark and furious storm. It appears to be +utterly impossible to force it into their heads, that an artist does +_not_ leave his color with a sharp edge and an angular form by accident, +or that they may have the pleasure of altering it and improving upon it; +and equally impossible to persuade them that energy and gloom may in +_some_ circumstances be arrived at without any extraordinary expenditure +of ink. I am aware of no engraver of the present day whose ideas of a +storm-cloud are not comprised under two heads, roundness and blackness; +and, indeed, their general principles of translation (as may be +distinctly gathered from their larger works) are the following: 1. Where +the drawing is gray, make the paper black. 2. Where the drawing is +white, cover the page with zigzag lines. 3. Where the drawing has +particularly tender tones, cross-hatch them. 4. Where any outline is +particularly angular, make it round. 5. Where there are vertical +reflections in water, express them with very distinct horizontal lines. +6. Where there is a passage of particular simplicity, treat it in +sections. 7. Where there is anything intentionally concealed, make it +out. Yet, in spite of the necessity which all engravers impose upon +themselves, of rigidly observing this code of general laws, it is +difficult to conceive how such pieces of work, as the plates of +Stonehenge and Winchelsea, can ever have been presented to the public, +as in any way resembling, or possessing even the most fanciful relation +to the Turner drawings of the same subjects. The original of the +Stonehenge is perhaps the standard of storm-drawing, both for the +overwhelming power and gigantic proportions and spaces of its +cloud-forms, and for the tremendous qualities of lurid and sulphurous +colors which are gained in them. All its forms are marked with violent +angles, as if the whole muscular energy--so to speak--of the cloud, were +writhing in every fold, and their fantastic and fiery volumes have a +peculiar horror--an awful life--shadowed out in their strange, swift, +fearful outlines, which oppress the mind more than even the threatening +of their gigantic gloom. The white lightning, not as it is drawn by less +observant or less capable painters, in zigzag fortifications, but in its +own dreadful irregularity of streaming fire, is brought down, not merely +over the dark clouds, but through the full light of an illumined opening +to the blue, which yet cannot abate the brilliancy of its white line; +and the track of the last flash along the ground is fearfully marked by +the dog howling over the fallen shepherd, and the ewe pressing her head +upon the body of her dead lamb. + + +Sec. 33. General character of such effects given by Turner. His expression + of falling rain. + +I have not space, however, to enter into examination of Turner's +storm-drawing; I can only warn the public against supposing that its +effect is ever rendered by engravers. The great principles of Turner are +angular outline, vastness and energy of form, infinity of gradation, and +depth without blackness. The great principles of the engravers (_vide_ +Paestum, in Rogers's Italy, and the Stonehenge, above alluded to) are +rounded outline, no edges, want of character, equality of strength, and +blackness without depth. + + +Sec. 34. Recapitulation of the section. + +I have scarcely, I see, on referring to what I have written, +sufficiently insisted on Turner's rendering of the rainy _fringe_, +whether in distances, admitting or concealing more or less of the +extended plain, as in the Waterloo, and Richmond (with the girl and dog +in the foreground,) or as in the Dunstaffnage, Glencoe, St. Michael's +Mount, and Slave Ship, not reaching the earth, but suspended in waving +and twisted lines from the darkness of the zenith. But I have no time +for farther development of particular points; I must defer discussion of +them until we take up each picture to be viewed as a whole; for the +division of the sky which I have been obliged to make, in order to +render fully understood the peculiarities of character in the separate +cloud regions, prevents my speaking of any one work with justice to its +concentration of various truth. Be it always remembered that we pretend +not, at present, to give any account or idea of the sum of the works of +any painter, much less of the universality of Turner's; but only to +explain in what real truth, as far as it is explicable, consists, and to +illustrate it by those pictures in which it most distinctly occurs, or +from which it is most visibly absent. And it will only be in the full +and separate discussion of individual works, when we are acquainted also +with what is beautiful, that we shall be completely able to prove or +disprove the presence of the truth of nature. + +The conclusion, then, to which we are led by our present examination of +the truth of clouds, is, that the old masters attempted the +representation of only one among the thousands of their systems of +scenery, and were altogether false in the little they attempted; while +we can find records in modern art of every form or phenomenon of the +heavens, from the highest film that glorifies the ether to the wildest +vapor that darkens the dust, and in all these records we find the most +clear language and close thought, firm words, and true message, +unstinted fulness and unfailing faith. + + +Sec. 35. Sketch of a few of the skies of nature, taken as a whole, compared + with the works of Turner and of the old masters. Morning on the + plains. + +Sec. 36. Noon with gathering storms. + +Sec. 37. Sunset in tempest. Serene midnight. + +Sec. 38. And sunrise on the Alps. + +And indeed it is difficult for us to conceive how, even without such +laborious investigation as we have gone through, any person can go to +nature for a single day or hour, when she is really at work in any of +her nobler spheres of action, and yet retain respect for the old +masters; finding, as find he will, that every scene which rises, rests, +or departs before him, bears with it a thousand glories of which there +is not one shadow, one image, one trace or line, in any of their works; +but which will illustrate to him, at every new instant, some passage +which he had not before understood in the high works of modern art. +Stand upon the peak of some isolated mountain at daybreak, when the +night mists first rise from off the plains, and watch their white and +lake-like fields as they float in level bays and winding gulfs about the +islanded summits of the lower hills, untouched yet by more than dawn, +colder and more quiet than a windless sea under the moon of midnight; +watch when the first sunbeam is sent upon the silver channels, how the +foam of their undulating surface parts and passes away; and down under +their depths, the glittering city and green pasture lie like Atlantis, +between the white paths of winding rivers; the flakes of light falling +every moment faster and broader among the starry spires, as the wreathed +surges break and vanish above them, and the confused crests and ridges +of the dark hills shorten their gray shadows upon the plain. Has Claude +given this? Wait a little longer, and you shall see those scattered +mists rallying in the ravines, and floating up towards you, along the +winding valleys, till they couch in quiet masses, iridescent with the +morning light,[42] upon the broad breasts of the higher hills, whose +leagues of massy undulation will melt back and back into that robe of +material light, until they fade away, lost in its lustre, to appear +again above, in the serene heaven, like a wild, bright, impossible +dream, foundationless and inaccessible, their very bases vanishing in +the unsubstantial and mocking blue of the deep lake below.[43] Has +Claude given this? Wait yet a little longer, and you shall see those +mists gather themselves into white towers, and stand like fortresses +along the promontories, massy and motionless, only piled with every +instant higher and higher into the sky,[44] and casting longer shadows +athwart the rocks; and out of the pale blue of the horizon you will see +forming and advancing a troop of narrow, dark, pointed vapors,[45] which +will cover the sky, inch by inch, with their gray network, and take the +light off the landscape with an eclipse which will stop the singing of +the birds and the motion of the leaves together; and then you will see +horizontal bars of black shadow forming under them, and lurid wreaths +create themselves, you know not how, along the shoulders of the hills; +you never see them form, but when you look back to a place which was +clear an instant ago, there is a cloud on it, hanging by the precipices, +as a hawk pauses over his prey.[46] Has Claude given this? And then you +will hear the sudden rush of the awakened wind, and you will see those +watch-towers of vapor swept away from their foundations, and waving +curtains of opaque rain let down to the valleys, swinging from the +burdened clouds in black, bending fringes,[47] or pacing in pale columns +along the lake level, grazing its surface into foam as they go. And +then, as the sun sinks, you shall see the storm drift for an instant +from on the hills, leaving their broad sides smoking, and loaded yet +with snow-white torn, steam-like rags of capricious vapor, now gone, now +gathered again;[48] while the smouldering sun, seeming not far away, but +burning like a red-hot ball beside you, and as if you could reach it, +plunges through the rushing wind and rolling cloud with headlong fall, +as if it meant to rise no more, dyeing all the air about it with +blood.[49] Has Claude given this? And then you shall hear the fainting +tempest die in the hollow of the night, and you shall see a green halo +kindling on the summit of the eastern hills,[50] brighter--brighter yet, +till the large white circle of the slow moon is lifted up among the +barred clouds,[51] step by step, line by line; star after star she +quenches with her kindling light, setting in their stead an army of +pale, penetrable, fleecy wreaths in the heaven, to give light upon the +earth, which move together, hand in hand, company by company, troop by +troop, so measured in their unity of motion, that the whole heaven seems +to roll with them, and the earth to reel under them. Ask Claude, or his +brethren, for that. And then wait yet for one hour until the east again +becomes purple,[52] and the heaving mountains, rolling against it in +darkness, like waves of a wild sea, are drowned one by one in the glory +of its burning; watch the white glaciers blaze in their winding paths +about the mountains, like mighty serpents with scales of fire; watch the +columnar peaks of solitary snow, kindling downwards, chasm by chasm, +each in itself a new morning; their long avalanches cast down in keen +streams brighter than the lightning, sending each his tribute of driven +snow, like altar-smoke, up to the heaven; the rose-light of their silent +domes flushing that heaven about them and above them, piercing with +purer light through its purple lines of lifted cloud, casting a new +glory on every wreath as it passes by, until the whole heaven--one +scarlet canopy,--is interwoven with a roof of waving flame, and tossing, +vault beyond vault, as with the drifted wings of many companies of +angels; and then, when you can look no more for gladness, and when you +are bowed down with fear and love of the Maker and Doer of this, tell me +who has best delivered this His message unto men! + + +FOOTNOTES + + [34] I am unable to say to what height the real rain-cloud may + extend; perhaps there are no mountains which rise altogether above + storm. I have never been in a violent storm at a greater height than + between 8000 and 9000 feet above the level of the sea. There the + rain-cloud is exceedingly light, compared to the ponderous darkness + of the lower air. + + [35] I ought here, however, to have noted another effect of the + rain-cloud, which, so far as I know, has been rendered only by + Copley Fielding. It is seen chiefly in clouds gathering for rain, + when the sky is entirely covered with a gray veil rippled or waved + with pendent swells of soft texture, but excessively hard and liny + in their edges. I am not sure that this is an agreeable or + impressive form of the rain-cloud, but it is a frequent one, and it + is often most faithfully given by Fielding; only in some cases the + edges becoming a little doubled and harsh have given a look of + failure or misadventure to some even of the best studied passages; + and something of the same hardness of line is occasionally visible + in his drawing of clouds by whose nature it is not warranted. + + [36] Compare Sect. I. Chap. IV. Sec. 5. + + [37] It does not do so until the volumes lose their density by + inequality of motion, and by the expansion of the warm air which + conveys them. They are then, of course, broken into forms resembling + those of clouds. + + [38] No conception can be formed of this picture from the engraving. + It is perhaps the most marvellous piece of execution and of gray + color existing, except perhaps the drawing presently to be noticed, + Land's End. Nothing else can be set beside it, even of Turner's own + works--much less of any other man's. + + [39] I know no effect more strikingly characteristic of the + departure of a storm than the _smoking_ of the mountain torrents. + The exhausted air is so thirsty of moisture, that every jet of spray + is seized upon by it, and converted into vapor as it springs; and + this vapor rises so densely from the surface of the stream as to + give it the exact appearance of boiling water. I have seen the whole + course of the Arve at Chamonix one line of dense cloud, dissipating + as soon as it had risen ten or twelve feet from the surface, but + entirely concealing the water from an observer placed above it. + + [40] Note especially the dark uppermost outline of the mass. + + [41] In the possession of B. G. Windus, Esq. of Tottenham. + + [42] I have often seen the white thin, morning cloud, edged with the + seven colors of the prism. I am not aware of the cause of this + phenomenon, for it takes place not when we stand with our backs to + the sun, but in clouds near the sun itself, irregularly and over + indefinite spaces, sometimes taking place in the body of the cloud. + The colors are distinct and vivid, but have a kind of metallic + lustre upon them. + + [43] Lake Lucerne. + + [44] St. Maurice (Rogers's Italy). + + [45] Vignette, the Great St. Bernard. + + [46] Vignette of the Andes. + + [47] St. Michael's Mount--England series. + + [48] Illustration to the Antiquary. Goldeau, a recent drawing of the + highest order. + + [49] Vignette to Campbell's Last Man. + + [50] Caerlaverock. + + [51] St. Denis. + + [52] Alps at Daybreak (Rogers's Poems:) Delphi, and various + vignettes. + + + + + CHAPTER V. + + EFFECTS OF LIGHT RENDERED BY MODERN ART. + + +Sec. 1. Reasons for merely at present naming, without examining the + particular effects of light rendered by Turner. + +Sec. 2. Hopes of the author for assistance in the future investigation of + them. + +I have before given my reasons (Sect. II. Chap. III.) for not wishing at +present to enter upon the discussion of particular effects of light. Not +only are we incapable of rightly viewing them, or reasoning upon them, +until we are acquainted with the principles of the beautiful; but, as I +distinctly limited myself, in the present portion of the work, to the +examination of _general_ truths, it would be out of place to take +cognizance of the particular phases of light, even if it were possible +to do so, before we have some more definite knowledge of the material +objects which they illustrate. I shall therefore, at present, merely set +down a rough catalogue of the effects of light at different hours of the +day, which Turner has represented: naming a picture or two, as an +example of each, which we will hereafter take up one by one, and +consider the physical science and the feeling together. And I do this, +in the hope that, in the mean time, some admirer of the old masters will +be kind enough to select from the works of any one of them, a series of +examples of the same effects, and to give me a reference to the +pictures, so that I may be able to compare each with each; for, as my +limited knowledge of the works of Claude or Poussin does not supply me +with the requisite variety of effect, I shall be grateful for +assistance. + +The following list, of course, does not name the hundredth part of the +effects of light given by Turner; it only names those which are +distinctly and markedly separate from each other, and representative +each of an entire class. Ten or twelve examples, often many more, might +be given of each; every one of which would display the effects of the +same hour and light, modified by different circumstances of weather, +situation, and character of objects subjected to them, and especially by +the management of the sky; but it will be generally sufficient for our +purposes to examine thoroughly one good example of each. + +The prefixed letters express the direction of the light. F. front light +(the sun in the centre, or near the top of the picture;) L. lateral +light, the sun out of the picture on the right or left of the spectator; +L. F. the light partly lateral, partly fronting the spectator, as when +he is looking south, with the sun in the south-west; L. B. light partly +lateral, partly behind the spectator, as when he is looking north, with +the sun in the south-west. + + MORNING. + + EFFECTS. NAMES OF PICTURES. + + L. An hour before sunrise in winter. Violent | Lowestoffe, Suffolk. + storm, with rain, on the sea. Light-houses | + seen through it. | + | + F. An hour before sunrise. Serene sky, with | Vignette to Voyage + light clouds. Dawn in the distance. | of Columbus. + | + L. Ten minutes before sunrise. Violent | Fowey Harbor. + storm. Torchlight. | + | + F. Sunrise. Sun only half above the horizon. | Vignette to Human + Clear sky, with light cirri. | Life. + | + F. Sun just disengaged from horizon. Misty, | Alps at Daybreak. + with light cirri. | + | + F. Sun a quarter of an hour risen. Sky covered | Castle Upnor. + with scarlet clouds. | + | + L.F. Serene sky. Sun emerging from a bank | Orford, Suffolk. + of cloud on horizon, a quarter of an hour | + risen. | + | + L.F. Same hour. Light mists in flakes on | Skiddaw. + hill-sides. Clear air. | + | + L.F. Light flying rain-clouds gathering in | Oakhampton. + valleys. Same hour. | + | + L.B. Same hour. A night storm rising off the | Lake of Geneva. + mountains. Dead calm. | + | + L. Sun half an hour risen. Cloudless sky. | Beaugency. + | + L. Same hour. Light mists lying in the valleys. | Kirby Lonsdale. + | + F. Same hour. Bright cirri. Sun dimly seen | Hohenlinden. + through battle smoke, with conflagration. | + | + L. Sun an hour risen. Cloudless and clear. | Buckfastleigh. + + + NOON AND AFTERNOON. + + EFFECTS. NAMES OF PICTURES. + + L.B. Midday. Dead calm, with heat. Cloudless. | Corinth. + | + L. Same hour. Serene and bright, with | Lantern at + streaky clouds. | St. Cloud. + | + L. Same hour. Serene, with multitudes of | Shylock, and other + the high cirrus. | Venices. + | + L. Bright sun, with light wind and clouds. | Richmond, Middlesex. + | + F. Two o'clock. Clouds gathering for rain, with | Warwick. Blenheim. + heat. | + | + F. Rain beginning, with light clouds and wind. | Piacenza. + | + L. Soft rain, with heat. | Caldron Snout Fall. + | + L.F. Great heat. Thunder gathering. | Malvern. + | + L. Thunder breaking down, after intense heat, | Winchelsea. + with furious wind. | + | + L. Violent rain and wind, but cool. | Llamberis, Coventry, + | &c. + | + L.F. Furious storm, with thunder. | Stonehenge, Paestum, + | &c. + | + L.B. Thunder retiring, with rainbow. Dead calm, | Nottingham. + with heat. | + | + L. About three o'clock, summer. Air very | Bingen. + cool and clear. Exhausted thunder-clouds | + low on hills. | + | + F. Descending sunbeams through soft clouds, | Carew Castle. + after rain. | + | + L. Afternoon, very clear, after rain. A few | Saltash. + clouds still on horizon. Dead calm. | + | + F. Afternoon of cloudless day, with heat. | Mercury and Argus. + | Oberwesel. Nemi. + + + EVENING. + + EFFECTS. NAMES OF PICTURES. + + L. An hour before sunset. Cloudless. | Trematon Castle. + | + F. Half an hour before sunset. Light clouds. | Lake Albano. + Misty air. | Florence. + | + F. Within a quarter of an hour of sunset. | Dater Hora Quieti. + Mists rising. Light cirri. | + | + L.F. Ten minutes before sunset. Quite cloudless. | Durham. + | + F. Same hour. Tumultuous spray of illumined | Solomon's Pools. + rain-cloud. | Slave ship. + | + F. Five minutes before sunset. Sky covered | Temeraire. Napoleon. + with illumined cirri. | Various vignettes. + | + L.B. Same hour. Serene sky. Full moon rising. | Kenilworth. + | + F. Sun setting. Detached light cirri and clear | Amboise. + air. | + | + L. Same hour. Cloudless. New moon. | Troyes. + | + L.F. Same hour. Heavy storm clouds. Moonrise. | First vignette. + | Pleasures of + | Memory. + | + L.B. Sun just set. Sky covered with clouds. New | Caudebec. + moon setting. | + | + L.B. Sun five minutes set. Strong twilight, | Wilderness of Engedi. + with storm clouds. Full moonrise. | Assos. + | + L.B. Same hour. Serene, with light clouds. | Montjan. + | + L.B. Same hour. Serene. New moon. | Pyramid of Caius + | Cestius. + | + L.B. Sun a quarter of an hour set. Cloudless. | Chateau de Blois. + | + L.F. Sun half an hour set. Light cirri. | Clairmont. + | + F. Same hour. Dead calm at sea. New moon and | Cowes. + evening star. | + | + F. Sun three quarters of an hour set. Moon | Folkestone. + struggling through storm clouds, over | + heavy sea. | + + + NIGHT. + + EFFECTS. NAMES OF PICTURES. + + F. An hour after sunset. No moon. Torchlight. | St. Julien. Tours. + | + F. Same hour. Moon rising. Fire from furnaces. | Dudley. + | + L.F. Same hour, with storm clouds. Moon | Nantes. + rising. | + | + L. Same hour, with light of rockets and fire. | Juliet and her Nurse. + | + F. Midnight. Moonless, with light-houses. | Calais. + Same hour, with fire-light. | Burning of + | Parliament Houses. + | + F. Ditto. Full moon. Clear air, with delicate | Towers of the Heve. + clouds. Light-houses. | + | + F. Ditto, with conflagration, battle smoke, and | Waterloo. + storm. | + | + F. Ditto. Moonlight through mist. Buildings | Vignette. St. + illuminated in interior. | Herbert's Isle. + | + F. Ditto. Full moon with halo. Light | St. Denis. + rain-clouds. | + | + F. Full moon. Perfectly serene. Sky covered | Alnwick. Vignette of + with white cirri. | Rialto, and Bridge. + | of Sighs + + + + + SECTION IV. + + OF TRUTH OF EARTH. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + OF GENERAL STRUCTURE. + + +Sec. 1. First laws of the organization of the earth, and their importance + in art. + +By truth of earth, we mean the faithful representation of the facts and +forms of the bare ground, considered as entirely divested of vegetation, +through whatever disguise, or under whatever modification the clothing +of the landscape may occasion. Ground is to the landscape painter what +the naked human body is to the historical. The growth of vegetation, the +action of water, and even of clouds upon it and around it, are so far +subject and subordinate to its forms, as the folds of the dress and the +fall of the hair are to the modulation of the animal anatomy. Nor is +this anatomy always so concealed, but in all sublime compositions, +whether of nature or art, it must be seen in its naked purity. The laws +of the organization of the earth are distinct and fixed as those of the +animal frame, simpler and broader, but equally authoritative and +inviolable. Their results may be arrived at without knowledge of the +interior mechanism; but for that very reason ignorance of them is the +more disgraceful, and violation of them more unpardonable. They are in +the landscape the foundation of all other truths--the most necessary, +therefore, even if they were not in themselves attractive; but they are +as beautiful as they are essential, and every abandonment of them by the +artist must end in deformity as it begins in falsehood. + + +Sec. 2. The slight attention ordinarily paid to them. Their careful study + by modern artists. + +That such abandonment is constant and total in the works of the old +masters, has escaped detection, only because of persons generally +cognizant of art, few have spent time enough in hill countries to +perceive the certainty of the laws of hill anatomy; and because few, +even of those who possess such opportunities, ever think of the common +earth beneath their feet, as anything possessing specific form, or +governed by steadfast principles. That such abandonment should have +taken place cannot be surprising, after what we have seen of their +fidelity to skies. Those artists who, day after day, could so falsely +represent what was forever before their eyes, when it was to be one of +the most important and attractive parts of their picture, can scarcely +be expected to give with truth what they could see only partially and at +intervals, and what was only to be in their picture a blue line in the +horizon, or a bright spot under the feet of their figures. + +That such should be all the space allotted by the old landscape painters +to the most magnificent phenomena of nature; that the only traces of +those Apennines, which in Claude's walks along the brow of the Pincian, +forever bounded his horizon with their azure wall, should, in his +pictures, be a cold white outline in the extreme of his tame distance; +and that Salvator's sojourns among their fastnesses should only have +taught him to shelter his banditti with such paltry morsels of crag as +an Alpine stream would toss down before it like a foam-globe; though it +may indeed excite our surprise, will, perhaps, when we have seen how +these slight passages are executed, be rather a subject of +congratulation than of regret. It might, indeed, have shortened our +labor in the investigation of mountain truth, had not modern artists +been so vast, comprehensive, and multitudinous in their mountain +drawings, as to compel us, in order to form the slightest estimate of +their knowledge, to enter into some examination of every variety of hill +scenery. We shall first gain some general notion of the broad +organization of large masses, and then take those masses to pieces, +until we come down to the crumbling soil of the foreground. + + +Sec. 3. General structure of the earth. The hills are its action, the + plains its rest. + +Mountains are, to the rest of the body of the earth, what violent +muscular action is to the body of man. The muscles and tendons of its +anatomy are, in the mountain, brought out with fierce and convulsive +energy, full of expression, passion, and strength; the plains and the +lower hills are the repose and the effortless motion of the frame, when +its muscles lie dormant and concealed beneath the lines of its beauty, +yet ruling those lines in their every undulation. This, then, is the +first grand principle of the truth of the earth. The spirit of the hills +is action; that of the lowlands, repose; and between these there is to +be found every variety of motion and of rest; from the inactive plain, +sleeping like the firmament, with cities for stars, to the fiery peaks, +which, with heaving bosoms and exulting limbs, with the clouds drifting +like hair from their bright foreheads, lift up their Titan hands to +Heaven, saying, "I live forever!" + + +Sec. 4. Mountains come out from underneath the plains, and are their + support. + +But there is this difference between the action of the earth, and that +of a living creature, that while the exerted limb marks its bones and +tendons through the flesh, the excited earth casts off the flesh +altogether, and its bones come out from beneath. Mountains are the bones +of the earth, their highest peaks are invariably those parts of its +anatomy which in the plains lie buried under five and twenty thousand +feet of solid thickness of superincumbent soil, and which spring up in +the mountain ranges in vast pyramids or wedges, flinging their garment +of earth away from them on each side. The masses of the lower hills are +laid over and against their sides, like the masses of lateral masonry +against the skeleton arch of an unfinished bridge, except that they +slope up to and lean against the central ridge: and, finally, upon the +slopes of these lower hills are strewed the level beds of sprinkled +gravel, sand, and clay, which form the extent of the champaign. Here +then is another grand principle of the truth of earth, that the +mountains must come from under all, and be the support of all; and that +everything else must be laid in their arms, heap above heap, the plains +being the uppermost. Opposed to this truth is every appearance of the +hills being laid upon the plains, or built upon them. Nor is this a +truth only of the earth on a large scale, for every minor rock (in +position) comes out from the soil about it as an island out of the sea, +lifting the earth near it like waves beating on its sides. + + +Sec. 5. Structure of the plains themselves. Their perfect level, when + deposited by quiet water. + +Such being the structure of the framework of the earth, it is next to be +remembered that all soil whatsoever, wherever it is accumulated in +greater quantity than is sufficient to nourish the moss of the +wallflower, has been so, either by the direct transporting agency of +water, or under the guiding influence and power of water. All plains +capable of cultivation are deposits from some kind of water--some from +swift and tremendous currents, leaving their soil in sweeping banks and +furrowed ridges--others, and this is in mountain districts almost +invariably the case, by slow deposit from a quiet lake in the mountain +hollow, which has been gradually filled by the soil carried into it by +streams, which soil is of course finally left spread at the exact level +of the surface of the former lake, as level as the quiet water itself. +Hence we constantly meet with plains in hill districts, which fill the +hollows of the hills with as perfect and faultless a level as water, and +out of which the steep rocks rise at the edge with as little previous +disturbance, or indication of their forms beneath, as they do from the +margin of a quiet lake. Every delta--and there is one at the head of +every lake in every hill-district--supplies an instance of this. The +rocks at Altorf plunge beneath the plain, which the lake has left, at as +sharp an angle as they do into the lake itself beside the chapel of +Tell. The plain of the Arve, at Sallenche, is terminated so sharply by +the hills to the south-east, that I have seen a man sleeping with his +back supported against the mountain, and his legs stretched on the +plain; the slope which supported his back rising 5000 feet above him, +and the couch of his legs stretched for five miles before him. In +distant effect these champaigns lie like deep, blue, undisturbed water, +while the mighty hills around them burst out from beneath, raging and +tossing like a tumultuous sea. The valleys of Meyringen, Interlachen, +Altorf, Sallenche, St. Jean de Maurienne; the great plain of Lombardy +itself, as seen from Milan or Padua, under the Alps, the Euganeans, and +the Apennines; and the Campo Felice under Vesuvius, are a few, out of +the thousand instances, which must occur at once to the mind of every +traveller. + + +Sec. 6. Illustrated by Turner's Marengo. + +Let the reader now open Rogers's Italy, at the seventeenth page, and +look at the vignette which heads it of the battle of Marengo. It needs +no comment. It cannot but carry with it, after what has been said, the +instant conviction that Turner is as much of a geologist as he is of a +painter. It is a summary of all we have been saying, and a summary so +distinct and clear, that without any such explanation it must have +forced upon the mind the impression of such facts--of the plunging of +the hills underneath the plain--of the perfect level and repose of this +latter laid in their arms, and of the tumultuous action of the emergent +summits. + + +Sec. 7. General divisions of formation resulting from this arrangement. + Plan of investigation. + +We find, according to this its internal structure, which, I believe, +with the assistance of Turner, can scarcely now be misunderstood, that +the earth may be considered as divided into three great classes of +formation, which geology has already named for us. Primary--the rocks, +which, though in position lower than all others, rise to form the +central peaks, or interior nuclei of all mountain ranges. Secondary--the +rocks which are laid in beds above these, and which form the greater +proportion of all hill scenery. Tertiary--the light beds of sand, +gravel, and clay, which are strewed upon the surface of all, forming +plains and habitable territory for man. We shall find it convenient, in +examining the truth of art, to adopt, with a little modification, the +geological arrangement, considering first, the formation and character +of the highest or central peaks; then the general structure of the lower +mountains, including in this division those composed of the various +slates which a geologist would call primary; and, lastly, the minutiae +and most delicate characters of the beds of these hills, when they are +so near as to become foreground objects, and the structure of the common +soil which usually forms the greater space of an artist's foreground. +Hence our task will arrange itself into three divisions--the +investigation of the central mountains, of the interior mountains, and +of the foreground. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + OF THE CENTRAL MOUNTAINS. + + +Sec. 1. Similar character of the central peaks in all parts of the world. + +It does not always follow, because a mountain is the highest of its +group, that it is in reality one of the central range. The Jungfrau is +only surpassed in elevation, in the chain of which it is a member, by +the Schreckhorn and Finster-Aarhorn; but it is entirely a secondary +mountain. But the central peaks are usually the highest, and may be +considered as the chief components of all mountain scenery in the snowy +regions. Being composed of the same rocks in all countries, their +external character is the same everywhere. Its chief essential points +are the following. + + +Sec. 2. Their arrangements in pyramids or wedges, divided by vertical + fissures. + +Their summits are almost invariably either pyramids or wedges. Domes may +be formed by superincumbent snow, or appear to be formed by the +continuous outline of a sharp ridge seen transversely, with its +precipice to the spectator; but wherever a rock appears, the uppermost +termination of that rock will be a steep edgy ridge, or a sharp point, +very rarely presenting even a gentle slope on any of its sides, but +usually inaccessible unless encumbered with snow. + +These pyramids and wedges split vertically, or nearly so, giving smooth +faces of rock, either perpendicular or very steeply inclined, which +appear to be laid against the central wedge or peak, like planks upright +against a wall. The surfaces of these show close parallelism; their +fissures are vertical, and cut them smoothly, like the edges of shaped +planks. Often groups of these planks, if I may so call them, rise higher +than those between them and the central ridge, forming detached ridges +inclining towards the central one. The planks are cut transversely, +sometimes by graceful curvilinear fissures; sometimes by straight +fissures, which are commonly parallel to the slope of one of the sides +of the peak, while the main direction of the planks or leaves is +parallel to that of its other side, or points directly to its summit. +But the _universal_ law of fracture is--first, that it is clean and +sharp, having a perfectly smooth surface, and a perfectly sharp edge to +all the fissures; secondly, that every fissure is steeply inclined, and +that a horizontal line, or one approaching to it, is an impossibility, +except in some turn of a curve. + + +Sec. 3. Causing groups of rock resembling an artichoke or rose. + +Hence, however the light may fall, these peaks are seen marked with +sharp and defined shadows, indicating the square edges of the planks of +which they are made up, which shadows sometimes are vertical, pointing +to the summit; but are oftener parallel to one of the sides of the peak, +and intersected by a second series, parallel to the other side. Where +there has been much disintegration, the peak is often surrounded with +groups of lower ridges or peaks, like the leaves of an artichoke or a +rose, all evidently part and parcel of the great peak; but falling back +from it, as if it were a budding flower, expanding its leaves one by +one. + + +Sec. 4. The faithful statement of these facts by Turner in his Alps at + Daybreak. + +Now, if I were giving a lecture on geology, and were searching for some +means of giving the most faithful idea possible of the external +appearance caused by this structure of the primary hills, I should throw +my geological outlines aside, and take up Turner's vignette of the Alps +at Daybreak. After what has been said, a single glance at it will be +enough. Observe the exquisite decision with which the edge of the +uppermost plank of the great peak is indicated by its clear dark side +and sharp shadow; then the rise of the second low ridge on its side, +only to descend again precisely in the same line; the two fissures of +this peak, one pointing to its summit, the other rigidly parallel to the +great slope which descends towards the sun; then the sharp white +_aiguille_ on the right, with the great fissure from its summit, rigidly +and severely square, as marked below, where another edge of rock is laid +upon it. But this is not all; the black rock in the foreground is +equally a member of the mass, its chief slope parallel with that of the +mountain, and all its fissures and lines inclined in the same direction; +and, to complete the mass of evidence more forcibly still, we have the +dark mass on the left articulated with absolute right lines, as parallel +as if they had been drawn with a ruler, indicating the tops of two of +these huge plates or planks, pointing, with the universal tendency, to +the great ridge, and intersected by fissures parallel to it. Throughout +the extent of mountain, not one horizontal line, nor an approach to it, +is discernible. This cannot be chance--it cannot be composition--it may +not be beautiful--perhaps nature is very wrong to be so parallel, and +very disagreeable in being so straight;--but this _is_ nature, whether +we admire it or not. + + +Sec. 5. Vignette of the Andes and others. + +In the vignette illustration to Jacqueline, we have another series of +peaks, whose structure is less developed, owing to their distance, but +equally clear and faithful in all points, as far as it is given. But the +vignette of Aosta, in Italy, is perhaps more striking than any that +could be named for its rendering of the perfect parallelism of the lower +and smaller peaks with the great lines of the mass they compose; and +that of the Andes, the second in Campbell, for its indication of the +multitudes of the vertical and plank-like beds arranged almost like the +leaves of a flower. This last especially, one of the very noblest, most +faithful, most scientific statements of mountain form which even Turner +has ever made, can leave little more to be said or doubted. + + +Sec. 6. Necessary distance, and consequent aerial effect on all such + mountains. + +Now, whenever these vast peaks, rising from 12,000 to 24,000 feet above +the sea, form part of anything like a landscape, that is to say, +whenever the spectator beholds them from the region of vegetation, or +even from any distance at which it is possible to get something like a +view of their whole mass, they must be at so great a distance from him +as to become aerial and faint in all their details. Their summits, and +all those higher masses of whose character we have been speaking, can by +no possibility be nearer to him than twelve or fifteen miles; to +approach them nearer he must climb--must leave the region of vegetation, +and must confine his view to a part, and that a very limited one, of the +mountain he is ascending. Whenever, therefore, these mountains are seen +over anything like vegetation, or are seen in mass, they _must_ be in +the far distance. Most artists would treat an horizon fifteen miles off +very much as if it were mere air; and though the greater clearness of +the upper air permits the high summits to be seen with extraordinary +distinctness, yet they never can by any possibility have dark or deep +shadows, or intense dark relief against a light. Clear they may be, but +faint they must be, and their great and prevailing characteristic, as +distinguished from other mountains, is want of apparent solidity. They +rise in the morning light rather like sharp shades, cast up into the +sky, than solid earth. Their lights are pure, roseate, and +cloud-like--their shadows transparent, pale, and opalescent, and often +indistinguishable from the air around them, so that the mountain-top is +seen in the heaven only by its flakes of motionless fire. + + +Sec. 7. Total want of any rendering of their phenomena in ancient art. + +Now, let me once more ask, though I am sufficiently tired of asking, +what record have we of anything like this in the works of the old +masters? There is no vestige in any existing picture of the slightest +effort to represent the high hill ranges; and as for such drawing of +their forms as we have found in Turner, we might as well look for them +among the Chinese. Very possibly it may be all quite right,--very +probably these men showed the most cultivated taste, the most unerring +judgment, in filling their pictures with mole-hills and sand-heaps. Very +probably the withered and poisonous banks of Avernus, and the sand and +cinders of the Campagna, are much more sublime things than the Alps; but +still what limited truth it is, if truth it be, when through the last +fifty pages we have been pointing out fact after fact, scene after +scene, in clouds and hills, (and not individual facts nor scenes, but +great and important classes of them,) and still we have nothing to say +when we come to the old masters; but, "they are not here." Yet this is +what we hear so constantly called painting "general" nature. + + +Sec. 8. Character of the representations of Alps in the distances of + Claude. + +Sec. 9. Their total want of magnitude and aerial distance. + +Although, however, there is no vestige among the old masters of any +effort to represent the attributes of the higher mountains seen in +comparative proximity, we are not altogether left without evidence of +their having thought of them as sources of light in the extreme +distance, as for example, in that of the reputed Claude in our National +Gallery, called the Marriage of Isaac and Rebecca. I have not the +slightest doubt of its being a most execrable copy; for there is not one +touch nor line of even decent painting in the whole picture; but as +connoisseurs have considered it a Claude, as it has been put in our +Gallery for a Claude, and as people admire it every day for a Claude, I +may at least presume it has those qualities of Claude in it which are +wont to excite the public admiration, though it possesses none of those +which sometimes give him claim to it; and I have so reasoned, and shall +continue to reason upon it, especially with respect to facts of form, +which cannot have been much altered by the copyist. In the distance of +that picture (as well as in that of the Sinon before Priam, which I have +little doubt is at least partially original, and whose central group of +trees is a very noble piece of painting) is something white, which I +believe must be intended for a snowy mountain, because I do not see that +it can well be intended for anything else. Now no mountain of elevation +sufficient to be so sheeted with perpetual snow, can by any possibility +sink so low on the horizon as this something of Claude's, unless it be +at a distance of from fifty to seventy miles. At such distances, though +the outline is invariably sharp and edgy to an excess, yet all the +circumstances of aerial perspective, faintness of shadow, and isolation +of light, which I have described as characteristic of the Alps fifteen +miles off, take place, of course, in a threefold degree; the mountains +rise from the horizon like transparent films, only distinguishable from +mist by their excessively keen edges, and their brilliant flashes of +sudden light; they are as unsubstantial as the air itself, and impress +their enormous size by means of this aerialness, in a far greater degree +at these vast distances, than even when towering above the spectator's +head. Now, I ask of the candid observer, if there be the smallest +vestige of an effort to attain--if there be the most miserable, the most +contemptible shadow of attainment of such an effect by Claude? Does that +white thing on the horizon look seventy miles off? Is it faint, or +fading, or to be looked for by the eye before it can be found out? Does +it look high? does it look large? does it look impressive? You cannot +but feel that there is not a vestige of any kind or species of truth in +that horizon; and that, however artistical it may be, as giving +brilliancy to the distance, (though, as far as I have any feeling in the +matter, it only gives coldness,) it is, in the very branch of art on +which Claude's reputation chiefly rests, aerial perspective, hurling +defiance to nature in her very teeth. + + +Sec. 10. And violation of specific form. + +But there are worse failures yet in this unlucky distance. Aerial +perspective is not a matter of paramount importance, because nature +infringes its laws herself and boldly too, though never in a case like +this before us; but there are some laws which nature never violates--her +laws of form. No mountain was ever raised to the level of perpetual +snow, without an infinite multiplicity of form. Its foundation is built +of a hundred minor mountains, and, from these, great buttresses run in +converging ridges to the central peak. There is no exception to this +rule; no mountain 15,000 feet high is ever raised without such +preparation and variety of outwork. Consequently, in distant effect, +when chains of such peaks are visible at once, the multiplicity of form +is absolutely oceanic; and though it is possible in near scenes to find +vast and simple masses composed of lines which run unbroken for a +thousand feet, or more, it is physically impossible when these masses +are thrown seventy miles back, to have simple outlines, for then these +large features become mere jags, and hillocks, and are heaped and +huddled together with endless confusion. To get a simple form, seventy +miles away, mountain lines would be required unbroken for leagues; and +this, I repeat, is physically impossible. Hence these mountains of +Claude, having no indication of the steep vertical summits which we have +shown to be the characteristic of the central ridges, having soft edges +instead of decisive ones, simple forms (one line to the plain on each +side) instead of varied and broken ones, and being painted with a crude +raw white, having no transparency, nor filminess, nor air in it, instead +of rising in the opalescent mystery which invariably characterizes the +distant snows, have the forms and the colors of heaps of chalk in a +lime-kiln, not of Alps. They are destitute of energy, of height, of +distance, of splendor, and of variety, and are the work of a man, +whether Claude or not, who had neither feeling for nature, nor knowledge +of art. + + +Sec. 11. Even in his best works. + +I should not, however, insist upon the faults of this picture, believing +it to be a copy, if I had ever seen, even in his most genuine works, an +extreme distance of Claude with any of the essential characters of +nature. But although in his better pictures we have always beautiful +drawing of the _air_, which in the copy before us is entirely wanting, +the real features of the extreme mountain distance are equally neglected +or maligned in all. There is, indeed, air between us and it; but ten +miles, not seventy miles, of space. Let us observe a little more closely +the practice of nature in such cases. + + +Sec. 12. Farther illustration of the distant character of mountain chains. + +Sec. 13. Their excessive appearance of transparency. + +The multiplicity of form which I have shown to be necessary in the +outline, is not less felt in the body of the mass. For, in all extensive +hill ranges, there are five or six lateral chains separated by deep +valleys, which rise between the spectator and the central ridge, showing +their tops one over another, wave beyond wave, until the eye is carried +back to the faintest and highest forms of the principal chain. These +successive ridges, and I speak now not merely of the Alps, but of +mountains generally, even as low as 3000 feet above the sea, show +themselves in extreme distance merely as vertical shades, with very +sharp outlines, detached from one another by greater intensity, +according to their nearness. It is with the utmost difficulty that the +eye can discern any solidity or roundness in them; the lights and shades +of solid form are both equally lost in the blue of the atmosphere, and +the mountain tells only as a flat, sharp-edged film, of which multitudes +intersect and overtop one another, separated by the greater faintness of +the retiring masses. This is the most simple and easily imitated +arrangement possible, and yet, both in nature and art, it expresses +distance and size in a way otherwise quite unattainable. For thus, the +whole mass of one mountain being of one shade only, the smallest +possible difference in shade will serve completely to detach it from +another, and thus ten or twelve distances may be made evident, when the +darkest and nearest is an aerial gray as faint as the sky; and the +beauty of such arrangements carried out as nature carries them, to their +highest degree, is, perhaps, the most striking feature connected with +hill scenery: you will never, by any chance, perceive in extreme +distance, anything like solid form or projection of the hills. Each is a +dead, flat, perpendicular film or shade, with a sharp edge darkest at +the summit, and lost as it descends, and about equally dark whether +turned towards the light or from it; and of these successive films of +mountain you will probably have half a dozen, one behind another, all +showing with perfect clearness their every chasm and peak in the +outline, and not one of them showing the slightest vestige of solidity, +but on the contrary, looking so thoroughly transparent, that if it so +happens, as I have seen frequently, that a conical near hill meets with +its summit the separation of two distant ones, so that the right-hand +slope of the nearer hill forms an apparent continuation of the +right-hand slope of the left-hand farther hill, and _vice versa_, it is +impossible to get rid of the impression that one or the more distant +peaks is seen _through_ the other. + + +Sec. 14. Illustrated from the works of Turner and Stanfield. The Borromean + Islands of the latter. + +I may point out in illustration of these facts, the engravings of two +drawings of precisely the same chain of distant hills,--Stanfield's +Borromean Islands, with the St. Gothard in the distance, and Turner's +Arona, also with the St. Gothard in the distance. Far be it from me to +indicate the former of these plates as in any way exemplifying the power +of Stanfield, or affecting his reputation; it is an unlucky drawing, +murdered by the engraver, and as far from being characteristic of +Stanfield as it is from being like nature, but it is just what I want, +to illustrate the particular error of which I speak; and I prefer +showing this error where it accidentally exists in the works of a really +great artist, standing there alone, to point it out where it is confused +with other faults and falsehoods in the works of inferior hands. The +former of these plates is an example of everything which a hill distance +is not, and the latter of everything which it is. In the former, we have +the mountains covered with patchy lights, which being of equal intensity +whether near or distant, confuse all the distances together; while the +eye, perceiving that the light falls so as to give details of solid +form, yet finding nothing but insipid and formless spaces displayed by +it, is compelled to suppose that the whole body of the hill is equally +monotonous and devoid of character; and the effect upon it is not one +whit more impressive and agreeable than might be received from a group +of sand-heaps, washed into uniformity by recent rain. + + +Sec. 15. Turner's Arona. + +Compare with this the distance of Turner in Arona. It is totally +impossible here to say which way the light falls on the distant hills, +except by the slightly increased decision of their edges turned towards +it, but the greatest attention is paid to get these edges decisive, yet +full of gradation, and perfectly true in character of form. All the rest +of the mountain is then indistinguishable haze, and by the bringing of +these edges more and more decisively over one another, Turner has given +us between the right-hand side of the picture and the snow, fifteen +distinct distances, yet every one of these distances in itself +palpitating, changeful, and suggesting subdivision into countless +multitude. Something of this is traceable even in the engraving, and all +the essential characters are perfectly well marked. I think even the +least experienced eye can scarcely but feel the truth of this distance +as compared with Stanfield's. In the latter, the eye gets something of +the form, and therefore wonders it sees no more; the impression on it, +therefore, is of hills within distinctly visible distance, indiscernible +through want of light or dim atmosphere; and the effect is, of course, +smallness of space, with obscurity of light and thickness of air. In +Turner's the eye gets nothing of the substance, and wonders it sees so +much of the outline; the impression is, therefore, of mountains too far +off to be ever distinctly seen, rendered clear by brilliancy of light +and purity of atmosphere; and the effect, consequently, vastness of +space, with intensity of light and crystalline transparency of air. + + +Sec. 16. Extreme distance of large objects always characterized by very + sharp outline. + +These truths are invariably given in every one of Turner's distances, +that is to say, we have always in them two principal facts forced on our +notice; transparency, or filminess of mass, and excessive sharpness of +edge. And I wish particularly to insist upon this sharpness of edge, +because it is not a casual or changeful habit of nature; it is the +unfailing characteristic of all very great distances. It is quite a +mistake to suppose that slurred or melting lines are characteristic of +distant _large_ objects; they may be so, as before observed, (Sec. II. +Chap. IV. Sec. 4,) when the focus of the eye is not adapted to them; but, +when the eye is really directed to the distance, melting lines are +characteristic only of thick mist and vapor between us and the object, +not of the removal of the object. If a thing has character upon its +outline, as a tree for instance, or a mossy stone, the farther it is +removed from us, the sharper the outline of the whole mass will become, +though in doing so, the particular details which make up the character +will become confused in the manner described in the same chapter. A tree +fifty yards from us, taken as a mass, has a soft outline, because the +leaves and interstices have some effect on the eye. But put it ten miles +off against the sky, and its outline will be so sharp that you cannot +tell it from a rock. There are three trees on the Mont Saleve, about +five miles from Geneva, which from the city, as they stand on the ridge +of the hill, are seen defined against the sky. The keenest eye in the +world could not tell them from stones. So in a mountain five or six +miles off, bushes, and heather, and roughnesses of knotty ground and +rock, have still some effect on the eye, and by becoming confused and +mingled as before described, soften the outline. But let the mountain be +thirty miles off, and its edge will be as sharp as a knife. Let it, as +in the case of the Alps, be seventy or eighty miles off, and though it +has become so faint that the morning mist is not so transparent, its +outline will be beyond all imitation for excessive sharpness. Thus, +then, the character of extreme distance is always excessive keenness of +edge. If you soften your outline, you either put mist between you and +the object, and in doing so diminish, your distance, for it is +impossible you should see so far through mist as through clear air; or, +if you keep an impression of clear air, you bring the object close to +the observer, diminish its size in proportion, and if the aerial colors, +excessive blues, etc., be retained, represent an impossibility. + + +Sec. 17. Want of this decision in Claude. + +Take Claude's distance (in No. 244, Dulwich Gallery,)[53] on the right +of the picture. It is as pure blue as ever came from the pallet, laid on +thick; you cannot see through it, there is not the slightest vestige of +transparency or filminess about it, and its edge is soft and blunt. +Hence, if it be meant for near hills, the blue is impossible, and the +want of details impossible, in the clear atmosphere indicated through +the whole picture. If it be meant for extreme distance, the blunt edge +is impossible, and the opacity is impossible. I do not know a single +distance of the Italian school to which the same observation is not +entirely applicable, except, perhaps, one or two of Nicholas Poussin's. +They always involve, under any supposition whatsoever, at least two +impossibilities. + + +Sec. 18. The perpetual rendering of it by Turner. + +I need scarcely mention in particular any more of the works of Turner, +because there is not one of his mountain distances in which these facts +are not fully exemplified. Look at the last vignette--the Farewell, in +Rogers's Italy; observe the excessive sharpness of all the edges, almost +amounting to lines, in the distance, while there is scarcely one +decisive edge in the foreground. Look at the hills of the distance in +the Dunstaffnage, Glencoe, and Loch Achray, (illustrations to Scott,) in +the latter of which the left-hand side of the Benvenue is actually +marked with a dark line. In fact, Turner's usual mode of executing these +passages is perfectly evident in all his drawings; it is not often that +we meet with a very broad dash of wet color in his finished works, but +in these distances, as we before saw of his shadows, all the effect has +been evidently given by a dash of very moist pale color, probably +turning the paper upside down, so that a very firm edge may be left at +the top of the mountain as the color dries. And in the Battle of Marengo +we find the principle carried so far as to give nothing more than actual +outline for the representation of the extreme distance, while all the +other hills in the picture are distinctly darkest at the edge. This +plate, though coarsely executed, is yet one of the noblest illustrations +of mountain character and magnitude existing. + + +Sec. 19. Effects of snow, how imperfectly studied. + +Such, then, are the chief characteristics of the highest peaks and +extreme distances of all hills, as far as the forms of the rocks +themselves, and the aerial appearances especially belonging to them, are +alone concerned. There is, however, yet another point to be +considered--the modification of their form caused by incumbent snow. + +Pictures of winter scenery are nearly as common as moonlights, and are +usually executed by the same order of artists, that is to say, the most +incapable; it being remarkably easy to represent the moon as a white +wafer on a black ground, or to scratch out white branches on a cloudy +sky. Nevertheless, among Flemish paintings several valuable +representations of winter are to be found, and some clever pieces of +effect among the moderns, as Hunt's, for instance, and De Wint's. But +all such efforts end in effect alone, nor have I ever in any single +instance seen a snow _wreath_, I do not say thoroughly, but even +decently, drawn. + +In the range of inorganic nature, I doubt if any object can be found +more perfectly beautiful than a fresh, deep snow-drift, seen under warm +light.[54] Its curves are of inconceivable perfection and changefulness, +its surface and transparency alike exquisite, its light and shade of +inexhaustible variety and inimitable finish, the shadows sharp, pale, +and of heavenly color, the reflected lights intense and multitudinous, +and mingled with the sweet occurrences of transmitted light. No mortal +hand can approach the majesty or loveliness of it, yet it is possible by +care and skill at least to suggest the preciousness of its forms and +intimate the nature of its light and shade; but this has never been +attempted; it could not be done except by artists of a rank exceedingly +high, and there is something about the feeling of snow in ordinary +scenery which such men do not like. But when the same qualities are +exhibited on a magnificent Alpine scale and in a position where they +interfere with no feeling of life, I see not why they should be +neglected, as they have hitherto been, unless that the difficulty of +reconciling the brilliancy of snow with a picturesque light and shade, +is so great that most good artists disguise or avoid the greater part of +upper Alpine scenery, and hint at the glacier so slightly, that they do +not feel the necessity of careful study of its forms. Habits of +exaggeration increase the evil: I have seen a sketch from nature, by one +of the most able of our landscape painters, in which a cloud had been +mistaken for a snowy summit, and the hint thus taken exaggerated, as was +likely, into an enormous mass of impossible height, and unintelligent +form, when the mountain itself, for which the cloud had been mistaken, +though subtending an angle of about eighteen or twenty degrees, instead +of the fifty attributed to it, was of a form so exquisite that it might +have been a profitable lesson truly studied to Phidias. Nothing but +failure can result from such methods of sketching, nor have I ever seen +a single instance of an earnest study of snowy mountains by any one. +Hence, wherever they are introduced, their drawing is utterly +unintelligent, the forms being those of white rocks, or of rocks lightly +powdered with snow, showing sufficiently that not only the painters have +never studied the mountain carefully from below, but that they have +never climbed into the snowy region. Harding's rendering of the high +Alps (_vide_ the engraving of Chamonix, and of the Wengern Alp, in the +illustrations to Byron) is best; but even he shows no perception of the +real anatomy. Stanfield paints only white rocks instead of snow. Turner +invariably avoids the difficulty, though he has shown himself capable of +grappling with it in the ice of the Liber Studiorum, (Mer de Glace,) +which is very cold and slippery and very like ice; but of the crusts and +wreaths of the higher snow he has taken no cognizance. Even the +vignettes to Rogers's Poems fail in this respect. It would be vain to +attempt in this place to give any detailed account of the phenomena of +the upper snows; but it may be well to note those general principles +which every artist ought to keep in mind when he has to paint an Alp. + + +Sec. 20. General principles of its forms on the Alps. + +Snow is modified by the under forms of the hill in some sort, as dress +is by the anatomy of the human frame. And as no dress can be well laid +on without conceiving the body beneath, so no Alp can be drawn unless +its under form is conceived first, and its snow laid on afterwards. + +Every high Alp has as much snow upon it as it can hold or carry. It is +not, observe, a mere coating of snow of given depth throughout, but it +is snow loaded on until the rocks can hold no more. The surplus does not +fall in the winter, because, fastened by continual frost, the quantity +of snow which an Alp can carry is greater than each single winter can +bestow; it falls in the first mild days of spring in enormous +avalanches. Afterwards the melting continues, gradually removing from +all the steep rocks the small quantity of snow which was all they could +hold, and leaving them black and bare among the accumulated fields of +unknown depth, which occupy the capacious valleys and less inclined +superfices of the mountain. + +Hence it follows that the deepest snow does not take nor indicate the +actual forms of the rocks on which it lies, but it hangs from peak to +peak in unbroken and sweeping festoons, or covers whole groups of peaks, +which afford it sufficient hold, with vast and unbroken domes: these +festoons and domes being guided in their curves, and modified in size, +by the violence and prevalent direction of the winter winds. + +We have, therefore, every variety of indication of the under mountain +form; first, the mere coating, which is soon to be withdrawn, and which +shows as a mere sprinkling or powdering after a storm on the higher +peaks; then the shallow incrustation on the steep sides glazed by the +running down of its frequent meltings, frozen again in the night; then +the deep snow more or less cramped or modified by sudden eminences of +emergent rock, or hanging in fractured festoons and huge blue irregular +cliffs on the mountain flanks, and over the edges and summits of their +precipices in nodding drifts, far overhanging, like a cornice, (perilous +things to approach the edge of from above;) finally, the pure +accumulation of overwhelming depth, smooth, sweeping, and almost +cleftless, and modified only by its lines of drifting. Countless +phenomena of exquisite beauty belong to each of these conditions, not to +speak of the transition of the snow into ice at lower levels; but all on +which I shall at present insist is that the artist should not think of +his Alp merely as a white mountain, but conceive it as a group of peaks +loaded with an accumulation of snow, and that especially he should avail +himself of the exquisite curvatures, never failing, by which the snow +unites and opposes the harsh and broken lines of the rock. I shall enter +into farther detail on this subject hereafter; at present it is useless +to do so, as I have no examples to refer to, either in ancient or modern +art. No statement of these facts has hitherto been made, nor any +evidence given even of their observation, except by the most inferior +painters.[55] + + +Sec. 21. Average paintings of Switzerland. Its real spirit has scarcely yet + been caught. + +Various works in green and white appear from time to time on the walls +of the Academy, _like_ the Alps indeed, but so frightfully like, that we +shudder and sicken at the sight of them, as we do when our best friend +shows us into his dining-room, to see a portrait of himself, which +"everybody thinks very like." We should be glad to see fewer of these, +for Switzerland is quite beyond the power of any but first-rate men, and +is exceedingly bad practice for a rising artist; but, let us express a +hope that Alpine scenery will not continue to be neglected as it has +been, by those who alone are capable of treating it. We love Italy, but +we have had rather a surfeit of it lately;--too many peaked caps and +flat-headed pines. We should be very grateful to Harding and Stanfield +if they would refresh us a little among the snow, and give us, what we +believe them to be capable of giving us, a faithful expression of Alpine +ideal. We are well aware of the pain inflicted on an artist's mind by +the preponderance of black, and white, and green, over more available +colors; but there is nevertheless in generic Alpine scenery, a fountain +of feeling yet unopened--a chord of harmony yet untouched by art. It +will be struck by the first man who can separate what is national, in +Switzerland, from what is ideal. We do not want chalets and three-legged +stools, cow-bells and buttermilk. We want the pure and holy hills, +treated as a link between heaven and earth. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [53] One of the most genuine Claudes I know. + + [54] Compare Part III. Sect. I. Chap. 9, Sec. 5. + + [55] I hear of some study of Alpine scenery among the professors at + Geneva; but all foreign landscape that I have ever met with has been + so utterly ignorant that I hope for nothing except from our own + painters. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + OF THE INFERIOR MOUNTAINS. + + +Sec. 1. The inferior mountains are distinguished from the central by being + divided into beds. + +We have next to investigate the character of those intermediate masses +which constitute the greater part of all hill scenery, forming the +outworks of the high ranges, and being almost the sole constituents of +such lower groups as those of Cumberland, Scotland, or South Italy. + +All mountains whatsoever, not composed of the granite or gneiss rocks +described in the preceding chapter, nor volcanic, (these latter being +comparatively rare,) are composed of _beds_, not of homogeneous, heaped +materials, but of accumulated layers, whether of rock or soil. It may be +slate, sandstone, limestone, gravel, or clay; but whatever the +substance, it is laid in layers, not in a mass. These layers are +scarcely ever horizontal, and may slope to any degree, often occurring +vertical, the boldness of the hill outline commonly depending in a great +degree on their inclination. In consequence of this division into beds, +every mountain will have two great sets of lines more or less prevailing +in its contours--one indicative of the surfaces of the beds, where they +come out from under each other--and the other indicative of the +extremities or edges of the beds, where their continuity has been +interrupted. And these two great sets of lines will commonly be at right +angles with each other, or nearly so. If the surface of the bed approach +a horizontal line, its termination will approach the vertical, and this +is the most usual and ordinary way in which a precipice is produced. + + +Sec. 2. Farther division of these beds by joints. + +Farther, in almost all rocks there is a third division of substance, +which gives to their beds a tendency to split transversely in some +directions rather than others, giving rise to what geologists call +"joints," and throwing the whole rock into blocks more or less +rhomboidal; so that the beds are not terminated by torn or ragged edges, +but by faces comparatively smooth and even, usually inclined to each +other at some definite angle. The whole arrangement may be tolerably +represented by the bricks of a wall, whose tiers may be considered as +strata, and whose sides and extremities will represent the joints by +which those strata are divided, varying, however, their direction in +different rocks, and in the same rock under differing circumstances. + + +Sec. 3. And by lines of lamination. + +Finally, in the slates, grauwackes, and some calcareous beds, in the +greater number, indeed, of _mountain_ rocks, we find another most +conspicuous feature of general structure--the lines of lamination, which +divide the whole rock into an infinite number of delicate plates or +layers, sometimes parallel to the direction or "strike" of the strata, +oftener obliquely crossing it, and sometimes, apparently, altogether +independent of it, maintaining a consistent and unvarying slope through +a series of beds contorted and undulating in every conceivable +direction. These lines of lamination extend their influence to the +smallest fragment, causing it (as, for example, common roofing slate) to +break smooth in one direction, and with a ragged edge in another, and +marking the faces of the beds and joints with distinct and numberless +lines, commonly far more conspicuous in a near view than the larger and +more important divisions. + + +Sec. 4. Variety and seeming uncertainty under which these laws are + manifested. + +Now, it cannot be too carefully held in mind, in examining the +principles of mountain structure, that nearly all the laws of nature +with respect to external form are rather universal tendencies, evidenced +by a plurality of instances, than imperative necessities complied with +by all. For instance, it may be said to be a universal law with respect +to the boughs of all trees that they incline their extremities more to +the ground in proportion as they are lower on the trunk, and that the +higher their point of insertion is, the more they share in the upward +tendency of the trunk itself. But yet there is not a single group of +boughs in any one tree which does not show exceptions to the rule, and +present boughs lower in insertion, and yet steeper in inclination, than +their neighbors. Nor is this defect or deformity, but the result of the +constant habit of nature to carry variety into her very principles, and +make the symmetry and beauty of her laws the more felt by the grace and +accidentalism with which they are carried out. No one familiar with +foliage could doubt for an instant of the necessity of giving evidence +of this downward tendency in the boughs; but it would be nearly as great +an offence against truth to make the law hold good with every individual +branch, as not to exhibit its influence on the majority. Now, though the +laws of mountain form are more rigid and constant than those of +vegetation, they are subject to the same species of exception in +carrying out. Though every mountain has these great tendencies in its +lines, not one in a thousand of those lines is absolutely consistent +with and obedient to this universal tendency. There are lines in every +direction, and of almost every kind, but the sum and aggregate of those +lines will invariably indicate the _universal_ force and influence to +which they are all subjected; and of these lines there will, I repeat, +be two principal sets or classes, pretty nearly at right angles with +each other. When both are inclined, they give rise to peaks or ridges; +when one is nearly horizontal and the other vertical, to table-lands and +precipices. + +This then is the broad organization of all hills, modified afterwards by +time and weather, concealed by superincumbent soil and vegetation, and +ramified into minor and more delicate details in a way presently to be +considered, but nevertheless universal in its great first influence, and +giving to all mountains a particular cast and inclination; like the +exertion of voluntary power in a definite direction, an internal spirit, +manifesting itself in every crag, and breathing in every slope, flinging +and forcing the mighty mass towards the heaven with an expression and an +energy like that of life. + + +Sec. 5. The perfect expression of them in Turner's Loch Coriskin. + +Now, as in the case of the structure of the central peaks described +above, so also here, if I had to give a clear idea of this organization +of the lower hills, where it is seen in its greatest perfection, with a +mere view to geological truth, I should not refer to any geological +drawings, but I should take the Loch Coriskin of Turner. It has luckily +been admirably engraved, and for all purposes of reasoning or form, is +nearly as effective in the print as in the drawing. Looking at any group +of the multitudinous lines which make up this mass of mountain, they +appear to be running anywhere and everywhere; there are none parallel to +each other, none resembling each other for a moment; yet the whole mass +is felt at once to be composed with the most rigid parallelism, the +surfaces of the beds towards the left, their edges or escarpments +towards the right. In the centre, near the top of the ridge, the edge of +a bed is beautifully defined, casting its shadow on the surface of the +one beneath it; this shadow marking by three jags the chasms caused in +the inferior one by three of its parallel joints. Every peak in the +distance is evidently subject to the same great influence, and the +evidence is completed by the flatness and evenness of the steep surfaces +of the beds which rise out of the lake on the extreme right, parallel +with those in the centre. + + +Sec. 6. Glencoe and other works. + +Sec. 7. Especially the Mount Lebanon. + +Turn to Glencoe, in the same series (the Illustrations to Scott). We +have in the mass of mountain on the left, the most beautiful indication +of vertical beds of a finely laminated rock, terminated by even joints +towards the precipice; while the whole sweep of the landscape, as far as +the most distant peaks, is evidently governed by one great and simple +tendency upwards to the left, those most distant peaks themselves lying +over one another in the same direction. In the Daphne hunting with +Leucippus, the mountains on the left descend in two precipices to the +plain, each of which is formed by a vast escarpment of the beds whose +upper surfaces are shown between the two cliffs, sinking with an even +slope from the summit of the lowest to the base of the highest, under +which they evidently descend, being exposed in this manner for a length +of five or six miles. The same structure is shown, though with more +complicated development, on the left of the Loch Katrine. But perhaps +the finest instance, or at least the most marked of all, will be found +in the exquisite Mount Lebanon, with the convent of St. Antonio, +engraved in Finden's Bible. There is not one shade nor touch on the rock +which is not indicative of the lines of stratification; and every +fracture is marked with a straightforward simplicity which makes you +feel that the artist has nothing in his heart but a keen love of the +pure unmodified truth; there is no effort to disguise the repetition of +forms, no apparent aim at artificial arrangement or scientific grouping; +the rocks are laid one above another with unhesitating decision; every +shade is understood in a moment, felt as a dark side, or a shadow, or a +fissure, and you may step from one block or bed to another until you +reach the mountain summit. And yet, though there seems no effort to +disguise the repetition of forms, see how it _is_ disguised, just as +nature would have done it, by the perpetual play and changefulness of +the very lines which appear so parallel; now bending a little up, or +down, or losing themselves, or running into each other, the old story +over and over again,--infinity. For here is still the great distinction +between Turner's work and that of a common artist. Hundreds could have +given the parallelism of blocks, but none but himself could have done so +without the actual repetition of a single line or feature. + + +Sec. 8. Compared with the work of Salvator; + +Now compare with this the second mountain from the left in the picture +of Salvator, No. 220 in the Dulwich Gallery. The whole is first laid in +with a very delicate and masterly gray, right in tone, agreeable in +color, quite unobjectionable for a beginning. But how is this made into +rock? On the light side Salvator gives us a multitude of touches, all +exactly like one another, and therefore, it is to be hoped, quite +patterns of perfection in rock-drawing, since they are too good to be +even varied. Every touch is a dash of the brush, as nearly as possible +in the shape of a comma, round and bright at the top, convex on its +right side, concave on its left, and melting off at the bottom into the +gray. These are laid in confusion one above another, some paler, some +brighter, some scarcely discernible, but all alike in shape. Now, I am +not aware myself of any particular object, either in earth or heaven, +which these said touches do at all resemble or portray. I do not, +however, assert that they may not resemble something--feathers, perhaps; +but I do say, and say with perfect confidence, that they may be Chinese +for rocks, or Sanscrit for rocks, or symbolical of rocks in some +mysterious and undeveloped character; but that they are no more _like_ +rocks than the brush that made them. The dark sides appear to embrace +and overhang the lights; they cast no shadows, are broken by no +fissures, and furnish, as food for contemplation, nothing but a series +of concave curves. + + +Sec. 9. And of Poussin. + +Yet if we go on to No. 269, we shall find something a great deal worse. +I can believe Gaspar Poussin capable of committing as much sin against +nature as most people; but I certainly do not suspect him of having had +any hand in this thing, at least after he was ten years old. +Nevertheless, it shows what he is supposed capable of by his admirers, +and will serve for a broad illustration of all those absurdities which +he himself in a less degree, and with feeling and thought to atone for +them, perpetually commits. Take the white bit of rock on the opposite +side of the river, just above the right arm of the Niobe, and tell me of +what the square green daubs of the brush at its base can be conjectured +to be typical. Rocks with pale-brown light sides, and rich green dark +sides, are a phenomenon perhaps occurring in some of the improved +passages of nature among our Cumberland lakes; where I remember once +having seen a bed of roses, of peculiar magnificence, tastefully and +artistically assisted in effect by the rocks above it being painted pink +to match; but I do not think that they are a kind of thing which the +clumsiness and false taste of nature can be supposed frequently to +produce; even granting that these same sweeps of the brush could, by any +exercise of the imagination, be conceived representative of a dark, or +any other side, which is far more than I am inclined to grant; seeing +that there is no east shadow, no appearance of reflected light, of +substance, or of character on the edge; nothing, in short, but pure, +staring green paint, scratched heavily on a white ground. Nor is there a +touch in the picture more expressive. All are the mere dragging of the +brush here and there and everywhere, without meaning or intention; +winding, twisting, zigzagging, doing anything in fact which may serve to +break up the light and destroy its breadth, without bestowing in return +one hint or shadow of anything like form. This picture is, indeed, an +extraordinary case, but the Salvator above mentioned is a characteristic +and exceedingly favorable example of the usual mode of mountain drawing +among the old landscape painters.[56] Their admirers may be challenged +to bring forward a single instance of their expressing, or even +appearing to have noted, the great laws of structure above explained. +Their hills are, without exception, irregular earthy heaps, without +energy or direction of any kind, marked with shapeless shadows and +meaningless lines; sometimes, indeed, where great sublimity has been +aimed at, approximating to the pure and exalted ideal of rocks, which, +in the most artistical specimens of China cups and plates, we see +suspended from aerial pagodas, or balanced upon peacocks' tails, but +never warranting even the wildest theorist in the conjecture that their +perpetrators had ever seen a mountain in their lives. Let us, however, +look farther into the modifications of character by which nature +conceals the regularity of her first plan; for although all mountains +are organized as we have seen, their organization is always modified, +and often nearly concealed, by changes wrought upon them by external +influence. + + +Sec. 10. Effects of external influence on mountain form. + +We ought, when speaking of their stratification, to have noticed another +great law, which must, however, be understood with greater latitude of +application than any of the others, as very far from imperative or +constant in particular cases, though universal in its influence on the +aggregate of all. It is that the lines by which rocks are terminated, +are always steeper and more inclined to the vertical as we approach the +summit of the mountain. Thousands of cases are to be found in every +group, of rocks and lines horizontal at the top of the mountain and +vertical at the bottom; but they are still the exceptions, and the +average out of a given number of lines in any rock formation whatsoever, +will be found increasing in perpendicularity as they rise. Consequently +the great skeleton lines of rock outline are always concave; that is to +say, all distant ranges of rocky mountain approximate more or less to a +series of concave curves, meeting in peaks, like a range of posts with +chains hanging between. I do not say that convex forms will not +perpetually occur, but that the tendency of the majority will always be +to assume the form of sweeping, curved valleys, with angular peaks; not +of rounded convex summits, with angular valleys. This structure is +admirably exemplified in the second vignette in Rogers's Italy, and in +Piacenza. + + +Sec. 11. The gentle convexity caused by aqueous erosion. + +But although this is the primary form of all hills, and that which will +always cut against the sky in every distant range, there are two great +influences whose tendency is directly the reverse, and which modify, to +a great degree, both the evidences of stratification and this external +form. These are aqueous erosion and disintegration. The latter only is +to be taken into consideration when we have to do with minor features of +crag; but the former is a force in constant action--of the very utmost +importance--a force to which one-half of the great outlines of all +mountains is entirely owing, and which has much influence upon every one +of their details. + +Now the tendency of aqueous action over a large elevated surface is +_always_ to make that surface symmetrically and evenly convex and +dome-like, sloping gradually more and more as it descends, until it +reaches an inclination of about 40 deg., at which slope it will descend +perfectly straight to the valley; for at that slope the soil washed from +above will accumulate upon the hill-side, as it cannot lie in steeper +beds. This influence, then, is exercised more or less on all mountains, +with greater or less effect in proportion as the rock is harder or +softer, more or less liable to decomposition, more or less recent in +date of elevation, and more or less characteristic in its original +forms; but it universally induces, in the lower parts of mountains, a +series of the most exquisitely symmetrical convex curves, terminating, +as they descend to the valley, in uniform and uninterrupted slopes; this +symmetrical structure being perpetually interrupted by cliffs and +projecting masses, which give evidence of the interior parallelism of +the mountain anatomy, but which interrupt the convex forms more +frequently by rising out of them, than by indentation. + + +Sec. 12. And the effect of the action of torrents. + +There remains but one fact more to be noticed. All mountains, in some +degree, but especially those which are composed of soft or decomposing +substance, are delicately and symmetrically furrowed by the descent of +streams. The traces of their action commence at the very summits, fine +threads, and multitudinous, like the uppermost branches of a delicate +tree. They unite in groups as they descend, concentrating gradually into +dark undulating ravines, into which the body of the mountain descends on +each side, at first in a convex curve, but at the bottom with the same +uniform slope on each side which it assumes in its final descent to the +plain, unless the rock be very hard, when the stream will cut itself a +vertical chasm at the bottom of the curves, and there will be no even +slope.[57] If, on the other hand, the rock be very soft, the slopes will +increase rapidly in height and depth from day to day; washed away at the +bottom and crumbling at the top, until, by their reaching the summit of +the masses of rock which separate the active torrents, the whole +mountain is divided into a series of penthouse-like ridges, all guiding +to its summit, and becoming steeper and narrower as they ascend; these +in their turn being divided by similar, but smaller ravines--caused in +the same manner--into the same kind of ridges; and these again by +another series, the arrangement being carried finer and farther +according to the softness of the rock. The south side of Saddleback, in +Cumberland, is a characteristic example; and the Montagne du Tacondy, in +Chamonix, a noble instance of one of these ridges or buttresses, with +all its subdivisions, on a colossal scale. + + +Sec. 13. The exceeding simplicity of contour caused by these influences. + +Sec. 14. And multiplicity of feature. + +Now we wish to draw especial attention to the broad and bold simplicity +of mass, and the excessive complication of details, which influences +like these, acting on an enormous scale, must inevitably produce in all +mountain groups; because each individual part and promontory, being +compelled to assume the same symmetrical curves as its neighbors, and to +descend at precisely the same slope to the valley, falls in with their +prevailing lines, and becomes a part of a great and harmonious whole, +instead of an unconnected and discordant individual. It is true that +each of these members has its own touches of specific character, its own +projecting crags and peculiar hollows; but by far the greater portion of +its lines will be such as unite with, though they do not repeat, those +of its neighbors, and carry out the evidence of one great influence and +spirit to the limits of the scene. This effort is farther aided by the +original unity and connection of the rocks themselves, which though it +often may be violently interrupted, is never without evidence of +existence; for the very interruption itself forces the eye to feel that +there is something to be interrupted, a sympathy and similarity of +lines and fractures, which, however full of variety and change of +direction, never lose the appearance of symmetry of one kind or another. +But, on the other hand, it is to be remembered that these great +sympathizing masses are not one mountain, but a thousand mountains; that +they are originally composed of a multitude of separate eminences, hewn +and chiselled indeed into associating form, but each retaining still its +marked points and features of character,--that each of these individual +members has, by the very process which assimilated it to the rest, been +divided and subdivided into equally multitudinous groups of minor +mountains; finally, that the whole complicated system is interrupted +forever and ever by daring manifestations of the inward mountain +will--by the precipice which has submitted to no modulation of the +torrent, and the peak which has bowed itself to no terror of the storm. +Hence we see that the same imperative laws which require perfect +simplicity of mass, require infinite and termless complication of +detail,--that there will not be an inch nor a hairbreadth of the +gigantic heap which has not its touch of separate character, its own +peculiar curve, stealing out for an instant and then melting into the +common line; felt for a moment by the blue mist of the hollow beyond, +then lost when it crosses the enlightened slope,--that all this +multiplicity will be grouped into larger divisions, each felt by their +increasing aerial perspective, and their instants of individual form, +these into larger, and these into larger still, until all are merged in +the great impression and prevailing energy of the two or three vast +dynasties which divide the kingdom of the scene. + + +Sec. 15. Both utterly neglected in ancient art. + +There is no vestige nor shadow of approach to such treatment as this in +the whole compass of ancient art. Whoever the master, his hills, +wherever he has attempted them, have not the slightest trace of +association or connection; they are separate, conflicting, confused, +petty and paltry heaps of earth; there is no marking of distances or +divisions in their body; they may have holes in them, but no +valleys,--protuberances and excrescences, but no parts; and in +consequence are invariably diminutive and contemptible in their whole +appearance and impression. + + +Sec. 16. The fidelity of treatment in Turner's Daphne and Leucippas. + +But look at the mass of mountain on the right in Turner's Daphne hunting +with Leucippus. It is simple, broad, and united as one surge of a +swelling sea; it rises in an unbroken line along the valley, and lifts +its promontories with an equal slope. But it contains in its body ten +thousand hills. There is not a quarter of an inch of its surface without +its suggestion of increasing distance and individual form. First, on the +right, you have a range of tower-like precipices, the clinging wood +climbing along their ledges and cresting their summits, white waterfalls +gleaming through its leaves; not, as in Claude's scientific ideals, +poured in vast torrents over the top, and carefully keeping all the way +down on the most projecting parts of the sides; but stealing down, +traced from point to point, through shadow after shadow, by their +evanescent foam and flashing light,--here a wreath, and there a +ray,--through the deep chasms and hollow ravines, out of which rise the +soft rounded slopes of mightier mountain, surge beyond surge, immense +and numberless, of delicate and gradual curve, accumulating in the sky +until their garment of forest is exchanged for the shadowy fold of +slumbrous morning cloud, above which the utmost silver peak shines +islanded and alone. Put what mountain painting you will beside this, of +any other artist, and its heights will look like mole-hills in +comparison, because it will not have the unity nor the multiplicity +which are in nature, and with Turner, the signs of size. + + +Sec. 17. And in the Avalanche and Inundation. + +Again, in the Avalanche and Inundation, we have for the whole subject +nothing but one vast bank of united mountain, and one stretch of +uninterrupted valley. Though the bank is broken into promontory beyond +promontory, peak above peak, each the abode of a new tempest, the +arbiter of a separate desolation, divided from each other by the rushing +of the snow, by the motion of the storm, by the thunder of the torrent; +the mighty unison of their dark and lofty line, the brotherhood of ages, +is preserved unbroken; and the broad valley at their feet, though +measured league after league away by a thousand passages of sun and +darkness, and marked with fate beyond fate of hamlet and of inhabitant, +lies yet but as a straight and narrow channel, a filling furrow before +the flood. Whose work will you compare with this? Salvator's gray heaps +of earth, seven yards high, covered with bunchy brambles, that we may be +under no mistake about the size, thrown about at random in a little +plain, beside a zigzagging river, just wide enough to admit of the +possibility of there being fish in it, and with banks just broad enough +to allow the respectable angler or hermit to sit upon them conveniently +in the foreground? Is there more of nature in such paltriness, think +you, than in the valley and the mountain which bend to each other like +the trough of the sea; with the flank of the one swept in one surge into +the height of heaven, until the pine forests lie on its immensity like +the shadows of narrow clouds, and the hollow of the other laid league by +league into the blue of the air, until its white villages flash in the +distance only like the fall of a sunbeam? + + +Sec. 18. The rarity among secondary hills of steep slopes or high + precipices. + +But let us examine by what management of the details themselves this +wholeness and vastness of effect are given. We have just seen (Sec. 11) +that it is impossible for the slope of a mountain, not actually a +precipice of rock, to exceed 35 deg. or among secondary 40 deg., and that by far +the greater part of all hill-surface is composed of graceful curves of +much less degree than this, reaching 40 deg. only as their ultimate and +utmost inclination. It must be farther observed that the interruptions +to such curves, by precipices or steps, are always small in proportion +to the slopes themselves. Precipices rising vertically more than 100 +feet are very rare among the secondary hills of which we are speaking. I +am not aware of any cliff in England or Wales where a plumb-line can +swing clear for 200 feet; and even although sometimes, with intervals, +breaks, and steps, we get perhaps 800 feet of a slope of 60 deg. or 70 deg., yet +not only are these cases very rare, but even these have little influence +on the great contours of a mountain 4000 or 5000 feet in elevation, +being commonly balanced by intervals of ascent not exceeding 6 deg. or 8 deg.. +The result of which is, first, that the peaks and precipices of a +mountain appear as little more than jags or steps emerging from its +great curves; and, secondly, that the bases of all hills are enormously +extensive as compared with their elevation, so that there must be always +a horizontal distance between the observer and the summit five or six +times exceeding the perpendicular one. + + +Sec. 19. And consequent expression of horizontal distance in their ascent. + +Now it is evident, that whatever the actual angle of elevation of the +mountain may be, every exhibition of this horizontal distance between us +and the summit is an addition to its height, and of course to its +impressiveness; while every endeavor to exhibit its slope as steep and +sudden, is diminution at once of its distance and elevation. In +consequence nature is constantly endeavoring to impress upon us this +horizontal distance, which, even in spite of all her means of +manifesting it, we are apt to forget or underestimate; and all her +noblest effects depend on the full measurement and feeling of it. And it +is to the abundant and marvellous expression of it by Turner, that I +would direct especial attention, as being that which is in itself +demonstrative of the highest knowledge and power--knowledge, in the +constant use of lines of subdued slope in preference to steep or violent +ascents, and in the perfect subjection of all such features, when they +necessarily occur, to the larger masses; and power, in the inimitable +statements of retiring space by mere painting of surface details, +without the aid of crossing shadows, divided forms, or any other +artifice. + + +Sec. 20. Full statement of all these facts in various works of Turner, + Caudebec, etc. + +The Caudebec, in the Rivers of France, is a fine instance of almost +every fact which we have been pointing out. We have in it, first, the +clear expression of what takes place constantly among hills,--that the +river, as it passes through the valley, will fall backwards and forwards +from side to side, lying first, if I may so speak, with all its weight +against the hills on the one side, and then against those on the other; +so that, as here it is exquisitely told, in each of its circular sweeps +the whole force of its current is brought deep and close to the bases of +the hills, while the water on the side next the plain is shallow, +deepening gradually. In consequence of this, the hills are cut away at +their bases by the current, so that their slopes are interrupted by +precipices mouldering to the water. Observe first, how nobly Turner has +given us the perfect unity of the whole mass of hill, making us +understand that every ravine in it has been cut gradually by streams. +The first eminence, beyond the city, is not disjointed from, or +independent of, the one succeeding, but evidently part of the same +whole, originally united, separated only by the action of the stream +between. The association of the second and third is still more clearly +told, for we see that there has been a little longitudinal valley +running along the brow of their former united mass, which, after the +ravine had been cut between, formed the two jags which Turner has given +us at the same point in each of their curves. This great triple group +has, however, been originally distinct from those beyond it; for we see +that these latter are only the termination of the enormous even slope, +which appears again on the extreme right, having been interrupted by the +rise of the near hills. Observe how the descent of the whole series is +kept gentle and subdued, never suffered to become steep except where it +has been cut away by the river, the sudden precipice caused by which is +exquisitely marked in the last two promontories, where they are defined +against the bright horizon; and, finally, observe how, in the ascent of +the nearest eminence beyond the city, without one cast shadow or any +division of distances, every yard of surface is felt to be retiring by +the mere painting of its details,--how we are permitted to walk up it, +and along its top, and are carried, before we are half way up, a league +or two forward into the picture. The difficulty of doing this, however, +can scarcely be appreciated except by an artist. + + +Sec. 21. The use of considering geological truths. + +I do not mean to assert that this great painter is acquainted with the +geological laws and facts he has thus illustrated; I am not aware +whether he be or not; I merely wish to demonstrate, in points admitting +of demonstration, that intense observation of, and strict adherence to +truth, which it is impossible to demonstrate in its less tangible and +more delicate manifestations. However I may _feel_ the truth of every +touch and line, I cannot _prove_ truth, except in large and general +features; and I leave it to the arbitration of every man's reason, +whether it be not likely that the painter who is thus so rigidly +faithful in great things that every one of his pictures might be the +illustration of a lecture on the physical sciences, is not likely to be +faithful also in small. + + +Sec. 22. Expression of retiring surface by Turner contrasted with the work + of Claude. + +Honfleur, and the scene between Clairmont and Mauves, supply us with +farther instances of the same grand simplicity of treatment; and the +latter is especially remarkable for its expression of the furrowing of +the hills by descending water, in the complete roundness and symmetry +of their curves, and in the delicate and sharp shadows which are cast in +the undulating ravines. It is interesting to compare with either of +these noble works such hills as those of Claude, on the left of the +picture marked 260 in the Dulwich Gallery. There is no detail nor +surface in one of them; not an inch of ground for us to stand upon; we +must either sit astride upon the edge, or fall to the bottom. I could +not point to a more complete instance of mountain calumniation; nor can +I oppose it more completely, in every circumstance, than with the +Honfleur of Turner, already mentioned; in which there is not one edge +nor division admitted, and yet we are permitted to climb up the hill +from the town, and pass far into the mist along its top, and so descend +mile after mile along the ridge to seaward, until, without one break in +the magnificent unity of progress, we are carried down to the utmost +horizon. And contrast the brown paint of Claude, which you can only +guess to be meant for rock or soil because it _is_ brown, with Turner's +profuse, pauseless richness of feature, carried through all the enormous +space--the unmeasured wealth of exquisite detail, over which the mind +can dwell, and walk, and wander, and feast forever, without finding +either one break in its vast simplicity, or one vacuity in its +exhaustless splendor. + + +Sec. 23. The same moderation of slope in the contours of his higher hills. + +But these, and hundreds of others which it is sin not to dwell +upon--wooded hills and undulating moors of North England--rolling surges +of park and forest of the South--soft and vine-clad ranges of French +coteaux, casting their oblique shadows on silver leagues of glancing +rivers,--and olive-whitened promontories of Alp and Apennine, are only +instances of Turner's management of the lower and softer hills. In the +bolder examples of his powers, where he is dealing with lifted masses of +enormous mountain, we shall still find him as cautious in his use of +violent slopes or vertical lines, and still as studied in his expression +of retiring surface. We never get to the top of one of his hills without +being tired with our walk; not by the steepness, observe, but by the +stretch; for we are carried up towards the heaven by such delicate +gradation of line, that we scarcely feel that we have left the earth +before we find ourselves among the clouds. The Skiddaw, in the +illustrations to Scott, is a noble instance of this majestic moderation. +The mountain lies in the morning light, like a level vapor; its gentle +lines of ascent are scarcely felt by the eye; it rises without effort or +exertion, by the mightiness of its mass; every slope is full of slumber; +and we know not how it has been exalted, until we find it laid as a +floor for the walking of the eastern clouds. So again in the Fort +Augustus, where the whole elevation of the hills depends on the soft +lines of swelling surface which undulate back through leagues of mist +carrying us unawares higher and higher above the diminished lake, until, +when we are all but exhausted with the endless distance, the mountains +make their last spring, and bear us, in that instant of exertion, half +way to heaven. + + +Sec. 24. The peculiar difficulty of investigating the more essential truths + of hill outline. + +I ought perhaps rather to have selected, as instances of mountain form, +such elaborate works as the Oberwesel or Lake of Uri, but I have before +expressed my dislike of speaking of such magnificent pictures as these +by parts. And indeed all proper consideration of the hill drawing of +Turner must be deferred until we are capable of testing it by the +principles of beauty; for, after all, the most essential qualities of +line,--those on which all right delineation of mountain character must +depend, are those which are only to be explained or illustrated by +appeals to our feeling of what is beautiful. There is an expression and +a feeling about all the hill lines of nature, which I think I shall be +able, hereafter, to explain; but it is not to be reduced to line and +rule--not to be measured by angles or described by compasses--not to be +chipped out by the geologist, or equated by the mathematician. It is +intangible, incalculable--a thing to be felt, not understood--to be +loved, not comprehended--a music of the eyes, a melody of the heart, +whose truth is known only by its sweetness. + + +Sec. 25. Works of other modern artists. Clarkson Stanfield. + +Sec. 26. Importance of particular and individual truth in hill drawing. + +I can scarcely, without repeating myself to tediousness, enter at +present into proper consideration of the mountain drawing of other +modern painters. We have, fortunately, several by whom the noble truths +which we have seen so fully exemplified by Turner are also deeply felt +and faithfully rendered; though there is a necessity, for the perfect +statement of them, of such an unison of freedom of thought with perfect +mastery over the greatest mechanical difficulties, as we can scarcely +hope to see attained by more than one man in our age. Very nearly the +same words which we used in reference to Stanfield's drawings of the +central clouds, might be applied to his rendering of mountain truth. He +occupies exactly the same position with respect to other artists in +earth as in cloud. None can be said really to _draw_ the mountain as he +will, to have so perfect a mastery over its organic development; but +there is, nevertheless, in all his works, some want of feeling and +individuality. He has studied and mastered his subject to the bottom, +but he trusts too much to that past study, and rather invents his hills +from his possessed stores of knowledge, than expresses in them the fresh +ideas received from nature. Hence, in all that he does, we feel a little +too much that the hills are his own. We cannot swear to their being the +particular crags and individual promontories which break the cone of +Ischia, or shadow the waves of Maggiore. We are nearly sure, on the +contrary, that nothing but the outline is local, and that all the +filling up has been done in the study. Now, we have already shown (Sect. +I. Chap. III.) that particular truths are more important than general +ones, and this is just one of the cases in which that rule especially +applies. Nothing is so great a sign of truth and beauty in mountain +drawing as the appearance of individuality--nothing is so great a proof +of real imagination and invention, as the appearance that nothing has +been imagined or invented. We ought to feel of every inch of mountain, +that it _must_ have existence in reality, that if we had lived near the +place we should have known every crag of it, and that there must be +people to whom every crevice and shadow of the picture is fraught with +recollections, and colored with associations. The moment the artist can +make us feel this--the moment he can make us think that _he_ has done +nothing, that nature has done all--that moment he becomes ennobled, he +proves himself great. As long as we remember him, we cannot respect him. +We honor him most when we most forget him. He becomes great when he +becomes invisible. And we may, perhaps, be permitted to express our hope +that Mr. Stanfield will--our conviction that he must--if he would +advance in his rank as an artist, attend more to local character, and +give us generally less of the Stanfield limestone. He ought to study +with greater attention the rocks which afford finer divisions and more +delicate parts (slates and gneiss;) and he ought to observe more fondly +and faithfully those beautiful laws and lines of swell and curvature, by +intervals of which nature sets off and relieves the energy of her peaked +outlines. He is at present apt to be too rugged, and, in consequence, to +lose size. Of his best manner of drawing hills, I believe I can scarcely +give a better example than the rocks of Suli, engraved in Finden's +illustrations to Byron. It is very grand and perfect in all parts and +points. + + +Sec. 27. Works of Copley Fielding. His hill feeling. + +Copley Fielding is peculiarly graceful and affectionate in his drawing +of the inferior mountains. But as with his clouds so with his hills; as +long as he keeps to silvery films of misty outline, or purple shadows +mingled with the evening light, he is true and beautiful; but the moment +he withdraws the mass out of its veiling mystery, he is lost. His worst +drawings, therefore, are those on which he has spent most time; for he +is sure to show weakness wherever he gives detail. We believe that all +his errors proceed, as we observed before, from his not working with the +chalk or pencil; and that if he would paint half the number of pictures +in the year which he usually produces, and spend his spare time in hard +dry study of forms, the half he painted would be soon worth double the +present value of all. For he really has deep and genuine feeling of hill +character--a far higher perception of space, elevation, incorporeal +color, and all those qualities which are the poetry of mountains, than +any other of our water-color painters; and it is an infinite pity that +he should not give to these delicate feelings the power of realization, +which might be attained by a little labor. A few thorough studies of his +favorite mountains, Ben-Venue or Ben-Cruachan, in clear, strong, front +chiaroscuro, allowing himself neither color nor mist, nor any means of +getting over the ground but downright drawing, would, we think, open his +eyes to sources of beauty of which he now takes no cognizance. He ought +not, however, to repeat the same subjects so frequently, as the casting +about of the mind for means of varying them blunts the feelings to +truth. And he should remember that an artist, who is not making +progress, is nearly certain to be retrograding; and that progress is not +to be made by working in the study, or by mere labor bestowed on the +repetition of unchanging conceptions. + + +Sec. 28. Works of J. D. Harding and others. + +J. D. Harding would paint mountains very nobly, if he made them of more +importance in his compositions, but they are usually little more than +backgrounds for his foliage or buildings; and it is his present system +to make his backgrounds very slight. His color is very beautiful: +indeed, both his and Fielding's are far more refined than Stanfield's. +We wish he would oftener take up some wild subject dependent for +interest on its mountain forms alone, as we should anticipate the +highest results from his perfect drawing; and we think that such an +exercise, occasionally gone completely through, would counteract a +tendency which we perceive in his present distances, to become a little +thin and cutting, if not incomplete. + +The late G. Robson was a man most thoroughly acquainted with all the +characteristics of our own island hills; and some of the outlines of +John Varley showed very grand feeling of energy of form. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [56] I have above exhausted all terms of vituperation, and probably + disgusted the reader; and yet I have not spoken with enough + severity: I know not any terms of blame that are bitter enough to + chastise justly the mountain drawings of Salvator in the pictures of + the Pitti Palace. + + [57] Some terrific cuts and chasms of this kind occur on the north + side of the Valais, from Sion to Briey. The torrent from the great + Aletsch glacier descends through one of them. Elsewhere chasms may + be found as narrow, but few so narrow and deep. + + + + + CHAPTER IV. + + OF THE FOREGROUND. + + +We have now only to observe the close characteristics of the rocks and +soils to which the large masses of which we have been speaking, owe +their ultimate characters. + + +Sec. 1. What rocks were the chief components of ancient landscape + foreground. + +We have already seen that there exists a marked distinction between +those stratified rocks whose beds are amorphous and without subdivision, +as many limestones and sandstones, and those which are divided by lines +of lamination, as all slates. The last kind of rock is the more frequent +in nature, and forms the greater part of all hill scenery; it has, +however, been successfully grappled with by few, even of the moderns, +except Turner; while there is no single example of any aim at it or +thought of it among the ancients, whose foregrounds, as far as it is +possible to guess at their intention through their concentrated errors, +are chosen from among the tufa and travertin of the lower Apennines, +(the ugliest as well as the least characteristic rocks of nature,) and +whose larger features of rock scenery, if we look at them with a +predetermination to find in them a resemblance of _something_, may be +pronounced at least liker the mountain limestone than anything else. I +shall glance, therefore, at the general characters of these materials +first, in order that we may be able to appreciate the fidelity of +rock-drawing on which Salvator's reputation has been built. + + +Sec. 2. Salvator's limestones. The real characters of the rock. Its + fractures and obtuseness of angles. + +The massive limestones separate generally into irregular blocks, tending +to the form of cubes or parallelopipeds, and terminated by tolerably +smooth planes. The weather, acting on the edges of these blocks, rounds +them off; but the frost, which, while it cannot penetrate nor split the +body of the stone, acts energetically on the angles, splits off the +rounded fragments, and supplies sharp, fresh, and complicated edges. +Hence the angles of such blocks are usually marked by a series of steps +and fractures, in which the peculiar character of the rock is most +distinctly seen; the effect being increased in many limestones by the +interposition of two or three thinner beds between the large strata of +which the block has been a part; these thin laminae breaking easily, and +supplying a number of fissures and lines at the edge of the detached +mass. Thus, as a general principle, if a rock have character anywhere, +it will be on the angle, and however even and smooth its great planes +may be, it will usually break into variety where it turns a corner. In +one of the most exquisite pieces of rock truth ever put on canvas, the +foreground of the Napoleon in the Academy, 1842, this principle was +beautifully exemplified in the complicated fractures of the upper angle +just where it turned from the light, while the planes of the rock were +varied only by the modulation they owed to the waves. It follows from +this structure that the edges of all rock being partially truncated, +first by large fractures, and then by the rounding of the fine edges of +these by the weather, perpetually present _convex_ transitions from the +light to the dark side, the planes of the rock almost always swelling a +little _from_ the angle. + + +Sec. 3. Salvator's acute angles caused by the meeting of concave curves. + +Now it will be found throughout the works of Salvator, that his most +usual practice was to give a _concave_ sweep of the brush for his first +expression of the dark side, leaving the paint darkest towards the +light; by which daring and original method of procedure he has succeeded +in covering his foregrounds with forms which approximate to those of +drapery, of ribbons, of crushed cocked hats, of locks of hair, of waves, +leaves, or anything, in short, flexible or tough, but which of course +are not only unlike, but directly contrary to the forms which nature has +impressed on rocks.[58] + + +Sec. 4. Peculiar distinctness of light and shade in the rocks of nature. + +Sec. 5. Peculiar confusion of both in the rocks of Salvator. + +And the circular and sweeping strokes or stains which are dashed at +random over their surfaces, only fail of destroying all resemblance +whatever to rock structure from their frequent want of any meaning at +all, and from the impossibility of our supposing any of them to be +representative of shade. Now, if there be any part of landscape in which +nature develops her principles of light and shade more clearly than +another, it is rock; for the dark sides of fractured stone receive +brilliant reflexes from the lighted surfaces, on which the shadows are +marked with the most exquisite precision, especially because, owing to +the parallelism of cleavage, the surfaces lie usually in directions +nearly parallel. Hence every crack and fissure has its shadow and +reflected light separated with the most delicious distinctness, and the +organization and solid form of all parts are told with a decision of +language, which, to be followed with anything like fidelity, requires +the most transparent color, and the most delicate and scientific +drawing. So far are the works of the old landscape-painters from +rendering this, that it is exceedingly rare to find a single passage in +which the shadow can even be distinguished from the dark side--they +scarcely seem to know the one to be darker than the other; and the +strokes of the brush are not used to explain or express a form known or +conceived, but are dashed and daubed about without any aim beyond the +covering of the canvas. "A rock," the old masters appear to say to +themselves, "is a great irregular, formless, characterless lump; but it +must have shade upon it, and any gray marks will do for that shade." + + +Sec. 6. And total want of any expression of hardness or brittleness. + +Sec. 7. Instances in particular pictures. + +Finally, while few, if any, of the rocks of nature are untraversed by +delicate and slender fissures, whose black sharp lines are the only +means by which the peculiar quality in which rocks most differ from the +other objects of the landscape, brittleness, can be effectually +suggested, we look in vain among the blots and stains with which the +rocks of ancient art are loaded, for any vestige or appearance of +fissure or splintering. Toughness and malleability appear to be the +qualities whose expression is most aimed at; sometimes sponginess, +softness, flexibility, tenuity, and occasionally transparency. Take, for +instance, the foreground of Salvator, in No. 220 of the Dulwich Gallery. +There is, on the right-hand side of it, an object, which I never walk +through the room without contemplating for a minute or two with renewed +solicitude and anxiety of mind, indulging in a series of very wild and +imaginative conjectures as to its probable or possible meaning. I think +there is reason to suppose that the artist intended it either for a very +large stone, or for the trunk of a tree; but any decision as to its +being either one or the other of these must, I conceive, be the extreme +of rashness. It melts into the ground on one side, and might reasonably +be conjectured to form a part of it, having no trace of woody structure +or color; but on the other side it presents a series of concave curves, +interrupted by cogs like those of a water-wheel, which the boldest +theorist would certainly not feel himself warranted in supposing +symbolical of rock. The forms which this substance, whatever it be, +assumes, will be found repeated, though in a less degree, in the +foreground of No. 159, where they are evidently meant for rock. + + +Sec. 8. Compared with the works of Stanfield. + +Sec. 9. Their absolute opposition in every particular. + +Let us contrast with this system of rock-drawing, the faithful, +scientific, and dexterous studies of nature which we find in the works +of Clarkson Stanfield. He is a man especially to be opposed to the old +masters, because he usually confines himself to the same rock subjects +as they--the mouldering and furrowed crags of the secondary formation +which arrange themselves more or less into broad and simple masses; and +in the rendering of these it is impossible to go beyond him. Nothing can +surpass his care, his firmness, or his success, in marking the distinct +and sharp light and shade by which the form is explained, never +confusing it with local color, however richly his surface-texture may be +given; while the wonderful play of line with which he will vary, and +through which he will indicate, the regularity of stratification, is +almost as instructive as that of nature herself. I cannot point to any +of his works as better or more characteristic than others; but his +Ischia, in the present British Institution, may be taken as a fair +average example. The Botallack Mine, Cornwall, engraved in the Coast +Scenery, gives us a very finished and generic representation of rock, +whose primal organization has been violently affected by external +influences. We have the stratification and cleavage indicated at its +base, every fissure being sharp, angular, and decisive, disguised +gradually as it rises by the rounding of the surface and the successive +furrows caused by the descent of streams. But the exquisite drawing of +the foreground is especially worthy of notice. No huge concave sweeps of +the brush, no daubing or splashing here. Every inch of it is brittle and +splintery, and the fissures are explained to the eye by the most +perfect, speaking light and shade,--we can stumble over the edges of +them. The East Cliff, Hastings, is another very fine example, from the +exquisite irregularity with which its squareness of general structure is +varied and disguised. Observe how totally contrary every one of its +lines is to the absurdities of Salvator. Stanfield's are all angular and +straight, every apparent curve made up of right lines, while Salvator's +are all sweeping and flourishing like so much penmanship. Stanfield's +lines pass away into delicate splintery fissures. Salvator's are broad +daubs throughout. Not one of Stanfield's lines is like another. Every +one of Salvator's mocks all the rest. All Stanfield's curves, where his +universal angular character is massed, as on the left-hand side, into +large sweeping forms, are convex. Salvator's are every one concave. + + +Sec. 10. The rocks of J. D. Harding. + +The foregrounds of J. D. Harding and rocks of his middle distances are +also thoroughly admirable. He is not quite so various and undulating in +his line as Stanfield, and sometimes, in his middle distances, is +wanting in solidity, owing to a little confusion of the dark side and +shadow with each other, or with the local color. But his work, in near +passages of fresh-broken, sharp-edged rock, is absolute perfection, +excelling Stanfield in the perfect freedom and facility with which his +fragments are splintered and scattered; true in every line without the +least apparent effort. Stanfield's best works are laborious, but +Harding's rocks fall from under his hand as if they had just crashed +down the hill-side, flying on the instant into lovely form. In color +also he incomparably surpasses Stanfield, who is apt to verge upon mud, +or be cold in his gray. The rich, lichenous, and changeful warmth, and +delicate weathered grays of Harding's rock, illustrated as they are by +the most fearless, firm, and unerring drawing, render his wild pieces of +torrent shore the finest things, next to the work of Turner, in English +foreground art. + +J. B. Pyne has very accurate knowledge of limestone rock, and expresses +it clearly and forcibly; but it is much to be regretted that this clever +artist appears to be losing all sense of color and is getting more and +more mannered in execution, evidently never studying from nature except +with the previous determination to Pynize everything.[59] + + +Sec. 11. Characters of loose earth and soil. + +Sec. 12. Its exceeding grace and fulness of feature. + +Before passing to Turner, let us take one more glance at the foregrounds +of the old masters, with reference, not to their management of rock, +which is comparatively a rare component part of their foregrounds, but +to the common soil which they were obliged to paint constantly, and +whose forms and appearances are the same all over the world. A steep +bank of loose earth of any kind, that has been at all exposed to the +weather, contains in it, though it may not be three feet high, features +capable of giving high gratification to a careful observer. It is almost +a fac-simile of a mountain slope of soft and decomposing rock; it +possesses nearly as much variety of character, and is governed by laws +of organization no less rigid. It is furrowed in the first place by +undulating lines, by the descent of the rain, little ravines, which are +cut precisely at the same slope as those of the mountain, and leave +ridges scarcely less graceful in their contour, and beautifully sharp in +their chiselling. Where a harder knot of ground or a stone occurs, the +earth is washed from beneath it, and accumulates above it, and there we +have a little precipice connected by a sweeping curve at its summit with +the great slope, and casting a sharp dark shadow; where the soil has +been soft, it will probably be washed away underneath until it gives +way, and leaves a jagged, hanging, irregular line of fracture; and all +these circumstances are explained to the eye in sunshine with the most +delicious clearness; every touch of shadow being expressive of some +particular truth of structure, and bearing witness to the symmetry into +which the whole mass has been reduced. Where this operation has gone on +long, and vegetation has assisted in softening the outlines, we have our +ground brought into graceful and irregular curves, of infinite variety, +but yet always so connected with each other, and guiding to each other, +that the eye never feels them as _separate_ things, nor feels inclined +to count them, nor perceives a likeness in one to the other; they are +not repetitions of each other, but are different parts of one system. +Each would be imperfect without the one next to it. + + +Sec. 13. The ground of Teniers. + +Now it is all but impossible to express distinctly the particulars +wherein this fine character of curve consists, and to show in definite +examples, what it is which makes one representation right, and another +wrong. The ground of Teniers for instance, in No. 139 in the Dulwich +Gallery, is an example of all that is wrong. It is a representation of +the forms of shaken and disturbed soil, such as we should see here and +there after an earthquake, or over the ruins of fallen buildings. It has +not one contour nor character of the soil of nature, and yet I can +scarcely tell you why, except that the curves repeat one another, and +are monotonous in their flow, and are unbroken by the delicate angle +and momentary pause with which the feeling of nature would have touched +them, and are disunited; so that the eye leaps from this to that, and +does not pass from one to the other without being able to stop, drawn on +by the continuity of line; neither is there any undulation or furrowing +of watermark, nor in one spot or atom of the whole surface, is there +distinct explanation of form to the eye by means of a determined shadow. +All is mere sweeping of the brush over the surface with various ground +colors, without a single indication of character by means of real shade. + + +Sec. 14. Importance of these minor parts and points. + +Sec. 15. The observance of them is the real distinction between the master + and the novice. + +Let not these points be deemed unimportant; the truths of form in common +ground are quite as valuable, (let me anticipate myself for a moment,) +quite as beautiful, as any others which nature presents, and in lowland +landscape they present us with a species of line which it is quite +impossible to obtain in any other way,--the alternately flowing and +broken line of mountain scenery, which, however small its scale, is +always of inestimable value, contrasted with the repetitions of organic +form which we are compelled to give in vegetation. A really great artist +dwells on every inch of exposed soil with care and delight, and renders +it one of the most essential, speaking and pleasurable parts of his +composition. And be it remembered, that the man who, in the most +conspicuous part of his foreground, will violate truth with every stroke +of the pencil, is not likely to be more careful in other parts of it; +and that in the little bits which I fix upon for animadversion, I am not +pointing out solitary faults, but only the most characteristic examples +of the falsehood which is everywhere, and which renders the whole +foreground one mass of contradictions and absurdities. Nor do I myself +see wherein the great difference lies between a master and a novice, +except in the rendering of the finer truths, of which I am at present +speaking. To handle the brush freely, and to paint grass and weeds with +accuracy enough to satisfy the eye, are accomplishments which a year or +two's practice will give any man; but to trace among the grass and weeds +those mysteries of invention and combination, by which nature appeals to +the intellect--to render the delicate fissure, and descending curve, and +undulating shadow of the mouldering soil, with gentle and fine finger, +like the touch of the rain itself--to find even in all that appears most +trifling or contemptible, fresh evidence of the constant working of the +Divine power "for glory and for beauty," and to teach it and proclaim it +to the unthinking and the unregardless--this, as it is the peculiar +province and faculty of the master-mind, so it is the peculiar duty +which is demanded of it by the Deity. + + +Sec. 16. The ground of Cuyp. + +Sec. 17. And of Claude. + +Sec. 18. The entire weakness and childishness of the latter. + +Sec. 19. Compared with the work of Turner. + +It would take me no reasonable nor endurable time, if I were to point +out one half of the various kinds and classes of falsehood which the +inventive faculties of the old masters succeeded in originating, in the +drawing of foregrounds. It is not this man, nor that man, nor one school +nor another; all agree in entire repudiation of everything resembling +facts, and in the high degree of absurdity of what they substitute for +them. Even Cuyp, who evidently saw and studied _near_ nature, as an +artist should do--not fishing for idealities, but taking what nature +gave him, and thanking her for it--even he appears to have supposed that +the drawing of the earth might be trusted to chance or imagination, and, +in consequence, strews his banks with lumps of dough, instead of stones. +Perhaps, however, the "beautiful foregrounds" of Claude afford the most +remarkable instances of childishness and incompetence of all. That of +his morning landscape, with the large group of trees and high +single-arched bridge, in the National Gallery, is a pretty fair example +of the kind of error which he constantly falls into. I will not say +anything of the agreeable composition of the three banks, rising one +behind another from the water. I merely affirm that it amounts to a +demonstration that all three were painted in the artist's study, without +any reference to nature whatever. In fact, there is quite enough +intrinsic evidence in each of them to prove this, seeing that what +appears to be meant for vegetation upon them, amounts to nothing more +than a green stain on their surfaces, the more evidently false because +the leaves of the trees twenty yards farther off are all perfectly +visible and distinct; and that the sharp lines with which each cuts +against that beyond it, are not only such as crumbling earth could never +show or assume, but are maintained through their whole progress +ungraduated, unchanging, and unaffected by any of the circumstances of +varying shade to which every one of nature's lines is inevitably +subjected. In fact, the whole arrangement is the impotent struggle of a +tyro to express, by successive edges, that approach of earth which he +finds himself incapable of expressing by the drawing of the surface. +Claude wished to make you understand that the edge of his pond came +nearer and nearer: he had probably often tried to do this with an +unbroken bank, or a bank only varied by the delicate and harmonized +anatomy of nature; and he had found that owing to his total ignorance of +the laws of perspective, such efforts on his part invariably ended in +his reducing his pond to the form of a round O, and making it look +perpendicular. Much comfort and solace of mind, in such unpleasant +circumstances, may be derived from instantly dividing the obnoxious bank +into a number of successive promontories, and developing their edges +with completeness and intensity. Every school-girl's drawing, as soon as +her mind has arrived at so great a degree of enlightenment as to +perceive that perpendicular water is objectionable, will supply us with +edifying instances of this unfailing resource; and this foreground of +Claude's is only one out of the thousand cases in which he has been +reduced to it. And if it be asked, how the proceeding differs from that +of nature, I have only to point to nature herself, as she is drawn in +the foreground of Turner's Mercury and Argus, a case precisely similar +to Claude's, of earthy crumbling banks cut away by water. It will be +found in this picture (and I am now describing nature's work and +Turner's with the same words) that the whole distance is given by +retirement of solid surface; and that if ever an edge is expressed, it +is only felt for an instant, and then lost again; so that the eye cannot +stop at it and prepare for a long jump to another like it, but is guided +over it, and round it, into the hollow beyond; and thus the whole +receding mass of ground, going back for more than a quarter of a mile, +is made completely _one_--no part of it is separated from the rest for +an instant--it is all united, and its modulations are _members_, not +_divisions_ of its mass. But those modulations are countless--heaving +here, sinking there--now swelling, now mouldering, now blending, now +breaking--giving, in fact, to the foreground of this universal master, +precisely the same qualities which we have before seen in his hills, as +Claude gave to his foreground precisely the same qualities which we had +before found in _his_ hills,--infinite unity in the one case, finite +division in the other. + + +Sec. 20. General features of Turner's foreground. + +Let us, then, having now obtained some insight into the principles of +the old masters in foreground drawing, contrast them throughout with +those of our great modern master. The investigation of the excellence of +Turner's drawing becomes shorter and easier as we proceed, because the +great distinctions between his work and that of other painters are the +same, whatever the object or subject may be; and after once showing the +general characters of the particular specific forms under consideration, +we have only to point, in the works of Turner, to the same principles of +infinity and variety in carrying them out, which we have before insisted +upon with reference to other subjects. + + +Sec. 21. Geological structure of his rocks in the Fall of the Tees. + +Sec. 22. Their convex surfaces and fractured edges. + +Sec. 23. And perfect unity. + +Sec. 24. Various parts whose history is told us by the details of the + drawing. + +The Upper Fall of the Tees, Yorkshire, engraved in the England series, +may be given as a standard example of rock-drawing to be opposed to the +work of Salvator. We have, in the great face of rock which divides the +two streams, horizontal lines which indicate the real direction of the +strata, and these same lines are given in ascending perspective all +along the precipice on the right. But we see also on the central +precipice fissures absolutely vertical, which inform us of one series of +joints dividing these horizontal strata; and the exceeding smoothness +and evenness of the precipice itself inform us that it has been caused +by a great separation of substance in the direction of another more +important line of joints, running in a direction across the river. +Accordingly, we see on the left that the whole summit of the precipice +is divided again and again by this great series of joints into vertical +beds, which lie against each other with their sides towards us, and are +traversed downwards by the same vertical lines traceable on the face of +the central cliff. Now, let me direct especial attention to the way in +which Turner has marked over this general and grand unity of structure, +the modifying effects of the weather and the torrent. Observe how the +whole surface of the hill above the precipice on the left[60] is +brought into one smooth, unbroken curvature of gentle convexity, until +it comes to the edge of the precipice, and then, just on the angle, +(compare Sec. 2,) breaks into the multiplicity of fissure which marks its +geological structure. Observe how every one of the separate blocks, into +which it divides, is rounded and convex in its salient edges turned to +the weather, and how every one of their inward angles is marked clear +and sharp by the determined shadow and transparent reflex. Observe how +exquisitely graceful are all the curves of the convex surfaces, +indicating that every one of them has been modelled by the winding and +undulating of running water; and how gradually they become steeper as +they descend, until they are torn down into the face of the precipice. +Finally, observe the exquisite variety of all the touches which express +fissure or shade; every one in varying directions and with new forms, +and yet throughout indicating that perfect parallelism which at once +explained to us the geology of the rock, and falling into one grand +mass, treated with the same simplicity of light and shade which a great +portrait painter adopts in treating the features of the human face; +which, though each has its own separate chiaroscuro, never disturb the +wholeness and grandeur of the head, considered as one ball or mass. So +here, one deep and marked piece of shadow indicates the greatest +proximity of the rounded mass; and from this every shade becomes fainter +and fainter, until all are lost in the obscurity and dimness of the +hanging precipice and the shattering fall. Again, see how the same +fractures just upon the edge take place with the central cliff above the +right-hand fall, and how the force of the water is told us by the +confusion of debris accumulated in its channel. In fact, the great +quality about Turner's drawings which more especially proves their +transcendent truth, is the capability they afford us of reasoning on +past and future phenomena, just as if we had the actual rocks before us; +for this indicates not that one truth is given, nor another, not that a +pretty or interesting morsel has been selected here and there, but that +the whole truth has been given, with all the relations of its parts; so +that we can pick and choose our points of pleasure or of thought for +ourselves, and reason upon the whole with the same certainty which we +should after having climbed and hammered over the rocks bit by bit. With +this drawing before him, a geologist could give a lecture upon the whole +system of aqueous erosion, and speculate as safely upon the past and +future states of this very spot, as if he were standing and getting wet +with the spray. He would tell you, at once, that the waterfall was in a +state of rapid recession; that it had once formed a wide cataract just +at the spot where the figure is sitting on the heap of debris; and that +when it was there, part of it came down by the channel on the left, its +bed being still marked by the delicately chiselled lines of fissure. He +would tell you that the foreground had also once been the top of the +fall, and that the vertical fissures on the right of it were evidently +then the channel of a side stream. He would tell you that the fall was +then much lower than it is now, and that being lower, it had less force, +and cut itself a narrower bed; and that the spot where it reached the +higher precipice is marked by the expansion of the wide basin which its +increased violence has excavated, and by the gradually increasing +concavity of the rocks below, which we see have been hollowed into a +complete vault by the elastic bound of the water. But neither he nor I +could tell you with what exquisite and finished marking of every +fragment and particle of soil or rock, both in its own structure and the +evidence it bears of these great influences, the whole of this is +confirmed and carried out. + + +Sec. 25. Beautiful instance of an exception to general rules in the + Llanthony. + +With this inimitable drawing we may compare the rocks in the foreground +of the Llanthony. These latter are not divided by joints, but into thin +horizontal and united beds, which the torrent in its times of flood has +chiselled away, leaving one exposed under another, with the sweeping +marks of its eddies upon their edges. And here we have an instance of an +exception to a general rule, occasioned by particular and local action. +We have seen that the action of water over any surface _universally_, +whether falling, as in rain, or sweeping, as a torrent, induces +convexity of form. But when we have rocks _in situ_, as here, exposed at +their edges to the violent action of an eddy, that eddy will cut a vault +or circular space for itself, (as we saw on a large scale with the high +waterfall,) and we have a concave curve interrupting the general +contours of the rock. And thus Turner (while every edge of his masses is +rounded, and, the moment we rise above the level of the water, all is +convex) has interrupted the great contours of his strata with concave +curves, precisely where the last waves of the torrent have swept against +the exposed edges of the beds. Nothing could more strikingly prove the +depth of that knowledge by which every touch of this consummate artist +is regulated, that universal command of subject which never acts for a +moment on anything conventional or habitual, but fills every corner and +space with new evidence of knowledge, and fresh manifestation of +thought. + + +Sec. 26. Turner's drawing of detached blocks of weathered stone. + +The Lower Fall of the Tees, with the chain-bridge, might serve us for an +illustration of all the properties and forms of vertical beds of rock, +as the upper fall has of horizontal; but we pass rather to observe, in +detached pieces of foreground, the particular modulation of parts which +cannot be investigated in the grand combinations of general mass. + +The blocks of stone which form the foreground of the Ulleswater are, I +believe, the finest example in the world of the finished drawing of +rocks which have been subjected to violent aqueous action. Their +surfaces seem to palpitate from the fine touch of the waves, and every +part of them is rising or falling in soft swell or gentle depression, +though the eye can scarcely trace the fine shadows on which this +chiselling of the surface depends. And with all this, every block of +them has individual character, dependent on the expression of the +angular lines of which its contours were first formed, and which is +retained and felt through all the modulation and melting of the +water-worn surface. And what is done here in the most important part of +the picture, to be especially attractive to the eye, is often done by +Turner with lavish and overwhelming power, in the accumulated debris of +a wide foreground, strewed with the ruin of ages, as, for instance, in +the Junction of the Greta and Tees, where he has choked the torrent bed +with a mass of shattered rock, thrown down with the profusion and +carelessness of nature herself; and yet every separate block is a study, +(and has evidently been drawn from nature,) chiselled and varied in its +parts, as if it were to be the chief member of a separate subject; yet +without ever losing, in a single instance, its subordinate position, or +occasioning, throughout the whole accumulated multitude, the repetition +of a single line. + + +Sec. 27. And of complicated foreground. + +I consider cases like these, of perfect finish and new conception, +applied and exerted in the drawing of every member of a confused and +almost countlessly-divided system, about the most wonderful, as well as +the most characteristic passages of Turner's foregrounds. It is done not +less marvellously, though less distinctly, in the individual parts of +all his broken ground, as in examples like these of separate blocks. The +articulation of such a passage as the nearest bank, in the picture we +have already spoken of at so great length, the Upper Fall of the Tees, +might serve us for a day's study, if we were to go into it part by part; +but it is impossible to do this, except with the pencil; we can only +repeat the same general observations, about eternal change and unbroken +unity, and tell you to observe how the eye is kept throughout on solid +and retiring surfaces, instead of being thrown, as by Claude, on flat +and equal edges. You cannot find a single edge in Turner's work; you are +everywhere kept upon round surfaces, and you go back on these you cannot +tell how--never taking a leap, but progressing imperceptibly along the +unbroken bank, till you find yourself a quarter of a mile into the +picture, beside the figure at the bottom of the waterfall. + + +Sec. 28. And of loose soil. + +Finally, the bank of earth on the right of the grand drawing of Penmaen +Mawr, may be taken as the standard of the representation of soft soil +modelled by descending rain; and may serve to show us how exquisite in +character are the resultant lines, and how full of every species of +attractive and even sublime quality, if we only are wise enough not to +scorn the study of them. The higher the mind, it may be taken as a +universal rule, the less it will scorn that which appears to be small or +unimportant; and the rank of a painter may always be determined by +observing how he uses, and with what respect he views the minutiae of +nature. Greatness of mind is not shown by admitting small things, but by +making small things great under its influence. He who can take no +interest in what is small, will take false interest in what is great; +he who cannot make a bank sublime, will make a mountain ridiculous. + + +Sec. 29. The unison of all in the ideal foregrounds of the Academy + pictures. + +Sec. 30. And the great lesson to be received from all. + +It is not until we have made ourselves acquainted with these simple +facts of form, as they are illustrated by the slighter works of Turner, +that we can become at all competent to enjoy the combination of all, in +such works as the Mercury and Argus, or Bay of Baiae, in which the mind +is at first bewildered by the abundant outpouring of the master's +knowledge. Often as I have paused before these noble works, I never felt +on returning to them as if I had ever seen them before; for their +abundance is so deep and various that the mind, according to its own +temper at the time of seeing, perceives some new series of truths +rendered in them, just as it would on revisiting a natural scene; and +detects new relations and associations of these truths which set the +whole picture in a different light at every return to it. And this +effect is especially caused by the management of the foreground; for the +more marked objects of the picture may be taken one by one, and thus +examined and known; but the foregrounds of Turner are so united in all +their parts that the eye cannot take them by divisions, but is guided +from stone to stone, and bank to bank, discovering truths totally +different in aspect, according to the direction in which it approaches +them, and approaching them in a different direction, and viewing them as +a part of a new system, every time that it begins its course at a new +point. One lesson, however, we are invariably taught by all, however +approached or viewed,--that the work of the Great Spirit of nature is as +deep and unapproachable in the lowest as in the noblest objects,--that +the Divine mind is as visible in its full energy of operation on every +lowly bank and mouldering stone, as in the lifting of the pillars of +heaven, and settling the foundation of the earth; and that to the +rightly perceiving mind, there is the same infinity, the same majesty, +the same power, the same unity, and the same perfection, manifest in the +casting of the clay as in the scattering of the cloud, in the mouldering +of the dust as in the kindling of the day-star. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [58] I have cut out a passage in this place which insisted on the + _angular_ character of rocks,--not because it was false, but because + it was incomplete, and I cannot explain it nor complete it without + example. It is not the absence of curves, but the suggestion of + _hardness through_ curves, and of the under tendencies of the inward + structure, which form the true characteristics of rock form; and + Salvator, whom neither here nor elsewhere I have abused enough, is + not wrong because he paints curved rocks, but because his curves are + the curves of ribbons and not of rocks; and the difference between + rock curvature and other curvature I cannot explain verbally, but I + hope to do it hereafter by illustration; and, at present, let the + reader study the rock-drawing of the Mont St. Gothard subject, in + the Liber Studiorum, and compare it with any examples of Salvator to + which he may happen to have access. All the account of rocks here + given is altogether inadequate, and I only do not alter it because I + first wish to give longer study to the subject. + + [59] A passage which I happened to see in an Essay of Mr. Pyne's, in + the Art-Union, about nature's "foisting rubbish" upon the artist, + sufficiently explains the cause of this decline. If Mr. Pyne will go + to nature, as all great men have done, and as all men who mean to be + great must do, that is not merely to be _helped_, but to be _taught_ + by her; and will once or twice take her gifts, without looking them + in the mouth, he will most assuredly find--and I say this in no + unkind or depreciatory feeling, for I should say the same of all + artists who are in the habit of only sketching nature, and not + studying her--that _her_ worst is better than _his_ best. I am quite + sure that if Mr. Pyne, or any other painter who has hitherto been + very careful in his choice of subject, will go into the next + turnpike-road, and taking the first four trees that he comes to in + the hedge, give them a day each, drawing them leaf for leaf, as far + as may be, and even their smallest boughs with as much care as if + they were rivers, or an important map of a newly-surveyed country, + he will find, when he has brought them all home, that at least three + out of the four are better than the best he ever invented. Compare + Part III. Sect. I. Chap. III. Sec. 12, 13, (the reference in the note + ought to be to Chap. XV. Sec. 7.) + + [60] In the light between the waterfall and the large dark mass on + the extreme right. + + + + + SECTION V. + + OF TRUTH OF WATER. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + OF WATER, AS PAINTED BY THE ANCIENTS. + + +Sec. 1. Sketch of the functions and infinite agency of water. + +Of all inorganic substances, acting in their own proper nature, and +without assistance or combination, water is the most wonderful. If we +think of it as the source of all the changefulness and beauty which we +have seen in clouds; then as the instrument by which the earth we have +contemplated was modelled into symmetry, and its crags chiselled into +grace; then as, in the form of snow, it robes the mountains it has made, +with that transcendent light which we could not have conceived if we had +not seen; then as it exists in the form of the torrent--in the iris +which spans it, in the morning mist which rises from it, in the deep +crystalline pools which mirror its hanging shore, in the broad lake and +glancing river; finally, in that which is to all human minds the best +emblem of unwearied, unconquerable power, the wild, various, fantastic, +tameless unity of the sea; what shall we compare to this mighty, this +universal element for glory and for beauty? or how shall we follow its +eternal changefulness of feeling? It is like trying to paint a soul. + + +Sec. 2. The ease with which a common representation of it may be given. The + impossibility of a faithful one. + +To suggest the ordinary appearance of calm water--to lay on canvas as +much evidence of surface and reflection as may make us understand that +water is meant--is, perhaps, the easiest task of art; and even ordinary +running or falling water may be sufficiently rendered, by observing +careful curves of projection with a dark ground, and breaking a little +white over it, as we see done with judgment and truth by Ruysdael. But +to paint the actual play of hue on the reflective surface, or to give +the forms and fury of water when it begins to show itself--to give the +flashing and rocket-like velocity of a noble cataract, or the precision +and grace of the sea waves, so exquisitely modelled, though so mockingly +transient--so mountainous in its form, yet so cloud-like in its +motion--with its variety and delicacy of color, when every ripple and +wreath has some peculiar passage of reflection upon itself alone, and +the radiating and scintillating sunbeams are mixed with the dim hues of +transparent depth and dark rock below;--to do this perfectly, is beyond +the power of man; to do it even partially, has been granted to but one +or two, even of those few who have dared to attempt it. + + +Sec. 3. Difficulty of properly dividing the subject. + +As the general laws which govern the appearances of water have equal +effect on all its forms, it would be injudicious to treat the subject in +divisions; for the same forces which govern the waves and foam of the +torrent, are equally influential on those of the sea; and it will be +more convenient to glance generally at the system of water-painting of +each school and artist, than to devote separate chapters to the +examination of the lake, river, or sea-painting of all. We shall, +therefore, vary our usual plan, and look first at the water-painting of +the ancients; then at that of the moderns generally; lastly, at that of +Turner. + + +Sec. 4. Inaccuracy of study of water-effect among all painters. + +It is necessary in the outset to state briefly one or two of the optical +conditions by which the appearance of the surface of water is affected; +to describe them all would require a separate essay, even if I possessed +the requisite knowledge, which I do not. The accidental modifications +under which general laws come into play are innumerable, and often, in +their extreme complexity, inexplicable, I suppose, even by men of the +most extended optical knowledge. What I shall here state are a few only +of the broadest laws verifiable by the reader's immediate observation, +but of which nevertheless, I have found artists frequently ignorant; +owing to their habit of sketching from nature without thinking or +reasoning, and especially of finishing at home. It is not often, I +believe, that an artist draws the reflections in water as he sees them; +over large spaces, and in weather that is not very calm, it is nearly +impossible to do so; when it is possible, sometimes in haste, and +sometimes in idleness, and sometimes under the idea of improving nature, +they are slurred or misrepresented; it is so easy to give something like +a suggestive resemblance of calm water, that, even when the landscape is +finished from nature, the water is merely indicated as something that +may be done at any time, and then, in the home work, come the cold +leaden grays with some, and the violent blues and greens with others, +and the horizontal lines with the feeble, and the bright touches and +sparkles with the dexterous, and everything that is shallow and +commonplace with all. Now, the fact is, that there is hardly a roadside +pond or pool which has not as much landscape _in_ it as above it. It is +not the brown, muddy, dull thing we suppose it to be; it has a heart +like ourselves, and in the bottom of that there are the boughs of the +tall trees, and the blades of the shaking-grass, and all manner of hues, +of variable, pleasant light out of the sky; nay, the ugly gutter, that +stagnates over the drain bars, in the heart of the foul city, is not +altogether base; down in that, if you will look deep enough, you may see +the dark, serious blue of far-off sky, and the passing of pure clouds. +It is at your own will that you see in that despised stream, either the +refuse of the street, or the image of the sky--so it is with almost all +other things that we unkindly despise. Now, this farseeing is just the +difference between the great and the vulgar painter; the common man +_knows_ the roadside pool is muddy, and draws its mud; the great painter +sees beneath and behind the brown surface what will take him a day's +work to follow, but he follows it, cost what it will. And if painters +would only go out to the nearest common and take the nearest dirty pond +among the furze, and draw that thoroughly, not considering that it is +water that they are drawing, and that water must be done in a certain +way; but drawing determinedly what they _see_, that is to say, all the +trees, and their shaking leaves, and all the hazy passages of disturbing +sunshine; and the bottom seen in the clearer little bits at the edge, +and the stones of it, and all the sky, and the clouds far down in the +middle, drawn as completely, and more delicately they must be, than the +real clouds above, they would come home with such a notion of +water-painting as might save me and every one else all trouble of +writing more about the matter; but now they do nothing of the kind, but +take the ugly, round, yellow surface for granted, or else improve it, +and, instead of giving that refined, complex, delicate, but saddened and +gloomy reflection in the polluted water, they clear it up with coarse +flashes of yellow, and green, and blue, and spoil their own eyes, and +hurt ours; failing, of course, still more hopelessly in touching the +pure, inimitable light of waves thrown loose; and so Canaletto is still +thought to have painted canals, and Vandevelde and Backhuysen to have +painted sea, and the uninterpreted streams and maligned sea hiss shame +upon us from all their rocky beds and hollow shores. + + +Sec. 5. Difficulty of treating this part of the subject. + +I approach this part of my subject with more despondency than any other, +and that for several reasons; first, the water painting of all the elder +landscape painters, excepting a few of the better passages of Claude and +Ruysdael, is so execrable, so beyond all expression and explanation bad; +Claude's and Ruysdael's best so cold and valueless, that I do not know +how to address those who like such painting; I do not know what their +sensations are respecting sea. I can perceive nothing in Vandevelde or +Backhuysen of the lowest redeeming merit; no power, no presence of +intellect--or evidence of perception--of any sort or kind; no +resemblance--even the feeblest--of anything natural; no invention--even +the most sluggish--of anything agreeable. Had they given us staring +green seas with hatchet edges, such as we see Her Majesty's ships +so-and-so fixed into by the heads or sterns in the first room of the +Royal Academy, the admiration of them would have been comprehensible; +there being a natural predilection in the mind of men for green waves +with curling tops, but not for clay and wool; so that though I can +understand, in some sort, why people admire everything else in old art, +why they admire Salvator's rocks, and Claude's foregrounds, and +Hobbima's trees, and Paul Potter's cattle, and Jan Steen's pans; and +while I can perceive in all these likings a root which seems right and +legitimate, and to be appealed to; yet when I find they can even +_endure_ the _sight_ of a Backhuysen on their room walls (I speak +seriously) it makes me hopeless at once. I may be wrong, or they may be +wrong, but at least I can conceive of no principle or opinion common +between us, which either can address or understand in the other; and yet +I am wrong in this want of conception, for I know that Turner once +liked Vandevelde, and I can trace the evil influence of Vandevelde on +most of his early sea painting, but Turner certainly could not have +liked Vandevelde without _some_ legitimate cause. Another discouraging +point is that I cannot catch a wave, nor Daguerreotype it, and so there +is no coming to pure demonstration; but the forms and hues of water must +always be in some measure a matter of dispute and feeling, and the more +so because there is no perfect or even tolerably perfect sea painting to +refer to: the sea never has been, and I fancy never will be nor can be +painted; it is only suggested by means of more or less spiritual and +intelligent conventionalism; and though Turner has done enough to +suggest the sea mightily and gloriously, after all it is by +conventionalism still, and there remains so much that is unlike nature, +that it is always possible for those who do not feel his power to +justify their dislike, on very sufficient and reasonable grounds; and to +maintain themselves obstinately unreceptant of the good, by insisting on +the deficiency which no mortal hand can supply, and which commonly is +most manifest on the one hand, where most has been achieved on the +other. + +With calm water the case is different. Facts are ascertainable and +demonstrable there, and by the notice of one or two of the simplest, we +may obtain some notion of the little success and intelligence of the +elder painters in this easier field, and so prove their probable failure +in contending with greater difficulties. + + +Sec. 6. General laws which regulate the phenomena of water. First, the + imperfection of its reflective surface. + +First: Water, of course, owing to its transparency, possesses not a +perfectly reflective surface, like that of speculum metal, but a surface +whose reflective power is dependent on the angle at which the rays to be +reflected fall. The smaller this angle, the greater are the number of +rays reflected. Now, according to the number of rays reflected is the +force of the image of objects above, and according to the number of rays +transmitted is the perceptibility of objects below the water. Hence the +visible transparency and reflective power of water are in inverse ratio. +In looking down into it from above, we receive transmitted rays which +exhibit either the bottom, or the objects floating in the water; or else +if the water be deep and clear, we receive very few rays, and the water +looks black. In looking along water we receive reflected rays, and +therefore the image of objects above it. Hence, in shallow water on a +level shore the bottom is seen at our feet, clearly; it becomes more and +more obscure as it retires, even though the water do not increase in +depth, and at a distance of twelve or twenty yards--more or less +according to our height above the water--becomes entirely invisible, +lost in the lustre of the reflected surface. + + +Sec. 7. The inherent hue of water modifies dark reflections, and does not + affect bright ones. + +Second: The brighter the objects reflected, the larger the angle at +which reflection is visible; it is always to be remembered that, +strictly speaking, only light objects are reflected, and that the darker +ones are seen only in proportion to the number of rays of light that +they can send; so that a dark object comparatively loses its power to +affect the surface of water, and the water in the space of a dark +reflection is seen partially with the image of the object, and partially +transparent. It will be found on observation that under a bank--suppose +with dark trees above showing spaces of bright sky, the bright sky is +reflected distinctly, and the bottom of the water is in those spaces not +seen; but in the dark spaces of reflection we see the bottom of the +water, and the color of that bottom and of the water itself mingles with +and modifies that of the color of the trees casting the dark reflection. + +This is one of the most beautiful circumstances connected with water +surface, for by these means a variety of color and a grace and +evanescence are introduced in the reflection otherwise impossible. Of +course at great distances even the darkest objects cast distinct images, +and the hue of the water cannot be seen, but in near water the +occurrence of its own color modifying the dark reflections, while it +leaves light ones unaffected, is of infinite value. + +Take, by way of example, an extract from my own diary at Venice. + +"May 17th, 4 P.M. Looking east the water is calm, and reflects the sky +and vessels, with this peculiarity; the sky, which is pale blue, is in +its reflection of the same kind of blue, only a little deeper; but the +_vessels' hulls, which are black, are reflected in pale sea green_, +_i.e._, the natural color of the water under sunlight; while the _orange +masts_ of the vessels, wet with a recent shower, are reflected _without +change of color_, only not quite so bright as above. One ship has a +white, another a red stripe," (I ought to have said horizontal along the +gunwales,) '_of these the water takes no notice_.' + +"What is curious, a boat passes across with white and dark figures, the +water reflects the dark ones in green, and misses out all the white; +this is chiefly owing to the dark images being opposed to the bright +reflected sky." + +I have left the passage about the white and red stripe, because it will +be useful to us presently; all that I wish to insist upon here is the +showing of the local color (pea green) of the water in the spaces which +were occupied by dark reflections, and the unaltered color of the bright +ones. + + +Sec. 8. Water takes no shadow. + +Third: Clear water takes no shadow, and that for two reasons; A perfect +surface of speculum metal takes no shadow, (this the reader may +instantly demonstrate for himself,) and a perfectly transparent body as +air takes no shadow; hence water, whether transparent or reflective, +takes no shadow. + +But shadows, or the forms of them, appear on water frequently and +sharply: it is necessary carefully to explain the causes of these, as +they are one of the most eminent sources of error in water painting. + +First: Water in shade is much more reflective than water in sunlight. +Under sunlight the local color of the water is commonly vigorous and +active, and forcibly affects, as we have seen, all the dark reflections, +commonly diminishing their depth. Under shade, the reflective power is +in a high degree increased,[61] and it will be found most frequently +that the forms of shadows are expressed on the surface of water, not by +actual shade, but by more genuine reflection of objects above. This is +another most important and valuable circumstance, and we owe to it some +phenomena of the highest beauty. + +A very muddy river, as the Arno for instance at Florence, is seen during +sunshine of its own yellow color, rendering all reflections discolored +and feeble. At twilight it recovers its reflective power to the fullest +extent, and the mountains of Carrara are seen reflected in it as clearly +as if it were a crystalline lake. The Mediterranean, whose determined +blue yields to hardly any modifying color in daytime, receives at +evening the image of its rocky shores. On our own seas, seeming shadows +are seen constantly cast in purple and blue, upon pale green. These are +no shadows, but the pure reflection of dark or blue sky above, seen in +the shadowed space, refused by the local color of the sea in the +sunlighted spaces, and turned more or less purple by the opposition of +the vivid green. + + +Sec. 9. Modification of dark reflections by shadow. + +We have seen, however, above, that the local color of water, while it +comparatively refuses dark reflections, accepts bright ones without +deadening them. Hence when a shadow is thrown across a space of water of +strong local color, receiving, alternately, light and dark reflections, +it has no power of increasing the reflectiveness of the water in the +bright spaces, still less of diminishing it; hence, on all the dark +reflections it is seen more or less distinctly, on all the light ones it +vanishes altogether. + +Let us take an instance of the exquisite complexity of effect induced by +these various circumstances in co-operation. + +Suppose a space of clear water showing the bottom under a group of +trees, showing sky through their branches, casting shadows on the +surface of the water, which we will suppose also to possess some color +of its own. Close to us, we shall see the bottom, with the shadows of +the trees clearly thrown upon it, and the color of the water seen in its +genuineness by transmitted light. Farther off, the bottom will be +gradually lost sight of, but it will be seen in the dark reflections +much farther than in the light ones. At last it ceases to affect even +the former, and the pure surface effect takes place. The blue bright sky +is reflected truly, but the dark trees are reflected imperfectly, and +the color of the water is seen instead. Where the shadow falls on these +dark reflections a darkness is seen plainly, which is found to be +composed of the pure clear reflection of the dark trees; when it crosses +the reflection of the sky, the shadow of course, being thus fictitious, +vanishes. + +Farther, of course on whatever dust and other foulness may be present in +water, real shadow falls clear and dark in proportion to the quantity +of solid substance present. On very muddy rivers, real shadow falls in +sunlight nearly as sharply as on land; on our own sea, the apparent +shadow caused by increased reflection, is much increased in depth by the +chalkiness and impurity of the water. + +Farther, when surface is rippled, every ripple, up to a certain variable +distance on each side of the spectator, and at a certain angle between +him and the sun, varying with the size and shape of the ripples, +reflects to him a small image of the sun. Hence those dazzling fields of +expanding light so often seen upon the sea. + +Any object that comes between the sun and these ripples, takes from them +the power of reflecting the sun, and in consequence, all their light; +hence any intervening objects cast apparent shadows upon such spaces of +intense force, and of the exact shape, and in the exact place of real +shadows, and yet which are no more real shadows than the withdrawal of +an image of a piece of white paper from a mirror is a shadow on the +mirror. Farther, in all shallow water, more or less in proportion to its +shallowness, but in some measure, I suppose, up to depths of forty or +fifty fathoms, and perhaps more, the local color of the water depends in +great measure on light reflected from the bottom. This, however, is +especially manifest in clear rivers like the Rhone, where the absence of +the light reflected from below forms an apparent shadow, often visibly +detached some distance from the floating object which casts it. + + +Sec. 10. Examples on the water of the Rhone. + +The following extract from my own diary at Geneva, with the subsequent +one, which is a continuation of that already given in part at Venice, +will illustrate both this and the other points we have been stating. + + "GENEVA, _21st April, Morning._ + +"The sunlight falls from the cypresses of Rousseau's island straight +towards the bridge. The shadows of the bridge and of the trees fall on +the water in leaden purple, opposed to its general hue of aquamarine +green. This green color is caused by the light being reflected from the +bottom, though the bottom is not seen; as is evident by its becoming +paler towards the middle of the river, where the water shoals, on which +pale part the purple shadow of the small bridge falls most forcibly, +which shadow, however, is still only apparent, being the absence of this +reflected light, associated with the increased reflective power of the +water, which in those spaces reflects blue sky above. A boat swings in +the shoal water; its reflection is cast in a transparent pea-green, +which is considerably darker than the pale aquamarine of the surface at +the spot. Its shadow is detached from it just about half the depth of +the reflection; which, therefore, forms a bright green light between the +keel of the boat and its shadow; where the shadow cuts the reflection, +the reflection is darkest and something like the true color of the boat; +where the shadow falls out of the reflection, it is of a leaden purple, +pale. The boat is at an angle of about 20 deg. below. Another boat nearer, +in deeper water, shows no shadow, whatsoever, and the reflection is +marked by its transparent green, while the surrounding water takes a +lightish blue reflection from the sky." + +The above notes, after what has been said, require no comment; but one +more case must be stated belonging to rough water. Every large wave of +the sea is in ordinary circumstances divided into, or rather covered by, +innumerable smaller waves, each of which, in all probability, from some +of its edges or surfaces reflects the sunbeams; and hence result a +glitter, polish, and vigorous light over the whole flank of the wave, +which are, of course, instantly withdrawn within the space of a cast +shadow, whose form, therefore, though it does not affect the great body +or ground of the water in the least, is sufficiently traceable by the +withdrawal of the high lights; also every string and wreath of foam +above or within the wave takes real shadow, and thus adds to the +impression. + +I have not stated one-half of the circumstances which produce or +influence effects of shadow on water; but lest I should confuse or weary +the reader, I leave him to pursue the subject for himself; enough having +been stated to establish this general principle, that whenever shadow is +seen on clear water, and, in a measure, even on foul water, it is not, +as on land, a dark shade subduing where it falls the sunny general hue +to a lower tone; but it is a space of an entirely different color, +subject itself, by its susceptibility of reflection, to infinite +varieties of depth and hue, and liable, under certain circumstances, to +disappear altogether; and that, therefore, whenever we have to paint +such shadows, it is not only the hue of the water itself that we have to +consider, but all the circumstances by which in the position attributed +to them such shaded spaces could be affected. + + +Sec. 11. Effect of ripple on distant water. + +Fourth: If water be rippled, the side of every ripple next to us +reflects a piece of the sky, and the side of every ripple farthest from +us reflects a piece of the opposite shore, or of whatever objects may be +beyond the ripple. But as we soon lose sight of the farther sides of the +ripples on the retiring surface, the whole rippled space will then be +reflective of the sky only. Thus, where calm distant water receives +reflections of high shores, every extent of rippled surface appears as a +bright line interrupting that reflection with the color of the sky. + + +Sec. 12. Elongation of reflections by moving water. + +Fifth: When a ripple or swell is seen at such an angle as to afford a +view of its farther side, it carries the reflection of objects farther +down than calm water would. Therefore all motion in water elongates +reflections, and throws them into confused vertical lines. The real +amount of this elongation is not distinctly visible, except in the case +of very bright objects, and especially of lights, as of the sun, moon, +or lamps by a river shore, whose reflections are hardly ever seen as +circles or points, which of course they are on perfectly calm water, but +as long streams of tremulous light. + +But it is strange that while we are constantly in the habit of seeing +the reflection of the sun, which ought to be a mere circle, elongated +into a stream of light extending from the horizon to the shore, the +elongation of the reflection of a sail or other object to one-half of +this extent is received, if represented in a picture, with incredulity +by the greater number of spectators. In one of Turner's Venices the +image of the white lateen-sails of the principal boat is about twice as +long as the sails themselves. I have heard the truth of this simple +effect disputed over and over again by intelligent persons, and yet on +any water so exposed as the lagoons of Venice, the periods are few and +short when there is so little motion as that the reflection of sails a +mile off shall not affect the swell within six feet of the spectator. + +There is, however, a strange arbitrariness about this elongation of +reflection, which prevents it from being truly felt. If we see on an +extent of lightly swelling water surface the image of a bank of white +clouds, with masses of higher accumulation at intervals, the water will +not usually reflect the whole bank in an elongated form, but it will +commonly take the eminent parts, and reflect them in long straight +columns of defined breadth, and miss the intermediate lower parts +altogether; and even in doing this it will be capricious, for it will +take one eminence, and miss another, with no apparent reason; and often +when the sky is covered with white clouds, some of those clouds will +cast long tower-like reflections, and others none, so arbitrarily that +the spectator is often puzzled to find out which are the accepted and +which the refused. + +In many cases of this kind it will be found rather that the eye is, from +want of use and care, insensible to the reflection than that the +reflection is not there; and a little thought and careful observation +will show us that what we commonly suppose to be a surface of uniform +color is, indeed, affected more or less by an infinite variety of hues, +prolonged, like the sun image, from a great distance, and that our +apprehension of its lustre, purity, and even of its surface, is in no +small degree dependent on our feeling of these multitudinous hues, which +the continual motion of that surface prevents us from analyzing or +understanding for what they are. + + +Sec. 13. Effect of rippled water on horizontal and inclined images. + +Sixth: Rippled water, of which we can see the farther side of the waves, +will reflect a perpendicular line clearly, a bit of its length being +given on the side of each wave, and easily joined by the eye. But if the +line slope, its reflection will be excessively confused and disjointed; +and if horizontal, nearly invisible. It was this circumstance which +prevented the red and white stripe of the ships at Venice, noticed +above, from being visible. + + +Sec. 14. To what extent reflection is visible from above. + +Seventh: Every reflection is the image in reverse of just so much of the +objects beside the water, as we could see if we were placed as much +under the level of the water as we are actually above it. If an object +be so far back from the bank, that if we were five feet under the water +level we could not see it over the bank, then, standing five feet above +the water, we shall not be able to see its image under the reflected +bank. Hence the reflection of all objects that have any slope back from +the water is shortened, and at last disappears as we rise above it. +Lakes seen from a great height appear like plates of metal set in the +landscape, reflecting the sky but none of their shores. + + +Sec. 15. Deflection of images on agitated water. + +Eighth: Any given point of the object above the water is reflected, if +reflected at all, at some spot in a vertical line beneath it, so long as +the plane of the water is horizontal. On rippled water a slight +deflection sometimes takes place, and the image of a vertical tower will +slope a little away from the wind, owing to the casting of the image on +the sloping sides of the ripples. On the sloping sides of large waves +the deflection is in proportion to the slope. For rough practice, after +the slope of the wave is determined, let the artist turn his paper until +it becomes horizontal, and then paint the reflections of any object upon +it as on level water, and he will be right. + + +Sec. 16. Necessity of watchfulness as well as of science. + Licenses, how taken by great men. + +Such are the most common and general optical laws which are to be taken +into consideration in the painting of water. Yet, in the application of +them, as tests of good or bad water painting, we must be cautious in the +extreme. An artist may know all these laws, and comply with them, and +yet paint water execrably; and he may be ignorant of every one of them, +and, in their turn, and in certain places, violate every one of them, +and yet paint water gloriously. Thousands of exquisite effects take +place in nature, utterly inexplicable, and which can be believed only +while they are seen; the combinations and applications of the above laws +are so varied and complicated that no knowledge or labor could, if +applied analytically, keep pace with them. Constant and eager +watchfulness, and portfolios filled with actual statements of +water-effect, drawn on the spot and on the instant, are worth more to +the painter than the most extended optical knowledge; without these all +his knowledge will end in a pedantic falsehood. With these it does not +matter how gross or how daring here and there may be his violations of +this or that law; his very transgressions will be admirable. + +It may be said, that this is a dangerous principle to advance in these +days of idleness. I cannot help it; it is true, and must be affirmed. +Of all contemptible criticism, the most to be contemned is that which +punishes great works of art when they fight without armor, and refuses +to feel or acknowledge the great spiritual refracted sun of their truth, +because it has risen at a false angle, and burst upon them before its +appointed time. And yet, on the other hand, let it be observed that it +is not feeling, nor fancy, nor imagination, so called, that I have put +before science, but watchfulness, experience, affection and trust in +nature; and farther let it be observed, that there is a difference +between the license taken by one man and another, which makes one +license admirable, and the other punishable; and that this difference is +of a kind sufficiently discernible by every earnest person, though it is +not so explicable as that we can beforehand say where and when, or even +to whom, the license is to be forgiven. In the Paradise of Tintoret, in +the Academy of Venice, the Angel is seen in the distance driving Adam +and Eve out of the garden. Not, for Tintoret, the leading to the gate +with consolation or counsel; his strange ardor of conception is seen +here as everywhere. Full speed they fly, the angel and the human +creatures; the angel wrapt in an orb of light floats on, stooped forward +in his fierce flight, and does not touch the ground; the chastised +creatures rush before him in abandoned terror. All this might have been +invented by another, though in other hands it would assuredly have been +offensive; but one circumstance which completes the story could have +been thought of or dared by none but Tintoret. The Angel casts a SHADOW +before him towards Adam and Eve. + +Now that a globe of light should cast a shadow is a license, as far as +mere optical matters are concerned, of the most audacious kind. But how +beautiful is the circumstance in its application here, showing that the +angel, who is light to all else around him, is darkness to those whom he +is commissioned to banish forever. + +I have before noticed the license of Rubens in making his horizon an +oblique line. His object is to carry the eye to a given point in the +distance. The road winds to it, the clouds fly at it, the trees nod to +it, a flock of sheep scamper towards it, a carter points his whip at it, +his horses pull for it, the figures push for it, and the horizon slopes +to it. If the horizon had been horizontal, it would have embarrassed +everything and everybody. + +In Turner's Pas de Calais there is a buoy poised on the ridge of a near +wave. It casts its reflection vertically down the flank of the wave, +which slopes steeply. I cannot tell whether this is a license or a +mistake; I suspect the latter, for the same thing occurs not +unfrequently in Turner's seas; but I am almost certain that it would +have been done wilfully in this case, even had the mistake been pointed +out, for the vertical line is necessary to the picture, and the eye is +so little accustomed to catch the real bearing of the reflections on the +slopes of waves that it does not feel the fault. + + +Sec. 17. Various licenses or errors in water painting of Claude, Cuyp, + Vandevelde. + +In one of the smaller rooms of the Uffizii at Florence, off the Tribune, +there are two so-called Claudes; one a pretty wooded landscape, I think +a copy, the other a marine with architecture, very sweet and genuine. +The sun is setting at the side of the picture, it casts a long stream of +light upon the water. This stream of light is oblique, and comes from +the horizon, where it is under the sun, to a point near the centre of +the picture. If this had been done as a license, it would be an instance +of most absurd and unjustifiable license, as the fault is detected by +the eye in a moment, and there is no occasion nor excuse for it. But I +imagine it to be an instance rather of the harm of imperfect science. +Taking his impression instinctively from nature, Claude usually did what +is right and put his reflection vertically under the sun; probably, +however, he had read in some treatise on optics that every point in this +reflection was in a vertical plane between the sun and spectator; or he +might have noticed walking on the shore that the reflection came +straight from the sun to his feet, and intending to indicate the +position of the spectator, drew in his next picture the reflection +sloping to the supposed point, the error being excusable enough, and +plausible enough to have been lately revived and systematized.[62] + +In the picture of Cuyp, No. 83 in the Dulwich Gallery, the post at the +end of the bank casts three or four radiating reflections. This is +visibly neither license nor half science, but pure ignorance. Again, in +the picture attributed to Paul Potter, No. 176, Dulwich Gallery, I +believe most people must feel, the moment they look at it, that there is +something wrong with the water, that it looks odd, and hard, and like +ice or lead; and though they may not be able to tell the reason of the +impression--for when they go near they will find it smooth and lustrous, +and prettily painted--yet they will not be able to shake off the +unpleasant sense of its being like a plate of bad mirror set in a model +landscape among moss, rather than like a pond. The reason is, that while +this water receives clear reflections from the fence and hedge on the +left, and is everywhere smooth and evidently capable of giving true +images, it yet reflects none of the cows. + +In the Vandevelde (113) there is not a line of ripple or swell in any +part of the sea; it is absolutely windless, and the near boat casts its +image with great fidelity, which being unprolonged downwards informs us +that the calm is perfect, (Rule V.,) and being unshortened informs us +that we are on a level with the water, or nearly so. (Rule VII.) Yet +underneath the vessel on the right, the gray shade which stands for +reflection breaks off immediately, descending like smoke a little way +below the hull, then leaving the masts and sails entirely unrecorded. +This I imagine to be not ignorance, but unjustifiable license. +Vandevelde evidently desired to give an impression of great extent of +surface, and thought that if he gave the reflection more faithfully, as +the tops of the masts would come down to the nearest part of the +surface, they would destroy the evidence of distance, and appear to set +the ship above the boat instead of beyond it. I doubt not in such +awkward hands that such would indeed have been the case, but he is not +on that account to be excused for painting his surface with gray +horizontal lines, as is done by nautically-disposed children; for no +destruction of distance in the ocean is so serious a loss as that of its +liquidity. It is better to feel a want of extent in the sea, than an +extent which we might walk upon or play at billiards upon. + + +Sec. 18. And Canaletto. + +Among all the pictures of Canaletto, which I have ever seen, and they +are not a few, I remember but one or two where there is any variation +from one method of treatment of the water. He almost always covers the +whole space of it with one monotonous ripple, composed of a coat of +well-chosen, but perfectly opaque and smooth sea-green, covered with a +certain number, I cannot state the exact average, but it varies from +three hundred and fifty to four hundred and upwards, according to the +extent of canvas to be covered, of white concave touches, which are very +properly symbolical of ripple. + +And, as the canal retires back from the eye, he very geometrically +diminishes the size of his ripples, until he arrives at an even field of +apparently smooth water. By our sixth rule, this rippling water as it +retires should show more and more of the reflection of the sky above it, +and less and less of that of objects beyond it, until, at two or three +hundred yards down the canal, the whole field of water should be one +even gray or blue, the color of the sky receiving no reflections +whatever of other objects. What does Canaletto do? Exactly in proportion +as he retires, he displays _more_ and _more_ of the reflection of +objects, and less and less of the sky, until, three hundred yards away, +all the houses are reflected as clear and sharp as in a quiet lake. + +This, again, is wilful and inexcusable violation of truth, of which the +reason, as in the last case, is the painter's consciousness of weakness. +It is one of the most difficult things in the world to express the light +reflection of the blue sky on a distant ripple, and to make the eye +understand the cause of the color, and the motion of the apparently +smooth water, especially where there are buildings above to be +reflected, for the eye never understands the want of the reflection. But +it is the easiest and most agreeable thing in the world to give the +inverted image: it occupies a vast space of otherwise troublesome +distance in the simplest way possible, and is understood by the eye at +once. Hence Canaletto is glad, as any other inferior workman would be, +not to say obliged, to give the reflections in the distance. But when he +comes up close to the spectator, he finds the smooth surface just as +troublesome near, as the ripple would have been far off. It is a very +nervous thing for an ignorant artist to have a great space of vacant +smooth water to deal with, close to him, too far down to take +reflections from buildings, and yet which must be made to look flat and +retiring and transparent. Canaletto, with his sea-green, did not at all +feel himself equal to anything of this kind, and had therefore no +resource but in the white touches above described, which occupy the +alarming space without any troublesome necessity for knowledge or +invention, and supply by their gradual diminution some means of +expressing retirement of surface. It is easily understood, therefore, +why he should adopt this system, which is just what any awkward workman +would naturally cling to, trusting to the inaccuracy of observation of +the public to secure him from detection. + + +Sec. 19. Why unpardonable. + +Now in all these cases it is not the mistake or the license itself, it +is not the infringement of this or that law which condemns the picture, +but it is the spirit and habit of mind in which the license is taken, +the cowardice or bluntness of feeling, which infects every part alike, +and deprives the whole picture of vitality. Canaletto, had he been a +great painter, might have cast his reflections wherever he chose, and +rippled the water wherever he chose, and painted his sea sloping if he +chose, and neither I nor any one else should have dared to say a word +against him; but he is a little and a bad painter, and so continues +everywhere multiplying and magnifying mistakes, and adding apathy to +error, until nothing can any more be pardoned in him. If it be but +remembered that every one of the surfaces of those multitudinous ripples +is in nature a mirror which catches, according to its position, either +the image of the sky or of the silver beaks of the gondolas, or of their +black bodies and scarlet draperies, or of the white marble, or the green +sea-weed on the low stones, it cannot but be felt that those waves would +have something more of color upon them than that opaque dead green. +Green they are by their own nature, but it is a transparent and emerald +hue, mixing itself with the thousand reflected tints without +overpowering the weakest of them; and thus, in every one of those +individual waves, the truths of color are contradicted by Canaletto by +the thousand. + +Venice is sad and silent now, to what she was in his time; the canals +are choked gradually one by one, and the foul water laps more and more +sluggishly against the rent foundations; but even yet, could I but place +the reader at the early morning on the quay below the Rialto, when the +market boats, full laden, float into groups of golden color, and let him +watch the dashing of the water about their glittering steely heads, and +under the shadows of the vine leaves, and show him the purple of the +grapes and the figs, and the glowing of the scarlet gourds carried away +in long streams upon the waves, and among them, the crimson fish +baskets, plashing and sparkling, and flaming as the morning sun falls on +their wet tawny sides, and above, the painted sails of the fishing +boats, orange and white, scarlet and blue, and better than all such +florid color, the naked, bronzed, burning limbs of the seamen, the last +of the old Venetian race, who yet keep the right Giorgione color on +their brows and bosoms, in strange contrast with the sallow sensual +degradation of the creatures that live in the cafes of the Piazza, he +would not be merciful to Canaletto any more. + + +Sec. 20. The Dutch painters of sea. + +Yet even Canaletto, in relation to the truths he had to paint, is +spiritual, faithful, powerful, compared to the Dutch painters of sea. It +is easily understood why his green paint and concave touches should be +thought expressive of the water on which the real colors are not to be +discerned but by attention, which is never given; but it is not so +easily understood, considering how many there are who love the sea, and +look at it, that Vandevelde and such others should be tolerated. As I +before said, I feel utterly hopeless in addressing the admirers of these +men, because I do not know what it is in their works which is supposed +to be like nature. Foam appears to me to curdle and cream on the wave +sides and to fly, flashing from their crests, and not to be set astride +upon them like a peruke; and waves appear to me to fall, and plunge, and +toss, and nod, and crash over, and not to curl up like shavings; and +water appears to me, when it is gray, to have the gray of stormy air +mixed with its own deep, heavy, thunderous, threatening blue, and not +the gray of the first coat of cheap paint on a deal door; and many other +such things appear to me which, as far as I can conjecture by what is +admired of marine painting, appear to no one else; yet I shall have +something more to say about these men presently, with respect to the +effect they have had upon Turner; and something more, I hope, hereafter, +with the help of illustration. + + +Sec. 21. Ruysdael, Claude, and Salvator. + +There is a sea-piece of Ruysdael's in the Louvre[63] which, though +nothing very remarkable in any quality of art, is at least forceful, +agreeable, and, as far as it goes, natural; the waves have much freedom +of action, and power of color; the wind blows hard over the shore, and +the whole picture may be studied with profit as a proof that the +deficiency of color and everything else in Backhuysen's works, is no +fault of the Dutch sea. There is sublimity and power in every field of +nature from the pole to the line; and though the painters of one country +are often better and greater, universally, than those of another, this +is less because the subjects of art are wanting anywhere, than because +one country or one age breeds mighty and thinking men, and another none. + +Ruysdael's painting of falling water and brook scenery is also generally +agreeable--more than agreeable it can hardly be considered. There +appears no exertion of mind in any of his works; nor are they calculated +to produce either harm or good by their feeble influence. They are good +furniture pictures, unworthy of praise, and undeserving of blame. + +The seas of Claude are the finest pieces of water-painting in ancient +art. I do not say that I like them, because they appear to me selections +of the particular moment when the sea is most insipid and characterless; +but I think that they are exceedingly true to the forms and time +selected, or at least that the fine instances of them are so, of which +there are exceedingly few. + +On the right hand of one of the marines of Salvator, in the Pitti +palace, there is a passage of sea reflecting the sunrise, which is +thoroughly good, and very like Turner; the rest of the picture, as the +one opposite to it, utterly virtueless. I have not seen any other +instance of Salvator's painting water with any care, it is usually as +conventional as the rest of his work, yet conventionalism is perhaps +more tolerable in water-painting than elsewhere; and if his trees and +rocks had been good, the rivers might have been generally accepted +without objection. + + +Sec. 22. Nicholas Poussin. + +The merits of Poussin as a sea or water painter may, I think, be +sufficiently determined by the Deluge in the Louvre, where the breaking +up of the fountains of the deep is typified by the capsizing of a wherry +over a weir. + +In the outer porch of St. Mark's at Venice, among the mosaics on the +roof, there is a representation of the deluge. The ground is dark blue; +the rain is represented in bright white undulating parallel stripes; +between these stripes is seen the massy outline of the ark, a bit +between each stripe, very dark and hardly distinguishable from the sky; +but it has a square window with a bright golden border, which glitters +out conspicuously, and leads the eye to the rest--the sea below is +almost concealed with dead bodies. + +On the font of the church of San Frediano at Lucca, there is a +representation of--possibly--the Israelites and Egyptians in the Red +Sea. The sea is typified by undulating bands of stone, each band +composed of three plies (almost the same type is to be seen in the +glass-painting of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, as especially at +Chartres). These bands would perhaps be hardly felt as very aqueous, but +for the fish which are interwoven with them in a complicated manner, +their heads appearing at one side of every band, and their tails at the +other. + +Both of these representatives of deluge, archaic and rude as they are, I +consider better, more suggestive, more inventive, and more natural, +than Poussin's. Indeed, this is not saying anything very depreciatory, +as regards the St. Mark's one, for the glittering of the golden window +through the rain is wonderfully well conceived, and almost deceptive, +looking as if it had just caught a gleam of sunlight on its panes, and +there is something very sublime in the gleam of this light above the +floating corpses. But the other instance is sufficiently grotesque and +imperfect, and yet, I speak with perfect seriousness, it is, I think, +very far preferable to Poussin's. + +On the other hand, there is a just medium between the meanness and +apathy of such a conception as his, and the extravagance, still more +contemptible, with which the subject has been treated in modern +days.[64] I am not aware that I can refer to any instructive example of +this intermediate course, for I fear the reader is by this time wearied +of hearing of Turner, and the plate of Turner's picture of the deluge is +so rare that it is of no use to refer to it. + + +Sec. 23. Venetians and Florentines. Conclusion. + +It seems exceedingly strange that the great Venetian painters should +have left us no instance, as far as I know, of any marine effects +carefully studied. As already noted, whatever passages of sea occur in +their backgrounds are merely broad extents of blue or green surface, +fine in color, and coming dark usually against the horizon, well enough +to be understood as sea, (yet even that not always without the help of a +ship,) but utterly unregarded in all questions of completion and detail. +The water even in Titian's landscape is almost always violently though +grandly conventional, and seldom forms an important feature. Among the +religious schools very sweet motives occur, but nothing which for a +moment can be considered as real water-painting. Perugino's sea is +usually very beautifully felt; his river in the fresco of S^ta. +Maddalena at Florence is freely indicated, and looks level and clear; +the reflections of the trees given with a rapid zigzag stroke of the +brush. On the whole, I suppose that the best imitations of level water +surface to be found in ancient art are in the clear Flemish landscapes. +Cuyp's are usually very satisfactory, but even the best of these attain +nothing more than the agreeable suggestion of calm pond or river. Of any +tolerable representation of water in agitation, or under any +circumstances that bring out its power and character, I know no +instance; and the more capable of noble treatment the subject happens to +be, the more manifest invariably is the painter's want of feeling in +every effort, and of knowledge in every line. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [61] I state this merely as a fact: I am unable satisfactorily to + account for it on optical principles, and were it otherwise, the + investigation would be of little interest to the general reader, and + little value to the artist. + + [62] Parsey's "Convergence of Perpendiculars." I have not space here + to enter into any lengthy exposure of this mistake, but reasoning is + fortunately unnecessary, the appeal to experiment being easy. Every + picture is the representation, as before stated, of a vertical plate + of glass, with what might be seen through it, drawn on its surface. + Let a vertical plate of glass be taken, and wherever it be placed, + whether the sun be at its side or at its centre, the reflection will + always be found in a vertical line under the sun, parallel with the + side of the glass. The pane of any window looking to sea is all the + apparatus necessary for this experiment, and yet it is not long + since this very principle was disputed with me by a man of much + taste and information, who supposed Turner to be wrong in drawing + the reflection straight down at the side of his picture, as in his + Lancaster Sands, and innumerable other instances. + + [63] In the last edition of this work was the following passage:--"I + wish Ruysdael had painted one or two rough seas. I believe if he had + he might have saved the unhappy public from much grievous + victimizing, both in mind and pocket, for he would have shown that + Vandevelde and Backhuysen were not quite sea-deities." The writer + has to thank the editor of Murray's Handbook of Painting in Italy + for pointing out the oversight. He had passed many days in the + Louvre before the above passage was written, but had not been in the + habit of pausing long anywhere except in the last two rooms, + containing the pictures of the Italian school. The conjecture, + however, shows that he had not ill-estimated the power of Ruysdael; + nor does he consider it as in anywise unfitting him for the task he + has undertaken, that for every hour passed in galleries he has + passed days on the seashore. + + [64] I am here, of course, speaking of the treatment of the subject + as a landscape only; many mighty examples of its conception occur + where the sea, and all other adjuncts, are entirely subservient to + the figures, as with Raffaelle and M. Angelo. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + OF WATER, AS PAINTED BY THE MODERNS. + + +Sec. 1. General power of the moderns in painting quiet water. The lakes of + Fielding. + +There are few men among modern landscape painters, who cannot paint +quiet water at least suggestively, if not faithfully. Those who are +incapable of doing this, would scarcely be considered artists at all; +and anything like the ripples of Canaletto, or the black shadows of +Vandevelde, would be looked upon as most unpromising, even in the work +of a novice. Among those who most fully appreciate and render the +qualities of space and surface in calm water, perhaps Copley Fielding +stands first. His expanses of windless lake are among the most perfect +passages of his works; for he can give surface as well as depth, and +make his lake look not only clear, but, which is far more difficult, +lustrous. He is less dependent than most of our artists upon +reflections; and can give substance, transparency, and extent, where +another painter would be reduced to paper; and he is exquisitely refined +in his expression of distant breadth, by the delicate line of ripple +interrupting the reflection, and by aerial qualities of color. Nothing, +indeed, can be purer or more refined than his general feeling of lake +sentiment, were it not for a want of simplicity--a fondness for pretty, +rather than impressive color, and a consequent want of some of the +higher expression of repose. + + +Sec. 2. The calm rivers of De Wint, J. Holland, etc. + +Sec. 3. The character of bright and violent falling water. + +Sec. 4. As given by Nesfield. + +Hundreds of men might be named, whose works are highly instructive in +the management of calm water. De Wint is singularly powerful and +certain, exquisitely bright and vigorous in color. The late John Varley +produced some noble passages. I have seen, some seven years ago, works +by J. Holland, which were, I think, as near perfection as water-color +can be carried--for _bona fide_ truth, refined and finished to the +highest degree. But the power of modern artists is not brought out until +they have greater difficulties to struggle with. Stand for half an hour +beside the fall of Schaffhausen, on the north side where the rapids are +long, and watch how the vault of water first bends, unbroken, in pure, +polished velocity, over the arching rocks at the brow of the cataract, +covering them with a dome of crystal twenty feet thick--so swift that +its motion is unseen except when a foam globe from above darts over it +like a falling star; and how the trees are lighted above it under all +their leaves, at the instant that it breaks into foam; and how all the +hollows of that foam burn with green fire like so much shattering +chrysoprase; and how, ever and anon, startling you with its white flash, +a jet of spray leaps hissing out of the fall like a rocket, bursting in +the wind and driven away in dust, filling the air with light; and how, +through the curdling wreaths of the restless, crashing abyss below, the +blue of the water, paled by the foam in its body, shows purer than the +sky through white rain-cloud; while the shuddering iris stoops in +tremulous stillness over all, fading and flushing alternately through +the choking spray and shattered sunshine, hiding itself at last among +the thick golden leaves which toss to and fro in sympathy with the wild +water; their dripping masses lifted at intervals, like sheaves of loaded +corn, by some stronger gush from the cataract, and bowed again upon the +mossy rocks as its roar dies away; the dew gushing from their thick +branches through drooping clusters of emerald herbage, and sparkling in +white threads along the dark rocks of the shore, feeding the lichens +which chase and checker them with purple and silver. I believe, when you +have stood by this for half an hour, you will have discovered that there +is something more in nature than has been given by Ruysdael. Probably +you will not be much disposed to think of any mortal work at the time; +but when you look back to what you have seen, and are inclined to +compare it with art, you will remember--or ought to remember--Nesfield. +He is a man of extraordinary feeling, both for the color and the +spirituality of a great waterfall; exquisitely delicate in his +management of the changeful veil of spray or mist; just in his curves +and contours; and unequalled in color except by Turner. None of our +water-color painters can approach him in the management of the variable +hues of clear water over weeded rocks; but his feeling for it often +leads him a little too far, and, like Copley Fielding, he loses sight of +simplicity and dignity for the sake of delicacy or prettiness. His +waterfalls are, however, unequalled in their way; and, if he would +remember, that in all such scenes there is much gloom as well as much +splendor, and relieve the lustre of his attractive passages of color +with more definite and prevalent grays, and give a little more substance +to parts of his picture unaffected by spray, his work would be nearly +perfect. His seas are also most instructive; a little confused in +chiaroscuro, but refined in form and admirable in color. + + +Sec. 5. The admirable water-drawing of J. D. Harding. + +Sec. 6. His color; and painting of sea. + +J. D. Harding is, I think, nearly unequalled in the _drawing_ of running +water. I do not know what Stanfield would do; I have never seen an +important piece of torrent drawn by him; but I believe even he could +scarcely contend with the magnificent _abandon_ of Harding's brush. +There is perhaps nothing which tells more in the drawing of water than +decisive and swift execution; for, in a rapid touch the hand naturally +falls into the very curve of projection which is the absolute truth; +while in slow finish, all precision of curve and character is certain to +be lost, except under the hand of an unusually powerful master. But +Harding has both knowledge and velocity, and the fall of his torrents is +beyond praise; impatient, chafing, substantial, shattering, crystalline, +and capricious; full of various form, yet all apparently instantaneous +and accidental, nothing conventional, nothing dependent upon parallel +lines or radiating curves; all broken up and dashed to pieces over the +irregular rock, and yet all in unity of motion. The color also of his +_falling_ and bright water is very perfect; but in the dark and level +parts of his torrents he has taken up a bad gray, which has hurt some of +his best pictures. His gray in shadows under rocks or dark reflections +is admirable; but it is when the stream is in full light, and unaffected +by reflections in distance, that he gets wrong. We believe that the +fault is in a want of expression of darkness in the color, making it +appear like a positive hue of the water, for which it is much too dead +and cold. + +Harding seldom paints sea, and it is well for Stanfield that he does +not, or the latter would have to look to his crown. All that we have +seen from his hand is, as coast sea, quite faultless; we only wish he +would paint it more frequently; always, however, with a veto upon French +fishing-boats. In the Exhibition of 1842, he spoiled one of the most +superb pieces of seashore and sunset which modern art has produced, with +the pestilent square sail of one of these clumsy craft, which the eye +could not escape from. + + +Sec. 7. The sea of Copley Fielding. Its exceeding grace and rapidity. + +Before passing to our great sea painter, we must again refer to the +works of Copley Fielding. It is with his sea as with his sky, he can +only paint one, and that an easy one, but it is, for all that, an +impressive and a true one. No man has ever given, with the same flashing +freedom, the race of a running tide under a stiff breeze, nor caught, +with the same grace and precision, the curvature of the breaking wave, +arrested or accelerated by the wind. The forward fling of his foam, and +the impatient run of his surges, whose quick, redoubling dash we can +almost hear, as they break in their haste upon their own bosoms, are +nature itself, and his sea gray or green was, nine years ago, very +right, as color; always a little wanting in transparency, but never cold +or toneless. Since that time, he seems to have lost the sense of +greenness in water, and has verged more and more on the purple and +black, with unhappy results. His sea was always dependent for effect on +its light or dark relief against the sky, even when it possessed color; +but it now has lost all local color and transparency together, and is +little more than a study of chiaroscuro in an exceedingly ill-chosen +gray. Besides, the perpetual repetition of the same idea is singularly +weakening to the mind. Fielding, in all his life, can only be considered +as having produced _one_ sea picture. The others are duplicates. He +ought to go to some sea of perfect clearness and brilliant color, as +that on the coast of Cornwall, or of the Gulf of Genoa, and study it +sternly in broad daylight, with no black clouds nor drifting rain to +help him out of his difficulties. He would then both learn his strength +and add to it. + + +Sec. 8. Its high aim at character. + +Sec. 9. But deficiency in the requisite quality of grays. + +Sec. 10. Variety of the grays of nature. + +But there is one point in all his seas deserving especial praise--a +marked aim at _character_. He desires, especially in his latter works, +not so much to produce an agreeable picture, a scientific piece of +arrangement, or delightful melody of color, as to make us feel the +utter desolation, the cold, withering, frozen hopelessness of the +continuous storm and merciless sea. And this is peculiarly remarkable in +his denying himself all color, just in the little bits which an artist +of inferior mind would paint in sienna and cobalt. If a piece of broken +wreck is allowed to rise for an instant through the boiling foam, though +the blue stripe of a sailor's jacket, or a red rag of a flag would do +all our hearts good, we are not allowed to have it; it would make us too +comfortable, and prevent us from shivering and shrinking as we look, and +the artist, with admirable intention, and most meritorious self-denial, +expresses his piece of wreck with a dark, cold brown. Now we think this +aim and effort worthy of the highest praise, and we only wish the lesson +were taken up and acted on by our other artists; but Mr. Fielding should +remember that nothing of this kind can be done with success unless by +the most studied management of the general tones of the picture; for the +eye, deprived of all means of enjoying the gray hues, merely as a +contrast to bright points, becomes painfully fastidious in the quality +of the hues themselves, and demands for its satisfaction such melodies +and richness of gray as may in some degree atone to it for the loss of +points of stimulus. That gray which would be taken frankly and freely +for an expression of gloom, if it came behind a yellow sail or a red +cap, is examined with invidious and merciless intentness when there is +nothing to relieve it, and, if not able to bear the investigation, if +neither agreeable nor variable in its hue, renders the picture weak +instead of impressive, and unpleasant instead of awful. And indeed the +management of nature might teach him this; for though, when using +violent contrasts, she frequently makes her gloom somewhat monotonous, +the moment she gives up her vivid color, and depends upon her +desolation, that moment she begins to steal the greens into her +sea-gray, and the browns and yellows into her cloud-gray, and the +expression of variously tinted light through all. Nor is Mr. Fielding +without a model in art, for the Land's End, and Lowestoffe, and +Snowstorm, (in the Academy, 1842,) of Turner, are nothing more than +passages of the most hopeless, desolate, uncontrasted grays, and yet are +three of the very finest pieces of color that have come from his hand. +And we sincerely hope that Mr. Fielding will gradually feel the +necessity of such studied melodies of quiet color, and will neither fall +back into the old tricks of contrast, nor continue to paint with purple +and ink. If he will only make a few careful studies of gray from the +mixed atmosphere of spray, rain, and mist of a gale that has been three +days hard at work, not of a rainy squall, but of a persevering and +powerful storm, and not where the sea is turned into milk and magnesia +by a chalk coast, but where it breaks pure and green on gray slate or +white granite, as along the cliffs of Cornwall, we think his pictures +would present some of the finest examples of high intention and feeling +to be found in modern art. + + +Sec. 11. Works of Stanfield. His perfect knowledge and power. + +Sec. 12. But want of feeling. General sum of truth presented by modern art. + +The works of Stanfield evidently, and at all times, proceed from the +hand of a man who has both thorough knowledge of his subject, and +thorough acquaintance with all the means and principles of art. We never +criticise them, because we feel, the moment we look carefully at the +drawing of any single wave, that the knowledge possessed by the master +is much greater than our own, and therefore believe that if anything +offends us in any part of the work, it is nearly certain to be our +fault, and not the painter's. The local color of Stanfield's sea is +singularly true and powerful, and entirely independent of any tricks of +chiaroscuro. He will carry a mighty wave up against the sky, and make +its whole body dark and substantial against the distant light, using all +the while nothing more than chaste and unexaggerated local color to gain +the relief. His surface is at once lustrous, transparent, and accurate +to a hairbreadth in every curve; and he is entirely independent of dark +skies, deep blues, driving spray, or any other means of concealing want +of form, or atoning for it. He fears no difficulty, desires no +assistance, takes his sea in open daylight, under general sunshine, and +paints the _element_ in its pure color and complete forms. But we wish +that he were less powerful, and more interesting; or that he were a +little less Diogenes-like, and did not scorn all that he does not want. +Now that he has shown us what he can do without such aids, we wish he +would show us what he can do with them. He is, as we have already said, +wanting in what we have just been praising in Fielding--impressiveness. +We should like him to be less clever, and more affecting--less +wonderful, and more terrible; and as the very first step towards such an +end, to learn how to conceal. We are, however, trenching upon matters +with which we have at present nothing to do; our concern is now only +with truth, and one work of Stanfield alone presents us with as much +concentrated knowledge of sea and sky, as, diluted, would have lasted +any one of the old masters his life. And let it be especially observed, +how extensive and how varied is the truth of our modern masters--how it +comprises a complete history of that nature of which, from the ancients, +you only here and there can catch a stammering descriptive syllable--how +Fielding has given us every character of the quiet lake, Robson[65] of +the mountain tarn, De Wint of the lowland river, Nesfield of the radiant +cataract, Harding of the roaring torrent, Fielding of the desolate sea, +Stanfield of the blue, open, boundless ocean. Arrange all this in your +mind, observe the perfect truth of it in all its parts, compare it with +the fragmentary falsities of the ancients, and then, come with me to +Turner. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [65] I ought before to have alluded to the works of the late G. + Robson. They are a little disagreeable in execution, but there is a + feeling of the character of _deep_ calm water in them quite + unequalled, and different from the works and thoughts of all other + men. + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + OF WATER, AS PAINTED BY TURNER. + + +Sec. 1. The difficulty of giving surface to smooth water. + +Sec. 2. Is dependent on the structure of the eye, and the focus by which + the reflected rays are perceived. + +I believe it is a result of the experience of all artists, that it is +the easiest thing in the world to give a certain degree of depth and +transparency to water; but that it is next thing to impossible, to give +a full impression of surface. If no reflection be given--a ripple being +supposed--the water looks like lead: if reflection be given, it in nine +cases out of ten looks _morbidly_ clear and deep, so that we always go +down _into_ it, even when the artist most wishes us to glide _over_ it. +Now, this difficulty arises from the very same circumstance which +occasions the frequent failure in effect of the best drawn foregrounds, +noticed in Section II. Chapter III., the change, namely, of focus +necessary in the eye in order to receive rays of light coming from +different distances. Go to the edge of a pond, in a perfectly calm day, +at some place where there is duckweed floating on the surface,--not +thick, but a leaf here and there. Now, you may either see in the water +the reflection of the sky, or you may see the duckweed; but you cannot, +by any effort, see both together. If you look for the reflection, you +will be sensible of a sudden change or effort in the eye, by which it +adapts itself to the reception of the rays which have come all the way +from the clouds, have struck on the water, and so been sent up again to +the eye. The focus you adopt is one fit for great distance; and, +accordingly, you will feel that you are looking down a great way under +the water, while the leaves of the duckweed, though they lie upon the +water at the very spot on which you are gazing so intently, are felt +only as a vague, uncertain interruption, causing a little confusion in +the image below, but entirely indistinguishable as leaves,--and even +their color unknown and unperceived. Unless you think of them, you will +not even feel that anything interrupts your sight, so excessively +slight is their effect. If, on the other hand, you make up your mind to +look for the leaves of the duckweed, you will perceive an instantaneous +change in the effort of the eye, by which it becomes adapted to receive +near rays--those which have only come from the surface of the pond. You +will then see the delicate leaves of the duckweed with perfect +clearness, and in vivid green; but while you do so, you will be able to +perceive nothing of the reflections in the very water on which they +float--nothing but a vague flashing and melting of light and dark hues, +without form or meaning, which, to investigate, or find out what they +mean or are, you must quit your hold of the duckweed, and plunge down. + + +Sec. 3. Morbid clearness occasioned in painting of water by distinctness of + reflections. + +Sec. 4. How avoided by Turner. + +Sec. 5. All reflections on distant water are distinct. + +Hence it appears, that whenever we see plain reflections of +comparatively distant objects, in near water, we cannot possibly see the +surface, and _vice versa_; so that when in a painting we give the +reflections with the same clearness with which they are visible in +nature, we presuppose the effort of the eye to look under the surface, +and, of course, destroy the surface, and induce an effect of clearness +which, perhaps, the artist has not particularly wished to attain, but +which he has found himself forced into, by his reflections, in spite of +himself. And the reason of this effect of clearness appearing +preternatural is, that people are not in the habit of looking at water +with the distant focus adapted to the reflections, unless by particular +effort. We invariably, under ordinary circumstances, use the surface +focus; and, in consequence, receive nothing more than a vague and +confused impression of the reflected colors and lines, however clearly, +calmly, and vigorously all may be defined underneath, if we choose to +look for them. We do not look for them, but glide along over the +surface, catching only playing light and capricious color for evidence +of reflection, except where we come to images of objects close to the +surface, which the surface focus is of course adapted to receive; and +these we see clearly, as of the weeds on the shore, or of sticks rising +out of the water, etc. Hence, the ordinary effect of water is only to be +rendered by giving the reflections of the _margin_ clear and distinct +(so clear they usually are in nature, that it is impossible to tell +where the water begins;) but the moment we touch the reflection of +distant objects, as of high trees or clouds, that instant we must become +vague and uncertain in drawing, and, though vivid in color and light as +the object itself, quite indistinct in form and feature. If we take such +a piece of water as that in the foreground of Turner's Chateau of Prince +Albert, the first impression from it is,--"What a wide _surface_!" We +glide over it a quarter of a mile into the picture before we know where +we are, and yet the water is as calm and crystalline as a mirror; but we +are not allowed to tumble into it, and gasp for breath as we go +down,--we are kept upon the surface, though that surface is flashing and +radiant with every hue of cloud, and sun, and sky, and foliage. But the +secret is in the drawing of these reflections.[66] We cannot tell when +we look _at_ them and _for_ them, what they mean. They have all +character, and are evidently reflections of something definite and +determined; but yet they are all uncertain and inexplicable; playing +color and palpitating shade, which, though we recognize in an instant +for images of something, and feel that the water is bright, and lovely, +and calm, we cannot penetrate nor interpret: we are not allowed to go +down to them, and we repose, as we should in nature, upon the lustre of +the level surface. It is in this power of saying everything, and yet +saying nothing too plainly, that the perfection of art here, as in all +other cases, consists. But as it was before shown in Sect. II. Chap. +III. that the focus of the eye required little alteration after the +first half mile of distance, it is evident that on the _distant_ surface +of water, _all_ reflections will be seen plainly; for the same focus +adapted to a moderate distance of surface will receive with distinctness +rays coming from the sky, or from any other distance, however great. +Thus we always see the reflection of Mont Blanc on the Lake of Geneva, +whether we take pains to look for it or not, because the water upon +which it is cast is itself a mile off; but if we would see the +reflection of Mont Blanc in the Lac de Chede, which is close to us, we +must take some trouble about the matter, leave the green snakes swimming +upon the surface, and plunge for it. Hence reflections, if viewed +collectively, are always clear in proportion to the distance of the +water on which they are cast. And now look at Turner's Ulleswater, or +any of his distant lake expanses, and you will find every crag and line +of the hills rendered in them with absolute fidelity, while the near +surface shows nothing but a vague confusion of exquisite and lustrous +tint. The reflections even of the clouds will be given far off, while +those of near boats and figures will be confused and mixed among each +other, except just at the water-line. + + +Sec. 6. The error of Vandevelde. + +And now we see what Vandevelde _ought_ to have done with the shadow of +his ship spoken of in the first chapter of this section. In such a calm, +we should in nature, if we had looked for the reflection, have seen it +clear from the water-line to the flag on the mainmast; but in so doing, +we should have appeared to ourselves to be looking under the water, and +should have lost all feeling of surface. When we looked at the surface +of the sea,--as we naturally should,--we should have seen the image of +the hull absolutely clear and perfect, because that image is cast on +distant water; but we should have seen the image of the masts and sails +gradually more confused as they descended, and the water close to us +would have borne only upon its surface a maze of flashing color and +indefinite hue. Had Vandevelde, therefore, given the perfect image of +his ship, he would have represented a truth dependent on a particular +effort of the eye, and destroyed his surface. But his business was to +give, not a distinct reflection, but the colors of the reflection in +mystery and disorder upon his near water, all perfectly vivid, but none +intelligible; and had he done so, the eye would not have troubled itself +to search them out; it would not have cared whence or how the colors +came, but it would have felt them to be true and right, and rested +satisfied upon the polished surface of the clear sea. Of the perfect +truth, the best examples I can give are Turner's Saltash and Castle +Upnor. + + +Sec. 7. Difference in arrangement of parts between the reflected object and + its image. + +Be it next observed that the reflection of all near objects is, by our +fifth rule, not an exact copy of the parts of them which we see above +the water, but a totally different view and arrangement of them, that +which we should get if we were looking at them from beneath. Hence we +see the dark sides of leaves hanging over a stream, in their reflection, +though we see the light sides above, and all objects and groups of +objects are thus seen in the reflection under different lights, and in +different positions with respect to each other from those which they +assume above; some which we see on the bank being entirely lost in their +reflection, and others which we cannot see on the bank brought into +view. Hence nature contrives never to repeat herself, and the surface of +water is not a mockery, but a new view of what is above it. And this +difference in what is represented, as well as the obscurity of the +representation, is one of the chief sources by which the sensation of +surface is kept up in the reality. The reflection is not so remarkable, +it does not attract the eye in the same degree when it is entirely +different from the images above, as when it mocks them and repeats them, +and we feel that the space and surface have color and character of their +own, and that the bank is one thing and the water another. It is by not +making this change manifest, and giving underneath a mere duplicate of +what is seen above, that artists are apt to destroy the essence and +substance of water, and to drop us through it. + + +Sec. 8. Illustrated from the works of Turner. + +Sec. 9. The boldness and judgment shown in the observance of it. + +Now one instance will be sufficient to show the exquisite care of Turner +in this respect. On the left-hand side of his Nottingham, the water (a +smooth canal) is terminated by a bank fenced up with wood, on which, +just at the edge of the water, stands a white sign-post. A quarter of a +mile back, the hill on which Nottingham Castle stands rises steeply +nearly to the top of the picture. The upper part of this hill is in +bright golden light, and the lower in very deep gray shadow, against +which the white board of the sign-post is seen entirely in light relief, +though, being turned from the light, it is itself in delicate middle +tint, illumined only on the edge. But the image of all this in the +canal is very different. First, we have the reflection of the piles of +the bank, sharp and clear, but under this we have not what we see above +it, the dark _base_ of the hill, (for this being a quarter of a mile +back, we could not see over the fence if we were looking from below,) +but the golden summit of the hill, the shadow of the under part having +no record nor place in the reflection. But this summit, being very +distant, cannot be seen clearly by the eye while its focus is adapted to +the surface of the water, and accordingly its reflection is entirely +vague and confused; you cannot tell what it is meant for, it is mere +playing golden light. But the sign-post, being on the bank close to us, +will be reflected clearly, and accordingly its distinct image is seen in +the midst of this confusion. But it now is relieved, not against the +dark base, but against the illumined summit of the hill, and it appears, +therefore, instead of a white space thrown out from blue shade, a dark +gray space thrown out from golden light. I do not know that any more +magnificent example could be given of concentrated knowledge, or of the +daring statement of most difficult truth. For who but this consummate +artist would have had courage, even if he had perceived the laws which +required it, to undertake in a single small space of water, the painting +of an entirely new picture, with all its tones and arrangements +altered,--what was made above bright by opposition to blue, being +underneath made cool and dark by opposition to gold;--or would have +dared to contradict so boldly the ordinary expectation of the +uncultivated eye, to find in the reflection a mockery for the reality? +But the reward is immediate, for not only is the change most grateful to +the eye, and most exquisite as composition, but the surface of the water +in consequence of it is felt to be as spacious as it is clear, and the +eye rests not on the inverted image of the material objects, but on the +element which receives them. And we have a farther instance in this +passage of the close study which is required to enjoy the works of +Turner, for another artist might have altered the reflection or confused +it, but he would not have reasoned upon it so as to find out _what the +exact alteration must be_; and if we had tried to account for the +reflection, we should have found it false or inaccurate. But the master +mind of Turner, without effort, showers its knowledge into every touch, +and we have only to trace out even his slightest passages, part by part, +to find in them the universal working of the deepest thought, that +consistency of every minor truth which admits of and invites the same +ceaseless study as the work of nature herself. + + +Sec. 10. The _texture_ of surface in Turner's painting of calm water. + +There is, however, yet another peculiarity in Turner's painting of +smooth water, which, though less deserving of admiration, as being +merely a mechanical excellence, is not less wonderful than its other +qualities, nor less unique--a peculiar texture, namely, given to the +most delicate tints of the surface, when there is little reflection from +anything except sky or atmosphere, and which, just at the points where +other painters are reduced to paper, gives to the surface of Turner the +greatest appearance of substantial liquidity. It is impossible to say +how it is produced; it looks like some modification of body color; but +it certainly is not body color used as by other men, for I have seen +this expedient tried over and over again without success; and it is +often accompanied by crumbling touches of a dry brush, which never could +have been put upon body color, and which could not have shown through +underneath it. As a piece of mechanical excellence, it is one of the +most remarkable things in the works of the master; and it brings the +truth of his water-painting up to the last degree of perfection, often +rendering those passages of it the most attractive and delightful, which +from their delicacy and paleness of tint, would have been weak and +papery in the hands of any other man. The best instance of it I can +give, is, I think, the distance of the Devonport with the Dockyards. + + +Sec. 11. Its united qualities. + +After all, however, there is more in Turner's painting of water surface +than any philosophy of reflection, or any peculiarity of means, can +account for or accomplish; there is a might and wonder about it which +will not admit of our whys and hows. Take, for instance, the picture of +the Sun of Venice going to Sea, of 1843, respecting which, however, +there are one or two circumstances which may as well be noted besides +its water-painting. The reader, if he has not been at Venice, ought to +be made aware that the Venetian fishing-boats, almost without exception, +carry canvas painted with bright colors, the favorite design for the +centre being either a cross or a large sun with many rays, the favorite +colors being red, orange, and black, blue occurring occasionally. The +radiance of these sails and of the bright and grotesque vanes at the +mast-heads under sunlight is beyond all painting, but it is strange +that, of constant occurrence as these boats are on all the lagoons, +Turner alone should have availed himself of them. Nothing could be more +faithful than the boat which was the principal object in this picture, +in the cut of the sail, the filling of it, the exact height of the boom +above the deck, the quartering of it with color, finally and especially, +the hanging of the fish-baskets about the bows. All these, however, are +comparatively minor merits, (though not the blaze of color which the +artist elicited from the right use of these circumstances,) but the +peculiar power of the picture was the painting of the sea surface, where +there were no reflections to assist it. A stream of splendid color fell +from the boat, but that occupied the centre only; in the distance, the +city and crowded boats threw down some playing lines, but these still +left on each side of the boat a large space of water reflecting nothing +but the morning sky. This was divided by an eddying swell, on whose +continuous sides the local color of the water was seen, pure aquamarine, +(a beautiful occurrence of closely-observed truth,) but still there +remained a large blank space of pale water to be treated, the sky above +had no distinct details and was pure faint gray, with broken white +vestiges of cloud: it gave no help therefore. But there the water lay, +no dead gray flat paint, but downright clear, playing, palpable surface, +full of indefinite hue, and retiring as regularly and visibly back and +far away, as if there had been objects all over it to tell the story by +perspective. Now it is the doing of this which tries the painter, and it +is his having done this which made me say above that "no man had ever +painted the surface of calm water but Turner." The San Benedetto, +looking towards Fusina, contained a similar passage, equally fine; in +one of the Canale della Guidecca the specific green color of the water +is seen in front, with the shadows of the boats thrown on it in purple; +all, as it retires, passing into the pure reflective blue. + + +Sec. 12. Relation of various circumstances of past agitation, etc., by the + most trifling incidents, as in the Cowes. + +But Turner is not satisfied with this. He is never altogether content +unless he can, at the same time that he takes advantage of all the +placidity of repose, tell us something either about the past commotion +of the water, or of some present stirring of tide or current which its +stillness does not show, or give us something or other to think about +and reason upon, as well as to look at. Take a few instances. His Cowes, +Isle of Wight, is a summer twilight about half an hour, or more, after +sunset. Intensity of repose is the great aim throughout, and the unity +of tone of the picture is one of the finest things that Turner has ever +done. But there is not only quietness, there is the very deepest +solemnity in the whole of the light, as well as in the stillness of the +vessels; and Turner wishes to enhance this feeling by representing not +only repose, but _power_ in repose, the emblem, in the sea, of the quiet +ships of war. Accordingly, he takes the greatest possible pains to get +his surface polished, calm, and smooth, but he indicates the reflection +of a buoy, floating a full quarter of a mile off, by three black strokes +with wide intervals between them, the last of which touches the water +within twenty yards of the spectator. Now these three reflections can +only indicate the farther sides of three rises of an enormous swell, and +give by their intervals of separation, a space of from twelve to twenty +yards for the breadth of each wave, including the sweep between them, +and this swell is farther indicated by the reflection of the new moon +falling, in a wide zigzag line. The exceeding majesty which this single +circumstance gives to the whole picture, the sublime sensation of power +and knowledge of former exertion which we instantly receive from it, if +we have but acquaintance with nature enough to understand its language, +render this work not only a piece of the most refined truth, (as which I +have at present named it,) but to my mind, one of the highest pieces of +intellectual art existing. + + +Sec. 13. In scenes on the Loire and Seine. + +Again, in the scene on the Loire, with the square precipice and fiery +sunset, in the Rivers of France, repose has been aimed at in the same +way, and most thoroughly given; but the immense width of the river at +this spot makes it look like a lake or sea, and it was therefore +necessary that we should be made thoroughly to understand and feel that +this is not the calm of still water, but the tranquillity of a majestic +current. Accordingly, a boat swings at anchor on the right; and the +stream, dividing at its bow, flows towards us in two long, dark waves, +especial attention to which is enforced by the one on the left being +brought across the reflected stream of sunshine, which it separates, and +which is broken in the nearer water by the general undulation and +agitation caused by the boat's wake; a wake caused by the waters passing +it, not by _its_ going through the water. + + +Sec. 14. Expression of contrary waves caused by recoil from shore. + +Sec. 15. Various other instances. + +Again, in the Confluence of the Seine and Marne, we have the repose of +the wide river stirred by the paddles of the steamboat, (whose plashing +we can almost hear, for we are especially compelled to look at them by +their being made the central note of the composition--the blackest +object in it, opposed to the strongest light,) and this disturbance is +not merely caused by the two lines of surge from the boat's wake, for +any other painter must have given these, but Turner never rests +satisfied till he has told you _all_ in his power; and he has not only +given the receding surges, but these have gone on to the shore, have +struck upon it, and been beaten back from it in another line of weaker +contrary surges, whose point of intersection with those of the wake +itself is marked by the sudden subdivision and disorder of the waves of +the wake on the extreme left, and whose reverted direction is +exquisitely given where their lines cross the calm water, close to the +spectator, and marked also by the sudden vertical spring of the spray +just where they intersect the swell from the boat; and in order that we +may fully be able to account for these reverted waves, we are allowed, +just at the extreme right-hand limit of the picture, to see the point +where the swell from the boat meets the shore. In the Chaise de +Gargantua we have the still water lulled by the dead calm which usually +precedes the most violent storms, suddenly broken upon by a tremendous +burst of wind from the gathered thunder-clouds, scattering the boats, +and raising the water into rage, except where it is sheltered by the +hills. In the Jumieges and Vernon we have farther instances of local +agitation, caused, in the one instance, by a steamer, in the other, by +the large water-wheels under the bridge, not, observe, a mere splashing +about the wheel itself, this is too far off to be noticeable, so that we +should not have even known that the objects beneath the bridge were +water-wheels, but for the agitation recorded a quarter of a mile down +the river, where its current crosses the sunlight. And thus there will +scarcely ever be found a piece of quiet water by Turner, without some +story in it of one kind or another; sometimes a slight, but beautiful +incident--oftener, as in the Cowes, something on which the whole +sentiment and intention of the picture in a great degree depends; but +invariably presenting some new instance of varied knowledge and +observation, some fresh appeal to the highest faculties of the mind. + + +Sec. 16. Turner's painting of distant expanses of water. Calm, interrupted + by ripple. + +Sec. 17. And ripple, crossed by sunshine. + +Of extended surfaces of water, as rendered by Turner, the Loch Katrine +and Derwent-water, of the Illustrations to Scott, and the Loch Lomond, +vignette in Rogers's Poems, are characteristic instances. The first of +these gives us the most distant part of the lake entirely under the +influence of a light breeze, and therefore entirely without reflections +of the objects on its borders; but the whole near half is untouched by +the wind, and on that is cast the image of the upper part of Ben-Venue +and of the islands. The second gives us the surface, with just so much +motion upon it as to prolong, but not to destroy, the reflections of the +dark woods,--reflections only interrupted by the ripple of the boat's +wake. And the third gives us an example of the whole surface so much +affected by ripple as to bring into exercise all those laws which we +have seen so grossly violated by Canaletto. We see in the nearest boat +that though the lines of the gunwale are much blacker and more +conspicuous than that of the cutwater, yet the gunwale lines, being +nearly horizontal, have no reflection whatsoever; while the line of the +cutwater, being vertical, has a distinct reflection of three times its +own length. But even these tremulous reflections are only visible as far +as the islands; beyond them, as the lake retires into distance, we find +it receives only the reflection of the gray light from the clouds, and +runs in one flat white field up between the hills; and besides all this, +we have another phenomenon, quite new, given to us,--the brilliant gleam +of light along the centre of the lake. This is not caused by ripple, +for it is cast on a surface rippled all over; but it is what we could +not have without ripple,--the light of a passage of sunshine. I have +already (Chap. I., Sec. 9) explained the cause of this phenomenon, which +never can by any possibility take place on calm water, being the +multitudinous reflection of the sun from the sides of the ripples, +causing an appearance of local light and shadow; and being dependent, +like real light and shadow, on the passage of the clouds, though the +dark parts of the water are the reflections of the clouds, not the +shadows of them; and the bright parts are the reflections of the sun, +and not the light of it. This little vignette, then, will entirely +complete the system of Turner's universal truth in quiet water. We have +seen every phenomenon given by him,--the clear reflection, the prolonged +reflection, the reflection broken by ripple, and finally the ripple +broken by light and shade; and it is especially to be observed how +careful he is, in this last case, when he uses the apparent light and +shade, to account for it by showing us in the whiteness of the lake +beyond, its universal subjection to ripple. + + +Sec. 18. His drawing of distant rivers. + +Sec. 19. And of surface associated with mist. + +We have not spoken of Turner's magnificent drawing of distant rivers, +which, however, is dependent only on more complicated application of the +same laws, with exquisite perspective. The sweeps of river in the +Dryburgh, (Illustrations to Scott,) and Melrose, are bold and +characteristic examples, as well as the Rouen from St. Catherine's Hill, +and the Caudebec, in the Rivers of France. The only thing which in these +works requires particular attention, is the care with which the height +of the observer above the river is indicated by the loss of the +reflections of its banks. This is, perhaps, shown most clearly in the +Caudebec. If we had been on a level with the river, its whole surface +would have been darkened by the reflection of the steep and high banks; +but being far above it, we can see no more of the image than we could of +the hill itself, if it were actually reversed under the water; and +therefore we see that Turner gives us only a narrow line of dark water, +immediately under the precipice, the broad surface reflecting only the +sky. This is also finely shown on the left-hand side of the Dryburgh. + +But all these early works of the artist have been eclipsed by some +recent drawings of Switzerland. These latter are not to be described by +any words, but they must be noted here not only as presenting records of +lake effect on grander scale, and of more imaginative character than any +other of his works, but as combining effects of the surface of mist with +the surface of water. Two or three of the Lake of Lucerne, seen from +above, give the melting of the mountain promontories beneath into the +clear depth, and above into the clouds; one of Constance shows the vast +lake at evening, seen not as water, but its surface covered with low +white mist, lying league beyond league in the twilight like a fallen +space of moony cloud; one of Goldau shows the Lake of Zug appearing +through the chasm of a thunder-cloud under sunset, its whole surface one +blaze of fire, and the promontories of the hills thrown out against it, +like spectres; another of Zurich gives the playing of the green waves of +the river among white streams of moonlight: two purple sunsets on the +Lake of Zug are distinguished for the glow obtained without positive +color, the rose and purple tints being in great measure brought by +opposition out of browns: finally, a drawing executed in 1845 of the +town of Lucerne from the lake is unique for its expression of water +surface reflecting the clear green hue of sky at twilight. + + +Sec. 20. His drawing of falling water, with peculiar expression of weight. + +Sec. 21. The abandonment and plunge of great cataracts. How given by him. + +It will be remembered that it was said above, that Turner was the only +painter who had ever represented the surface of calm or the _force_ of +agitated water. He obtains this expression of force in falling or +running water by fearless and full rendering of its forms. He never +loses himself and his subject in the splash of the fall--his presence of +mind never fails as he goes down; he does not blind us with the spray, +or veil the countenance of his fall with its own drapery. A little +crumbling white, or lightly rubbed paper, will soon give the effect of +indiscriminate foam; but nature gives more than foam--she shows beneath +it, and through it, a peculiar character of exquisitely studied form +bestowed on every wave and line of fall; and it is this variety of +definite character which Turner always aims at, rejecting, as much as +possible, everything that conceals or overwhelms it. Thus, in the Upper +Fall of the Tees, though the whole basin of the fall is blue and dim +with the rising vapor, yet the whole attention of the spectator is +directed to that which it was peculiarly difficult to render, the +concentric zones and delicate curves of the falling water itself; and it +is impossible to express with what exquisite accuracy these are given. +They are the characteristic of a powerful stream descending without +impediment or break, but from a narrow channel, so as to expand as it +falls. They are the constant form which such a stream assumes as it +descends; and yet I think it would be difficult to point to another +instance of their being rendered in art. You will find nothing in the +waterfalls even of our best painters, but springing lines of parabolic +descent, and splashing, shapeless foam; and, in consequence, though they +may make you understand the swiftness of the water, they never let you +feel the weight of it; the stream in their hands looks _active_, not +_supine_, as if it leaped, not as if it fell. Now water will leap a +little way, it will leap down a weir or over a stone, but it _tumbles_ +over a high fall like this; and it is when we have lost the parabolic +line, and arrived at the catenary,--when we have lost the _spring_ of +the fall, and arrived at the _plunge_ of it, that we begin really to +feel its weight and wildness. Where water takes its first leap from the +top, it is cool, and collected, and uninteresting, and mathematical, but +it is when it finds that it has got into a scrape, and has farther to go +than it thought for, that its character comes out; it is then that it +begins to writhe, and twist, and sweep out zone after zone in wilder +stretching as it falls, and to send down the rocket-like, lance-pointed, +whizzing shafts at its sides, sounding for the bottom. And it is this +prostration, this hopeless abandonment of its ponderous power to the +air, which is always peculiarly expressed by Turner, and especially in +the case before us; while our other artists, keeping to the parabolic +line, where they do not lose themselves in smoke and foam, make their +cataract look muscular and wiry, and may consider themselves fortunate +if they can keep it from stopping. I believe the majesty of motion which +Turner has given by these concentric catenary lines must be felt even by +those who have never seen a high waterfall, and therefore cannot +appreciate their exquisite fidelity to nature. + +In the Chain Bridge over the Tees, this passiveness and swinging of the +water to and fro are yet more remarkable; while we have another +characteristic of a great waterfall given to us, that the wind, in this +instance coming up the valley against the current, takes the spray up +off the edges, and carries it back in little torn, reverted rags and +threads, seen in delicate form against the darkness on the left. But we +must understand a little more about the nature of running water before +we can appreciate the drawing either of this, or any other of Turner's +torrents. + + +Sec. 22. Difference in the action of water, when continuous and when + interrupted. The interrupted stream fills the hollows of its bed. + +Sec. 23. But the continuous stream takes the shape of its bed. + +Sec. 24. Its exquisite curved lines. + +When water, not in very great body, runs in a rocky bed much interrupted +by hollows, so that it can rest every now and then in a pool as it goes +along, it does not acquire a continuous velocity of motion. It pauses +after every leap, and curdles about, and rests a little, and then goes +on again; and if in this comparatively tranquil and rational state of +mind it meets with an obstacle, as a rock or stone, it parts on each +side of it with a little bubbling foam, and goes round; if it comes to a +step in its bed, it leaps it lightly, and then after a little plashing +at the bottom, stops again to take breath. But if its bed be on a +continuous slope, not much interrupted by hollows, so that it cannot +rest, or if its own mass be so increased by flood that its usual +resting-places are not sufficient for it, but that it is perpetually +pushed out of them by the following current, before it has had time to +tranquillize itself, it of course gains velocity with every yard that it +runs; the impetus got at one leap is carried to the credit of the next, +until the whole stream becomes one mass of unchecked, accelerating +motion. Now when water in this state comes to an obstacle, it does not +part at it, but clears it, like a racehorse; and when it comes to a +hollow, it does not fill it up and run out leisurely at the other side, +but it rushes down into it and comes up again on the other side, as a +ship into the hollow of the sea. Hence the whole appearance of the bed +of the stream is changed, and all the lines of the water altered in +their nature. The quiet stream is a succession of leaps and pools; the +leaps are light and springy, and parabolic, and make a great deal of +splashing when they tumble into the pool; then we have a space of quiet +curdling water, and another similar leap below. But the stream when it +has gained an impetus takes the shape of its bed, never stops, is +equally deep and equally swift everywhere, goes down into every hollow, +not with a leap, but with a swing, not foaming, nor splashing, but in +the bending line of a strong sea-wave, and comes up again on the other +side, over rock and ridge, with the ease of a bounding leopard; if it +meet a rock three or four feet above the level of its bed, it will +neither part nor foam, nor express any concern about the matter, but +clear it in a smooth dome of water, without apparent exertion, coming +down again as smoothly on the other side; the whole surface of the surge +being drawn into parallel lines by its extreme velocity, but foamless, +except in places where the form of the bed opposes itself at some direct +angle to such a line of fall, and causes a breaker; so that the whole +river has the appearance of a deep and raging sea, with this only +difference, that the torrent-waves always break backwards, and sea-waves +forwards. Thus, then, in the water which has gained an impetus, we have +the most exquisite arrangements of curved lines, perpetually changing +from convex to concave, and _vice versa_, following every swell and +hollow of the bed with their modulating grace, and all in unison of +motion, presenting perhaps the most beautiful series of inorganic forms +which nature can possibly produce; for the sea runs too much into +similar and concave curves with sharp edges, but every motion of the +torrent is united, and all its curves are modifications of beautiful +line. + + +Sec. 25. Turner's careful choice of the historical truth. + +Sec. 26. His exquisite drawing of the continuous torrent in the Llanthony + Abbey. + +We see, therefore, why Turner seizes on these curved lines of the +torrent, not only as being among the most beautiful forms of nature, but +because they are an instant expression of the utmost power and velocity, +and tell us how the torrent has been flowing before we see it. For the +leap and splash might be seen in the sudden freakishness of a quiet +stream, or the fall of a rivulet over a mill-dam; but the undulating +line is the _exclusive_ attribute of the mountain-torrent,[67] whose +fall and fury have made the valleys echo for miles; and thus the moment +we see one of its curves over a stone in the foreground, we know how far +it has come, and how fiercely. And in the drawing we have been speaking +of, the lower fall of the Tees, in the foreground of the Killiecrankie +and Rhymer's Glen, and of the St. Maurice, in Rogers's Italy, we shall +find the most exquisite instances of the use of such lines; but the most +perfect of all in the Llanthony Abbey, which may be considered as the +standard of torrent-drawing. The chief light of the picture here falls +upon the surface of the stream, swelled by recent rain, and its mighty +waves come rolling down close to the spectator, green and clear, but +pale with anger, in gigantic, unbroken, oceanic curves, bending into +each other without break or foam, though jets of fiery spray are cast +into the air along the rocky shore, and rise in the sunshine in dusty +vapor. The whole surface is one united race of mad motion; all the waves +dragged, as I have described, into lines and furrows by their swiftness, +and every one of these fine forms is drawn with the most studied +chiaroscuro of delicate color, grays and greens, as silvery and pure as +the finest passages of Paul Veronese, and with a refinement of execution +which the eye strains itself in looking into. The rapidity and gigantic +force of this torrent, the exquisite refinement of its color, and the +vividness of foam which is obtained through a general middle tint, +render it about the most perfect piece of painting of running water in +existence. + + +Sec. 27. And of the interrupted torrent in the Mercury and Argus. + +Now this picture is, as was noticed in our former reference to it, full +of expression of every kind of motion: the clouds are in wild haste; the +sun is gleaming fast and fitfully through the leaves; the rain drifting +away along the hill-side; and the torrent, the principal object, to +complete the impression, is made the wildest thing of all and not only +wild before us, and with us, but bearing with it in its every motion, +from its long course, the record of its rage. Observe how differently +Turner uses his torrent when the spirit of the picture is repose. In the +Mercury and Argus, we have also a stream in the foreground; but, in +coming down to us, we see it stopping twice in two quiet and glassy +pools, upon which the drinking cattle cast an unstirred image. From the +nearest of these, the water leaps in three cascades into another basin +close to us; it trickles in silver threads through the leaves at its +edge, and falls tinkling and splashing (though in considerable body) +into the pool, stirring its quiet surface, at which a bird is stooping +to drink, with concentric and curdling ripples which divide round the +stone at its farthest border, and descend in sparkling foam over the lip +of the basin. Thus we find, in every case, the system of Turner's truth +entirely unbroken, each phase and phenomenon of nature being recorded +exactly where it is most valuable and impressive. + + +Sec. 28. Various cases. + +We have not, however, space to follow out the variety of his +torrent-drawing. The above two examples are characteristic of the two +great divisions or classes of torrents--that whose motion is continuous, +and whose motion is interrupted: all drawing of running water will +resolve itself into the representation of one or other of these. The +descent of the distant stream in the vignette to the Boy of Egremond is +slight, but very striking; and the Junction of the Greta and Tees, a +singular instance of the bold drawing of the complicated forms of a +shallow stream among multitudinous rocks. A still finer example occurs +in a recent drawing of Dazio Grande, on the St. Gothard, the waves of +the Toccia, clear and blue, fretting among the granite debris which were +brought down by the storm that destroyed the whole road. In the Ivy +bridge the subject is the rest of the torrent in a pool among fallen +rocks, the forms of the stones are seen through the clear brown water, +and their reflections mingle with those of the foliage. + + +Sec. 29. Sea painting. Impossibility of truly representing foam. + +More determined efforts have at all periods been made in sea painting +than in torrent painting, yet less successful. As above stated, it is +easy to obtain a resemblance of broken running water by tricks and +dexterities, but the sea _must_ be legitimately drawn; it cannot be +given as utterly disorganized and confused, its weight and mass must be +expressed, and the efforts at expression of it end in failure with all +but the most powerful men; even with these few a partial success must be +considered worthy of the highest praise. + +As the right rendering of the Alps depends on power of drawing snow, so +the right painting of the sea must depend, at least in all coast +scenery, in no small measure on the power of drawing foam. Yet there are +two conditions of foam of invariable occurrence on breaking waves, of +which I have never seen the slightest record attempted; first the thick +creamy curdling overlapping massy form which remains for a moment only +after the fall of the wave, and is seen in perfection in its running up +the beach; and secondly, the thin white coating into which this +subsides, which opens into oval gaps and clefts, marbling the waves over +their whole surface, and connecting the breakers on a flat shore by long +dragging streams of white. + +It is evident that the difficulty of expressing either of these two +conditions must be immense. The lapping and curdling form is difficult +enough to catch even when the lines of its undulation alone are +considered; but the lips, so to speak, which lie along these lines, are +full, projecting, and marked by beautiful light and shade; each has its +high light, a gradation into shadow of indescribable delicacy, a bright +reflected light and a dark cast shadow; to draw all this requires labor, +and care, and firmness of work, which, as I imagine, must always, +however skilfully bestowed, destroy all impression of wildness, +accidentalism, and evanescence, and so kill the sea. Again, the openings +in the thin subsided foam in their irregular modifications of circular +and oval shapes dragged hither and thither, would be hard enough to draw +even if they could be seen on a flat surface; instead of which, every +one of the openings is seen in undulation on a tossing surface, broken +up over small surges and ripples, and so thrown into perspectives of the +most hopeless intricacy. Now it is not easy to express the lie of a +pattern with oval openings on the folds of drapery. I do not know that +any one under the mark of Veronese or Titian could even do this as it +ought to be done, yet in drapery much stiffness and error may be +overlooked; not so in sea,--the slightest inaccuracy, the slightest want +of flow and freedom in the line, is attached by the eye in a moment of +high treason, and I believe success to be impossible. + +Yet there is not a wave or any violently agitated sea on which both +these forms do not appear, the latter especially, after some time of +storm, extends over their whole surfaces; the reader sees, therefore, +why I said that sea could only be painted by means of more or less +dexterous conventionalisms, since two of its most enduring phenomena +cannot be represented at all. + + +Sec. 30. Character of shore-breakers, also inexpressible. + +Again, as respects the form of breakers on an even shore, there is +difficulty of no less formidable kind. There is in them an +irreconcilable mixture of fury and formalism. Their hollow surface is +marked by parallel lines, like those of a smooth mill-weir, and +graduated by reflected and transmitted lights of the most wonderful +intricacy, its curve being at the same time necessarily of mathematical +purity and precision; yet at the top of this curve, when it nods over, +there is a sudden laxity and giving way, the water swings and jumps +along the ridge like a shaken chain, and the motion runs from part to +part as it does through a serpent's body. Then the wind is at work on +the extreme edge, and instead of letting it fling itself off naturally, +it supports it, and, drives it back, or scrapes it off, and carries it +bodily away; so that the spray at the top is in a continual transition +between forms projected by their own weight, and forms blown and carried +off with their weight overcome; then at last, when it has come down, who +shall say what shape that may be called, which shape has none of the +great crash where it touches the beach. + +I think it is that last crash which is the great taskmaster. Nobody can +do anything with it. I have seen Copley Fielding come very close to the +jerk and nod of the lifted threatening edge, curl it very successfully, +and without any look of its having been in papers, down nearly to the +beach, but the final fall has no thunder in it. Turner has tried hard +for it once or twice, but it will not do. The moment is given in the +Sidon of the Bible Illustrations, and more elaborately in a painting of +Bamborough; in both these cases there is little foam at the bottom, and +the fallen breaker looks like a wall, yet grand always; and in the +latter picture very beautifully assisted in expression by the tossing of +a piece of cable, which some figures are dragging ashore, and which the +breaker flings into the air as it falls. Perhaps the most successful +rendering of the forms was in the Hero and Leander, but there the +drawing was rendered easier by the powerful effect of light which +disguised the foam. + + +Sec. 31. Their effect, how injured when seen from the shore. + +It is not, however, from the shore that Turner usually studies his sea. +Seen from the land, the curl of the breakers, even in nature, is +somewhat uniform and monotonous; the size of the waves out at sea is +uncomprehended, and those nearer the eye seem to succeed and resemble +each other, to move slowly to the beach, and to break in the same lines +and forms. + +Afloat even twenty yards from the shore, we receive a totally different +impression. Every wave around us appears vast--every one different from +all the rest--and the breakers present, now that we see them with their +backs towards us, the grand, extended, and varied lines of long +curvature, which are peculiarly expressive both of velocity and power. +Recklessness, before unfelt, is manifested in the mad, perpetual, +changeful, undirected motion, not of wave after wave, as it appears from +the shore, but of the very same water rising and falling. Of waves that +successively approach and break, each appears to the mind a separate +individual, whose part being performed, it perishes, and is succeeded by +another; and there is nothing in this to impress us with the idea of +restlessness, any more than in any successive and continuous functions +of life and death. But it is when we perceive that it is no succession +of wave, but the same water constantly rising, and crashing, and +recoiling, and rolling in again in new forms and with fresh fury, that +we perceive the perturbed spirit, and feel the intensity of its +unwearied rage. The sensation of power is also trebled; for not only is +the vastness of apparent size much increased, but the whole action is +different; it is not a passive wave rolling sleepily forward until it +tumbles heavily, prostrated upon the beach, but a sweeping exertion of +tremendous and living strength, which does not now appear to _fall_, but +to _burst_ upon the shore; which never perishes, but recoils and +recovers. + + +Sec. 32. Turner's expression of heavy rolling sea. + +Sec. 33. With peculiar expression of weight. + +Aiming at these grand characters of the Sea, Turner almost always places +the spectator, not on the shore, but twenty or thirty yards from it, +beyond the first range of the breakers, as in the Land's End, Fowey, +Dunbar, and Laugharne. The latter has been well engraved, and may be +taken as a standard of the expression of fitfulness and power. The grand +division of the whole space of the sea by a few dark continuous furrows +of tremendous swell, (the breaking of one of which alone has strewed the +rocks in front with ruin,) furnishes us with an estimate of space and +strength, which at once reduces the men upon the shore to insects; and +yet through this terrific simplicity there is indicated a fitfulness and +fury in the tossing of the individual lines, which give to the whole sea +a wild, unwearied, reckless incoherency, like that of an enraged +multitude, whose masses act together in frenzy, while not one individual +feels as another. Especial attention is to be directed to the flatness +of all the lines, for the same principle holds in sea which we have seen +in mountains. All the size and sublimity of nature are given not by the +height, but by the breadth of her masses: and Turner, by following her +in her sweeping lines, while he does not lose the elevation of its +surges, adds in a tenfold degree to their power: farther, observe the +peculiar expression of _weight_ which there is in Turner's waves, +precisely of the same kind which we saw in his waterfall. We have not a +cutting, springing, elastic line--no jumping or leaping in the waves: +_that_ is the characteristic of Chelsea Reach or Hampstead Ponds in a +storm. But the surges roll and plunge with such prostration and hurling +of their mass against the shore, that we feel the rocks are shaking +under them; and, to add yet more to this impression, observe how little, +comparatively, they are broken by the wind; above the floating wood, and +along the shore, we have indication of a line of torn spray; but it is a +mere fringe along the ridge of the surge--no interference with its +gigantic body. The wind has no power over its tremendous unity of force +and weight. Finally, observe how, on the rocks on the left, the violence +and swiftness of the rising wave are indicated by precisely the same +lines which we saw were indicative of fury in the torrent. The water on +these rocks is the body of the wave which has just broken, rushing up +over them; and in doing so, like the torrent, it does not break, nor +foam, nor part upon the rock, but accommodates itself to every one of +its swells and hollows, with undulating lines, whose grace and variety +might alone serve us for a day's study; and it is only where two streams +of this rushing water meet in the hollow of the rock, that their force +is shown by the vertical bound of the spray. + +[Illustration: PORT RUYSDAeL. + From a painting by Turner.] + + +Sec. 34. Peculiar action of recoiling waves. + +Sec. 35. And of the stroke of a breaker on the shore. + +Sec. 36. General character of sea on a rocky coast given by Turner in the + Land's End. + +In the distance of this grand picture, there are two waves which +entirely depart from the principle observed by all the rest, and spring +high into the air. They have a message for us which it is important that +we should understand. Their leap is not a preparation for breaking, +neither is it caused by their meeting with a rock. It is caused by their +encounter with the recoil of the preceding wave. When a large surge, in +the act of breaking, just as it curls over, is hurled against the face +either of a wall or of a vertical rock, the sound of the blow is not a +crash nor a roar; it is a report as loud as, and in every respect +similar to, that of a great gun, and the wave is dashed back from the +rock with force scarcely diminished, but reversed in direction,--it now +recedes from the shore, and at the instant that it encounters the +following breaker, the result is the vertical bound of both which is +here rendered by Turner. Such a recoiling wave will proceed out to sea +through ten or twelve ranges of following breakers, before it is +overpowered. The effect of the encounter is more completely and palpably +given in the Quilleboeuf, in the Rivers of France. It is peculiarly +instructive here, as informing us of the nature of the coast, and the +force of the waves, far more clearly than any spray about the rocks +themselves could have done. But the effect of the blow at the shore +itself is given in the Land's End, and vignette to Lycidas. Under +favorable circumstances, with an advancing tide under a heavy gale, +where the breakers feel the shore underneath them a moment before they +touch the rock, so as to nod over when they strike, the effect is nearly +incredible except to an eyewitness. I have seen the whole body of the +wave rise in one white, vertical, broad fountain, eighty feet above the +sea, half of it beaten so fine as to be borne away by the wind, the rest +turning in the air when exhausted, and falling back with a weight and +crash like that of an enormous waterfall. This is given most completely +in the Lycidas, and the blow of a less violent wave among broken rocks, +not meeting it with an absolute wall, along the shore of the Land's End. +This last picture is a study of sea whose whole organization has been +broken up by constant recoils from a rocky coast. The Laugharne gives +the surge and weight of the ocean in a gale, on a comparatively level +shore; but the Land's End, the entire disorder of the surges when every +one of them, divided and entangled among promontories as it rolls in, +and beaten back part by part from walls of rock on this side and that +side, recoils like the defeated division of a great army, throwing all +behind it into disorder, breaking up the succeeding waves into vertical +ridges, which in their turn, yet more totally shattered upon the shore, +retire in more hopeless confusion, until the whole surface of the sea +becomes one dizzy whirl of rushing, writhing, tortured, undirected rage, +bounding, and crashing, and coiling in an anarchy of enormous power, +subdivided into myriads of waves, of which every one is not, be it +remembered, a separate surge, but part and portion of a vast one, +actuated by internal power, and giving in every direction the mighty +undulation of impetuous line which glides over the rocks and writhes in +the wind, overwhelming the one, and piercing the other with the form, +fury, and swiftness of a sheet of lambent fire. And throughout the +rendering of all this, there is not one false curve given, not one which +is not the perfect expression of visible motion; and the forms of the +infinite sea are drawn throughout with that utmost mastery of art which, +through the deepest study of every line, makes every line appear the +wildest child of chance, while yet each is in itself a subject and a +picture different from all else around. Of the color of this magnificent +sea I have before spoken; it is a solemn green gray, (with its foam seen +dimly through the darkness of twilight,) modulated with the fulness, +changefulness, and sadness of a deep, wild melody. + + +Sec. 37. Open seas of Turner's earlier times. + +The greater number of Turner's paintings of open sea belong to a +somewhat earlier period than these drawings; nor, generally speaking, +are they of equal value. It appears to me that the artist had at that +time either less knowledge of, or less delight in, the characteristics +of deep water than of coast sea, and that, in consequence, he suffered +himself to be influenced by some of the qualities of the Dutch +sea-painters. In particular, he borrowed from them the habit of casting +a dark shadow on the near waves, so as to bring out a stream of light +behind; and though he did this in a more legitimate way than they, that +is to say, expressing the light by touches on the foam, and indicating +the shadow as cast on foamy surface, still the habit has induced much +feebleness and conventionality in the pictures of the period. His +drawing of the waves was also somewhat petty and divided, small forms +covered with white flat spray, a condition which I doubt not the artist +has seen on some of the shallow Dutch seas, but which I have never met +with myself, and of the rendering of which therefore I cannot speak. Yet +even in these, which I think among the poorest works of the painter, the +expressions of breeze, motion, and light, are very marvellous; and it is +instructive to compare them either with the lifeless works of the Dutch +themselves, or with any modern imitations of them, as for instance with +the seas of Callcott, where all the light is white and all the shadows +gray, where no distinction is made between water and foam, or between +real and reflective shadow, and which are generally without evidence of +the artists having ever seen the sea. + +Some pictures, however, belonging to this period of Turner are free from +the Dutch infection, and show the real power of the artist. A very +important one is in the possession of Lord Francis Egerton, somewhat +heavy in its forms, but remarkable for the grandeur of distance obtained +at the horizon; a much smaller, but more powerful example is the Port +Ruysdael in the possession of E. Bicknell, Esq., with which I know of no +work at all comparable for the expression of the white, wild, cold, +comfortless waves of northern sea, even though the sea is almost +subordinate to the awful rolling clouds. Both these pictures are very +gray. The Pas de Calais has more color, and shows more art than either, +yet is less impressive. Recently, two marines of the same subdued color +have appeared (1843) among his more radiant works. One, Ostend, somewhat +forced and affected, but the other, also called Port Ruysdael, is among +the most perfect sea pictures he has produced, and especially remarkable +as being painted without one marked opposition either of color or of +shade, all quiet and simple even to an extreme, so that the picture was +exceedingly unattractive at first sight. The shadow of the pier-head on +the near waves is marked solely by touches indicative of reflected +light, and so mysteriously that when the picture is seen near, it is +quite untraceable, and comes into existence as the spectator retires. It +is thus of peculiar truth and value; and instructive as a contrast to +the dark shadows of his earlier time. + + +Sec. 38. Effect of sea after prolonged storm. + +Few people, comparatively, have ever seen the effect on the sea of a +powerful gale continued without intermission for three or four days and +nights, and to those who have not, I believe it must be unimaginable, +not from the mere force or size of surge, but from the complete +annihilation of the limit between sea and air. The water from its +prolonged agitation is beaten, not into mere creaming foam, but into +masses of accumulated yeast,[68] which hang in ropes and wreaths from +wave to wave, and where one curls over to break, form a festoon like a +drapery, from its edge; these are taken up by the wind, not in +dissipating dust, but bodily, in writhing, hanging, coiling masses, +which make the air white and thick as with snow, only the flakes are a +foot or two long each; the surges themselves are full of foam in their +very bodies, underneath, making them white all through, as the water is +under a great cataract; and their masses, being thus half water and half +air, are torn to pieces by the wind whenever they rise, and carried away +in roaring smoke, which chokes and strangles like actual water. Add to +this, that when the air has been exhausted of its moisture by long rain, +the spray of the sea is caught by it as described above, (Section III. +Chapter VI. Sec. 13,) and covers its surface not merely with the smoke of +finely divided water, but with boiling mist; imagine also the low +rain-clouds brought down to the very level of the sea, as I have often +seen them, whirling and flying in rags and fragments from wave to wave; +and finally, conceive the surges themselves in their utmost pitch of +power, velocity, vastness, and madness, lifting themselves in precipices +and peaks, furrowed with their whirl of ascent, through all this chaos; +and you will understand that there is indeed no distinction left between +the sea and air; that no object, nor horizon, nor any landmark or +natural evidence of position is left; that the heaven is all spray, and +the ocean all cloud, and that you can see no farther in any direction +than you could see through a cataract. Suppose the effect of the first +sunbeam sent from above to show this annihilation to itself, and you +have the sea picture of the Academy, 1842--the Snowstorm, one of the +very grandest statements of sea-motion, mist, and light that has ever +been put on canvas, even by Turner. Of course it was not understood; his +finest works never are; but there was some apology for the public's not +comprehending this, for few people have had the opportunity of seeing +the sea at such a time, and when they have, cannot face it. To hold by a +mast or a rock, and watch it, is a prolonged endurance of drowning which +few people have courage to go through. To those who have, it is one of +the noblest lessons of nature. + + +Sec. 39. Turner's noblest work, the deep open sea in the Slave Ship. + +But, I think, the noblest sea that Turner has ever painted, and, if so, +the noblest certainly ever painted by man, is that of the Slave Ship, +the chief Academy picture of the Exhibition of 1840. It is a sunset on +the Atlantic after prolonged storm; but the storm is partially lulled, +and the torn and streaming rain-clouds are moving in scarlet lines to +lose themselves in the hollow of the night. The whole surface of sea +included in the picture is divided into two ridges of enormous swell, +not high, nor local, but a low, broad heaving of the whole ocean, like +the lifting of its bosom by deep-drawn breath after the torture of the +storm. Between these two ridges, the fire of the sunset falls along the +trough of the sea, dyeing it with an awful but glorious light, the +intense and lurid splendor which burns like gold and bathes like blood. +Along this fiery path and valley, the tossing waves by which the swell +of the sea is restlessly divided, lift themselves in dark, indefinite, +fantastic forms, each casting a faint and ghastly shadow behind it along +the illumined foam. They do not rise everywhere, but three or four +together in wild groups, fitfully and furiously, as the under strength +of the swell compels or permits them; leaving between them treacherous +spaces of level and whirling water, now lighted with green and lamp-like +fire, now flashing back the gold of the declining sun, now fearfully +dyed from above with the indistinguishable images of the burning clouds, +which fall upon them in flakes of crimson and scarlet, and give to the +reckless waves the added motion of their own fiery flying. Purple and +blue, the lurid shadows of the hollow breakers are cast upon the mist of +the night, which gathers cold and low, advancing like the shadow of +death upon the guilty[69] ship as it labors amidst the lightning of the +sea, its thin masts written upon the sky in lines of blood, girded with +condemnation in that fearful hue which signs the sky with horror, and +mixes its flaming flood with the sunlight,--and cast far along the +desolate heave of the sepulchral waves, incarnadines the multitudinous +sea. + + +Sec. 40. Its united excellences and perfection as a whole. + +I believe, if I were reduced to rest Turner's immortality upon any single +work, I should choose this. Its daring conception--ideal in the highest +sense of the word--is based on the purest truth, and wrought out with the +concentrated knowledge of a life; its color is absolutely perfect, not +one false or morbid hue in any part or line, and so modulated that every +square inch of canvas is a perfect composition; its drawing as accurate +as fearless; the ship buoyant, bending, and full of motion; its tones as +true as they are wonderful;[70] and the whole picture dedicated to the +most sublime of subjects and impressions--(completing thus the perfect +system of all truth, which we have shown to be formed by Turner's +works)--the power, majesty, and deathfulness of the open, deep, +illimitable Sea. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [66] Not altogether. I believe here, as in a former case, I have + attributed far too much influence to this change of focus. In + Turner's earlier works the principle is not found. In the rivers of + the Yorkshire drawings, every reflection is given clearly, even to + the farthest depth, and yet the surface is not lost, and it would + deprive the painter of much power if he were not sometimes so to + represent them, especially when his object is repose; it being, of + course, as lawful for him to choose one adaptation of the sight as + another. I have, however, left the above paragraphs as first + written, because they are true, although I think they make too much + of an unimportant matter. The reader may attribute to them such + weight as he thinks fit. He is referred to Sec. 11 of this chapter, and + to Sec. 4 of the first chapter of this section. + + [67] On a large scale it is so, but the same lines are to be seen + for the moment whenever water becomes exceedingly rapid, and yet + feels the bottom as it passes, being not thrown up or cast clear of + it. In general, the drawing of water fails from being too + interrupted, the forms flung hither and thither, and broken up and + covered with bright touches, instead of being wrought out in their + real unities of curvature. It is difficult enough to draw a curved + surface, even when it is rough and has texture; but to indicate the + varied and sweeping forms of a crystalline and polished substance, + requires far more skill and patience than most artists possess. In + some respects, it is impossible. I do not suppose any means of art + are capable of rightly expressing the smooth, multitudinous rippling + of a rapid rivulet of shallow water, giving its transparency lustre + and fully-developed forms; and the greater number of the lines and + actions of torrent-waves are equally inexpressible. The effort + should, nevertheless, always be made, and whatever is sacrificed in + color, freedom, or brightness, the real contours ought always in + some measure to be drawn, as a careful draughtsman secures those of + flesh, or any other finely-modelled surface. It is better, in many + respects, the drawing should miss of being _like_ water, than that + it should miss in this one respect the grandeur of water. Many + tricks of scratching and dashing will bring out a deceptive + resemblance; the determined and laborious rendering of contour alone + secures sublimity. + + [68] The "yesty waves" of Shakspeare have made the likeness + familiar, and probably most readers take the expression as merely + equivalent to "foamy;" but Shakspeare knew better. Sea-foam does + not, under ordinary circumstances, last a moment after it is formed, + but disappears, as above described, in a mere white film. But the + foam of a prolonged tempest is altogether different; it is "whipped" + foam,--thick, permanent, and, in a foul or discolored sea, very + ugly, especially in the way it hangs about the tops of the waves, + and gathers into clotted concretions before the driving wind. The + sea looks truly working or fermenting. The following passage from + Fenimore Cooper is an interesting confirmation of the rest of the + above description, which may be depended upon as entirely free from + exaggeration:--"For the first time I now witnessed a tempest at sea. + Gales, and pretty hard ones, I had often seen, but the force of the + wind on this occasion as much exceeded that in ordinary gales of + wind, as the force of these had exceeded that of a whole-sail + breeze. The seas seemed crushed; the pressure of the swooping + atmosphere, as the currents of the air went howling over the surface + of the ocean, fairly preventing them from rising; or where a mound + of water did appear, it was scooped up and borne off in spray, as + the axe dubs inequalities from the log. When the day returned, a + species of lurid, sombre light was diffused over the watery waste, + though nothing was visible but the ocean and the ship. Even the + sea-birds seemed to have taken refuge in the caverns of the adjacent + coast, none reappearing with the dawn. The air was full of spray, + and it was with difficulty that the eye could penetrate as far into + the humid atmosphere as half a mile,"--_Miles Wattingford_. Half a + mile is an over-estimate in coast. + + [69] She is a slaver, throwing her slaves overboard. The near sea is + encumbered with corpses. + + [70] There is a piece of tone of the same kind, equal in one part, + but not so united with the rest of the picture, in the storm scene + illustrative of the Antiquary,--a sunset light on polished sea. I + ought to have particularly mentioned the sea in the Lowestoffe, as a + piece of the cutting motion of shallow water, under storm, + altogether in gray, which should be especially contrasted, as a + piece of color, with the grays of Vandevelde. And the sea in the + Great Yarmouth should have been noticed for its expression of water + in violent agitation, seen in enormous extent from a great + elevation. There is almost every form of sea in it,--rolling waves + dashing on the pier--successive breakers rolling to the shore--a + vast horizon of multitudinous waves--and winding canals of calm + water along the sands, bringing fragments of bright sky down into + their yellow waste. There is hardly one of the views of the Southern + Coast which does not give some new condition or circumstance of sea. + + + + + SECTION VI. + + OF TRUTH OF VEGETATION.--CONCLUSION. + + + + + CHAPTER I. + + OF TRUTH OF VEGETATION. + + +Sec. 1. Frequent occurrence of foliage in the works of the old masters. + +We have now arrived at the consideration of what was, with the old +masters, the subject of most serious and perpetual study. If they do not +give us truth here, they cannot have the faculty of truth in them; for +foliage is the chief component part of all their pictures, and is +finished by them with a care and labor which, if bestowed without +attaining truth, must prove either their total bluntness of perception, +or total powerlessness of hand. With the Italian school I can scarcely +recollect a single instance in which foliage does not form the greater +part of the picture; in fact, they are rather painters of tree-portrait +than landscape painters; for rocks, and sky, and architecture are +usually mere accessories and backgrounds to the dark masses of laborious +foliage, of which the composition principally consists. Yet we shall be +less detained by the examination of foliage than by our former subjects; +since where specific form is organized and complete, and the occurrence +of the object universal, it is easy, without requiring any laborious +attention in the reader, to demonstrate to him quite as much of the +truth or falsehood of various representations of it, as may serve to +determine the character and rank of the painter. + + +Sec. 2. Laws common to all forest trees. Their branches do not taper, but + only divide. + +It will be best to begin as nature does, with the stems and branches, +and then to put the leaves on. And in speaking of trees generally, be it +observed, when I say _all_ trees, I mean only those ordinary forest or +copse trees of Europe, which are the chief subjects of the landscape +painter. I do not mean to include every kind of foliage which by any +accident can find its way into a picture, but the ordinary trees of +Europe,--oak, elm, ash, hazel, willow, birch, beech, poplar, chestnut, +pine, mulberry, olive, ilex, carubbe, and such others. I do not purpose +to examine the characteristics of each tree; it will be enough to +observe the laws common to all. First, then, neither the stems nor the +boughs of any of the above trees _taper_, except where they fork. +Wherever a stem sends off a branch, or a branch a lesser bough, or a +lesser bough a bud, the stem or the branch is, on the instant, less in +diameter by the exact quantity of the branch or the bough they have sent +off, and they remain of the same diameter; or if there be any change, +rather increase than diminish until they send off another branch or +bough. This law is imperative and without exception; no bough, nor stem, +nor twig, ever tapering or becoming narrower towards its extremity by a +hairbreadth, save where it parts with some portion of its substance at a +fork or bud, so that if all the twigs and sprays at the top and sides of +the tree, which are, and _have been_, could be united without loss of +space, they would form a round log of the diameter of the trunk from +which they spring. + + +Sec. 3. Appearance of tapering caused by frequent buds. + +But as the trunks of most trees send off twigs and sprays of light under +foliage, of which every individual fibre takes precisely its own +thickness of wood from the parent stem, and as many of these drop off, +leaving nothing but a small excrescence to record their existence, there +is frequently a slight and delicate appearance of tapering bestowed on +the trunk itself; while the same operation takes place much more +extensively in the branches, it being natural to almost all trees to +send out from their young limbs more wood than they can support, which, +as the stem increases, gets contracted at the point of insertion, so as +to check the flow of the sap, and then dies and drops off, leaving all +along the bough, first on one side, then on another, a series of small +excrescences, sufficient to account for a degree of tapering, which is +yet so very slight, that if we select a portion of a branch with no real +fork or living bough to divide it or diminish it, the tapering is +scarcely to be detected by the eye; and if we select a portion without +such evidences of past ramification, there will be found none +whatsoever. + + +Sec. 4. And care of nature to conceal the parallelism. + +But nature takes great care and pains to conceal this uniformity in her +boughs. They are perpetually parting with little sprays here and there, +which steal away their substance cautiously, and where the eye does not +perceive the theft, until, a little way above, it feels the loss; and in +the upper parts of the tree, the ramifications take place so constantly +and delicately, that the effect upon the eye is precisely the same as if +the boughs actually tapered, except here and there, where some +avaricious one, greedy of substance, runs on for two or three yards +without parting with anything, and becomes ungraceful in so doing. + + +Sec. 5. The degree of tapering which may be represented as continuous. + +Hence we see that although boughs may, and must be represented as +actually tapering, they must only be so when they are sending off +foliage and sprays, and when they are at such a distance that the +particular forks and divisions cannot be evident to the eye; and +farther, even in such circumstances the tapering never can be sudden or +rapid. No bough ever, with appearance of smooth tapering, loses more +than one tenth of its diameter in a length of ten diameters. Any greater +diminution than this must be accounted for by visible ramification, and +must take place by steps, at each fork. + + +Sec. 6. The trees of Gaspar Poussin; + +And therefore we see at once that the stem of Gaspar Poussin's tall +tree, on the right of the La Riccia, in the National Gallery, is a +painting of a carrot or a parsnip, not of the trunk of a tree. For, +being so near that every individual leaf is visible, we should not have +seen, in nature, one branch or stem actually tapering. We should have +received an _impression_ of graceful diminution; but we should have been +able, on examination, to trace it joint by joint, fork by fork, into the +thousand minor supports of the leaves. Gaspar Poussin's stem, on the +contrary, only sends off four or five minor branches altogether, and +both it and they taper violently, and without showing why or +wherefore--without parting with a single twig--without showing one +vestige of roughness or excrescence--and leaving, therefore, their +unfortunate leaves to hold on as best they may. The latter, however, are +clever leaves, and support themselves as swarming bees do, hanging on +by each other. + + +Sec. 7. And of the Italian school generally, defy this law. + +But even this piece of work is a jest to the perpetration of the bough +at the left-hand upper corner of the picture opposite to it,--the View +near Albano. This latter is a representation of an ornamental group of +elephants' tusks, with feathers tied to the ends of them. Not the +wildest imagination could ever conjure up in it the remotest resemblance +to the bough of a tree. It might be the claws of a witch--the talons of +an eagle--the horns of a fiend; but it is a full assemblage of every +conceivable falsehood which can be told respecting foliage--a piece of +work so barbarous in every way, that one glance at it ought to prove the +complete charlatanism and trickery of the whole system of the old +landscape painters. For I will depart for once from my usual plan, of +abstaining from all assertion of a thing's being beautiful or otherwise; +I will say here, at once, that such drawing as this is as ugly as it is +childish, and as painful as it is false; and that the man who could +tolerate, much more, who could deliberately set down such a thing on his +canvas, had neither eye nor feeling for one single attribute or +excellence of God's works. He might have drawn the other stem in +excusable ignorance, or under some false impression of being able to +improve upon nature; but _this_ is conclusive and unpardonable. Again, +take the stem of the chief tree in Claude's Narcissus. It is a very +faithful portrait of a large boa-constrictor, with a handsome tail; the +kind of trunk which young ladies at fashionable boarding-schools +represent with nosegays at the top of them, by way of forest scenery. + + +Sec. 8. The truth, as it is given by J. D. Harding. + +Let us refresh ourselves for a moment, by looking at the truth. We need +not go to Turner, we will go to the man who, next to him, is +unquestionably the greatest master of foliage in Europe--J. D. Harding. +Take the trunk of the largest stone-pine, Plate 25, in the Park and the +Forest. For the first nine or ten feet from the ground it does not lose +one hairbreadth of its diameter. But the shoot, broken off just under +the crossing part of the distant tree, is followed by an instant +diminution of the trunk, perfectly appreciable both by the eye and the +compasses. Again, the stem maintains undiminished thickness, up to the +two shoots on the left, from the loss of which it suffers again +perceptibly. On the right, immediately above, is the stump of a very +large bough, whose loss reduces the trunk suddenly to about two-thirds +of what it was at the root. Diminished again, less considerably, by the +minor branch close to this stump, it now retains its diameter up to the +three branches, broken off just under the head, where it once more loses +in diameter, and finally branches into the multitude of head-boughs, of +which not one will be found tapering in any part, but losing themselves +gradually by division among their offshoots and spray. This is nature, +and beauty too. + + +Sec. 9. Boughs, in consequence of this law, _must_ diminish where they + divide. Those of the old masters often do not. + +But the old masters are not satisfied with drawing carrots for boughs. +Nature can be violated in more ways than one, and the industry with +which they seek out and adopt every conceivable mode of contradicting +her is matter of no small interest. It is evident, from what we have +above stated of the structure of all trees, that as no boughs diminish +where they do not fork, so they cannot fork without diminishing. It is +impossible that the smallest shoot can be sent out of a bough without a +diminution of the diameter above it; and wherever a branch goes off it +must not only be less in diameter than the bough from which it springs, +but the bough beyond the fork must be less by precisely the quantity of +the branch it has sent off.[71] Now observe the bough underneath the +first bend of the great stem in Claude's Narcissus; it sends off four +branches like the ribs of a leaf. The two lowest of these are both quite +as thick as the parent stem, and the stem itself is much thicker after +it has sent off the first one than it was before. The top boughs of the +central tree, in the Marriage of Isaac and Rebecca, ramify in the same +scientific way. + + +Sec. 10. Boughs must multiply as they diminish. Those of the old masters + do not. + +Sec. 11. Bough-drawing of Salvator. + +But there are further conclusions to be drawn from this great principle +in trees. As they only diminish where they divide, their increase of +number is in precise proportion to their diminution of size, so that +whenever we come to the extremities of boughs, we must have a multitude +of sprays sufficient to make up, if they were united, the bulk of that +from which they spring. Where a bough divides into two equal +ramifications, the diameter of each of the two is about two-thirds that +of the single one, and the sum of their diameters, therefore, one-fourth +greater than the diameter of the single one. Hence, if no boughs died or +were lost, the quantity of wood in the sprays would appear one-fourth +greater than would be necessary to make up the thickness of the trunk. +But the lost boughs remove the excess, and therefore, speaking broadly, +the diameters of the outer boughs put together would generally just make +up the diameter of the trunk. Precision in representing this is neither +desirable nor possible. All that is required is just so much observance +of the general principle as may make the eye feel satisfied that there +is something like the same quantity of wood in the sprays which there is +in the stem. But to do this, there must be, what there always is in +nature, an exceeding complexity of the outer sprays. This complexity +gradually increases towards their extremities, of course exactly in +proportion to the slenderness of the twigs. The slenderer they become, +the more there are of them, until at last, at the extremities of the +tree, they form a mass of intricacy, which in winter, when it can be +seen, is scarcely distinguishable from fine herbage, and is beyond all +power of definite representation; it can only be expressed by a mass of +involved strokes. Also, as they shoot out in every direction, some are +nearer, some more distant; some distinct, some faint; and their +intersections and relations of distance are marked with the most +exquisite gradations of aerial perspective. Now it will be found +universally in the works of Claude, Gaspar, and Salvator, that the +boughs do _not_ get in the least complex or multiplied towards the +extremities--that each large limb forks only into two or three smaller +ones, each of which vanishes into the air without any cause or reason +for such unaccountable conduct--unless that the mass of leaves +transfixed upon it or tied to it, entirely dependent on its single +strength, have been too much, as well they may be, for its powers of +solitary endurance. This total ignorance of tree structure is shown +throughout their works. The Sinon before Priam is an instance of it in a +really fine work of Claude's, but the most gross examples are in the +works of Salvator. It appears that this latter artist was hardly in the +habit of studying from nature at all after his boyish ramble among the +Calabrian hills; and I do not recollect any instance of a piece of his +bough-drawing which is not palpably and demonstrably a made-up phantasm +of the studio, the proof derivable from this illegitimate tapering being +one of the most convincing. The painter is always visibly embarrassed to +reduce the thick boughs to spray, and _feeling_ (for Salvator naturally +had acute feeling for truth) that the bough was wrong when it tapered +suddenly, he accomplishes its diminution by an impossible protraction; +throwing out shoot after shoot until his branches straggle all across +the picture, and at last disappear unwillingly where there is no room +for them to stretch any farther. The consequence is, that whatever +leaves are put upon such boughs have evidently no adequate support, +their power of leverage is enough to uproot the tree; or if the boughs +are left bare, they have the look of the long tentacula of some +complicated marine monster, or of the waving endless threads of bunchy +sea-weed, instead of the firm, upholding, braced, and bending grace of +natural boughs. I grant that this is in a measure done by Salvator from +a love of ghastliness, and that in certain scenes it is in a sort +allowable; but it is in a far greater degree done from pure ignorance of +tree structure, as is sufficiently proved by the landscape of the Pitti +palace, Peace burning the arms of War; where the spirit of the scene is +intended to be quite other than ghastly, and yet the tree branches show +the usual errors in an extraordinary degree; every one of their +arrangements is impossible, and the trunk of the tree could not for a +moment support the foliage it is loaded with. So also in the pictures of +the Guadagni palace. And even where the skeleton look of branches is +justifiable or desirable, there is no occasion for any violation of +natural laws. I have seen more spectral character in the real limbs of a +blasted oak, than ever in Salvator's best monstrosities; more horror is +to be obtained by right combination of inventive line, than by drawing +tree branches as if they were wing-bones of a pterodactyle. All +departure from natural forms to give fearfulness is mere Germanism; it +is the work of fancy, not of imagination,[72] and instantly degrades +whatever it affects to third-rate level. There is nothing more marked in +truly great men, than their power of being dreadful without being false +or licentious. In Tintoret's Murder of Abel, the head of the sacrificed +firstling lies in the corner of the foreground, obscurely sketched in, +and with the light gleaming upon its glazed eyes. There is nothing +exaggerated about the head, but there is more horror got out of it, and +more of death suggested by its treatment, than if he had turned all the +trees of his picture into skeletons, and raised a host of demons to +drive the club. + + +Sec. 12. All these errors especially shown in Claude's sketches and + concentrated in a work of G. Poussin's. + +Sec. 13. Impossibility of the angles of boughs being taken out of them by + wind. + +It is curious that in Salvator's sketches or etchings there is less that +is wrong than in his paintings,--there seems a fresher remembrance of +nature about them. Not so with Claude. It is only by looking over his +sketches, in the British Museum, that a complete and just idea is to be +formed of his capacities of error; for the feeling and arrangement of +many of them are those of an advanced age, so that we can scarcely set +them down for what they resemble--the work of a boy ten years old; and +the drawing being seen without any aids of tone or color to set it off, +shows in its naked falsehood. The windy landscape of Poussin, opposite +the Dido and Aeneas, in the National Gallery, presents us, in the +foreground tree, with a piece of atrocity which I think, to any person +who candidly considers it, may save me all farther trouble of +demonstrating the errors of ancient art. I do not in the least suspect +the picture: the tones of it, and much of the handling, are masterly; +yet that foreground tree comprises every conceivable violation of truth +which the human hand can commit, or head invent, in drawing a +tree--except only, that it is not drawn root uppermost. It has no bark, +no roughness nor character of stem; its boughs do not grow out of each +other, but are stuck into each other; they ramify without diminishing, +diminish without ramifying, are terminated by no complicated sprays, +have their leaves tied to their ends, like the heads of Dutch brooms; +and finally, and chiefly, they are evidently not made of wood, but of +some soft elastic substance, which the wind can stretch out as it +pleases, for there is not a vestige of an angle in any one of them. Now, +the fiercest wind that ever blew upon the earth, could not take the +angles out of the bough of a tree an inch thick. The whole bough bends +together, retaining its elbows, and angles, and natural form, but +affected throughout with curvature in each of its parts and joints. That +part of it which was before perpendicular being bent aside, and that +which was before sloping, being bent into still greater inclination, the +angle at which the two parts meet remains the same; or if the strain be +put in the opposite direction, the bough will break long before it loses +its angle. You will find it difficult to bend the angles out of the +youngest sapling, if they be marked; and absolutely impossible, with a +strong bough. You may break it, but you will not destroy its angles. And +if you watch a tree in the wildest storm, you will find that though all +its boughs are bending, none lose their character but the utmost shoots +and sapling spray. Hence Gaspar Poussin, by his bad drawing, does not +make his storm strong, but his tree weak; he does not make his gust +violent, but his boughs of India-rubber. + + +Sec. 14. Bough-drawing of Titian. + +These laws respecting vegetation are so far more imperative than those +which were stated respecting water, that the greatest artist cannot +violate them without danger, because they are laws resulting from +organic structure, which it is always painful to see interrupted; on the +other hand, they have this in common with all laws, that they may be +observed with mathematical precision, yet with no grateful result; the +disciplined eye and the life in the woods are worth more than all +botanical knowledge. For there is that about the growing of the tree +trunk, and that grace in its upper ramification which cannot be taught, +and which cannot even be seen but by eager watchfulness. There is not an +Exhibition passes, but there appear in it hundreds of elaborate +paintings of trees, many of them executed from nature. For three hundred +years back, trees have been drawn with affection by all the civilized +nations of Europe, and yet I repeat boldly, what I before asserted, +that no men but Titian and Turner ever drew the stem of a tree. + +Generally, I think, the perception of the muscular qualities of the tree +trunk incomplete, except in men who have studied the human figure, and +in loose expression of those characters, the painter who can draw the +living muscle seldom fails; but the thoroughly peculiar lines belonging +to woody fibre, can only be learned by patient forest study; and hence +in all the trees of the merely historical painters, there is fault of +some kind or another, commonly exaggeration of the muscular swellings, +or insipidity and want of spring in curvature, or fantasticism and +unnaturalness of arrangement, and especially a want of the peculiar +characters of bark which express the growth and age of the tree; for +bark is no mere excrescence, lifeless and external--it is a skin of +especial significance in its indications of the organic form beneath; in +places under the arms of the tree it wrinkles up and forms fine lines +_round_ the trunk, inestimable in their indication of the direction of +its surface; in others, it bursts or peels longitudinally, and the +rending and bursting of it are influenced in direction and degree by the +under-growth and swelling of the woody fibre, and are not a mere +roughness and granulated pattern of the hide. Where there are so many +points to be observed, some are almost always exaggerated, and others +missed, according to the predilections of the painter. Rembrandt and +Albert Durer have given some splendid examples of woody texture, but +both miss the grace of the great lines. Titian took a larger view and +reached a higher truth, yet (as before noticed) from the habit of +drawing the figure, he admits too much flaccidity and bend, and +sometimes makes his tree trunks look flexible like sea-weed. There is a +peculiar stiffness and spring about the curves of the wood, which +separates them completely from animal curves, and which especially +defies recollection or invention; it is so subtile that it escapes but +too often, even in the most patient study from nature; it lies within +the thickness of a pencil line. Farther, the modes of ramification of +the upper branches are so varied, inventive, and graceful, that the +least alteration of them, even in the measure of a hairbreadth, spoils +them; and though it is sometimes possible to get rid of a troublesome +bough, accidentally awkward, or in some minor respects to assist the +arrangement, yet so far as the real branches are copied, the hand libels +their lovely curvatures even in its best attempts to follow them. + + +Sec. 15. Bough-drawing of Turner. + +These two characters, the woody stiffness hinted through muscular line, +and the inventive grace of the upper boughs, have never been rendered +except by Turner; he does not merely draw them better than others, but +he is the only man who has ever drawn them at all. Of the woody +character, the tree subjects of the Liber Studiorum afford marked +examples; the Cephalus and Procris, scenes near the Grand Chartreuse and +Blair Athol, Juvenile Tricks, and Hedging and Ditching, may be +particularized; in the England series, the Bolton Abbey is perhaps a +more characteristic and thoroughly Turneresque example than any. + +Of the arrangement of the upper boughs, the Aesacus and Hesperie is +perhaps the most consummate example, the absolute truth and simplicity +and freedom from anything like fantasticism or animal form being as +marked on the one hand, as the exquisite imaginativeness of the lines on +the other: among the Yorkshire subjects the Aske Hall, Kirby Lonsdale +Churchyard, and Brignall Church are most characteristic: among the +England subjects the Warwick, Dartmouth Cove, Durham, and Chain Bridge +over the Tees, where the piece of thicket on the right has been well +rendered by the engraver, and is peculiarly expressive of the aerial +relations and play of light among complex boughs. The vignette at the +opening of Rogers's Pleasures of Memory, that of Chiefswood Cottage in +the Illustrations to Scott's Works, and the Chateau de la belle +Gabrielle, engraved for the Keepsake, are among the most graceful +examples accessible to every one; the Crossing the Brook will occur at +once to those acquainted with the artist's gallery. The drawing of the +stems in all these instances, and indeed in all the various and frequent +minor occurrences of such subject throughout the painter's works is +entirely unique, there is nothing of the same kind in art. + + +Sec. 16. Leafage. Its variety and symmetry. + +Sec. 17. Perfect regularity of Poussin. + +Let us, however, pass to the leafage of the elder landscape painters, +and see if it atones for the deficiencies of the stems. One of the most +remarkable characters of natural leafage is the constancy with which, +while the leaves are arranged on the spray with exquisite regularity, +that regularity is modified in their actual effect. For as in every +group of leaves some are seen sideways, forming merely long lines, some +foreshortened, some crossing each other, every one differently turned +and placed from all the others, the forms of the leaves, though in +themselves similar, give rise to a thousand strange and differing forms +in the group; and the shadows of some, passing over the others, still +farther disguise and confuse the mass, until the eye can distinguish +nothing but a graceful and flexible disorder of innumerable forms, with +here and there a perfect leaf on the extremity, or a symmetrical +association of one or two, just enough to mark the specific character +and to give unity and grace, but never enough to repeat in one group +what was done in another--never enough to prevent the eye from feeling +that, however regular and mathematical may be the structure of parts, +what is composed out of them is as various and infinite as any other +part of nature. Nor does this take place in general effect only. Break +off an elm bough, three feet long, in full leaf, and lay it on the table +before you, and try to draw it, leaf for leaf. It is ten to one if in +the whole bough, (provided you do not twist it about as you work,) you +find one form of a leaf exactly like another; perhaps you will not even +have _one_ complete. Every leaf will be oblique, or foreshortened, or +curled, or crossed by another, or shaded by another, or have something +or other the matter with it; and though the whole bough will look +graceful and symmetrical, you will scarcely be able to tell how or why +it does so, since there is not one line of it like another. Now go to +Gaspar Poussin, and take one of his sprays where they come against the +sky; you may count it all round, one, two, three, four, one bunch; five, +six, seven, eight, two bunches; nine, ten, eleven, twelve, three +bunches; with four leaves each,--and such leaves! every one precisely +the same as its neighbor, blunt and round at the end, (where every +forest leaf is sharp, except that of the fig-tree,) tied together by the +roots, and so fastened on to the demoniacal claws above described, one +bunch to each claw. + + +Sec. 18. Exceeding intricacy of nature's foliage. + +But if nature is so various when you have a bough on the table before +you, what must she be when she retires from you, and gives you her whole +mass and multitude? The leaves then at the extremities become as fine +as dust, a mere confusion of points and lines between you and the sky, a +confusion which you might as well hope to draw sea-sand particle by +particle, as to imitate leaf for leaf. This, as it comes down into the +body of the tree, gets closer, but never opaque; it is always +transparent, with crumbling lights in it letting you through to the sky; +then, out of this, come, heavier and heavier, the masses of illumined +foliage, all dazzling and inextricable, save here and there a single +leaf on the extremities; then, under these, you get deep passages of +broken, irregular gloom, passing into transparent, green-lighted, misty +hollows; the twisted stems glancing through them in their pale and +entangled infinity, and the shafted sunbeams, rained from above, running +along the lustrous leaves for an instant; then lost, then caught again +on some emerald bank or knotted root, to be sent up again with a faint +reflex on the white under-sides of dim groups of drooping foliage, the +shadows of the upper boughs running in gray network down the glossy +stems, and resting in quiet checkers upon the glittering earth; but all +penetrable and transparent, and, in proportion, inextricable and +incomprehensible, except where across the labyrinth and the mystery of +the dazzling light and dream-like shadow, falls, close to us, some +solitary spray, some wreath of two or three motionless large leaves, the +type and embodying of all that in the rest we feel and imagine, but can +never see. + + +Sec. 19. How contradicted by the tree-patterns of G. Poussin. + +Now, with thus much of nature in your mind, go to Gaspar Poussin's View +near Albano, in the National Gallery. It is the very subject to unite +all these effects,--a sloping bank shaded with intertwined forest;--and +what has Gaspar given us? A mass of smooth, opaque, varnished brown, +without one interstice, one change of hue, or any vestige of leafy +structure in its interior, or in those parts of it, I should say, which +are intended to represent interior; but out of it, over it rather, at +regular intervals, we have circular groups of greenish touches, always +the same in size, shape, and distance from each other, containing so +exactly the same number of touches each, that you cannot tell one from +another. There are eight or nine and thirty of them, laid over each +other like fish-scales; the shade being most carefully made darker and +darker as it recedes from each until it comes to the edge of the next, +against which it cuts in the same sharp circular line, and then begins +to decline again, until the canvas is covered, with about as much +intelligence or feeling of art as a house-painter has in marbling a +wainscot, or a weaver in repeating an ornamental pattern. What is there +in this, which the most determined prejudice in favor of the old masters +can for a moment suppose to resemble trees? It is exactly what the most +ignorant beginner, trying to make a complete drawing, would lay +down,--exactly the conception of trees which we have in the works of our +worst drawing-masters, where the shade is laid on with the black-lead +and stump, and every human power exerted to make it look like a +kitchen-grate well polished. + + +Sec. 20. How followed by Creswick. + +Oppose to this the drawing even of our somewhat inferior tree-painters. +I will not insult Harding by mentioning his work after it, but take +Creswick, for instance, and match one of his sparkling bits of green +leafage with this tree-pattern of Poussin's. I do not say there is not a +dignity and impressiveness about the old landscape, owing to its +simplicity; and I am very far from calling Creswick's good +tree-painting; it is false in color and deficient in mass and freedom, +and has many other defects, but it is the work of a man who has sought +earnestly for truth; and who, with one thought or memory of nature in +his heart, could look at the two landscapes, and receive Poussin's with +ordinary patience? Take Creswick in black and white, where he is +unembarrassed by his fondness for pea-green, the illustrations, for +instance, to the Nut-brown Maid, in the Book of English Ballads. Look at +the intricacy and fulness of the dark oak foliage where it bends over +the brook, see how you can go through it, and into it, and come out +behind it to the quiet bit of sky. Observe the gray, aerial transparency +of the stunted copse on the left, and the entangling of the boughs where +the light near foliage detaches itself. Above all, note the forms of the +masses of light. Not things like scales or shells, sharp at the edge and +flat in the middle, but irregular and rounded, stealing in and out +accidentally from the shadow, and presenting, as the masses of all trees +do, in general outline, a resemblance to the specific forms of the +leaves of which they are composed. Turn over the page, and look into +the weaving of the foliage and sprays against the dark night-sky, how +near they are, yet how untraceable; see how the moonlight creeps up +underneath them, trembling and shivering on the silver boughs above; +note also, the descending bit of ivy on the left, of which only two +leaves are made out, and the rest is confusion, or tells only in the +moonlight like faint flakes of snow. + + +Sec. 21. Perfect unity in nature's foliage. + +But nature observes another principle in her foliage more important even +than its intricacy. She always secures an exceeding harmony and repose. +She is _so_ intricate that her minuteness of parts becomes to the eye, +at a little distance, one united veil or cloud of leaves, to destroy the +evenness of which is perhaps a greater fault than to destroy its +transparency. Look at Creswick's oak again, in its dark parts. Intricate +as it is, all is blended into a cloud-like harmony of shade, which +becomes fainter and fainter, as it retires, with the most delicate +flatness and unity of tone. And it is by this kind of vaporescence, so +to speak, by this flat, misty, unison of parts, that nature, and her +faithful followers, are enabled to keep the eye in perfect repose in the +midst of profusion, and to display beauty of form, wherever they choose, +to the greatest possible advantage, by throwing it across some quiet, +visionary passage of dimness and rest. + + +Sec. 22. Total want of it in Both and Hobbima. + +It is here that Hobbima and Both fail. They can paint oak leafage +faithfully, but do not know where to stop, and by doing too much, lose +the truth of all,--lose the very truth of detail at which they aim, for +all their minute work only gives two leaves to nature's twenty. They are +evidently incapable of even thinking of a tree, much more of drawing it, +except leaf by leaf; they have no notion nor sense of simplicity, mass, +or obscurity, and when they come to distance, where it is totally +impossible that leaves should be separately seen, yet, being incapable +of conceiving or rendering the grand and quiet forms of truth, they are +reduced to paint their bushes with dots and touches expressive of leaves +three feet broad each. Nevertheless there is a genuine aim in their +works, and their failure is rather to be attributed to ignorance of art, +than to such want of sense for nature as we find in Claude or Poussin; +and when they come close home, we sometimes receive from them fine +passages of mechanical truth. + + +Sec. 23. How rendered by Turner. + +But let us oppose to their works the group of trees on the left in +Turner's Marly.[73] We have there perfect and ceaseless intricacy to +oppose to Poussin,--perfect and unbroken repose to oppose to Hobbima; +and in the unity of these the perfection of truth. This group may be +taken as a fair standard of Turner's tree-painting. We have in it the +admirably drawn stems, instead of the claws or the serpents; full, +transparent, boundless intricacy, instead of the shell pattern; and +misty depth of intermingled light and leafage, instead of perpetual +repetition of one mechanical touch. + + +Sec. 24. The near leafage of Claude. His middle distances are good. + +I have already spoken (Section II. Chapter IV. Sec. 15,) of the way in +which mystery and intricacy are carried even into the nearest leaves of +the foreground, and noticed the want of such intricacy even in the best +works of the old masters. Claude's are particularly deficient, for by +representing every particular leaf of them, or trying to do so, he makes +nature finite, and even his nearest bits of leafage are utterly false, +for they have neither shadows modifying their form, (compare Section II. +Chapter III. Sec. 7,) nor sparkling lights, nor confused intersections of +their own forms and lines; and the perpetual repetition of the same +shape of leaves and the same arrangement, relieved from a black ground, +is more like an ornamental pattern for dress than the painting of a +foreground. Nevertheless, the foliage of Claude, in his middle +distances, is the finest and truest part of his pictures, and, on the +whole, affords the best example of good drawing to be found in ancient +art. It is always false in color, and has not boughs enough amongst it, +and the stems commonly look a great deal nearer than any part of it, but +it is still graceful, flexible, abundant, intricate; and, in all but +color and connection with stems, very nearly right. Of the perfect +painting of thick, leafy foreground, Turner's Mercury and Argus, and +Oakhampton, are the standards.[74] + + +Sec. 25. Universal termination of trees in symmetrical curves. + +Sec. 26. Altogether unobserved by the old masters. Always given by Turner. + +The last and most important truth to be observed respecting trees, is +that their boughs always, in finely grown individuals, bear among +themselves such a ratio of length as to describe with their extremities +a symmetrical curve, constant for each species; and within this curve +all the irregularities, segments, and divisions of the tree are +included, each bough reaching the limit with its extremity, but not +passing it. When a tree is perfectly grown, each bough starts from the +trunk with just so much wood as, allowing for constant ramification, +will enable it to reach the terminal line; or if by mistake, it start +with too little, it will proceed without ramifying till within a +distance where it may safely divide; if on the contrary it start with +too much, it will ramify quickly and constantly; or, to express the real +operation more accurately, each bough, growing on so as to keep even +with its neighbors, takes so much wood from the trunk as is sufficient +to enable it to do so, more or less in proportion as it ramifies fast +or slowly. In badly grown trees, the boughs are apt to fall short of +the curve, or at least, there are so many jags and openings that its +symmetry is interrupted; and in young trees, the impatience of the upper +shoots frequently breaks the line; but in perfect and mature trees, +every bough does its duty completely, and the line of curve is quite +filled up, and the mass within it unbroken, so that the tree assumes the +shape of a dome, as in the oak, or, in tall trees, of a pear, with the +stalk downmost. The old masters paid no attention whatsoever to this +great principle. They swing their boughs about, anywhere and everywhere; +each stops or goes on just as it likes, nor will it be possible, in any +of their works, to find a single example in which any symmetrical curve +is indicated by the extremities.[75] + +But I need scarcely tell any one in the slightest degree acquainted with +the works of Turner, how rigidly and constantly he adheres to this +principle of nature; taking in his highest compositions the perfect +ideal form, every spray being graceful and varied in itself, but +inevitably terminating at the assigned limit, and filling up the curve +without break or gap; in his lower works, taking less perfect form, but +invariably hinting the constant tendency in all, and thus, in spite of +his abundant complexity, he arranges his trees under simpler and grander +forms than any other artist, even among the moderns. + + +Sec. 27. Foliage painting on the Continent. + +It was above asserted that J. D. Harding is, after Turner, the greatest +master of foliage in Europe; I ought, however, to state that my +knowledge of the modern landscape of Germany is very limited, and that, +even with respect to France and Italy, I judge rather from the general +tendency of study and character of mind visible in the annual +Exhibition of the Louvre, and in some galleries of modern paintings at +Milan, Venice, and Florence, than from any detailed acquaintance with +the works of their celebrated painters. Yet I think I can hardly be +mistaken. I have seen nothing to induce me to take a closer survey; no +life knowledge or emotion in any quarter; nothing but the meanest and +most ignorant copyism of vulgar details, coupled with a style of +conception resembling that of the various lithographic ideals on the +first leaves of the music of pastoral ballads. An exception ought, +however, to be made in favor of French etching; some studies in black +and white may be seen in the narrow passages of the Louvre of very high +merit, showing great skill and delicacy of execution, and most +determined industry; (in fact, I think when the French artist fails, it +is never through fear of labor;) nay, more than this, some of them +exhibit acute perception of landscape character and great power of +reaching simple impressions of gloom, wildness, sound, and motion. Some +of their illustrated works also exhibit these powers in a high degree; +there is a spirit, fire, and sense of reality about some of the +wood-cuts to the large edition of Paul and Virginia, and a determined +rendering of separate feeling in each, such as we look for in vain in +our own ornamental works.[76] But the French appear to have no teaching +such as might carry them beyond this; their entire ignorance of color +renders the assumption of the brush instantly fatal, and the false, +forced, and impious sentiment of the nation renders anything like grand +composition altogether impossible. + + +Sec. 28. Foliage of J. D. Harding. Its deficiencies. + +It is therefore only among good artists of our own school that I think +any fair comparison can be instituted, and I wish to assert Harding's +knowledge of foliage more distinctly, because he neither does justice to +himself, nor is, I think, rightly estimated by his fellow-artists. I +shall not make any invidious remarks respecting individuals, but I think +it necessary to state generally, that the style of foliage painting +chiefly characteristic of the pictures on the line of the Royal Academy +is of the most degraded kind;[77] and that, except Turner and Mulready, +we have, as far as I know, no Royal Academician capable of painting even +the smallest portion of foliage in a dignified or correct manner; all is +lost in green shadows with glittering yellow lights, white trunks with +black patches on them, and leaves of no species in particular. Much +laborious and clever foliage drawing is to be found in the rooms of the +New Water-Color Society; but we have no one in any wise comparable to +Harding for thorough knowledge of the subject, for power of expression +in a sketch from nature, or for natural and unaffected conception in the +study. + +Maintaining for him this high position, it is necessary that I should +also state those deficiencies which appear to me to conceal his real +power, and in no small degree to prevent his progress. + + +Sec. 29. His brilliancy of execution too manifest. + +His over-fondness for brilliant execution I have already noticed. He is +fonder of seeing something tolerably like a tree produced with few +touches, than something very like a tree produced with many. Now, it is +quite allowable that occasionally, and in portions of his picture, a +great artist should indulge himself in this luxury of sketching, yet it +is a perilous luxury; it blunts the feeling and weakens the hand. I have +said enough in various places respecting the virtues of negligence and +of finish, (compare above the chapter on Ideas of Power in Part I. Sect. +II., and Part III. Sect. I. Ch. X. Sec. 4,) and I need only say here, +therefore, that Harding's foliage is never sufficiently finished, and +has at its best the look of a rapid sketch from nature touched upon at +home. In 1843, (I think,) there was a pretty drawing in the rooms of the +Water-Color Society,--the clear green water of a torrent resting among +stones, with copse-like wood on each side, a bridge in the distance, a +white flower (water-lily?) catching the eye in front; the tops of the +trees on the left of this picture were mere broad blots of color dashed +upon the sky and connected by stems. I allow the power necessary to +attain any look of foliage by such means, but it is power abused: by no +such means can any of the higher virtue and impressiveness of foliage be +rendered. In the use of body color for near leaves, his execution is +also too hasty; often the touches are mere square or round dots, which +can be understood only for foliage by their arrangement. This fault was +especially marked in the trees of his picture painted for the Academy +two years ago; they were very nearly shapeless, and could not stand even +in courtesy for walnut leaves, for which judging by the make of the +tree, they must have been intended. + + +Sec. 30. His bough-drawing and choice of form. + +His drawing of boughs is, in all points of demonstrable law, right, and +very frequently easy and graceful also; yet it has two eminent faults, +the first, that the flow of the bough is sacrificed to its texture, the +pencil checking itself and hesitating at dots, and stripes, and knots, +instead of following the grand and unbroken tendency of growth: the +second, that however good the arrangement may be as far as regards +merely flexibility, intricacy, and freedom, there are none of those +composed groups of line which are unfailing in nature. Harding's work is +not grand enough to be natural. The drawings in the park and the forest, +are, I believe, almost facsimiles of sketches made from nature; yet it +is evident at once that in all of them nothing but the general lie and +disposition of the boughs has been taken from the tree, and that no +single branch or spray has been faithfully copied or patiently studied. + +This want of close study necessarily causes several deficiencies of +feeling respecting general form. Harding's choice is always of tree +forms comparatively imperfect, leaning this way and that, and unequal in +the lateral arrangements of foliage. Such forms are often graceful, +always picturesque, but rarely grand; and when systematically adopted, +untrue. It requires more patient study to attain just feeling of the +dignity and character of a purely formed tree with all its symmetries +perfect. + + +Sec. 31. Local color, how far expressible in black and white, and with what + advantage. + +One more cause of incorrectness I may note, though it is not peculiar to +the artist's tree-drawing, but attaches to his general system of +sketching. In Harding's valuable work on the use of the Lead Pencil, +there is one principle advanced which I believe to be false and +dangerous, that the local color of objects is not thereby to be +rendered. I think the instance given is that of some baskets, whose +darkness is occasioned solely by the touches indicating the +wicker-work. Now, I believe, that an essential difference between the +sketch of a great and of a comparatively inferior master is, that the +former is conceived entirely in shade and color, and its masses are +blocked out with reference to both, while the inferior draughtsman +checks at textures and petty characters of object. If Rembrandt had had +to sketch such baskets, he would have troubled himself very little about +the wicker-work; but he would have looked to see where they came dark or +light on the sand, and where there were any sparkling points of light on +the wet osiers. These darks and lights he would have scratched in with +the fastest lines he could, leaving no white paper but at the wet points +of lustre; if he had had time, the wicker-work would have come +afterwards.[78] And I think, that the first thing to be taught to any +pupil, is neither how to manage the pencil, nor how to attain character +of outline, but rather to see where things are light and where they are +dark, and to draw them as he sees them, never caring whether his lines +be dexterous or slovenly. The result of such study is the immediate +substitution of downright drawing for symbolism, and afterwards a +judicious moderation in the use of extreme lights and darks; for where +local colors are really drawn, so much of what seems violently dark is +found to come light against something else, and so much of what seems +high light to come dark against the sky, that the draughtsman trembles +at finding himself plunged either into blackness or whiteness, and +seeks, as he should, for means of obtaining force without either. + +It is in consequence of his evident habit of sketching more with a view +to detail and character than to the great masses, that Harding's +chiaroscuro is frequently crude, scattered, and petty. Black shadows +occur under his distant trees, white high lights on his foreground +rocks, the foliage and trunks are divided by violent oppositions into +separate masses, and the branches lose in spots of moss and furrowings +of bark their soft roundings of delicate form, and their grand relations +to each other and the sky. + + +Sec. 32. Opposition between great manner and great knowledge. + +It is owing to my respect for the artist, and my belief in his power and +conscientious desire to do what is best, that I have thus extended these +somewhat unkind remarks. On the other hand, it is to be remembered, that +his knowledge of nature is most extended, and his dexterity of drawing +most instructive, especially considering his range of subject; for +whether in water, rock, or foliage, he is equally skilful in attaining +whatever he desires, (though he does not always desire all that he +ought;) and artists should keep in mind, that neither grandeur of manner +nor truth of system can atone for the want of this knowledge and this +skill. Constable's manner is good and great, but being unable to draw +even a log of wood, much more a trunk of a tree or a stone, he left his +works destitute of substance, mere studies of effect without any +expression of specific knowledge; and thus even what is great in them +has been productive, I believe, of very great injury in its +encouragement of the most superficial qualities of the English school. + + +Sec. 33. Foliage of Cox, Fielding, and Cattermole. + +The foliage of David Cox has been already noticed (preface to second +edition.) It is altogether exquisite in color, and in its impressions of +coolness, shade, and mass; of its drawing I cannot say anything, but +that I should be sorry to see it better. Copley Fielding's is remarkable +for its intricacy and elegance; it is, however, not free from +affectation, and, as has been before remarked, is always evidently +composed in the study. The execution is too rough and woolly; it is +wanting in simplicity, sharpness, and freshness,--above all in specific +character: not, however, in his middle distances, where the rounded +masses of forest and detached blasted trunks of fir are usually very +admirable. Cattermole has very grand conceptions of general form, but +wild and without substance, and therefore incapable of long maintaining +their attractiveness, especially lately, the execution having become in +the last degree coarse and affected. This is bitterly to be regretted, +for few of our artists would paint foliage better, if he would paint it +from nature, and with reverence. + + +Sec. 34. Hunt and Creswick. Green, how to be rendered expressive of light, + and offensive if otherwise. + +Hunt, I think, fails, and fails only, in foliage; fails, as the +Daguerreotype does, from over-fidelity; for foliage will _not_ be +imitated, it must be reasoned out and suggested; yet Hunt is the only +man we have who can paint the real leaf green under sunlight, and, in +this respect, his trees are delicious,--summer itself. Creswick has +sweet feeling, and tries for the real green too, but, from want of +science in his shadows, ends in green paint instead of green light; in +mere local color, instead of color raised by sunshine. One example is +enough to show where the fault lies. In his picture of the Weald of +Kent, in the British Institution this year, there was a cottage in the +middle distance with white walls, and a red roof. The dark sides of the +white walls and of the roof were of the same color, a dark purple--wrong +for both. Repeated inaccuracies of this kind necessarily deprive even +the most brilliant color of all appearance of sunshine, and they are +much to be deprecated in Creswick, as he is one of the very few artists +who _do_ draw from nature and try for nature. Some of his thickets and +torrent-beds are most painfully studied, and yet he cannot draw a bough +nor a stone. I suspect he is too much in the habit of studying only +large views on the spot, and not of drawing small portions thoroughly. I +trust it will be seen that these, as all other remarks that I have made +throughout this volume on particular works, are not in depreciation of, +or unthankfulness for, what the artist has done, but in the desire that +he should do himself more justice and more honor. I have much pleasure +in Creswick's works, and I am glad always to see them admired by others. + + +Sec. 35. Conclusion. Works of J. Linnell and S. Palmer. + +I shall conclude this sketch of the foliage art of England, by mention +of two artists, whom I believe to be representative of a considerable +class, admirable in their reverence and patience of study, yet +unappreciated by the public, because what they do is unrecommended by +dexterities of handling. The forest studies of J. Linnell are peculiarly +elaborate, and, in many points, most skilful; they fail perhaps of +interest, owing to over-fulness of detail and a want of generalization +in the effect; but even a little more of the Harding sharpness of touch +would set off their sterling qualities, and make them felt. A less known +artist, S. Palmer, lately admitted a member of the Old Water-Color +Society, is deserving of the very highest place among faithful followers +of nature. His studies of foreign foliage especially are beyond all +praise for care and fulness. I have never seen a stone pine or a cypress +drawn except by him; and his feeling is as pure and grand as his +fidelity is exemplary. He has not, however, yet, I think, discovered +what is necessary and unnecessary in a great picture; and his works, +sent to the Society's rooms, have been most unfavorable examples of his +power, and have been generally, as yet, in places where all that is best +in them is out of sight. I look to him, nevertheless, unless he lose +himself in over-reverence for certain conventionalisms of the elder +schools, as one of the probable renovators and correctors of whatever is +failing or erroneous in the practice of English art. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [71] It sometimes happens that a morbid direction of growth will + cause an exception here and there to this rule, the bough swelling + beyond its legitimate size; knots and excrescences, of course, + sometimes interfere with the effect of diminution. I believe that in + the laurel, when it grows large and old, singular instances may be + found of thick upper boughs and over quantity of wood at the + extremities. All these accidents or exceptions are felt as such by + the eye. They may occasionally be used by the painter in savage or + grotesque scenery, or as points of contrast, but are no excuse for + his ever losing sight of the general law. + + [72] Compare Part III. Sect. II. Chap. IV. Sec. 6, 7. + + [73] This group I have before noticed as singularly (but, I doubt + not, accidentally, and in consequence of the love of the two great + painters for the same grand forms) resembling that introduced by + Tintoret in the background of his Cain and Abel. + + [74] The above paragraphs I have left as originally written, because + they are quite true as far as they reach; but like many other + portions of this essay, they take in a very small portion of the + truth. I shall not add to them at present, because I can explain my + meaning better in our consideration of the laws of beauty; but the + reader must bear in mind that what is above stated refers, + throughout, to large masses of foliage seen under broad + sunshine,--and it has especial reference to Turner's enormous scale + of scene, and intense desire of light. In twilight, when tree-forms + are seen against sky, other laws come into operation, as well as in + subject of narrow limits and near foreground. It is, I think, to be + regretted that Turner does not in his Academy pictures sometimes + take more confined and gloomy subjects, like that grand one, near + the Chartreuse, of the Liber Studiorum, wherein his magnificent + power of elaborating close foliage might be developed; but, for the + present, let the reader, with respect to what has been here said of + close foliage, note the drawing of the leaves in that plate, in the + Aesacus and Hesperie, and the Cephalus, and the elaboration of the + foregrounds in the Yorkshire drawings; let him compare what is said + of Turner's foliage painting above in Part II. Sect. I. Chap. VII. Sec. + 40, Sec. 41, and of Titian's previously, as well as Part III. Sect. I. + Chap. VIII., and Sect. II. Chap. IV. Sec. 21. I shall hereafter + endeavor to arrange the subject in a more systematic manner; but + what additional observations I may have to make will none of them be + in any wise more favorable to Gaspar, Salvator, or Hobbima, than the + above paragraphs. + + [75] Perhaps in some instances, this may be the case with the trees + of Nicholas Poussin; but even with him the boughs only touch the + line of limit with their central _points_ of extremity, and are not + _sectors_ of the great curve--forming a part of it with expanded + extremities, as in nature. Draw a few straight lines, from the + centre to the circumference of a circle. The forms included between + them are the forms of the individual boughs of a fine tree, with all + their ramifications (only the external curve is not a circle, but + more frequently two parabolas--which, I believe, it is in the + oak--or an ellipse.) But each bough of the old masters is + club-shaped, and broadest, not at the outside of the tree, but a + little way towards its centre. + + [76] On the other hand, nothing can be more exquisitely ridiculous + than the French illustrations of a second or third-rate order, as + those to the Harmonies of Lamartine. + + [77] Of Stanfield's foliage I remember too little to enable me to + form any definite judgment; it is a pity that he so much neglects + this noble element of landscape. + + [78] It is true that many of Rembrandt's etchings are merely in + line, but it may be observed that the subject is universally + _conceived_ in light and shade, and that the lines are either merely + guides in the arrangement, or an exquisite indication of the + key-notes of shade, on which the after-system of it is to be + based--portions of fragmentary finish, showing the completeness of + the conception. + + + + + CHAPTER II. + + GENERAL REMARKS RESPECTING THE TRUTH OF TURNER. + + +Sec. 1. No necessity of entering into discussion of architectural truth. + +We have now arrived at some general conception of the extent of Turner's +knowledge, and the truth of his practice, by the deliberate examination +of the characteristics of the four great elements of landscape--sky, +earth, water, and vegetation. I have not thought it necessary to devote +a chapter to architecture, because enough has been said on this subject +in Part II. Sect. I. Chap. VII.; and its general truths, which are those +with which the landscape painter, as such, is chiefly concerned, require +only a simple and straightforward application of those rules of which +every other material object of a landscape has required a most difficult +and complicated application. Turner's knowledge of perspective probably +adds to his power in the arrangement of every order of subject; but +ignorance on this head is rather disgraceful than knowledge meritorious. +It is disgraceful, for instance, that any man should commit such +palpable and atrocious errors in ordinary perspective as are seen in the +quay in Claude's sea-piece, No. 14, National Gallery, or in the curved +portico of No. 30; but still these are not points to be taken into +consideration as having anything to do with artistical rank, just as, +though we should say it was disgraceful if a great poet could not spell, +we should not consider such a defect as in any way taking from his +poetical rank. Neither is there anything particularly belonging to +architecture, as such, which it is any credit to an artist to observe or +represent; it is only a simple and clear field for the manifestation of +his knowledge of general laws. Any surveyor or engineer could have drawn +the steps and balustrade in the Hero and Leander, as well as Turner has; +but there is no man living but himself who could have thrown the +accidental shadows upon them. I may, however, refer for general +illustration of Turner's power as an architectural draughtsman, to the +front of Rouen Cathedral, engraved in the Rivers of France, and to the +Ely in the England. I know nothing in art which can be set beside the +former of these for overwhelming grandeur and simplicity of effect, and +inexhaustible intricacy of parts. I have then only a few remarks farther +to offer respecting the general character of all those truths which we +have been hitherto endeavoring to explain and illustrate. + + +Sec. 2. Extreme difficulty of illustrating or explaining the highest truth. + +Sec. 3. The _positive_ rank of Turner is in no degree shown in the + foregoing pages, but only his relative rank. + +Sec. 4. The exceeding refinement of his truth. + +Sec. 5. There is nothing in his works which can be enjoyed without + knowledge. + +Sec. 6. And nothing which knowledge will not enable us to enjoy. + +The difference in the accuracy of the lines of the Torso of the Vatican, +(the Maestro of M. Angelo,) from those in one of M. Angelo's finest +works, could perhaps scarcely be appreciated by any eye or feeling +undisciplined by the most perfect and practical anatomical knowledge. It +rests on points of such traceless and refined delicacy, that though we +feel them in the result, we cannot follow them in the details. Yet they +are such and so great as to place the Torso alone in art, solitary and +supreme; while the finest of M. Angelo's works, considered with respect +to truth alone, are said to be only on a level with antiques of the +second class, under the Apollo and Venus, that is, two classes or grades +below the Torso. But suppose the best sculptor in the world, possessing +the most entire appreciation of the excellence of the Torso, were to sit +down, pen in hand, to try and tell us wherein the peculiar truth of each +line consisted? Could any words that he could use make us feel the +hairbreadth of depth and distance on which all depends? or end in +anything more than bare assertions of the inferiority of this line to +that, which, if we did not perceive for ourselves, no explanation could +ever illustrate to us? He might as well endeavor to explain to us by +words some taste or other subject of sense, of which we had no +experience. And so it is with all truths of the highest order; they are +separated from those of average precision by points of extreme delicacy, +which none but the cultivated eye can in the least feel, and to express +which, all words are absolutely meaningless and useless. Consequently, +in all that I have been saying of the truth of artists, I have been able +to point out only coarse, broad, and explicable matters; I have been +perfectly unable to express (and indeed I have made no endeavor to +express) the finely drawn and distinguished truth in which all the real +excellence of art consists. All those truths which I have been able to +explain and demonstrate in Turner, are such as any artist of ordinary +powers of observation ought to be capable of rendering. It is +disgraceful to omit them; but it is no very great credit to observe +them. I have indeed proved that they have been neglected, and +disgracefully so, by those men who are commonly considered the Fathers +of Art; but in showing that they have been observed by Turner, I have +only proved him to be _above_ other men in knowledge of truth, I have +not given any conception of his own positive rank as a Painter of +Nature. But it stands to reason, that the men, who in broad, simple, and +demonstrable matters are perpetually violating truth, will not be +particularly accurate or careful in carrying out delicate and refined, +and undemonstrable matters; and it stands equally to reason, that the +man who, as far as argument or demonstration can go, is found invariably +truthful, will, in all probability, be truthful to the last line, and +shadow of a line. And such is, indeed, the case with every touch of this +consummate artist; the essential excellence--all that constitutes the +real and exceeding value of his works--is beyond and above expression; +it is a truth inherent in every line, and breathing in every hue, too +delicate and exquisite to admit of any kind of proof, nor to be +ascertained except by the highest of tests--the keen feeling attained by +extended knowledge and long study. Two lines are laid on canvas; one is +right and another wrong. There is no difference between them appreciable +by the compasses--none appreciable by the ordinary eye--none which can +be pointed out, if it is not seen. One person feels it,--another does +not; but the feeling or sight of the one can by no words be communicated +to the other: it would be unjust if it could, for that feeling and sight +have been the reward of years of labor. And there is, indeed, nothing in +Turner--not one dot nor line--whose meaning can be understood without +knowledge; because he never aims at sensual impressions, but at the deep +final truth, which only meditation can discover, and only experience +recognize. There is nothing done or omitted by him, which does not imply +such a comparison of ends, such rejection of the least worthy, (as far +as they are incompatible with the rest,) such careful selection and +arrangement of all that can be united, as can only be enjoyed by minds +capable of going through the same process, and discovering the reasons +for the choice. And, as there is nothing in his works which can be +enjoyed without knowledge, so there is nothing in them which knowledge +will not enable us to enjoy. There is no test of our acquaintance with +nature so absolute and unfailing as the degree of admiration we feel for +Turner's painting. Precisely as we are shallow in our knowledge, vulgar +in our feeling, and contracted in our views of principles, will the +works of this artist be stumbling-blocks or foolishness to +us:--precisely in the degree in which we are familiar with nature, +constant in our observation of her, and enlarged in our understanding of +her, will they expand before our eyes into glory and beauty. In every +new insight which we obtain into the works of God, in every new idea +which we receive from His creation, we shall find ourselves possessed of +an interpretation and a guide to something in Turner's works which we +had not before understood. We may range over Europe, from shore to +shore; and from every rock that we tread upon, every sky that passes +over our heads, every local form of vegetation or of soil, we shall +receive fresh illustration of his principles--fresh confirmation of his +facts. We shall feel, wherever we go, that he has been there before +us--whatever we see, that he has seen and seized before us: and we shall +at last cease the investigation, with a well-grounded trust, that +whatever we have been unable to account for, and what we still dislike +in his works, has reason for it, and foundation like the rest; and that +even where he has failed or erred, there is a beauty in the failure +which none are able to equal, and a dignity in the error which none are +worthy to reprove. + + +Sec. 7. His former rank and progress. + +Sec. 8. Standing of his present works. Their mystery is the consequence of + their fullness. + +There has been marked and constant progress in his mind; he has not, +like some few artists, been without childhood; his course of study has +been as evidently as it has been swiftly progressive, and in different +stages of the struggle, sometimes one order of truth, sometimes another, +has been aimed at or omitted. But from the beginning to the present +height of his career, he has never sacrificed a greater truth to a +less. As he advanced, the previous knowledge or attainment was absorbed +in what succeeded, or abandoned only if incompatible, and never +abandoned without a gain; and his present works present the sum and +perfection of his accumulated knowledge, delivered with the impatience +and passion of one who feels too much, and knows too much, and has too +little time to say it in, to pause for expression, or ponder over his +syllables. There is in them the obscurity, but the truth, of prophecy; +the instinctive and burning language, which would express less if it +uttered more, which is indistinct only by its fulness, and dark with its +abundant meaning. He feels now, with long-trained vividness and keenness +of sense, too bitterly the impotence of the hand, and the vainness of +the color to catch one shadow or one image of the glory which God has +revealed to him. He has dwelt and communed with nature all the days of +his life; he knows her now too well, he cannot palter over the material +littleness of her outward form; he must give her soul, or he has done +nothing, and he cannot do this with the flax, and the earth, and the +oil. "I cannot gather the sunbeams out of the east, or I would make +_them_ tell you what I have seen; but read this, and interpret this, and +let us remember together. I cannot gather the gloom out of the +night-sky, or I would make that teach you what I have seen; but read +this, and interpret this, and let us feel together. And if you have not +that within you which I can summon to my aid, if you have not the sun in +your spirit, and the passion in your heart, which my words may awaken, +though they be indistinct and swift, leave me; for I will give you no +patient mockery, no laborious insult of that glorious nature, whose I am +and whom I serve. Let other servants imitate the voice and the gesture +of their master, while they forget his message. Hear that message from +me; but remember, that the teaching of Divine truth must still be a +mystery." + + + + + CHAPTER III. + + CONCLUSION.--MODERN ART AND MODERN CRITICISM. + + +We have only, in conclusion, to offer a few general remarks respecting +modern art and modern criticism. + + +Sec. 1. The entire prominence hitherto given to the works of one artist + caused only by our not being able to take cognizance of character. + +Sec. 2. The feelings of different artists are incapable of full comparison. + +Sec. 3. But the fidelity and truth of each are capable of real comparison. + +Sec. 4. Especially because they are equally manifested in the treatment of + all subjects. + +Sec. 5. No man draws one thing well, if he can draw nothing else. + +We wish, in the first place, to remove the appearance of invidiousness +and partiality which the constant prominence given in the present +portion of the work to the productions of one artist, can scarcely fail +of bearing in the minds of most readers. When we pass to the examination +of what is beautiful and expressive in art, we shall frequently find +distinctive qualities in the minds even of inferior artists, which have +led them to the pursuit and embodying of particular trains of thought, +altogether different from those which direct the compositions of other +men, and incapable of comparison with them. Now, when this is the case, +we should consider it in the highest degree both invidious and +illogical, to say of such different modes of exertion of the intellect, +that one is in all points greater or nobler than another. We shall +probably find something in the working of all minds which has an end and +a power peculiar to itself, and which is deserving of free and full +admiration, without any reference whatsoever to what has, in other +fields, been accomplished by other modes of thought, and directions of +aim. We shall, indeed, find a wider range and grasp in one man than in +another; but yet it will be our own fault if we do not discover +something in the most limited range of mind which is different from, and +in its way better than, anything presented to us by the more grasping +intellect. We all know that the nightingale sings more nobly than the +lark; but who, therefore, would wish the lark not to sing, or would deny +that it had a character of its own, which bore a part among the melodies +of creation no less essential than that of the more richly-gifted bird? +And thus we shall find and feel that whatever difference may exist +between the intellectual powers of one artist and another, yet wherever +there is any true genius, there will be some peculiar lesson which even +the humblest will teach us more sweetly and perfectly than those far +above them in prouder attributes of mind; and we should be as mistaken +as we should be unjust and invidious, if we refused to receive this +their peculiar message with gratitude and veneration, merely because it +was a sentence and not a volume. But the case is different when we +examine their relative fidelity to given facts. That fidelity depends on +no peculiar modes of thought or habits of character; it is the result of +keen sensibility, combined with high powers of memory and association. +These qualities, as such, are the same in all men; character or feeling +may direct their choice to this or that object, but the fidelity with +which they treat either the one or the other, is dependent on those +simple powers of sense and intellect which are like and comparable in +all, and of which we can always say that they are greater in this man, +or less in that without reference to the character of the individual. +Those feelings which direct Cox to the painting of wild, weedy banks, +and cool, melting skies, and those which directed Barret to the painting +of glowing foliage and melancholy twilight, are both just and beautiful +in their way, and are both worthy of high praise and gratitude, without +necessity, nay, without _proper_ possibility of comparing one with the +other. But the degree of fidelity with which the leaves of the one and +the light of the other are rendered, depends upon faculties of sight, +sense, and memory common to both, and perfectly comparable; and we may +say fearlessly, and without injustice, that one or the other, as the +case may be, is more faithful in that which they have chosen to +represent. It is also to be remembered that these faculties of sense and +memory are not partial in their effect; they will not induce fidelity in +the rendering of one class of object, and fail of doing so in another. +They act equally, and with equal results, whatever may be the matter +subjected to them; the same delicate sense which perceives the utmost +grace of the fibres of a tree, will be equally unerring in tracing the +character of cloud; and the quick memory which seizes and retains the +circumstances of a flying effect of shadow or color, will be equally +effectual in fixing the impression of the instantaneous form of a moving +figure or a breaking wave. There are indeed one or two broad +distinctions in the nature of the senses,--a sensibility to color, for +instance, being very different from a sensibility to form; so that a man +may possess one without the other, and an artist may succeed in mere +imitation of what is before him, of air, sunlight, etc., without +possessing sensibility at all. But wherever we have, in the drawing of +any one object, sufficient evidence of real intellectual power, of the +sense which perceives the essential qualities of a thing, and the +judgment which arranges them so as to illustrate each other, we may be +quite certain that the same sense and judgment will operate equally on +whatever is subjected to them, and that the artist will be equally great +and masterly in his drawing of all that he attempts. Hence we may be +quite sure that wherever an artist appears to be truthful in one branch +of art, and not in another, the apparent truth is either owing to some +trickery of imitation, or is not so great as we suppose it to be. In +nine cases out of ten, people who are celebrated for drawing only one +thing, and _can_ only draw one thing, draw that one thing worse than +anybody else. An artist may indeed confine himself to a limited range of +subject, but if he be really true in his rendering of this, his power of +doing more will be perpetually showing itself in accessories and minor +points. There are few men, for instance, more limited in subject than +Hunt, and yet I do not think there is another man in the old Water-Color +Society, with so keen an eye for truth, or with power so universal. And +this is the reason for the exceeding prominence which in the foregoing +investigation one or two artists have always assumed over the rest, for +the habits of accurate observation and delicate powers of hand which +they possess, have equal effect, and maintain the same superiority in +their works, to whatever class of subject they may be directed. And thus +we have been compelled, however unwillingly, to pass hastily by the +works of many gifted men, because, however pure their feeling, or +original their conceptions, they were wanting in those faculties of the +hand and mind which insure perfect fidelity to nature: it will be only +hereafter, when we are at liberty to take full cognizance of the +thought, however feebly it may be clothed in language, that we shall be +able to do real justice to the disciples either of modern or of ancient +art. + + +Sec. 6. General conclusions to be derived from our past investigation. + +But as far as we have gone at present, and with respect only to the +_material_ truth, which is all that we have been able to investigate, +the conclusion to which we must be led is as clear as it is inevitable; +that modern artists, as a body, are far more just and full in their +views of material things than any landscape painters whose works are +extant--but that J. M. W. Turner is the only man who has ever given an +entire transcript of the whole system of nature, and is, in this point +of view, the only perfect landscape painter whom the world has ever +seen. + + +Sec. 7. Truth, a standard of all excellence. + +Nor are we disposed to recede from our assertion made in Sec. I. Ch. I. +Sec. 10, that this material truth is indeed a perfect test of the relative +rank of painters, though it does not in itself constitute that rank. We +shall be able to prove that truth and beauty, knowledge and imagination, +invariably are associated in art; and we shall be able to show that not +only in truth to nature, but in all other points, Turner is the greatest +landscape painter who has ever lived. But his superiority is, in matters +of feeling, one of kind, not of degree. Superiority of degree implies a +superseding of others, superiority of kind only sustaining a more +important, but not more necessary part, than others. If _truth_ were all +that we required from art, all other painters might cast aside their +brushes in despair, for all that they have done he has done more fully +and accurately; but when we pass to the higher requirements of art, +beauty and character, their contributions are all equally necessary and +desirable, because different, and however inferior in position or rank, +are still perfect of their kind; their inferiority is only that of the +lark to the nightingale, or of the violet to the rose. + + +Sec. 8. Modern criticism. Changefulness of public taste. + +Sec. 9. Yet associated with a certain degree of judgment. + +Sec. 10. Duty of the press. + +Such then is the rank and standing of our modern artists. We have, +living with us, and painting for us, the greatest painter of _all_ time; +a man with whose supremacy of power no intellect of past ages can be put +in comparison for a moment. Let us next inquire what is the rank of our +critics. Public taste, I believe, as far as it is the encourager and +supporter of art has been the same in all ages,--a fitful and +vacillating current of vague impression, perpetually liable to change, +subject to epidemic desires, and agitated by infectious passion, the +slave of fashion, and the fool of fancy, but yet always distinguishing +with singular clearsightedness, between that which is best and that +which is worst of the particular class of food which its morbid appetite +may call for; never failing to distinguish that which is produced by +intellect, from that which is not, though it may be intellect degraded +by ministering to its misguided will. Public taste may thus degrade a +race of men capable of the highest efforts in art into the portrait +painters of ephemeral fashions, but it will yet not fail of discovering +who, among these portrait painters, is the man of most mind. It will +separate the man who would have become Buonaroti from the man who would +have become Bandinelli, though it will employ both in painting curls, +and feathers, and bracelets. Hence, generally speaking, there is no +_comparative_ injustice done, no false elevation of the fool above the +man of mind, provided only that the man of mind will condescend to +supply the particular article which the public chooses to want. Of +course a thousand modifying circumstances interfere with the action of +the general rule; but, taking one case with another, we shall very +constantly find the price which the picture commands in the market a +pretty fair standard of the artist's rank of intellect. The press, +therefore, and all who pretend to lead the public taste, have not so +much to direct the multitude whom to go to, as what to ask for. Their +business is not to tell us which is our best painter, but to tell us +whether we are making our best painter do his best. + + +Sec. 11. Qualifications necessary for discharging it. + +Sec. 12. General incapability of modern critics. + +Sec. 13. And inconsistency with themselves. + +Now none are capable of doing this, but those whose principles of +judgment are based both on thorough _practical_ knowledge of art, and on +broad general views of what is true and right, without reference to what +has been done at one time or another, or in one school or another. +Nothing can be more perilous to the cause of art, than the constant +ringing in our painters' ears of the names of great predecessors, as +their examples or masters. I had rather hear a great poet, entirely +original in his feeling and aim, rebuked or maligned for not being like +Wordsworth or Coleridge, than a great painter criticised for not putting +us in mind of Claude or Poussin. But such references to former +excellence are the only refuge and resource of persons endeavoring to be +critics without being artists. They cannot tell you whether a thing is +right or not; but they can tell you whether it is like something else or +not. And the whole tone of modern criticism--as far as it is worthy of +being called criticism--sufficiently shows it to proceed entirely from +persons altogether unversed in practice, and ignorant of truth, but +possessing just enough of feeling to enjoy the solemnity of ancient art, +who, not distinguishing that which is really exalted and valuable in the +modern school, nor having any just idea of the real ends or capabilities +of landscape art, consider nothing right which is not based on the +conventional principles of the ancients, and nothing true which has more +of nature in it than of Claude. But it is strange that while the noble +and unequalled works of modern landscape painters are thus maligned and +misunderstood, our historical painters--such as we have--are permitted +to pander more fatally every year to the vicious English taste, which +can enjoy nothing but what is theatrical, entirely unchastised, nay, +encouraged and lauded by the very men who endeavor to hamper our great +landscape painters with rules derived from consecrated blunders. The +very critic who has just passed one of the noblest works of Turner--that +is to say, a masterpiece of art, to which Time can show no +parallel--with a ribald jest, will yet stand gaping in admiration before +the next piece of dramatic glitter and grimace, suggested by the +society, and adorned with the appurtenances of the greenroom, which he +finds hung low upon the wall as a brilliant example of the ideal of +English art. It is natural enough indeed, that the persons who are +disgusted by what is pure and noble, should be delighted with what is +vicious and degraded; but it is singular that those who are constantly +talking of Claude and Poussin, should never even pretend to a thought of +Raffaelle. We could excuse them for not comprehending Turner, if they +only would apply the same cut-and-dried criticisms where they might be +applied with truth, and productive of benefit; but we endure not the +paltry compound of ignorance, false taste, and pretension, which assumes +the dignity of classical feeling, that it may be able to abuse whatever +is above the level of its understanding, but bursts into genuine rapture +with all that is meretricious, if sufficiently adapted to the calibre of +its comprehension. + + +Sec. 14. How the press may really advance the cause of art. + +To notice such criticisms, however, is giving them far more importance +than they deserve. They can lead none astray but those whose opinions +are absolutely valueless, and we did not begin this chapter with any +intent of wasting our time on these small critics, but in the hope of +pointing out to the periodical press what kind of criticism is now most +required by our school of landscape art, and how it may be in their +power, if they will, to regulate its impulses, without checking its +energies, and really to advance both the cause of the artist, and the +taste of the public. + + +Sec. 15. Morbid fondness at the present day for unfinished works. + +Sec. 16. By which the public defraud themselves. + +Sec. 17. And in pandering to which, artists ruin themselves. + +Sec. 18. Necessity of finishing works of art perfectly. + +One of the most morbid symptoms of the general taste of the present day, +is a too great fondness for unfinished works. Brilliancy and rapidity of +execution are everywhere sought as the highest good, and so that a +picture be cleverly handled as far as it is carried, little regard is +paid to its imperfection as a whole. Hence some artists are permitted, +and others compelled, to confine themselves to a manner of working +altogether destructive of their powers, and to tax their energies, not +to concentrate the greatest quantity of thought on the least possible +space of canvas, but to produce the greatest quantity of glitter and +claptrap in the shortest possible time. To the idler and the trickster +in art, no system can be more advantageous; but to the man who is really +desirous of doing something worth having lived for--to a man of +industry, energy, or feeling, we believe it to be the cause of the most +bitter discouragement. If ever, working upon a favorite subject or a +beloved idea, he is induced to tax his powers to the utmost, and to +spend as much time upon his picture as he feels necessary for its +perfection, he will not be able to get so high a price for the result, +perhaps, of a twelvemonth's thought, as he might have obtained for +half-a-dozen sketches with a forenoon's work in each, and he is +compelled either to fall back upon mechanism, or to starve. Now the +press should especially endeavor to convince the public, that by this +purchase of imperfect pictures they not only prevent all progress and +development of high talent, and set tricksters and mechanics on a level +with men of mind, but defraud and injure themselves. For there is no +doubt whatever, that, estimated merely by the quantity of pleasure it is +capable of conveying, a well-finished picture is worth to its possessor +half-a-dozen incomplete ones; and that a perfect drawing is, simply as a +source of delight, better worth a hundred guineas than a drawing half as +finished is worth thirty. On the other hand, the body of our artists +should be kept in mind, that by indulging the public with rapid and +unconsidered work, they are not only depriving themselves of the benefit +which each picture ought to render to them, as a piece of practice and +study, but they are destroying the refinement of general taste, and +rendering it impossible for themselves ever to find a market for more +careful works, supposing that they were inclined to execute them. Nor +need any single artist be afraid of setting the example, and producing +labored works, at advanced prices, among the cheap, quick drawings of +the day. The public will soon find the value of the complete work, and +will be more ready to give a large sum for that which is inexhaustible, +than a quota of it for that which they are wearied of in a month. The +artist who never lets the price command the picture, will soon find the +picture command the price. And it ought to be a rule with every painter +never to let a picture leave his easel while it is yet capable of +improvement, or of having more thought put into it. The general effect +is often perfect and pleasing, and not to be improved upon, when the +details and facts are altogether imperfect and unsatisfactory. It may be +difficult--perhaps the most difficult task of art--to complete these +details, and not to hurt the general effect; but until the artist can do +this, his art is imperfect and his picture unfinished. That only is a +complete picture which has both the general wholeness and effect of +nature, and the inexhaustible perfection of nature's details. And it is +only in the effort to unite these that a painter really improves. By +aiming only at details, he becomes a mechanic; by aiming only at +generals, he becomes a trickster: his fall in both cases is sure. Two +questions the artist has, therefore, always to ask himself,--first, "Is +my whole right?" Secondly, "Can my details be added to? Is there a +single space in the picture where I can crowd in another thought? Is +there a curve in it which I can modulate--a line which I can graduate--a +vacancy I can fill? Is there a single spot which the eye, by any peering +or prying, can fathom or exhaust? If so, my picture is imperfect; and +if, in modulating the line or filling the vacancy, I hurt the general +effect, my art is imperfect." + + +Sec. 19. _Sketches_ not sufficiently encouraged. + +But, on the other hand, though incomplete pictures ought neither to be +produced nor purchased, careful and real _sketches_ ought to be valued +much more highly than they are. Studies in chalk, of landscape, should +form a part of every Exhibition, and a room should be allotted to +drawings and designs of figures in the Academy. We should be heartily +glad to see the room which is now devoted to bad drawings of incorporeal +and imaginary architecture--of things which never were, and which, thank +Heaven! never will be--occupied instead, by careful studies for +historical pictures; not blots of chiaroscuro, but delicate outlines +with the pen or crayon. + + +Sec. 20. Brilliancy of execution or efforts at invention not to be + tolerated in young artists. + +Sec. 21. The duty and after privileges of all students. + +From young artists, in landscape, nothing ought to be tolerated but +simple _bona fide imitation_ of nature. They have no business to ape the +execution of masters,--to utter weak and disjointed repetitions of other +men's words, and mimic the gestures of the preacher, without +understanding his meaning or sharing in his emotions. We do not want +their crude ideas of composition, their unformed conceptions of the +Beautiful, their unsystematized experiments upon the Sublime. We scorn +their velocity; for it is without direction: we reject their decision; +for it is without grounds: we contemn their composition; for it is +without materials: we reprobate their choice; for it is without +comparison. Their duty is neither to choose, nor compose, nor imagine, +nor experimentalize; but to be humble and earnest in following the steps +of nature, and tracing the finger of God. Nothing is so bad a symptom, +in the work of young artists, as too much dexterity of handling; for it +is a sign that they are satisfied with their work, and have tried to do +nothing more than they were able to do. Their work should be full of +failures; for these are the signs of efforts. They should keep to quiet +colors--grays and browns; and, making the early works of Turner their +example, as his latest are to be their object of emulation, should go to +nature in all singleness of heart, and walk with her laboriously and +trustingly, having no other thoughts but how best to penetrate her +meaning, and remember her instruction, rejecting nothing, selecting +nothing, and scorning nothing; believing all things to be right and +good, and rejoicing always in the truth. Then, when their memories are +stored, and their imaginations fed, and their hands firm, let them take +up the scarlet and the gold, give the reins to their fancy, and show us +what their heads are made of. We will follow them wherever they choose +to lead; we will check at nothing; they are then our masters, and are +fit to be so. They have placed themselves above our criticism, and we +will listen to their words in all faith and humility; but not unless +they themselves have before bowed, in the same submission, to a higher +Authority and Master. + + +Sec. 22. Necessity among our greater artists of more singleness of aim. + +Among our greater artists, the chief want, at the present day, is that of +_solemnity_ and definite purpose. We have too much picture-manufacturing, +too much making up of lay figures with a certain quantity of foliage, and +a certain quantity of sky, and a certain quantity of water,--a little bit +of all that is pretty, a little sun, and a little shade,--a touch of +pink, and a touch of blue,--a little sentiment, and a little sublimity, +and a little humor, and a little antiquarianism,--all very neatly +associated in a very charming picture, but not working together for a +definite end. Or if the aim be higher, as was the case with Barrett and +Varley, we are generally put off with stale repetitions of eternal +composition; a great tree, and some goats, and a bridge and a lake, and +the Temple at Tivoli, etc. Now we should like to see our artists working +out, with all exertion of their concentrated powers, such marked pieces +of landscape character as might bear upon them the impression of solemn, +earnest, and pervading thought, definitely directed, and aided by every +accessory of detail, color, and idealized form, which the disciplined +feeling, accumulated knowledge, and unspared labor of the painter could +supply. I have alluded, in the second preface, to the deficiency of our +modern artists in these great points of earnestness and completeness; and +I revert to it, in conclusion, as their paramount failing, and one fatal +in many ways to the interests of art. Our landscapes are all descriptive, +not reflective, agreeable and conversational, but not impressive nor +didactic. They have no other foundation than + + "That vivacious versatility, + Which many people take for want of heart. + They err; 'tis merely what is called "mobility;" + A thing of temperament, and _not of art, + Though seeming so from its supposed facility_. + + * * * * * + + This makes your actors, _artists_, and romancers; + Little that's great--but much of what is clever." + +Only it is to be observed that--in painters--this vivacity is _not_ +always versatile. It is to be wished that it were, but it is no such +easy matter to be versatile in painting. Shallowness of thought insures +not its variety, nor rapidity of production its originality. Whatever +may be the case in literature, facility is in art inconsistent with +invention. The artist who covers most canvas always shows, even in the +sum of his works, the least expenditure of thought.[79] I have never +seen more than four works of John Lewis on the walls of the Water-Color +Exhibition; I have counted forty from other hands; but have found in the +end that the forty were a multiplication of one, and the four a +concentration of forty. And therefore I would earnestly plead with all +our artists, that they should make it a law _never_ to repeat +themselves; for he who never repeats himself will not produce an +inordinate number of pictures, and he who limits himself in number gives +himself at least the opportunity of completion. Besides, all repetition +is degradation of the art; it reduces it from headwork to handwork; and +indicates something like a persuasion on the part of the artist that +nature is exhaustible or art perfectible; perhaps, even, by him +exhausted and perfected. All copyists are contemptible, but the copyist +of himself the most so, for he has the worst original. + + +Sec. 23. What should be their general aim. + +Let then every picture be painted with earnest intention of impressing +on the spectator some elevated emotion, and exhibiting to him some one +particular, but exalted, beauty. Let a real subject be carefully +selected, in itself suggestive of, and replete with, this feeling and +beauty; let an effect of light and color be taken which may harmonize +with both; and a sky, not invented, but recollected, (in fact, all +so-called invention is in landscape nothing more than appropriate +recollection--good in proportion as it is distinct.) Then let the +details of the foreground be separately studied, especially those plants +which appear peculiar to the place: if any one, however unimportant, +occurs there, which occurs not elsewhere, it should occupy a prominent +position; for the other details, the highest examples of the ideal +forms[80] or characters which he requires are to be selected by the +artist from his former studies, or fresh studies made expressly for the +purpose, leaving as little as possible--nothing, in fact, beyond their +connection and arrangement--to mere imagination. Finally, when his +picture is thus perfectly realized in all its parts, let him dash as +much of it out as he likes; throw, if he will, mist around +it--darkness--or dazzling and confused light--whatever, in fact, +impetuous feeling or vigorous imagination may dictate or desire; the +forms, once so laboriously realized, will come out whenever they _do_ +occur with a startling and impressive truth, which the uncertainty in +which they are veiled will enhance rather than diminish; and the +imagination, strengthened by discipline and fed with truth, will achieve +the utmost of creation that is possible to finite mind. + +The artist who thus works will soon find that he cannot repeat himself +if he would; that new fields of exertion, new subjects of contemplation +open to him in nature day by day, and that, while others lament the +weakness of their invention, _he_ has nothing to lament but the +shortness of life. + + +Sec. 24. Duty of the press with respect to the works of Turner. + +And now but one word more, respecting the great artist whose works have +formed the chief subject of this treatise. All the _greatest_ qualities +of those works--all that is mental in them, has not yet been so much as +touched upon. None but their lightest and least essential excellences +have been proved, and, therefore, the enthusiasm with which I speak of +them must necessarily appear overcharged and absurd. It, might, perhaps, +have been more prudent to have withheld the full expression of it till I +had shown the full grounds for it; but once written, such expression +must remain till I have justified it. And, indeed, I think there is +enough, even in the foregoing pages, to show that these works are, as +far as concerns the ordinary critics of the press, above all +animadversion, and above all praise; and that, by the public, they are +not to be received as in any way subjects or matters of opinion, but of +Faith. We are not to approach them to be pleased, but to be taught; not +to form a judgment, but to receive a lesson. Our periodical writers, +therefore, may save themselves the trouble either of blaming or +praising: their duty is not to pronounce opinions upon the work of a man +who has walked with nature threescore years; but to impress upon the +public the respect with which they are to be received, and to make +request to him, on the part of the people of England, that he would now +touch no unimportant work--that he would not spend time on slight or +small pictures, but give to the nation a series of grand, consistent, +systematic, and completed poems. We desire that he should follow out his +own thoughts and intents of heart, without reference to any human +authority. But we request, in all humility, that those thoughts may be +seriously and loftily given; and that the whole power of his unequalled +intellect may be exerted in the production of such works as may remain +forever for the teaching of the nations. In all that he says, we +believe; in all that he does we trust.[81] It is therefore that we pray +him to utter nothing lightly--to do nothing regardlessly. He stands upon +an eminence, from which he looks back over the universe of God, and +forward over the generations of men. Let every work of his hand be a +history of the one, and a lesson to the other. Let each exertion of his +mighty mind be both hymn and prophecy,--adoration, to the +Deity,--revelation to mankind. + + +FOOTNOTES + + [79] Of course this assertion does not refer to the differences in + mode of execution, which enable one painter to work faster or slower + than another, but only to the exertion of mind, commonly manifested + by the artist, according as he is sparing or prodigal of production. + + [80] "Talk of improving nature when it _is_ nature--Nonsense."--_E. + V. Rippingille_. I have not yet spoken of the difference--even in + what we commonly call Nature--between imperfect and ideal form: the + study of this difficult question must, of course, be deferred until + we have examined the nature of our impressions of beauty; but it may + not be out of place here to hint at the want of care in many of our + artists to distinguish between the real work of nature and the + diseased results of man's interference with her. Many of the works + of our greatest artists have for their subjects nothing but hacked + and hewn remnants of farm-yard vegetation, branded root and branch, + from their birth, by the prong and the pruning-hook; and the + feelings once accustomed to take pleasure in such abortions, can + scarcely become perceptive of forms truly ideal. I have just said + (423) that young painters should go to nature trustingly,--rejecting + nothing, and selecting nothing: so they should; but they must be + careful that it _is_ nature to whom they go--nature in her + liberty--not as servant-of-all-work in the hands of the + agriculturist, nor stiffened into court-dress by the landscape + gardener. It must be the pure, wild volition and energy of the + creation which they follow--not subdued to the furrow, and + cicatrized to the pollard--not persuaded into proprieties, nor + pampered into diseases. Let them work by the torrent-side, and in + the forest shadows; not by purling brooks and under "tonsile + shades." It is impossible to enter here into discussion of what man + can or cannot do, by assisting natural operations: it is an + intricate question: nor can I, without anticipating what I shall + have hereafter to advance, show how or why it happens that the + racehorse is _not_ the artist's ideal of a horse, nor a prize tulip + his ideal of a flower; but so it is. As far as the painter is + concerned, man never touches nature but to spoil;--he operates on + her as a barber would on the Apollo; and if he sometimes increases + some particular power or excellence,--strength or agility in the + animal--tallness, or fruitfulness, or solidity in the tree,--he + invariably loses that _balance_ of good qualities which is the chief + sign of perfect specific form; above all, he destroys the appearance + of free _volition_ and _felicity_, which, as I shall show hereafter, + is one of the essential characters of organic beauty. Until, + however, I can enter into the discussion of the nature of beauty, + the only advice I can safely give the young painter, is to keep + clear of clover-fields and parks, and to hold to the unpenetrated + forest and the unfurrowed hill. There he will find that every + influence is noble, even when destructive--that decay itself is + beautiful,--and that, in the elaborate and lovely composition of all + things, if at first sight it seems less studied than the works of + men, the appearance of Art is only prevented by the presence of + Power. + + "Nature never did betray + The heart that loved her: 'tis her privilege, + Through all the years of this our life, to lead + From joy to joy; for she can so inform + The mind that is within us, so impress + With quietness and beauty, and so feed + With lofty thoughts, that neither evil tongues, + Rash judgments, nor the sneers of selfish men + Shall e'er prevail against us, or disturb + Our cheerful faith, that all which we behold + Is full of blessings." + + WORDSWORTH. + + [81] It has been hinted, in some of the reviews of the Second Volume + of this work, that the writer's respect for Turner has diminished + since the above passage was written. He would, indeed, have been + deserving of little attention if, with the boldness manifested on + the preceding pages, he had advanced opinions based on so shallow + foundation as that the course of three years could effect + modification of them. He was justified by the sudden accession of + power which the great artist exhibited at the period when this + volume was first published, as well as by the low standard of the + criticism to which he was subjected, in claiming, with respect to + his then works, a submission of judgment, greater indeed than may + generally be accorded to even the highest human intellect, yet not + greater than such a master might legitimately claim from such + critics; and the cause of the peculiar form of advocacy into which + the preceding chapters necessarily fell, has been already stated + more than once. In the following sections it became necessary, as + they treated a subject of intricate relations, and peculiar + difficulty, to obtain a more general view of the scope and operation + of art, and to avoid all conclusions in any wise referable to the + study of particular painters. The reader will therefore find, not + that lower rank is attributed to Turner, but that he is now compared + with the greatest men, and occupies his true position among the most + noble of all time. + + + + + POSTSCRIPT. + +The above passage was written in the year 1843; too late. It is true +that soon after the publication of this work, the abuse of the press, +which had been directed against Turner with unceasing virulence during +the production of his noblest works, sank into timid animadversion, or +changed into unintelligent praise; but not before illness, and, in some +degree, mortification, had enfeebled the hand and chilled the heart of +the painter. + +This year (1851) he has no picture on the walls of the Academy; and the +_Times_ of May 3d says, "We miss those works of INSPIRATION!" + +We miss! Who misses?--The populace of England rolls by to weary itself +in the great bazaar of Kensington, little thinking that a day will come +when those veiled vestals and prancing amazons, and goodly merchandise +of precious stones and gold, will all be forgotten as though they had +not been, but that the light which has faded from the walls of the +Academy is one which a million of Koh-i-Noors could not rekindle, and +that the year 1851 will in the far future be remembered less for what it +has displayed than for what it has withdrawn. + + DENMARK HILL, _June_, 1851. + + + + + END OF THE FIRST VOLUME. + + + * * * * * + + + CORRECTIONS MADE TO THE ORIGINAL TEXT. + +Page xiii: 'attack of the following colums' corrected to 'columns'. + +Page lxiii: (Table of Contents) Sec. 8. Monotony and falsehood... 239 + corrected to 230. + +Page 34: 'attained with greater porportional' corrected to + 'proportional'. + +Page 74: 'exquisite truths of specfic' corrected to 'specific'. + +Page 84: 'things as in the right exhbition' corrected to 'exhibition'. + +Page 89: 'man's working from nature comtinually' changed to + 'continually'. + +Page 146: 'But I allow this inferiority only with respect to the + paintings,' superfluous comma omitted. + +Page 277: 'But the vignette of Aosta, in the Italy', 'the' omitted. + +Page 281: 'lateral chains separated rll' corrected to 'all'. + +Footnote 41: Comma after Esq changed to period. + +Footnote 74: 'is above stated refers, thoughout' changed to + 'throughout'. + + + + + +End of Project Gutenberg's Modern Painters Volume I (of V), by John Ruskin + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK MODERN PAINTERS VOLUME I (OF V) *** + +***** This file should be named 29907.txt or 29907.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + http://www.gutenberg.org/2/9/9/0/29907/ + +Produced by Juliet Sutherland, Marius Borror and the Online +Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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